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.

Threaded | Flat

Pel arrives perched on Alistair's arm like a hunting hawk. Her gown and cape reveal more skin than she has ever shown before in public, and her hair is in loose waves to her hips. Usually it's up, braided tightly or otherwise tucked out of her way, but now it is a half-tamed halo tucked precariously with live spring violets.

Despite being so gussied up, she is still a petite, freckly wild deer ambling into a gathering of wolves. Usually, elves are prey animals, even when they are serving drinks. Tonight, she hopes to begin to change that.

Her lessons with Araceli and advice from Benevenuta are paying off here. After a short time, she begins to relax. She realizes she knows what to do now. She is pleasant and outgoing, an unusual change that she thinks she enjoys, but it will wear on her if she has to do it all the time. Just get through tonight, then. If she can get even one noble to have a short and amicable conversation with her, she will consider the night a success.

Edited 2016-03-16 03:36 (UTC)

Korrin isn't here for the nobles or even here because Vivienne insisted on all members of the council attending. She's here for Araceli. The Vashoth woman arrives in attire more suited to her than Orlesian frills and lace, giving her an air of formality but with the freedom of movement that she craves. Her horns are adorned with gleaming metal and her hair arranged in a tall braid between them, with dark pearls interwoven along the ridge. Though such gatherings are far outside her comfort zone, she nonetheless attempts to project an aura of power and confidence. The nobility can say what they like about her, but she plans to be above their goading. The Inquisition -and a certain lady's favor- deserve that much.

The Vashoth mage can easily be found on the dance floor, usually with Araceli in her arms but she's also promised dances to others. Even with those whom she hasn't made any plans, Korrin will be agreeable to a spontaneous one or even likely to lure a nearby wallflower if she thinks it'll get them to loosen up. Despite her size and background, Korrin proves to be a decent dancer. She may not know the latest fashionable dances, but is graceful enough to adapt and not step on any feet.

When her own are in need of a break, she'll snag some crisp Antivan white wine and perhaps some other treats. However, the deep mushroom and anise petits fours are given a wide berth and she'll warn anyone away from them who isn't a known dietary masochist. Orlesians usually have exquisite treats, but that is a rare and disgusting exception.

Ellana arrives with her chin lifted high, practically gliding into the soiree. There's a newfound confidence surrounding her thanks in part to Morrigan's tips on how to act around nobles. She's not a creature to be leashed and paraded around; she's her own person. Initially she was nervous about having to attend as a Councilor, but things have changed. The Inquisition needs support, and the Mage Council needs to look like a positive organization, so she'll be doing her best to talk up both. The real test is what to do with those who believe her lesser because she's an elf.

Throughout the night, Ellana can be found in conversation with nobles, both masked and unmasked. Catching snippets of conversation will reveal Ellana responding in an airy manner no matter the subject.

"Really, Baron? Surely you wouldn't believe such rumors about elves. I can tell you are a man who takes charge and would come see for yourself, and would never lower himself to putting stock in fanciful gossip. After all, do I look like a savage to you?"

The Baron seems unsure how to respond, because she's complimenting him, but she's challenging his opinion. After a moment, he says, "Not at all, Councilor," and steers the conversation elsewhere, just as she intended. Morrigan really is a wonderful teacher.

The rest of the evening, Ellana is either dancing (the easy dances only, as she's taken no lessons), or stealthily swiping tiny cakes from a table (but not the deep mushroom and anise; she can smell those from a mile away and it's not pleasant).

Politics. It has been one thing to hack at them and mediate, moderate discussions within the Mage Council for the Inquisition, to stand as someone for other mages to come to with their concerns and to address said concerns- another entirely to present herself as such to Orlesian and Fereldan nobility. Lessons three decades old are of little help here when it is not a toe she dips into the lake, but the whole of her. At least Vivienne has been kind enough to offer instruction where she has felt a lack of skill. At least she has armor in the form of pale silk light and fine, cold against the tiles, hair pulled back and pinned high, glittering with strands of silver wire beaded with what appear to be frosted crystals woven throughout- though closer inspection would show those and similar strands draped about her bodice and throat to be actual ice, prevented from melting with a lasting enchantment.

