Discretion?

[magistermaevaris]

WHO: Maevaris Tilani and YOU.
WHAT: Maevaris finally reaches Skyhold.
WHEN: Third week of Harvestmere
WHERE: A large spectacle of a tent that she has set up in the Courtyard; Around Skyhold In General
NOTES: Maevaris can be found all over Skyhold after her arrival, so feel free to wildcard me! Points of interest would be the tavern, library, or great hall. Prose or brackets are fine.

If there is one inconvenience to be associated with nobility, it is formality. Everything is a process. What should be a simple decision can take months of planning and preparation and considering the opinions of anyone and everyone of importance. Maevaris making the choice to journey to Skyhold is no exception, and by the time she is set to arrive, there is a mountain’s worth of paperwork that documents every detail of her departure. Appropriate, given that her final destination is an actual mountain.

Letters upon more letters are exchanged, bags upon more bags are packed, and once she is as sure as she can be that her affairs at home have been left in capable hands, she leaves with an entourage fitting of her station. The journey is long and at least mildly cumbersome, by her standards, though even that comes to an end eventually. Formalities and travel times be damned, she makes it. The Inquisition is going to experience the awe and wonder that is Maevaris Tilani, yet.

There are no trumpets announcing her entrance, nor is there a red carpet paving her way. She is followed by a host of people carrying her belongings, but the event appears to be otherwise average in nature. It is nightfall when her company settles in, and they quickly make themselves scarce, working away on something by the light of the moon in an empty corner of the grounds. All in all, it is not nearly as flashy an arrival as one might expect from a magister of her reputation.

By the light of day, her living quarters tell another story.

A large, tucked away section of the Skyhold courtyard that was previously unused is now home to a tent. A giant, gaudy tent, draped in expensive fabrics and immediately offensive to the eye. One that is intimately familiar with Tevinter may note that the style is distinctly reflective of the country, the shapes and colors mirroring their current trends of high fashion. Anyone else is likely to have any number of impressions, ranging from the structure being one of magnificence and beauty to something that is utterly cringe-worthy. One fact remains a constant: It commands attention. The flash is now in full effect.

For those seeking an audience with the mysterious tent’s owner that wish to be polite, there is a bell hanging from a tassel at the entrance that is just waiting to be rung. For those with less manners—or perhaps less of an eye for details—there does not appear to be anything stopping them from barging right on in.

For all its ornaments and imposing presence, it is only a tent, after all.

Comments

[hugeinorlais]

Up until right that moment Varric had never been bothered by an actual lack of literal fanfare. Between the repairs to Skyhold, everyone running around, and the ever-present and increasingly murderous tension, a guy in tights with a trumpet would have been both amusing and helpful. (Were tights in season in Minrathous? They were in Orlais, but Tevinter was hot enough that pants probably weren't in season.) As it was, Varric didn't notice Mae's arrival, not until the following morning. He was just getting some bread and butter for breakfast when he spotted Mae's tent.

And he knew it was her tent because there was, absolutely and definitively, no other person who would travel to the ass end of Thedas with a tent like that.

He made a beeline for it, breakfast in hand, and immediately wrote off any work he thought he was going to get done this morning. He saw the bell, of course, but Varric didn't bother ringing it. Despite the opulent nature of Mae's portable lodgings, (and the general atmosphere of potential murder,) the Inquisition was not a fancy party and not ringing the bell let him announce himself.

"Please tell me you just got here," Varric said loudly as he strolled into the tent, confident that it probably had (a very small but appropriately posh) foyer of some kind. He wasn't shouting but he was definitely speaking at a volume that was hard to ignore. "If this has been here for more than a day and I didn't notice, I'm going to have to get new glasses."

[magistermaevaris]

Unfortunately for her fashionable sensibilities, a proper foyer proved to be impossible with the amount of furniture she brought along. The most she could manage was a narrow hallway of sorts, adorned with a long rug that leads the way to an upscale sitting room. She is elsewhere in her maze of a tent when her favorite cousin arrives, though she does not remain so for long, not with an announcement like his.

“Varric,” Maevaris proudly exclaims as she sweeps into the room and quickly envelops him in a hug. Were they in public, her reaction would be less intimate, more restrained— But in public they are not, and so Varric receives the brunt end of her affection. No need for formalities in the privacy of her own tent. “You’re in luck. I only arrived late last night. Your glasses will live to see the light of another day.”

She pries herself away to hold him at arm’s length, a hand on each shoulder. His fistful of bread has not escaped her notice, and she raises an eyebrow curiously while she addresses him further. “Have you come to join me for breakfast, or are you only here to chastise me over not finding you sooner? A girl needs her beauty sleep, you know.”