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[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

[degenere]

And anyone who makes definitive statements of broad and sweeping conviction will always be disappointed when she is proved wrong. See how this works?

You can't have too many kitchen boys. There is only so much space in a kitchen. And soon there is little and less work for them to do--too many hands, you see--and then you have idle kitchen boys. Dull, idle--a terrible combination.

And I believe I said blessing. Not savior. Wouldn't you like a blessing?

[degenere]

Neither does lecturing me about them. You could be knitting shirts right now to cover their poor bare backs. Instead you are here.

Or there. These crystals are fiddly things.

[fledglingenchanter]

[Was it unusually warm in the tavern? Perhaps she was too close to the fire? It had been much easier talking and even pitting wits against him when she didn't know what he looked like.]

A drink would be nice, yes. [Any opportunity to settle her nerves.] I'm not the only one with charm or else I wouldn't be here, but you already know that. I doubt I need to extoll your virtues. Besides, I don't think I have quite the same skill for it.

[dreadinquisitor]

Well it's always good to leave room for some creativity.

Myself, I'm currently working on a way to turn bee grenades into a mine.

[It wouldn't be as spectacular a light show as his elemental mines, surely, but certainly as much fun - if he could ever get the recipe right.]

[degenere]

[Proof to her point, Val's smile remains very charming. Sorry; not sorry.]

You should try. How will you become skilled unless you practice? I willingly submit myself to your study at becoming charming. You can compliment me, extoll me, praise me... [He stands up, and grabs for his mug.] ...And we will start after I have fetched you a drink. Wine, or ale? To warn you, the wine here is terrible.

[To Orlesian tastes, anyways, but he doesn't even give it the benefit of the doubt. Roundly and fully terrible for no reason other than it is.]

[degenere]

[ok wait--]

Bee grenades? But you cannot leave that there. You must explain.

[fledglingenchanter]

[In spite of everything, Sadira cracks a smile and even manages an eye roll.]

Very well, I will endeavor to praise you after a drink. [She wrinkles her nose.] You say the wine is terrible, but I am fairly sure the ale is also no better than dishwater. Turn your nose up at it all you want, but I will take terrible wine over dishwater any day.

[the_effect_she_has]

I don't knit. I hunt, and I've already done my hunting for the day. I've also helped them repair their houses and made sure the new refugees had blankets and water and wood for fires.

[To name a few things.]

However ... arguing with you isn't helping them, I'll grant you that. So.

[And she cuts off the crystal message.]

[fourscores]

Oh, but of course.

[degenere]

You've never had Orlesian wine, have you? If you'd had, you would know: dishwater is always a better choice, when your other choice is piss.

[He touches his fingertips to his forehead and bows his head just slightly, a deferential salute.]

But as you say. Pisswine for you, dishwater ale for me. Two separate miseries. And I'll need extra praise for sitting at the same table as your misery.

[Two steps backwards, a wink. Then he spins on his heel and goes striding over to the bar, to fetch this drink order. It's a little crowded, but it still takes Val no time at all. People like serving him drinks. Part of his charmed existence. He's striding back with the drinks in hand, within minutes.]

[degenere]

Then it is settled, Jhin. We will proceed in this way, when the Repose Men arrive. And I thank you, my friend Jhin, for your expert opinion on the matter, and your cooperation.

[fledglingenchanter]

Alas, not all of us have lived in the lap of luxury. It will be your responsibility then to show me a good wine and allow me a taste. Until then, it shall be as they say: misery loves company. We will be in good hands this day.

[When he presents his back to her, she sticks her tongue out at him making a face, though it doesn't last as a grin sneaks out almost immediately after. When he returns, she is sitting calmly, observing the others around her with a casual eye. In a few minutes away, she;d used a meditational technique to try and calm her nerves.]

[degenere]

[With a flourish, Val presents the cup of wine that he has secured for his newly composed companion.]

Mademoiselle. Vin de pisse, precisely as was ordered. No charge. Except--

[With one foot, he gracefully eases his chair out again and slips into the space with a smile--and without spilling a drop of beer.]

--for a compliment, of course. Shall we toast first?

[fledglingenchanter]

[Holding out her hand, she takes the cup from him, holding it aloft for the toast while he settles himself.]

I can't think of a finer price to pay than that. You'll just have to bear with me on my poor praise until I've learned to be as eloquent and certain as you.
[Naturally, praise comes unbidden when she isn't thinking about it.]

As for a toast, shall we celebrate our newfound camaraderie? Or would you rather celebrate egos?

[degenere]

I would rather celebrate you.

[He lifts his cup to hers, and presses the edge to the edge of hers, with a smile.]

And, since you have declined to act as my ego, I suppose that means we must drink to celebrate our camaraderie. May it last very, very long, and bring us both great happiness. Satisfaction. And so on.

[faithstarved]

I am no good at sleeping in groups of people. Barracks were never my style.

I dance, I also sing, and can tell stories. Those in my encampment have varying abilities. Something for everyone.

[justice_is_blond]

I'm personally fond of baths in something called water. It certainly assists with smell, better than the Orlesian way of rolling in more cologne. Cheap or otherwise.

And maybe I'm simply very fond of refugees.

[Or perhaps it's a burden of guilt. One or the other.]

[degenere]

Nor orgies. But I do understand.

And does your troop make a habit of giving entertainment to the Inquisition? That was one thing that was a concern. Skyhold, so far from everything, can't have very good entertainment, we said to one another. But it does have the Inquisition. How fortuitous to find that there is entertainment encamped right outside the doors.

[degenere]

How nice. And do you give them-- what did you call them. Baths?

[fledglingenchanter]

To this new friendship, may it continue to be an exciting endeavor between us.

[Sadira clinks her glass to his before taking a nice long sip to steel her resolve. A resolve that was already cracking not even a minute after he was back at the table.]

I know I'm supposed to heap lavish praise upon you-- and I shall start doing so momentarily. But I have to ask because my curiosity won't be sated, but why would you wish to celebrate me? I'm not asking to garner praise for myself, but rather I wish to understand the person that sits before me.

[degenere]

Mm--

[--Val says, since he's still sipping. He holds up one finger--a moment, please!--swallows, sets down his cup, folds his hands neatly on the table between them, and leans forward to confide to her:]

A premonition.

[fledglingenchanter]

[That gets her to scoff softly as she takes another sip of her wine. Not a wine connoisseur, she at least judges the wine at Skyhold to be passable if only slightly sour.]

You're having me on. A premonition?

[Her eyebrow rose up skeptically.]

[apologist]

As are we all, in our way.

[ Like fixing the castle. ]

[dreadinquisitor]

[It had been a while since he'd first seen one popped in person, lobbed at a snarling Red Templar out in the frigid hills of the Emprise-- he'd all but forgotten what life had been like before.

The knowledge of the existence of such a device - and the immediate aftermath of its use - was just one of those kinds of moments.]

They're exactly what you're thinking, except even better in use.

Where they came from, who first designed them, I can't tell you. It's legend at this point. But they're a particular favorite within certain circles of the Inquisition.

[degenere]

[Without blinking, with an unwavering smile, Val stays right where he is. Hands folded, politely.]

So hard to believe?