A - Mingling & Magic

At least she does not wade into this alone, Martel dark and tall and trimmed in silver upon her arm as they enter. There is a tense set to her shoulders that does not loosen throughout the night, though she manages to be civil if not warm throughout the night. She needn't work too hard to charm- her family name does half the work for her. Actual questions that have thought rather than needless gossip do the rest, she answers as best she can with all the grace she can manage between dances and sips of wine. At a request after her gown she does make brief demonstration of ice sculpting near the windows, small towers and creatures coiling into life under her careful guidance.

B - Dancing

One of the few things that sets her at ease is the dancing. This she knows well enough to handle with a good deal of grace, her dance card quite full between her name, her position, and Vivienne's meddling- but this is comfortable enough for her to take joy in each song.

C - A moment of peace

When it becomes too much pressure and stress to bear she slips away for a few moments in one of those secluded alcoves to breathe. To shore up her tolerance for these people and their expectations. It does not take long for her to pull back on a more civil mask and slip back out to mingle, to dance, to make polite conversation.

D - WILDCARD

Edited 2016-03-16 05:06 (UTC)

Almost immediately as the soiree begins, one will immediately identify Twisted Fate mingling, looking immensely comfortable. Any attention drawn to him, he drinks in immediately, his perpetual smirk impossible to not identify even with the mask on. Somehow, the new hat he wears is more decorative than usual, and his outfit suitably elaborate with all of its finest silks. The mask he wears is the one that Nerva had kindly made for him, covering half his face in fine silver and golden accents, leaves branching off in the edges.

A DANCE

But of course, what is a soiree without a fine dance to go with it? Undoubtedly if you ask, he will join you with ease.

Hopefully, you're ready to tango.

A PERFORMANCE

Twisted Fate time and again has described himself as an entertainer, and he seems to make no exception here. He's prepared something, as he always has.

A table with a coffin-like box, elegantly carved by careful hands, is propped up. The elf gives a little bow.

"Respectable nobles and my fellow agents of the Inquisition, I've been on many adventures across Thedas. In particular, I discovered this enchanted box, its origins a mystery. I have never found another artifact like this one, its properties a mystery -- though I have found ways to make it bend to my will. I wish to show you now."

Twisted Fate smiles sharply. "But I require a volunteer."

WILDCARD

But of course, should you wish to simply socialize with him, Fate is in your hands.

Christine arrives on Church's arm, but she doesn't stay stuck to his side all night. She's here for two reasons: talking up the importance of studying red lyrium so she can get funding to do it, and dancing. She's happy to converse with anyone, but can't be swayed from her goals for long. Playing the Game is something she's never wanted to do, and so she doesn't come at the nobles with honeyed words and tricks. She is calm and straightforward, explaining her needs and how it will benefit all of them.

Unfortunately, her fellow Orlesians are letting her down, talking of hunting dogs or flirting with her date. Ugh. It is of course a Fereldan who takes to her straightforward manner and listens intently to her sales pitch. By the end of the night, she thinks she may have an ally in the young Bann. Why do Fereldans have to be so reasonable when she's supposed to dislike them? Sam will look so smug if he finds out.

Once she's done all she can to secure funds, Christine allows herself to have fun, dancing and twirling with anyone who asks. It's clear she has a great love of dancing and knows each dance well, as she often ends up taking the lead.

A: Mingling

Beleth has always been good at blending in to crowds. Usually, it's as an ordinary scout out amongst the others at Skyhold. For today, it's as a member of the glittering elite of Orlais. She looks as regal as anyone else there (though if someone were paying enough attention to her feet, they may notice she'd stubbornly managed to get in without shoes). But more surprisingly, she holds herself just as regal, as well. Just as she melds into the crowds at Skyhold, so she does here, with a straight back, and a confidence that she can only own when she is behind a mask--real or imagined. She trades scandalous gossip with a light titter, and glides around, stopping to lend a sympathetic ear whenever someone stops to complain about the wine, or the food, or their sister.

