i try my best to become poetry. i take a bath and stain the water with black ink.

[trouvaille]

WHO: Gwenaëlle Vauquelin + YOU.
WHAT: Gwenaëlle arrives in Skyhold, etcetera.
WHEN: The current AC period.
WHERE: Skyhold.
NOTES: She is arriving with a retinue, including resources for the Inquisition (a physician who will join the healers included) and her own maid. Also, if you prefer spam to prose, no problem! I will match however you tag in.

( FOR ANDERS )
Gwenaëlle does not seek out a healer herself.

She sends her lady's maid - Katell, a Halamshiral-born elf - to give the anxious request that her lady does not wish to come to the healer's tents and won't he please accompany her back to the lady's rooms?

The small suite that Katell shows him and his accompaniment to is still in the midst of being unpacked for Gwenaëlle's comfort, but even in the arrival chaos it's plain that someone (presumably the Comte Vauquelin) has gone to great efforts to make her as comfortable as can be done, making the rooms a small oasis of Orlesian familiarity, decorated as befits a young woman of her station and inclinations. Silk hangings, art, an already mostly full bookshelf, a full length mirror, her own bedding - and the prideful creature herself sitting on a cushioned chaise, her back stiff and straight, her small hands fidgeting anxiously with the edge of her robe until a moment after the door opens, flattening immediately.

It presents an immediate explanation as to why she might not have wanted to come down to the healing tents; the bandages pressed against the thin robe tell a story that she might not want to go down where she doesn't feel entirely safe to undress.

( FOR ADELAIDE )
It's with some reluctance that Gwenaëlle seeks out the woman she persists in thinking of as Councilor Leblanc rather than Gregoire's sister; he had been persuasive, but she hadn't forgotten that he'd never actually met his older sister. A person could write anything in a letter. Had they even exchanged letters? It hadn't occurred to her to ask, too fixated on the fact he hadn't done anything else - only there's no one else here she might claim anything like acquaintance with and he did promise, and inasmuch as she trusts anyone, she might trust that Gregoire wouldn't make her a promise he didn't at least try to keep. She will, she decides, graciously not blame him for it when this goes awry. She won't even say she told him so. She will let her disappointed silence speak for itself. It will be a very short letter.

He will be so sorry.

At least Cyprienne isn't here to see her fall on her face. She squares her shoulders and dismisses Katell, carrying on up to the battlements (a bit of privacy at this hour - no one needs to see her fall on her face) unaccompanied with a shawl pulled close against the chill in the air, her face bare of the Orlesian mask she'd worn on her journey. It feels strange and uncomfortable to go without it, but she's observed enough of Skyhold in the short time she's been here to hesitate to so visually separate herself, however much she might like to be separate in as many way as possible. Even Madame de Fer is seen here bare-faced -

And if it's good enough for her, then Gwenaëlle is not going to be the one to suggest Lady Vivienne has misstepped. She's stuck here for the foreseeable future; she has to try to adapt. To learn. To be smart whether it's comfortable or not.

"Lady Leblanc?"

( FOR ANYONE )
Having reached the end of her journey to Skyhold, Gwenaëlle isn't entirely sure what - happens next. Her father had sent her here because what else could he do, but he'd been understandably vague about what he imagined being there might entail for her, and she had her doubts that anyone would be interested in helping her figure it out. They all had better things to be doing than paying any heed to some Orlesian debutante with a shard in her hand; what use is that going to be to the Inquisition? It isn't as if they could send her off to close rifts.

It probably isn't as if they'd do that, she thinks, with a spike of fear.

So- for a lack of anything to do with herself (and with Katell engaged in the business of unpacking and organising her accommodation, and for the time being no relief to be found in retreating there), she explores. She goes to see what everyone else does with their time, peering into anywhere she isn't hurried away from, huge eyed and a little bit suspicious.

Comments

[lifeofendurance]

The sound of an unfamiliar voice so close grabs the Seeker's attention and he looks up to identify the source. It gnaws at him that he doesn't know the voice, but he feels as though he does. Same for the very lovely, albeit young, face before him.

Frankly, he's staring while attempting to put the pieces together.

There are some aspects of one's life that never truly fades from memory. One such instance being the rather precious cousin of Mirielle's with the huge eyes that they both doted on. Little Gwenaëlle was one of the reasons his wife has been so insistent that she wanted little ones of her own, despite all the cautions that had been given to the contrary. The connection clicks for him. It's her.

It's rather like the stunning response he'd had at seeing his sisters after decades away from home. No longer babes in arms, but women grown. Why do the womenfolk do this anyway? Grow up and give him frightful worries about their welfare and safety. He now feels... very old.

"Little Gwen? Maker, look at you..." It's her. He's absolutely certain. Rising to his feet, he takes hold of both her hands and warmly faire en bise each of her cheeks. "You've become a lovely lady."

[trouvaille]

"You've become an old man," she protests, laughing, pleased in spite of herself by the sudden display of affection and returning the greeting; so many years removed, and so young when she'd known them, it's easy to think perhaps he only tolerated the little thing laying in his wife's lap. He is the more reserved. But, no, here they are - he calls her little Gwen and kisses her cheeks and calls her lovely. It isn't the worst greeting she's ever had -

It is rather better than most she's found in Skyhold so far.

"I should protect my cheeks from being pinched," she says, her lips quirking, touching her thumb to his nose lightly. (Boop.) "You are a grandfather in a younger man's costume. Little Gwen, indeed."

Well, she isn't very tall. It isn't as if it's not still accurate.

[lifeofendurance]

"It's true. I've grown very old," he confirms with an intense nod and somber expression. He feels old. Older than his age. She is entirely correct on that score and yet he accepts it as stoically as ever. His mother would certainly argue that he's still young and in the prime of life. And she has. Oh how she has, along with long written nagfests demanding that he do his duty to his family and set about to providing his own collection of heirs for her to dote on.

Just thinking about it irritates him because it defeats the purpose of having him shipped off and gotten rid of as a boy. But as ever, he pushes that down to attend to his present circumstance and company.

Gwen is a little slip of a young lady, he notes and takes his chastisement for the nickname without argument. "I give you my word, your cheeks are safe with me. But you must forgive me for not meeting you at the gate. I had meant to do."

But just how would he have known to look for her?

[elegiaque]

For a moment she looks blank - meeting her? He meant to? - but she's a clever thing and the expression clears almost as quickly as it came. Of course he knew that she was coming. Of course she didn't know. There are any number of things she might say (and sharply) on that subject, but none of them have a thing to do with Aleron, and none of them he needs to hear. His naturally given apology is all she needs to know he did not realise she was so ignorant-- whatever decisions were made, he'd no part of.

She settles on, "It's all right - I wasn't expecting you," with a tight smile that she eases with effort.

It doesn't matter, anyway. She's here now. She should just be grateful there's someone pleased to see her.

"Besides," a bit more upbeat, "I would have been terrible company. I hadn't seen the healer yet."