faderift | Truth or Dare: The Imperial Court

Truth or Dare: The Imperial Court

WHO: Select Orlesian and Fereldan Nobility and the Inquisition
WHAT: Josephine and Vivienne have orchestrated a good-will soiree in response to this dastardly rumor.
WHEN: Drakonis 15, Evening
WHERE: Skyhold Great Hall
NOTES:
- A list of nobles in attendance can be found here. The list was provided by the mods but there will be no npc support for them. Play away.
- A secondary outside party is being held in the valley in the tent town for anyone who couldn't/wouldn't attend and/or behave in the fancy pansty party.
- The goal of the evening is to clear up a spurious rumor about Cassandra and Leliana, with secondary goals of establishing the Inquisition as a respectable presence in Thedas (and fish for more money). Any major disruptions that would Game Over the court approval should probably be brought to the advisors and/or mods.

To say that Josphine has far outdone herself with this little soiree would be the understatement of the year. The Lady Ambassador has pulled out all the stops in providing a festive and yet elegant stage for this political intervention. Because sometimes gossip can be more deadly than a sword.

The Great Hall of Skyhold has been converted into a grand receiving hall, glittering with hundreds of lights around the room, in addition to the repairs accomplished to the original chandeliers. Of course, there has been artful placement arranged so there are a few shadowy corners for rendezvous of the more suggestive nature. Just in case. The majority of the floor has been cleared for dancing, and a fine troupe of musicians have been installed for the bulk of the evening's entertainments. Some members of the Inquisition have plans to entice attendees with their own artistic performances in addition to the group of mages performing illusory tricks to oohs and aahs.

For those who feel their energy flagging, there are chairs set against the walls, with a few tables interspersed between. Servers hired for the evening circulate the crowds with wine, fine Orlesian and Nevarran reds as well as crisp whites from Antiva. Refreshments are set out on buffet tables, tasteful and extravagant nibbles, including imported cheeses, spicy saucisson, dried fruits and nuts, and the highly sought after deep mushroom and anise petits fours that are all the rage in Orlais.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"That's the spirit."

Turning his back on the mages and the crowd feels good. Bellamy isn't exactly gentle as he shoulders people out of their way; any excuse me that he offers is pointed and unfriendly, and only every now and then. Mostly he settles for a hard look, but he gives Hermione another half-smile when they break free of the worst of the crowds, right near the table with the wine.

It's more of a staging table than a bar. Servants, their trays empty, come back here to load up on full glasses before wading back into the press of partygoers. Still, no one gives them any kind of dirty look when Bellamy takes two glasses personally. It's two less people to give a drink to.

He holds one out to Hermione, preemptively tipping his own toward her in a kind of air-toast. "To making the night a little more bearable."

She notices that he seems rather brusque, even if he's being easy-going enough with her. Normally, it might set her ill at ease; right now, though, she just assumes that he isn't a people person. Heaven knows she's not the nicest person when she's forced to be friendly around people she doesn't even like for hours on end.

Wandering off with some boy at a party isn't exactly something she's known for, but considering how few friends she actually has at this sort of event, it makes sense that she doesn't mind staying close to someone who admittedly has no issue with mages. Accepting the glass of wine with a small smile, she tips hers towards him as well, by way of thanks.

"I'm not sure how I feel about alcohol being the surest way to make that happen, but at least decent company helps. Now that I know your name, that is."

Bellamy takes a quick drink, a mouthful of wine that he's got to smile around when she returns the toast.

"Oh, now I'm decent company? Turns out your standards are pretty easy after all. Lucky for me." That gets another half-toast--to easy standards!--and another sip. A little more relaxed now that they're free of the crowd and far from the performing mages (and thanks to the drink in his hand), Bellamy leans his shoulder against a near-by pillar. "You know that if you want another glass, you can get it for yourself, right? They're right there. Don't need to flatter me. Unless you really think I'm decent company."

There's a second of slight preoccupation when he shoots a quick sweeping glances around the room from this new vantage point, a half-hearted survey before he looks back at Hermione again.

"I bet I'm not the only one thinking the same as you on those mages."

She actually chuckles softly at that, telling him, "My standards are much more complicated than that, thank you. This just happens to be a special occasion, or some such thing."

What does one do at parties that aren't weddings or Christmas celebrations or that kind of thing? Hermione certainly doesn't know, but at least she's found someone who isn't against keeping her company as she attempts to figure out the social conventions of a society that she's not the least bit familiar with. After a small sip of wine, she explains, "If I didn't think you were decent company, I'd have had no qualms with walking away after excusing myself when I'd bumped into you. Or when you'd bumped into me. Whichever we'd decided on."

