faderift | Truth or Dare: Side Party for Servants and Scoundrels

WHO: Anyone!
WHAT: A party for people who might scare the nobility, are deathly afraid of chandeliers, or fled the soiree with cheeses hidden in their clothes and need to make a clean getaway.
WHEN: During (and after) the soiree.
WHERE: The valley beyond Skyhold.
NOTES: Drinking, revelry. People might make out or something. We're not responsible for your actions.

The soiree might be fun, if you're into that sort of thing, but that isn't what it's for. It's for impressing the powerful and opening their pockets—and, necessarily, some people aren't invited. In some cases that's personal. In others, it's just understood. When they're done helping to set up, most of the servants and workers who aren't needed to serve make themselves scarce. The usual trickle of refugees to and from the fortress slows. Some people used to sleeping in the stables may find their "beds" occupied by nobles' horses or the rooms they had been squatting in cleaned and prepared for someone else to stay in.

There's no resentment. (Or at least very little.) That's how these things go. And in the valley outside the fortress' walls, there are foot soldiers and refugees and a number of miscellaneous exiles who welcome the company with large fires, cheap but freely flowing alcohol, and whatever music can be wrung out of instruments exposed to such low temperatures. The crowd thins and dwindles as the night wears on, but even after the last person has left the Great Hall in Skyhold, there's still a sizable gathering near the river with no intention of going to sleep before sunrise.

No masks allowed.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Nathaniel is still in dress uniform from his brief appearance at the soirée. As a fiddler begins a tune, he reaches for Anders' hand to pull him into a dance.

"What, I don't even get some sort of bow first? Or asked? You're just going to haul me in like someone entirely uncultured?" The questions are delivered with an imperious arc of the eyebrow... and a smile as he takes Nate's hand. The man could get away with just about anything where Anders is concerned - he's a true friend, and he makes it easier for Anders to remember who he once was.

"I suppose I'll allow it this once. I'll even let you take the lead."

A huff that resembles a laugh. "You bow after you're on the dance floor, you fool," he says fondly. "Like this."

Now that they're in place and facing each other, Nathaniel bows gracefully.

This is what comes of only reading about dances and never actually being to a formal one. His smile gets very wry as Nate corrects him and bows; of course Nathaniel Howe would know the specifics of how to dance.

"That was a test. Don't ask of what, because I've not thought that lie through enough yet." He bows back, and it's not nearly as graceful. One might (correctly) think that he's never bowed before. "And don't ask me to curtsy. I'd fall on my face."

"You're attired for it."

But now they're dancing and there is no need. It's a simple country dance, at least, one Anders can pick up on quickly.

"Yes, well. Someone here has to be pretty. Imagine how everyone here would feel if all of the pretty people were up at the main event furthering their causes." It's not a comfortable thought when the main face of the Loyalists is up there. There's no clock ticking on mage freedom, but there's still work to be done when several would much rather let many suffer so they can surround themselves in luxury.

The smile's slipped from his face and it's entirely his own fault. Even with Nate around, focusing on the present and what he can do is still a challenge. He tries to breathe as he falls into steps that are distantly familiar, following the lead he's given.

All the pretty people are up at the main event, someone here has to be pretty.

"What a charming dance partner you make," Nathaniel says dryly, just a little hurt.

At first he thinks Nate's talking about the 'furthering their causes' bit, and then he clues in. Anders shakes his head.

"Please. You don't count as pretty. Because you'd fall under handsome. There's quite the difference. Plus you've something trying to eat your lower lip, so that automatically disqualifies you from anything related to pretty."

Nathaniel gives him a squinty eye.

"Should I add you to the list of people who think I look like an arsehole with this?"

Oh, the things he could say. Oh, the glorious, teasing, blush-inducing things he could say... but won't, because they're in public. Anders reaches up and pokes the little patch of hair, smiling again.

"No. Please recall I just called you handsome. Though that's not to say arseholes can't be handsome. I've certainly appreciated a few in my day."

And let Nate translate that how he will.

"You know, I can't hit mages, so we'll have to arrange something I can do to put you in your place when you say things like that."

"I've heard it said that a good way to shut me up is to kiss me." He's never heard that said. He's heard it said that a good way to shut him up is to punch him. There is, unfortunately, a difference.

"Why would you give into violent urges when you could give into something else entirely?" Nate will never not be his favorite teasing target.

"To give in, there would have to be temptation. I've a better idea."

The dance is over. Nathaniel bends to scoop up a handful of snow, keeping Anders in his sight the entire time.

"I'm wounded."

He takes a slow step off to the side, grinning, scooping up some snow as well and making sure they're clear of the dance floor. He'll not be a disruption if he can help it.

Instead of throwing, Nathaniel slips up quickly to Anders and tries to stuff the snow down the back of his shirt.

That's not what he expects from an archer. A guy who uses swords, certainly. Nathaniel? No. And while Anders has certainly done his fair share of wrestling before, it's always been with his life or freedom or both on the line so he has no preparation for this. Anders winds up sputtering as snow is shoved into his robes, doing the best he can to shove some right back down Nathaniel's jacket.

"Ice. When you sleep," he manages. "So much ice."

A hiss as some of the snow meets skin, but Warden uniforms don't open that much at the top, so it doesn't really go down his clothes.

"Herc said a great many interpersonal conflicts ought to be solved by a good snowball fight."

...Shit. Herc. Nathaniel deflates and looks away, suddenly somber.

His gasping reaction to the snow slipping farther down and his own failure at revenge is cut off by Nate's words. Anders looks down too.

"I wish I had anything to say to that." Not the comment, but to where both of their minds have gone. Some might think it a comfort that they hadn't found Herc's body, that the man was likely a prisoner, but in Anders' eyes imprisonment is far worse.

"Has Erimond proven useful at all yet?"

Truth or Dare: Side Party for Servants and Scoundrels

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