open ||

[degenere]

FORM: sending crystal
SENDER: Val de Foncé (and with him, as always, is Jehan Mercier)
RECIPIENT: e v e r y o n e
WHAT: the scholars of Orlais have something to say.
WHEN: now, right now
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: aren't they charming.


Inquisition, we are confused.

[Melodious, Orlesian, flirtatious (somehow even in this most simple of sentences): these are three words one might use to describe the sound of Val's voice. It makes confused sound kind of fun, if a bit puzzling.]

My friend and I have come all this way to be an asset to you. And now we have arrived here, to your Skyhold, and we find so much to be in want. How have you all managed so far, with these conditions? I am a man used to the roughness of a camp, a life of travel. I love this life. You'll find no one loves it more than me. But a camp, that is one thing, and this? It is meant to be a city, of a sort. Yet there is no apartment for us. There is barely a work space, in your library--we have been, my friend and I. We have seen the conditions. There is barely a book there.

I am sorry for you, Inquisition.

[So sincere. A pause, in which he has pressed a hand to his chest, in a deep show of pity. And then, briskly, cheerfully:]

But we will not leave you there, in sorrow. The good news. You now have, among your numbers, me. An introduction: Valentine de Foncé, a master architect, among many other masteries, too numerous to name. If you ask sweetly, I'll tell you them all. If you ask very sweetly, I'll give demonstration. And for the Inquisition, I will offer my services, and my knowledge--and so, too, does my friend. If only so we can get a decent space in which we can do our work. And believe me: you want this. We have arrived to be your greatest blessing.

Now, tell me. With business sorted: what does anyone do for fun around here?

Comments

[apologist]

[ Solemnly: ] It is the heaviest burden I carry, but a noble one. Do not listen to him.

Jeannot, yes. Brother Jehan if you prefer formality, but I am not bothered either way. And what shall we call you?

[fledglingenchanter]

[She feels for you.]

[The request for her name gives her the tiniest pause as she takes another deep breath before speaking.]

Since you asked, I am Sadira.

[apologist]

Would you be someone else if I did not ask?

[fledglingenchanter]

If I were more clever, the answer would be yes. Alas, I was not.

[apologist]

If ever you have the opportunity to try with someone else, say un mystère.

[fledglingenchanter]

[Ugh. An Orlesian word.]

Perhaps I will just say it's Regret instead.

[apologist]

I hope for your sake that you refer to the regret one would feel at not learning your name and not to something tragic.

[fledglingenchanter]

You are correct. My regret lies purely in my name being known by one if not both of you. It puts me at a disadvantage for any further snark I might throw at you.

[apologist]

Ah, but you know our names as well. We are equally advantaged.

[fledglingenchanter]

You have me there. And your names will be the talk of Skyhold for a few days I am certain.