And for the first time in what feels like ages, Beleth feels...good. She doesn't like these people, nor is she particularly fond of shoving herself in uncomfortable lace and masks and whatnot. But she loves the acting, the attention, the way that she can use her words with as much grace as an assassin wields a knife. Oddly enough, she feels more like herself, while she's pretending to be somebody else.

Only later in the night, can she be found in one of the shadowy corners set aside for secretive rendezvous. But she's not there for pleasure. She can be seen, mask taken off, chatting seriously with a few of the elven servants that have arrived with their nobles. For the first time that night, she's frowning in deep thought, though anyone who inquires will get nothing more than a shrug.

Feel free to approach her for a dance or to chitchat.

B: Singing (particularly for Alistair)

She'd put a lot of time into practicing, and it shows as she takes her lute out. She mostly plays songs with Cyril and Merrick, but feel free to ask to play a song with her. She even has a few in mind for particular folks.

Once she's alone, however, she clears her throat. "I have a very special song, for a very special person who's in the room here tonight. I would like to use this song to fulfill my end of a promise, and to make a declaration, with all these wonderful and notable figures of Orlais and the Inquisition as my witnesses."

And then, she promptly plays a song of questionable taste.

C: The Case Of the Missing Pastries

One of the chefs of the evening manages to corner Beleth, and he does not appear to be charmed by her. Indeed, he is trying to interrogate her as to the supposed theft of a great quantity of little cakes that he had just set out for the other guests. Most mysteriously of all, perhaps, is that Beleth has apparently forgotten all Common previously learned while the irate chef grills her.

"Elgara vallas, da'len?" She stares at him in bewilderment as he shouts some more. "No--No Common. Elvhen? Melava somniar?" Anyone who actually knows anything about Elvhen might recognize that she is, in actuality, just reciting the lines of a lullabye. "Mala--No, no. Mala taren aravas?"

After the chef gives up and stomps off, Beleth shakes her head, turns around, and pulls out a little cake from within the folds of her dress, tsking to herself while she eats.

And for himself, Skyhold's resident Master Jedi is wearing... The same thing he always does. Jedi don't do formalwear, except that this is very clean, a well pressed, unremarkable statement, a monk amount jeweltoned flowers. If nothing else he stands out-- but those who might otherwise remark, may find themselves reconsidering; more than half of this game is the confidence with which it is played. And Obi-Wan, he hasn't even the slightest self-consciousness about his comfortable, practical boots, or his comparatively rough, if excellently machine-made, robes. One might think he goes to fancy parties dressed like this all the time.

If invited, or offered, a dance, he will dance, and with a grace that may surprise, given his humble appearance. His bearing is genteel and courtly throughout, friendly though never improperly familiar. His smiles are frequent, warm, and seemingly genuine.

At least once, he makes the mistake of getting buttonholed by one noble or the other-- exercising the patience of a saint, while subtle begging with his eyes for a rescue if anyone has the courage to make eye contact across the room. Help him?

His wineglass is rarely empty, and he's clearly getting refills, yet he doesn't ever seem to get drunk, or even tipsy. Where is he hiding the wine? In the planters? In the icebuckets? Is he drinking it? Is he? Surely not. What game is he playing, here?

Edited 2016-03-16 04:27 (UTC)

There was no joy to be found on the Knight-Commander's face as he lingered idly by the tall windows of the grand hall. Alayre looked quite grim this evening despite wearing his Sunday's best to the ball. He managed to give friends and acquaintances alike a slight nod of approval but the gloomy Templar was adverse to smiling. Despite his obvious mood, Alayre was dressed quite handsomely in an elaborate crimson coat weaved from Orlesian silk. The fancy golden brocade upon the coat and long sleeves really made the Templar standout amongst the crowd. He looked slightly taller in this attire because of the lengthy half-cape he wears around his broad shoulders. The entire outfit truly complimented Alayre but he looked positively agitated tonight.

He came to this elaborate ball well armed with both swords sheathed at his hip. Alayre didn't quite trust everyone to be at their best behaviors tonight despite the stern warnings gave earlier in the month. This was why he's well armed tonight while overseeing the proceedings of this delightful party. It's just a shame that he won't be drinking tonight. Alayre was certainly more tolerable after a sip or two of red.

