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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?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Is it the masks? They can be quite glittery, and distracting, all those little mirrors and glass bits and baubles. We don't wear masks. We eschew them. It is very thrilling and shocking, to go around bare-faced. It is even more shocking to see everyone here so bare.

Perhaps it is making me a little delusional.

...Yes. It's the masks.

[Delivered deadpan.]

Masks make Orlesians delusional. All of the glitter and bits and bobs make them feel more important than other people based on birth alone.

They do lend the face an inflated sensibility. You think so little of high births, then?

I think birth is birth. There are good people who are born to nobility, and worthless ones, just as there are good people born to those weighed down by poverty and worthless ones. The worth of a person should be determined by what's under their control, not what is not.

Then what do we do with all of this money?

Improve the world, assist others, because in raising them you're also raising yourself. Show worth and compassion. It's no easy task, which is likely why so few even try to take on the challenge.

Very well done. Most people say, 'give it to me'. I'm so tired of that answer. I'm less certain of the prat where I'm raising others. Is this an elaborate plot toward fatherhood?

Father--no, no. I mean raising as in lifting up, elevating. Not rearing. If you aid the communities around you, then it will come back to you. Help a farmer invest in more seed, there will be more crops, fewer hungry people, and more sparkly baubly masks being produced. Or something one might find they require a little more.

[There's light amusement in his voice. The masks are a fun joke but he's also not used to a conversation on the crystals being this full of potential.]

And while I'd never object to being given money, I don't need it. My needs are met and I'm not having to stretch my resources thin for thousands anymore.

Believe me, my friend, if there were a farmer who could grow spangled masks in his fields, the queue of investors would be so very large that it could not be comprehended in a single glance.

I would not take part, of course. As I said: we eschew masks.

Now, do these resources of yours come from the Inquisition? Or do you have a benefactor?

[There might be a quiet noise. It might be a facepalm. He's not quite sure if this is deliberately making fun of what he's saying or if it's a genuine missing the point, so he doesn't make a comment. He'll look less stupid that way, in theory.]

The resources for patients come from the Inquisition. Shelter and other needs generally get met by the Grey Wardens, to whom I belong.

[Oh.]

Maker's arse. How many of you are there?

...Healers? Grey Wardens? People with Fereldan accents who aren't Fereldan? Men? You're going to need to be far more specific.

Grey Wardens, actually. I have not met so many at once in--well, ever. What are you, if you are not Fereldan? I can't stand affected accents. They're very tiring.

It's not affected. I was taken from home at a young age, being a mage, and learned the common tongue from Fereldans. I'm Ander. Trust me, I'd like to not sound Fereldan. I don't like dogs.

[ok that's nice but]

A mage? Monsieur. Why did you not say so at once? Of course I will help a mage. Affected accent and smelling of dogs and all.

And I'll accept the help, despite how it's likely coated in glitter and smelling of altogether too much perfume.

Though I'm not clear on if you're offering to help stock the healing tents or provision the Wardens or get some more basic supplies for refugees.

Cologne, my mage friend. The perfume, it is for ladies, and for rubbing off when you spend too much time close to the ladies. And barely any decent of either here. But you are used to that, I am sure. The Anders, the Fereldans... they are not known for their sweet smells.

Why such interest in refugees?

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.]

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

I know what you're asking and I'm not giving you a bath.

[He knows he's not being asked for one.]

I'll assist the injured or ill with them, and they have to have more than injuries to their pride.

[Yeah he wasn't asking but now...... ]

Well. Now I am disappointed, monsieur. It is sad, that even Skyhold is plagued with prejudices and beset by invisible standards.

How refugeed must a refugee be, before a bath is granted?

Injured or ill. I help my patients as they need; refugee status isn't really key to it.

And I bathe my lover as wanted.

[Because who doesn't want too much information? It's too tempting to resist.]

They are freer with such intimate details than I was lead to believe.

[--Which he says in a tone of some bemusement, with a hint of a man who is marveling at this development. And it's to himself. Or maybe to Jehan.

Anyways:]

Is the lover a refugee?

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.]

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?

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