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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 do I ask for a man by name, once I am there with my coin? Or do I just say, that I am interested to learn how it is that bees might come to explode in the faces of my enemies.

Beyond the broad and usual ways, I mean. We are men of the Inquisition.

[Like, refined men.]

[degenere]

[Good. He takes his time at his consideration, deeply thoughtful and contemplative.]

Well. For your test, it is a test of comparison. So I will first need to spend time with you, so that I know you. It will be a test of personality and charm, just as much as it will be the beauty of the exterior--since that has already been well-proved.

[He gestures in her direction. Case and point.]

The test might be a little grueling. We will have to work just as hard to keep our spirits up.

[justice_is_blond]

You could stretch his case to say he is, considering the current state of Grey Warden affairs, but I wouldn't.

And as far as the other, I'm a mage. I like reminding people that something they denied to my people is attainable now.

[Another wedge holding open the doors of freedom. The more mages get a taste of what it has to offer, the harder it will be to slam those doors shut again.]

[fledglingenchanter]

[As he contemplates, she again sips from her cup, all the while continuing to watch him.]

There are worse things than passing time with an attractive companion, especially when they are as engaging as you. I will do my best to keep pace. You may find I do not tire easily, nor am I one to be daunted. I am ready for whatever happens.

[stabsbooks]

[ She pauses, just for a moment. ]

A...holy man?

[ Not that that necessarily means anything. There are plenty of holy men who also manage to be pompous jackasses. ]

[apologist]

[ Hey that's his cue. ]

I can only aspire to holiness, as do we all--save Valentine, who aspires to your scullery maids. But do not worry. He will be no more trouble than he is worth.

[degenere]

And he is worth a lot.

[degenere]

So there are two instances in which you might grant baths. What of dogs? Would you bathe a dog, regardless of his living or romantic status? I will assume your answer is yes. There are few who can refuse dogs. Preferably not in the romantic sense, though there are strange and exotic customs the world over, and who am I to speak in judgement of such.

Perhaps even among mages. Is romance always forbidden?

[degenere]

Engaging, but never engaged. The best state to exist in, I have found. I think it is promising that you do not tire easily. You do not strike me as a boaster--and how wonderful that is, may I said, I am so tired of people who do nothing but talk of how great they are--

[Like, you know, Val himself, but perhaps that's why he is tired of it: because he gets his fill of boasting from himself.]

I find modesty much more becoming. And exciting. All the secrets that one gets to tease out of the modest!

My proposition is this: we share our drink. And then, tomorrow, we meet again.

[justice_is_blond]

Why would I bathe a dog? They'll just go roll in mud and shit and smell again in five minutes anyway. I can entirely refuse a dog.

[Except for Lady, but there are enough exceptions being spoken of here.]

And in the Circles, yes. Romance was forbidden.

[degenere]

But surely the same can be said of refugees. What good is doing anything if you are always thinking of the mud and shit to come?

A man who has been so discouraged from living--truly living!--should not be thinking so dismally of dogs or men or anyone at all. He should be excited for the opportunities to bathe whatever dogs might come his way.

And to think--I have always wanted to be a mage. If only I'd known of such strict rules, I would have been praising Andraste night and day for not giving me magic. Then again, perhaps it is Andraste that causes such confusions after all. Brothers of the Chantry are similarly encouraged toward celibacy.

Of course, they do not always obey. Mages of the Circle do not take these risks and delights in the forbidden pleasures? I have always found that the more forbidden something is, the more delightful it is. A very happy relationship between the two.

[this is like some high-caliber philosophy.]

[justice_is_blond]

You... what?

[-50 Anders Greatly Disapproves.]

Oh, yes. I'm certain that having those you care deeply for ripped from you makes romance far more delightful for the short time it lasts. The wind on your face makes the punishments you get for seeking it happy. Very happy.

[degenere]

[Wow, touchy.]

Life without risk is no life at all, my friend. Regardless of fate or punishments or disappointments. To gain much you must risk much. All the usual cliches. I have always lived by this code-- [mostly always, long enough to say always very coolly and casually, anyways] --and it has always rewarded me, in the end.