Edited 2016-03-16 04:37 (UTC)

Norrington arrives, naturally, with his full troop. They are all in the Templar dress uniform, but their colors are now green and gold, as opposed to blue and silver, to show their support of the Inquisition. They also wear half-capes, with the Templar sword embroidered on them.

James is smart enough to send his troops off to socialize - no better way to gain the confidence of nobles than to see Templars around and acting sane. Not to mention, in full support of what is going on here. As for the man himself, he speaks in all politeness, a tall and somber looking figure who is trying to keep to the back wall as much as possible. He despises politics and the Game, but tonight he's not playing for himself. He's playing for the Inquisition, and the cause he's dedicated himself, and his people, to.

Of course, he would be delighted to dance.

Edited 2016-03-16 04:43 (UTC)

Kain does not feel like he belongs here. At all.

He was only talked into it when he accidentally walked into the middle of the fitting, and... well... he couldn't back out after being cornered by both Josephine and Vivienne. He's at least out of the armor, for once, in an outfit which Vivienne had gifted him with: a dark blue tunic with white and silver trim and silver buttons engraved with dragons, blue trousers which are nicely snug, and white leather gloves. At least Vivienne had given him the go ahead to wear a mask, a fine Orlesian one in the shape of a dragon's face... and his long blond hair is tied back neatly. Still, he feels terribly out of place, having come with no one beside him, and feeling as awkward and alone as he did back home during the royal balls.

1.

Occasionally, he might be spotted giving a paranoid look over his shoulder... he's managed to stick the parrot in the castle elsewhere for now, but he's afraid of it making an appearance.

And sure enough, there it is!! It's sure to be hugely disruptive when it opens its beak... come join him in chasing it out?

2.

Kain also ends up often with arms crossed and leaning against a wall, with his typical brooding loner vibe. This would definitely be a good time to try and pull him out of his aloof moment. He looks like he could use a companion, whether for dancing, or even just for talking and getting him to lighten up a bit!

3.

Throughout the evening, the Baroness Marie-Delphine Comeaux sets her eyes on him, cornering him and forcing him into a dance... and another... and another... The rumors are sure to already be starting up as everyone knows what she's after. She always keeps coming back, but try and rescue him from her clutches anyway?

Wildcard!!

Anything goes! Even if they haven't met before, this is wide open for interaction!

Edited 2016-03-17 03:58 (UTC)

When Kallian enters on Jamie's arm, she is a vision in red silk, dark hair an artful arrangement of curls accented with red ribbons and feathers. Her face is carefully made up, but still hidden behind her mother's porcelain half-mask trimmed in lace whose color had aged to cream and red ribbons. She may be an elf, but she is certainly among the finer beauties of this ball.

This is a test. She knows that. One of charm, grace, poise, performance and no small amount of pressure. This could be her gateway into the Game, if she chooses to follow that path, depending on how things fall tonight. Tonight is where she proves herself adept enough for Madame de Fer.

PERFORMANCE

She is announced by her full name, Kallian Poirefleur Endris, with the Orlesian pronunciation. She is to sing tonight, and all eyes fall upon her, it feels. Her sending crystal is activated, so even those not at the party might hear her songs.

She bows in acknowledgement to her accompanist, hoping no one notices how she trembles, and begins to sing in Orlesian, her voice sweet and clear. It's not polished to the cultured affectations of a true bard, but she shines nonetheless.

DANCE

The young elf has been instructed that she is to charm those attending, and not to refuse a dance. Her normally timid demeanor is shifted into something better described as demure and coy.

No, she will refuse no offers to dance this evening, and will meet them with as graceful an acceptance as she can muster.

A BREAK FROM THE CROWD

All the music and singing and dancing is enough to make almost anyone's head spin. Periodically throughout the evening, Kallian can be found getting refreshments to keep her strength up, or stepping outside for a bit of fresh air.

WILDCARD

[Choose your own fairytale!]

The notorious admiral has never really been a fan of fancy dress parties, but she comes anyway in her best hat, an exquisitely tailored longcoat, a surprisingly feminine silk tunic (unapologetically cut to show off her most renowned assets) that on any other day she'd probably wear alone as a dress, actual pants and her best belts, boots and gloves. Plus a treasure trove of jewelry. And yes, there are daggers on her person.