As so often is the case here, it isn't long before the talk turns into mention of mages, and Hermione glances down, looking into her glass. "Yes, well... I'm sure I'm not the only one who has a personal interest in them. Most of the people I'd met here since my arrival have been mages."

"I don't think we did decide, if it was my fault" --unlikely; far more likely is what follows: "--or yours, but I get it. You're a hard sell. Special occasions, like-minded sympathies, wine, and an exchange of names soften you up, but outside of this? Stone cold."

Wrongly, he interprets 'since my arrival' to mean since she came to Skyhold. A recent arrival among another recent arrival, something else in common. "I've met some. Not as many as you, from the sounds of it. Maybe you come off as friendlier than me."

"Stone cold?" Hermione asks with an outright laugh. "I'd hardly go that far. I hope that's not the impression I give off when I'm not being bumped into."

Tilting her head at him, she observes him for a moment before remarking, "You seem like the type who wouldn't mind being left alone. But you've been nice enough to me. Some mages are just a little more... careful, I suppose. Especially when they don't know what someone's opinion of mages might be." Which might be why she hasn't exactly expressed that she's a mage, even after being reasonably certain that he isn't going to negatively judge her for it.

A mage. That explains her interest (if you could call it that) in the entertainment (if you could call it that). Bellamy nods at her assessment, as his gaze flickers back toward the way they'd just come.

"Caution's wise," he agrees. "Especially at a party. You don't seem like the kind of girl who likes causing a scene." Though he doesn't define what kind of girl she does seem like, somewhat deliberately. He hasn't quite lost his smile. The topic of mages is sobering enough to temper his expression by a small measure, without squashing it. "Lucky for you, I know a lot of pretty great mages. Lucky for me, too. If I had more of an attitude about it, we wouldn't be having this conversation." And what a loss that would be.

She looks up at him when he attests that she doesn't seem like the sort to enjoy causing a scene, her lips curling into a small smile the more he speaks. It looks like he's correctly assumed that she can do magic, and he's willing enough not to let that deter him from the conversation, even if he's made no indication to proclaim that he's a mage, too. So long as he isn't one of the exceedingly rare people who has a poor view of rifters, they should get along fine.

"A person isn't wholly good or bad solely because they are or aren't a mage," she agrees. "I fully expect you to walk away from me if I start grating on your nerves, regardless of one random component of who I am. Though it'd be nice if you told me what the matter was ahead of time, so I'd know to correct it. Or if it was worth correcting."

He huffs a laugh at that, full attention pulled back to her. "You can bet I'll walk away. But I gotta say, saying it upfront like that? It's refreshing. Do you usually get people willing to give you feedback, or do you ask every time and hope someone takes you up on it someday?"

Because generally speaking, that's not how it works. Maybe he's just had some bad experiences, but if he flips back in his mental catalog, Bellamy can't think of a lot of premeditated partings that were accompanied by any logical reasoning. Mostly people go and leave you to figure it out. Or it gets rough.

"I think I can honor that one," he tells her, by way of reassurance. "But for the record: so far so good."

"I don't exactly go around taking surveys, no," Hermione laughs, giving him a little shrug of her shoulders. "But I like to think I've grown more self-aware of my flaws over the years. If I'm going to have a falling out with someone, I might as well make it a learning experience." Not that it really helps prevent future skirmishes, or at least, not with anyone she considers a close friend. With those, it's almost as though they both enjoy the arguing. Which she pretty much proves as she adds, "And of course, if I have any trouble with you, I won't hesitate to be vocal about it."

She's only teasing, of course, given then way she looks at him over her glass as she takes another sip of wine. Well... mostly.

"This is the part where we get to know more about one another, isn't it? How long have you been with the Inquisition?"

While Bellamy isn't the learning experiences type, he appreciates forthrightness. This means that her declaration gets a half-grin out of him, as appreciative as he is amused. Teasing or not, he likes the spirit of her remarks.

"You seriously want to talk about the Inquisition at a party?" He pulls a face at her, mugging a little. Come on. "All right, you're the boss-- uh, I've been with the Inquisition since, never. I'm not here because of them. We came on other business but we're sticking around now, I guess."

That's a skim of his true feelings on 'sticking around'. He's not going to unload all of that on her. Instead, he takes another sip of wine, to fortify himself, and gestures to his shirt. "Hard to tell when I'm dressed down, but I'm a Templar."

Well... mostly.

He might come to resent that spirit before too long. She's better now than she had been when she was twelve and friendless, but for the most part, she really doesn't hesitate to call someone out when they're being a bit of a jerk.

"The Inquisition is the main point of commonality here, isn't it?" she asks, though she supposes that some might consider it to be the equivalent of talking about work while on holiday.

She's about to ask after who he means by we, but then he reveals that he's a Templar, and she can't hide the shock from her face. "A Templar?" she asks, forcing herself not to look as though she's mentally withdrawing from him. After all, everyone deserves the benefit of the doubt. "And you're not expressly anti-mage?"

