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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]

Impossible.

[fledglingenchanter]

Why is it impossible?

[degenere]

You cannot have had enough fun. For one, I have only just arrived. Already that increases your potential, dear Ego.

[fledglingenchanter]

[If only he could see the eyeroll.]

What makes you think you're fun?

[She hesitates a second longer then finally adds:] And if you must call me something, my name is Sadira.

[degenere]

[score!]

Well, then, dear Sadira: I think I am fun because I know that I am, because experience has taught me that it is true. What's more, I have attestations on my side, endorsements of my personality and character.

And I rarely pick up the tab at the tavern.

[fledglingenchanter]

[Why does she feel like she just made a mistake?]

These aren't endorsements from your other half now, are they? I have to warn you now, I won't be paying any of your tabs.

[ broke mage is broke. ]

[degenere]

[the greatest mistake of your life]

Hardly. If anything, Jeannot despairs of my company. He loves me, but ours is an old love. And if Freddie were here, you would be assured of the opposite, but I think that is because Freddie is more jealous than Jehan.

And you misunderstand. I rarely pay a tab because I have infinite credit with barkeeps. They find me charming, to a point of personal poverty. And yet they are always happy to see me, and weep to see the back of me.

I'm good for business.

[fledglingenchanter]

[Perhaps it's not too late to pack her bags and head to Rivain.]

Old love eh? So you two are close hm? [She isn't judging. Just curious.] Getting people to drink must be advantageous.

[degenere]

The oldest love, and the closest. We are very old friends, you see, Freddie, Jeannot, and me. But they lack my charisme, as we say, my charm and my glamour. My ability to encourage friendliness, and the drinks.

But why do I tell you all of this?

[fledglingenchanter]

I haven't stopped talking to you perhaps? Or maybe I have a friendly voice? You'd have to tell me.

[degenere]

More what I meant was, why am I telling you when I could just show you.

But you do have a lovely friendly voice at that.

[fledglingenchanter]

[And there she goes getting flustered again.]

Maker's Breath! You're persistent. I will still be around Skyhold tomorrow.

[degenere]

[score again.]

Does persistence bother you? It doesn't need to. You will be around Skyhold tomorrow, and so will I. That does the first step of solving it nicely.

For the second step--the tavern?

[fledglingenchanter]

[Why is she even thinking about agreeing to this?]

Persistence is often a requirement to get anything done. And yours is almost tranquil like in its single-mindedness. There is a chance you will find me in the tavern tomorrow, provided the entertainment is good.

[degenere]

[don't ask why just say yes]

The very best of entertainments, I assure you. To which you'll have a front row seat.

Until tomorrow, then, dear Sadira. I look forward to it.

[fledglingenchanter]

[Maker help her, she was almost looking forwards to this.]

Until then Val.

[She is going to assume that is his nickname. If not, it is now.]

hi :] do you want to handwave or action tag or???

[degenere]

o/ hello! I am happy doing whatever honestly. Threading has been fun, but no pressure to continue.

[fledglingenchanter]

no i'm so down let's do it. also no promises that i won't tag you in the snowfight too srry.

[degenere]

[Tomorrow, in the tavern:

Val is not the type to arrive early and wait. And even if he was that type, they did not set a time, so he can arrive neither early nor late.

In all honesty, this suits him well. It means that he arrives midafternoon, well-rested despite his complaints of insufficient accommodations. They do not know one another on sight, but he is, as ever, confident. In this case, he is confident that she will recognize him, possibly by the way that he strolls into the tavern as if he owns it. If she is not there to recognize, she may when she arrives, this time by the way that he claims a table near enough to the fire to take in its warmth, but not so much to grow overheated. And the way that he sits, too--casually, slung into the chair like a lazy king in a comfortable throne.

It never occurs to him that she might stand him up. Why would she? And, further proof: he has never been stood up in his life. Sometimes to his peril. There's a story about that.]

More than welcome to!

[fledglingenchanter]

[Sadira spent the better part of her morning being nervous as she did her best to prepare herself for what was bound to be an unusual event. Images of Shipwrecks came to mind as she made her way to the Herald's Rest. Dressed in her best robes, there was no mistaking her for anything other than a mage (or perhaps a mage enthusiast), though she left her staff behind. In the off chance that he would arrive fashionably late, she had in hand a book she was reading. Twice now she had almost changed her mind. It would have been easy to keep going to the Library or the garden. But no, she'd agreed to this, and so she was committed. At the very least it would be interesting to meet one of the people who had taken Skyhold by storm the previous day.

As she entered the Tavern, there was a momentary pause while she let her eyes adjust before scanning the room. Instinct told her to look for the most cocksure person in the place. It was a bit of a guessing game as she narrowed down possible candidates based on their dress and general demeanour. Finally, she spotted someone she could only assume was him at a table near the fire, looking exactly like she suspected he would. And if it was not him, well then, again, this was going to be interesting.]

Messere de Foncé I presume?

:]b

[degenere]

[Val looks around mildly enough at the sound of his name, with a vague but no less handsome and pleasant smile. He is, after all, expecting her. He is not expecting a mage, but, quelle surprise: here is a mage. Surely she must be, with robes as she wears.

All this is to say that Val's genial and pleasant smile is etched, very swiftly, with a keener interest.]

Dear Sadira, you presume correctly. But of course you do. I could tell from speaking with you how very clever you are, and here is my proof.

As we are friends, I will tell you. I think my feelings are a little hurt.

[fledglingenchanter]

[One dark eyebrow rose up as she sat down across from him, setting her book off to one side with care, though her attention was focused on him.]

Your feelings are hurt? [Without the faceless anonymity of the sending crystals, it was too easy to read her facial expressions as surprise blended into bafflement.] Whatever have I done to hurt them?

[degenere]

[The give-and-take of conversation flags just slightly with that look on her face. It is an opening, a chance, one that Val is quick to take. He leans in, without a hint of hurt or mournfulness.]

You didn't tell me. [He arches both eyebrows at her.] Charming, yes. I guessed at that. Clever, yes. But lovely? And a mage? These are details that you kept from me.

[fledglingenchanter]

[Relief floods through her washing away the confusion as a small smile twitches up the corners of her mouth as a touch of color appears on her cheeks.]

I could say you never asked, but in my defense are you a mage rarely comes up in polite conversation. Besides, a lady needs to keep some secrets and surprises to herself.

[degenere]

I do like secrets. And surprises.

[He studies her face a moment, thoughtfully--and then he leans back, with a smile. Almost a smirk, but not quite.]

Very well: you've convinced me. I will consider myself surprised, instead of hurt, and we will be greater friends than we are already. Does Skyhold boast many mages of such beauty, or are you as rare as I think you must be?