She comes with no date, no entourage, her presence enough all on its own.

Naturally, she's going to indulge greatly in the drink selection, but she's also ready for a dance with anyone who looks like they need it or who's willing to ask her. Or duel them. Whichever might be necessary.

Isabela can be dangerous company, but anyone who approaches her certainly won't find her dull.

Cade isn't sure why he's been allowed to attend, but he's grateful for it, in a way. He's also grateful that Nerva is letting him have a bit of free rein, because it means he can periodically leave the hubbub to recharge his senses and catch a breath of fresh air.

He's dressed in a subtle but classy ensemble of grey and white, with a doublet of light blue brocade that brings out his eyes. He looks a bit uncomfortable in the clothes, having not worn anything even close to this fancy for so long, but the parties of his childhood at least ensured that he knows how to not make a total fool of himself.

Despite being free of Nerva's tether, he hangs near her most of the time. He doesn't mind the masks, but averts his gaze whenever someone passes who might be familiar with him, especially Seekers and fellow Templars. He prefers to linger off to the side, watching the festivities and likely hoping to remain unnoticed.

At least the music is nice.

Ingrid feels a bit swept up into this whole affair. Even her own wedding celebration wasn't half this fancy. But, she was told it's an important affair, so she's here. Although she mostly keeps her helmet off, Ingrid is wearing her formal dress armor, polished to a mirror shine. She will do her absolute best to represent the Templar Order tonight.

She does eat some, but she is very judicious with her drink, not allowing herself to become even slightly tipsy.

Ingrid is a surprisingly graceful woman for her size, but uneducated in the art of dancing. She'll probably accept if someone asks her, but they might need to teach her the steps first.

There's nothing that could possibly soothe the gloom that overtaken Aragorn.

Memories of Galadriel's incarceration had left the ranger worried for her general safety. There was nothing he could do to free her and yet, Aragorn planned to do just that. When he had first heard of this ball, Aragorn had sworn not to attend. He cursed the Inquisition for their obvious abuse of power and lamented over the grim thoughts of the Lady of Light suffering within a jail cell. It wasn't until he overheard the conversation of a few potential party-goers that Aragorn realized he could use this party in his advantage.

If he dared to learn anything about Thedas, let it be from the aristocracy. There's plenty of Dukes and Lords in attendance tonight all hailing from various kingdoms both far and near. While he doubted that he could potentially sway any to take concern over Galadriel's plight, Aragorn certainly hoped to learn more about this realm through his interactions with them. This was why the ranger decided to dress the part in a simple but neat dark plum tunic that he managed to borrow for this endeavor. He went through the trouble of cleaning up for this event and even combed his hair for once.

Aragorn definitely earned a few looks from the nobles, particularly from Bann Gwyneth Dyer who seemed to be one of the few in attendance truly interested in the Inquisition's alleged crusade against evil.

On a worn-looking but comfortable chair, settled with other guest seating on the raised dais where the Inquisitor's throne used to sit (or may still be), Sina is holding court. There are usually several guests near her at any given time, asking after the shard in her chest that glitters conspicuously out over the ballroom, attempting to glean knowledge of its capabilities, its purpose, and what in Andraste's name it's doing embedded in a Dalish. Naturally, there are questions about that too.

Sina is wearing a simply embroidered gown with a shawl over her shoulders for warmth; her dark blonde hair is pinned to her head in an artful arrangement of tiny flowers, and there is even a bit of color on her lips and cheeks, no doubt to encourage the illusion of better health. All the same, she looks thin and frail, and unspeakably nervous if pleasant, and she only leaves the chair with assistance.

1
There's dancing! Sina is mesmerized by the sight of all the swirling colors and glittering jewels as guests prance about the ballroom. She's never seen anything like it, and she is as delighted as she is bewildered.
Although she cannot do any dancing herself out of fear for her still-recovering lungs and heart, she is swept up in the excitement of it and quick to grin at passing friends.