Yep. There it is. Bellamy knocks back another sip of wine. It helps, a little. He knows better than to get too insulted. He knows what Templars are about, firsthand, but not half as firsthand as mages know it.

"Like I said." He half shrugs. "I've known a lot of great mages. Saying that comes off pretty radical, I know, but I'm saying what I know. The way I see it, we're supposed to be helping mages. Setting yourself up as anti-mage pretty much kills all hope of that."

And kills mages. He doesn't have to add that part. He shoots Hermione a look, his smile curdled into one that's more wry. "But if you want to run off now, I'll understand."

As he speaks, Hermione finds herself calming down considerably. While she understands that Templars technically have no sway over mages now that there are no Circles, most of the people who'd told her about Templars have made them out to be monsters. Bellamy... isn't a monster. Not as far as she can tell. If he is, he'd had the chance to treat her - or rather, mistreat her - as such the moment he'd discovered she could do magic.

By the time he gives her that wry smile, she's flashing one back at him, albeit a genuine one. "You're not spouting the hateful rhetoric I'd been led to believe Templars spout off in regard to mages, so I don't think I'll run just yet. There's always time to change my opinion of you, but for the moment, you seem fairly decent."

Bellamy huffs a laugh at her assessment. "I've heard worse. I mean," he adds, with an air of fairness, establishing facts, "I've heard better, too. But I think I can live with 'fairly decent'. For a start. I'll try to keep my hateful rhetoric to a minimum."

Like that's a toast, he raises his glass of wine to Hermione. The clink of their glasses is assumed, not something that actually has to happen, so without much of a pause, he takes anther sip before he nods at her.

"All right, so now you know about me, that means it's your turn. What's your Inquisition story?"

"Well, we haven't known each other overly long," Hermione points out. "'Fairly decent' is about base normal. You haven't dropped below that yet, and that says more about you than it does some people I've spoken to, so I'll keep an optimistic outlook on things."

She does smile a little as she raises her glass to him in return, glad that she's found a Templar who doesn't fit the stereotype she'd been hearing about nonstop. As she sips at her wine, she tries to think about just what her own "Inquisition story" entails, then decides to settle on the most basic facts.

"It's not much of a story, or at least not a unique one. I went to bed and sort of fell into the middle of a group of demons, and into a world I'd never even heard of before. The Inquisition was there to help make sure I didn't get ripped to shreds, since my magic doesn't work properly here." As though it isn't obvious, she shrugs and looks down at her left hand, which she'd learned to keep tucked away at her side unless absolutely necessary. "Apparently, I came in through a rift, though I tend to think of it as coming in through a dream."

The cooling of Bellamy's expression is pretty damn instantaneous, but it isn't necessarily obvious. His smile drops a little--but who's to say that's not because the topic has turned a little more grim--and, anyways, he drowns it with another sip of wine.

Mages, fine. He loves mages. He's spent his whole life taking care of mages. That's an easy anomaly to fold in with someone's personality, so easy he doesn't even think of it as an anomaly. Magic is magic. Rifters are different. Uncertainty, wariness, knowing what else comes out of rifts: these are all things that make him a little more cautious.

He follows her glance down toward her hand, and though she doesn't have it turned palm out or anything, he knows what he'd see there if she did.

"Poetic," he observes, his smile tugged wry again, though not necessarily amused. "And pretty right. It's all the Fade, right?" As fortification, he takes another sip of wine, this one slightly larger. Mouth full, he gestures to her with the glass, prompting her silently before he swallows to say, "What's wrong with your magic?"

Hermione doesn't notice anything particularly negative about his reaction, since all things considered, she would have thought that magic was more poorly-regarded than this rifter business. But then, that might be mostly to do because magic tends to be what's on her mind the most, given how much she's been fretting over it lately.

She's about to tell him that her words aren't so much poetic as they are the simple truth; she really had been dreaming - or felt as if she'd been dreaming - when she'd arrived in the middle of Emprise du Lion. Sometimes she can't help wondering if she's still dreaming.

"Well... we don't really have the Fade where I come from. Or if we do, we don't know it as such. That's something the Unspeakables would know - that is, people who work for the Department of Mysteries. At any rate, the mages here draw their magic from the Fade, and since I'm unfamiliar with it, my magic hasn't been as effective as it should be. That, and my wand might have been damaged during my arrival. I use it the way a mage here uses a staff, and trying to do magic without it is even more strenuous than it is back home."

Pausing to take a small sip of her wine, Hermione shakes her head. "I've been told I'll learn to work around it, but I'm still overly careful with my magic. I don't want to risk hurting anyone or doing something that might have some averse effect on the Fade or these rifts."

