Valentine Nicasus Maxence Mérovée Olivier de Foncé (
degenere) wrote in
therookery2016-07-07 01:17 pm
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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?
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?
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But why do I tell you all of this?
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But you do have a lovely friendly voice at that.
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Maker's Breath! You're persistent. I will still be around Skyhold tomorrow.
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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?
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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.
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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.
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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???
o/ hello! I am happy doing whatever honestly. Threading has been fun, but no pressure to continue.
no i'm so down let's do it. also no promises that i won't tag you in the snowfight too srry.
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!
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
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.
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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?
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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.
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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.
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[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?
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[The compliment and his attractive smile adds another shade to her face, turning her cheeks rosy. Her first instinct was to hide. Without thinking, her hand rose up as if to cover her face before she recovered her wit and instead brought it to her mess of curls, tangling the fingers into it.]
You'd have to tell me. I don't usually make a habit of judging my fellow mages upon their looks.
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[He puts his chin in his hand, considering.]
Of course, it would only be fair to test this. Shall we?
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What is it that you have in mind?
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You're not worried, are you?
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Cautious is a better word. You have a particular knack it seems with aggrieving others in Skyhold. I'd prefer not to do the same with my fellow compatriots.
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[And before the topic can swing back around again, to whatever he intends, Val asks:] Do you want a drink?
[--Without breaking the stride of conversation at all, as if this thought is connected most naturally to all the thoughts previous.]
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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.
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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.]
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This is what happens when I tag with a headache XD
no worries!!!! ugh i know the feeling for sure. hope it is better.
I am indeed feeling better, pain meds do wonders.
good!!! and gj modern medicine
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