2
The soiree is exciting, but long, loud, and full of difficult questions. Sina is surrounded by a group of persistent nobles who are barraging her with conversation, some of which seems designed to trap her, and she is clearly quite overwhelmed. For every ingratiating smile she gives, there is a quiet look of dismay, a quick glance around for an out. It's too much, she's in over her head. The Game eludes her entirely.

3
It's getting late, and Sina was ready to turn in about three hours ago. Though less hounded by curious guests, she's visibly out of steam, drowsing in her chair and on the verge of simply curling up in it like a halla fawn in a field of noisy and colorful birds. She resists, though she may not for much longer.

Vivienne's tailors truly came through, the ensemble fitting perfectly from the vest, to the eyepatch rought with garnets, to the half cape draped over one shoulder and bound across his chest in true Antivan fashion. Just as he expected it makes quite the impression among the Orlesian nobility- the Fereldans are far more practical; though all take note of one disgraced Champion, Michel de Chevin entering the soiree with him openly. Oh how the tongues, they wag.

A - Dancing

Any that wish a dance might have one- and those that might not will likely find themselves pulled onto the dance floor all the same. Zevran has no card in truth, merely a mind to make certain all have a turn about with such sultry songs- or simple ones. There is music and there is wine- it is as close to home as he might have in a fair while.

B - Drinking

Between partners Zevran takes to the wall to drink and mind several young men and women that are dressed simply in white silks slashed with grey and gold, edged in red. Aside from an armband stitched with a Kestrel's wing nothing ties them together save their deference and lingering about Zevran. They serve drinks or listen in, slipping about to find little nuggets of information where appropriate. Quietly, Zevran holds court, here.

C - Dishing & Demonstrating

That gossip found come to use later in the night when he is dispensing tidbits to waiting ears, bolstering arguments here, cutting down egos there. All very subtle, very quiet, all aimed to nudge the Inquisition's reputation in a positive light. To keep the nobility's eyes off him when he makes use of such things the kestrels perform feats of contortion, acrobatics, or flying silks- things they learned in Antiva that are not quite so often seen in the south.

D - WILDCARD

Edited 2016-03-16 06:20 (UTC)

If anyone has ever doubted Madame de Fer's skill at the Game, those doubts can be safely put to rest. Even to the eye of a complete stranger, it's obvious that she is in her element, and she is resplendent. She dances. She mildly flirts. The Iron Lady is all lightness and levity, making her moves look as simple and natural as breathing.

Gentle queries after Duke Bastien's attendance are answered with a reply that he is under the weather and could not make the journey. Nastier opponents could try to leverage his absence as a sign his ardor for Vivienne has cooled, but they will find that a terribly hard sell. Fabulous diamonds glitter at her neck and wrists, drip from her ears. His apology for being absent. These are not the gifts of a lukewarm lover. They miss each other painfully, but must accept that they have obligations to Thedas which must take priority over their personal longing.

The gems are a fantastic match for her gown this evening. The theme for the evening is ice and snow. Even her mask is a delicate rendering of a cluster of silver snowflakes sparkling with diamonds.

Parties and social events have never fallen into the category of enjoyable time for Aleron. It has helped (or perhaps hindered) that much of his tender youth was spent in the solitude that came with the Seeker's training. Not that this has ever prevented his mother from nagging, or his sisters from teasing, him into attendance, especially when couched as being for the good of the family. Which is how and why he finds himself present at the soiree. Mother insisted and the girls all ganged up on him. And people wonder why he throws his correspondence away unread.

It's not precisely that he's anti-social; he simply isn't entirely certain what is expected of him beyond good behavior, polite conversation, and rescuing ladies from wilting against the walls without dance partners when he himself is available. What he doesn't realize is how often he himself seems the wallflower, standing near the wall with his ever stoic visage.

The Seeker is dressed well, looking every bit the younger son of a noble. He sports the blue and silver of his du Guilles relations, at his Mother's insistence, rather than the more familiar green and gold of Endridge. She'd sent along a mask trying to encourage him to embrace his Orlesian side of the family more, but that's been discarded already.