You know, I am not surprised that there are such strong feelings on this. But I mean no disrespect. Of course I am a great admirer of mages.

[justice_is_blond]

[Much touch, such anger, wow. His voice is tight as they've hit upon a very sore spot - Karl.]

And others it has cost absolutely everything. It's not a joke, or a grand adventure. I have risked greatly, repeatedly, and nearly every time I have lost. It does not stop me. But there is nothing happy about what the Circles and Chantry have done to mages.

[degenere]

But you're here.

[fledglingenchanter]

[She was the opposite of a boaster and was quite happy not to draw attention to herself. At least his boasting can fill silences and isn't completely unwarranted.]

You've certainly won some secrets from me. I hope in time I might learn to pry secrets from you with the same level of skill. This, of course, means that I am more than willing to meet you tomorrow. We are after all friends, yes?

[justice_is_blond]

And some people very important to me are not and never will be.

[degenere]

You can aspire, certainly, to such heights. But I am very skilled.

[It's not boasting if it's true. Or, at least, it's not just boasting. All that being said, Val rests his elbow on the table and raises his mug, expectant of a toast. If she is even a little slow to respond, he will prompt her by raising his eyebrows. Well?]

We drink, this time, to friendship. May it be a very long and very happy one. Full of secrets shared.

[degenere]

Well, of course. Such is life. If the dead were not dead, we would all be more crowded, and I don't know about you, but I can't spare the elbow room. I have scarce enough as it is.

Thinking of things in this way is terribly depressing, my friend. I think you need cheering up.

[justice_is_blond]

You can't stop thinking of the dead. If they're forgotten, they're gone. Completely gone and lost for good. Keeping in mind their hopes, what they dreamed of, isn't... All right, yes, it is depressing, but it's grounding. Important.

[degenere]

Distressing. Painful. Bleak. Cheerless. Comment déprimant, there you go again--no, I maintain, you need cheering up, if the sadness of the dead is all that you think of. Of course it is sad for us. For them, it hardly matters. Or do you think they are spending whatever comes next moping about thinking sadly of you? If I were them, I would be celebrating. Cheerfully. All the time. They haven't a care in the world. Now, when I think of the dead, I like to think of the good of them. For instance, I knew a girl. She is dead now, of course, or else we would not be talking of her. But while she was alive, she had the most fantastic breasts. When I think about this girl, I think about her breasts, and I tell you, it is impossible to be sad with that thought in my head.

Honestly. The Anderfels must be a very sad and terrible place. Does everyone think this way?

[fledglingenchanter]

You never know. I might surprise you.

[Rather than be offended, she just grins at him. It takes less time than he might expect as she almost offered a toast herself. Her cup eagerly tinks against his.]

To secrets shared and good times.

I am sorry

[justice_is_blond]

How can I think any other way? Either I'm remembering those I've lost or I'm being reminded of those who have been lost because of me. It's all death. Even the two groups are blended together.

It has nothing to do with the Anderfels, or the 'good' in those who are lost. You talk of happiness in restrictions and the forbidden, of breasts and elbow room, but you've lost sight of the restrictions in the first place, and the little smiles that are gone forever because of cruel limits, and how sometimes less elbow room would be a good thing.

I'm not cheerless. I'm... reflective.

[degenere]

And, with any luck: surprises.

[He knocks his mug against her glass with great enthusiasm--enough to jar her a little, maybe slop some of her wine over her hand. Just a little. And it was completely not deliberate. Do not be fooled by the way that he is ready, immediately, to touch his fingertips against the hand in question, to wipe away the wine spots.]

My apologies.

do not be sorry.

[degenere]

Pools are reflective. Mirrors are reflective. Poets are reflective, in moderation, if they're any good. You? Are cheerless. Depressing. Depressed. Did you just hear yourself? 'It's all death?' That is depressing. Straight from the text, if there is such a seminal text detailing the qualifications of depressing.

And more elbow room is always a good thing. Any contrary opinion can only be that of a man who never manned an oar in little ship on Rialto Bay. Elbows everywhere. It was cheerless, and there was no time for reflection, and yet still I was able to think on the breasts in question. But the elbows.