His gaze is a little sharper now, and so's his interest. This might give away something of his feelings. Of the rifters he's encountered, she's the first mage rifter. That slants Bellamy's sympathy toward her more than he'd like. If one of his mages had a damaged staff, he'd help get whatever resources they needed to fix it. A rifter mage probably deserves a hard time.

If only she hadn't added that part about being careful. That shades him more sympathetically still, which he hates. How many times do mages get told to be careful? And they should be, magic's powerful, they work to control it for a reason. But there's caution, and then there's an imposition of caution, violent and terrifying. Making mages Tranquil. Keeping them contained, shackled, pretty much helpless. Stuff Bellamy knows to be for the greater good, at war with stuff he knows more personally about mages. It doesn't make any of this easier.

"Good," he says, vaguely, to everything she's just told him. It's not a very thoughtful response. "Hey, you know what else comes out of Rifts? Demons."

Even though Hermione had been starting off small, she has hurt people with her magic since her arrival, though it hasn't been anything more traumatic than a slip on some stray ice or getting sprayed by some debris from the backlash of a spell. But even that is more than enough to make her want to be even more careful, given that she'd never had those kinds of issues with her magic before. And she'd never forgiven herself for the one time someone had gotten dangerously hurt as a result of her magic back home, even if that had been a rushed, desperate situation.

Besides... she has reason not to want to rock the boat here, and she'd learned that fairly early on. She still considers herself lucky that she'd been found by the Inquisition rather than anyone who would have, at best, left her to fend for herself against demons and the wild.

His response, along with that sharper look of his, takes her a little off her guard, but the idea that he's implying something has to be silly. "I'm aware," she replies with a nod. "I... had something of a crash course on them when I'd first landed here, next to half a dozen creatures I'd never seen before." Her expression has gotten more uncomfortable, to the point that she shifts awkwardly as she glances towards the nearest window. "I'm sort of reluctant to leave Skyhold, to tell the truth. That whole fight had made me feel useless, and I don't know that I'm ready to risk facing another one of those things just yet."

Despite himself, and his newfound chilliness, Bellamy follows her gaze to the window. It's thickly dark out there, impenetrable beyond the glass. He can halfway guess at what she's seeing, when she looks out there. He's gone up against enough demons to know.

"They're not that bad." He shrugs, when he looks back at her. This is partly bravado and partly fact; partly conversational and partly establishing himself. "Not when you know what you're up against. If someone was giving me a choice, in a fight? I'd pick demons."

At what she considers to be his very obvious show of male bravado, Hermione glances back at Bellamy, the ghost of a wry smirk playing at her lips. "When you know what you're up against, perhaps. And when you know how to fight. But when you've never seen anything like them and your only means of self-defense isn't working properly?"

Shaking her head, even that vague smirk falls from her lips as she looks down into her wineglass. "They might be easy for someone like you to handle, but I was just more worried about not getting in anyone's way while they kept me from being ripped to pieces. I'm not used to simply hanging back and needing to be rescued like some sort of damsel in distress. I don't like it."

"Kind of hard to take that claim seriously when you're dressed like that." He jerks his chin in her direction, like she'll have to take stock of herself to get what he means. Not that there's anything wrong with the way she's dressed, objectively speaking. It's a good gown, as far as Bellamy can tell, and she looks good in it. Objectively.

If she weren't a Rifter.

"You do a lot of self-defense, where you're from?" Magical self-defense, which can be a bit more brutal than the strictly physical. Bellamy knows that firsthand, as well as he knows how that brutality has saved his skin.

Surprised, Hermione looks down at herself, trying to figure out what's wrong with her dress. But then she realizes what he means, and she looks back up at him with a bit of a dry expression. "A woman can be feminine without being weak. Granted, I wouldn't exactly be able to fight much in this dress, but I'm usually wearing much more practical clothing than what I'd wear to a soiree."

Nodding, she replies, "We take seven years of Defense Against the Dark Arts in school. It's a good tactic, teaching young witches and wizards the horrible things that can befall someone if they use Dark magic while also teaching them how to protect themselves against it." She pauses for a moment before adding, "If you mean in terms of physical combat, then no. There are independent self-defense classes for non-magical individuals and the like, but I've never had occasion to take one. I sort of wish I had, now."

"There's feminine, and then there's the fact that I bet you can't run at all in that gown." Like maybe he's going to challenge her to a race, or make her prove her practicality here and now. "Rifts can open anywhere, right? We should all be a little more careful. Even if you make for a pretty portrait."

Somewhere in there is a disguised compliment. It's kind of teasing, like he'd been doing back before he found out her country of far-far-far off origin.

And as much as he's got to say with regards to all that about her magic, there's one little sticking point, for now, and that's: "What the hell is dark magic supposed to mean?"

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