...which presents a problem in the form of the Baroness Marie-Delphine Comeaux. There is a handsome man of good family and known wealth sitting out in the open. Aleron is polite and attentive, though clearly unaware of where the woman is attempting to drive their interaction. Even when she starts with the light touching, of his hand, on his arm, he doesn't seem to realize where she's going. Nor does he respond with anything but his usual unflappable manners. He might require a rescue. Especially since the wedding band openly glinting on his hand doesn't seem to be a deterrent to the lady.

Under normal circumstances, Jamie likely wouldn't have come to the soiree at all. For all that that he's been more places and seen more things than people twice or even three times his age, he's never been comfortable in fancy gatherings such as these. His tastes tend to run to simpler things, and the elaborate clothing and ornate trappings that seem to go hand in hand with such an event have always felt a bit stifling to him.

However, when it comes to a pretty lass needing his help, he's always found it hard to resist - and it's no real surprise he's agreed to escort Kallian here tonight. While not as fancily dressed as some, he does at least try, putting together the most formal outfit he can manage in the short time he has after returning from the Western Approach, and while it may make for a new and possibly scandalous outfit in the eyes of some Orleasians, he wears it with confidence - and with pride, as well.

While is more than glad to spend time with Kallian when he can, when she's required to be elsewhere, he spends his time circulating and talking, willing to dance when asked and occasionally doing the asking himself.

There's a fair amount of time spent at the food tables as well, of course, because if there's food, he's bound to be drawn to it, no matter how elaborate the surroundings are at any given time. It's not hard to find him with a drink, or a bit of the imported cheese, or some dried fruits and nuts...or even eyeing those deep mushroom and anise petits fours, although he doesn't seem all that sure what to make of them.

And from time to time, he slips away from it all, going outside and to find a relatively quiet corner and try and get in a breath of fresh air, away from the scheming and politicking and the playing of a Game he knows nothing about. Apart from the times he's actually with Kallian, he seems the happiest here, maybe because it's a break from everything else. It's a long evening, but if he can get through it for the sake of a friend, he can get through just about anything.

Appearing at the soiree on the arm of Seeker Reed, Lady Thevenet is imperiously formidable in her black gown, having at the last moment abandoned her jewelry choices and replaced them with the Orlesian mask crafted for her by Nerva. The mask sets into the elaborate sweep of her hair where it's pinned and styled to tumble in curls down one shoulder, and it - makes this easier, her fingers light on Malcolm's wrist, her dancing slippers soft enough that she feels acutely conscious of the floor beneath her.

Her feelings are irrelevant.

Josephine is not throwing a party for their amusement; this is work, and it is work that she's good at. The smile she musters up from beneath that mask is as charming as any she might give, and as much as she might like to, she does not go directly from Malcolm's side to the refreshments (and the Nevarran reds). She laughs brightly at witticisms directed to her; dances readily with those who ask her hand.

And she is so angry she could burn all of it down -

"Lady Montiliyet has outdone herself," she murmurs, pleasantly.

Silver-trimmed black in sleek lines and elegant tailoring makes a serviceable backdrop for the Pandion medallion that Martel does not ordinarily give such pride of place above his clothing; he cuts quite the figure, all 6'4" of him (and the slight added height of his boots), mostly attending at Adelaide's side but not impossible to corner apart from her. No, he absolutely is not stealing cake for anyone. It's a strange coincidence that several of the more delectable treats he takes he doesn't seem to actually eat but discreetly pass off.

(For Merrill, later.)

It's been a long time since he attended something like this, rather than breaking it up with the sheer force of his personality (or through having arrived with a small force and an empty pouch to dangle for the money he was owed ... 'his personality', sure), but there are things no amount of mercenary life can beat out of a man who was raised to the Elenian court. He maneuvers well, occasionally allowing himself to be drawn into conversation with the visiting nobility, editing his anecdotes to charm and thrill, tolerating his own novelty and, where it seems appropriate, flirting a little before moving on.

It might not be his first way to get something done, but he isn't above it. Or much, let's be honest.

“Lady Leliana,
Nightingale of the Imperial Court,
Veteran of the Fifth Blight,
Seneschal of the Inquisition,
And Left Hand of the Divine.”

For once Leliana has entered a room without letting her tendency towards mysteriously appearing out of shadows take over. She appears calm, at ease, though to think she was relaxed would be a mistake indeed. There is never a moment to relax within the Game, and they had brought it upon their doorstep. She hopes for, the sake of her own fledgling bards and this Inquisition, that chalices of sweet, indulgent intoxication did not turn bitter, caustic and venomous. (They were already such the very moment these nobles arrived here, but there is no need to dwell on that now.)

Another ‘for once’ is the change in attire, hood done away with and hair free. She dons a dress* of a very fine silk-wool that appears closer to a slate grey as the light dabbles it, and for all that it is a dress, the chain mail that covered her arms and stretches across part of her chest beneath wrappings of material may glitter beautifully in the lights, but it is enough to remind who she is and that she is always present as a guardian of the Inquisition, the sigil of of which is pinned at her left shoulder. Her sleeves end in dark grey leather gloves, though the chainmail stretches down to the backs of her hands. Of course her shoes are perfect - this is Leliana, after all. Words cannot do them justice.

( * let’s just pretend it’s blue-grey and the gauzey stuff is chain mail and that it looks fabulous bc how do words how do draw... I am bad at fashion at the best of times, lets be real. )

A.
Leliana spends as much of the evening mingling and charming as she does observing, seamlessly moving between the two, combining them. This is not the Nightingale, or at least, it is not the Nightingale as she is most often seen in Skyhold. Perhaps this is her truest and most dangerous form, when she lets Marjolaine guide her all the more. The other Orlesians here wear their masks, but Marjolaine has always been her mask - or perhaps Leliana was the mask, and Marjolaine helped peel it away to reveal the truth of her. In either case, her role here now is to dismiss the rumours regarding her and Cassandra having any role in the Divine’s death. For all that she and Cassandra do not see eye to eye at present (to put it lightly) for the sake of pretence she is entirely cordial and pleasant regarding the Right Hand, should her name ever be mentioned.

Perhaps she has just been speaking to a noble, or seeing to a scout that seemed to materialise next to her and is gone in the next moment, as if they had never been there at all.

B.
And a moment outside. Not too long, of course, any extended disappearances might be suspicious, but one can never appreciate the stars and the dark outline of the Frostbacks enough.

WILDCARD.
Hit me with your best shot. Feel free to pm me if you want to do a thing but aren’t certain :Db

Edited 2016-03-16 13:02 (UTC)

Katniss would rather be eating hot nails than be at a party like this. Rich and privleged nobles, snooting it up over hot little food items for absolutely no damned purpose whatsoever? Please. For what it cost to put this party on she could have fed the refugees for six months.

Yet it was for them that she was here, why she was going to try to play the Game. For her fellow soldiers too - they needed the funds for better housing and she was here to get it. So if charm was what bought wooden beams and quarry stone? So be it.

She is resplendent in a gown of Orlesian design, green and gold shimmering without, and her dark hair curled perfectly to fall about her bared shoulders. She wears no jewelry, but she has gold and green silk ribbons twisted into her curls. She arrives on Cullen's arm, her expression carefully neutral, but her smile is bright as the sun when she looks at her escort.

You will find her:

Chatting with nobility

Whether she is with Cullen or standing alone, she is never far from one of the nobility tonight. She looks as if she is suffering through all the small talk well enough, but when she truly begins to shine is when she has got a truly interested party on her line. There, she stresses how the Inquisition is doing the Maker's work with shielding, protecting and feeding the refugees from Haven, and the pilgrims who have come after, but of course, they cannot do this alone ...

Dancing

For a gown of this particular design, and brilliance, Katniss wears it well while she is walking amongst the crowd. However, the true beauty and magic of it is when she dances. From the first dance, to the last, when Katniss moves in this dress -- it takes on the appearance of live Veilfire, flickering and flaming around her as she spins. The Orlesian tailors, and Vivienne, had out-done themselves.

The lady within the brilliant gown is no less brilliant herself on the dance floor, and will dance with all comers.

Outside

Sooner or later though, Katniss requires air and some sort of wine. If for no other reason than just to breath. She stands out, looking gravely at the courtyard beyond, as if gathering up her strength to plunge back into the Game.

Which, accordingly, she is.

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