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 what luck, then, that you are here! Freedoms everyone. For instance--
[He waves a hand to encompass the room they are in.]
Not the loveliest of accommodations. But all the same: something to drink to, again.
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I doubt you'd be surprised that I am fond of this place already? [She chuckled lowly as she lifted up her cup.] I can drink to that and to the very good company I find myself in unfettered.
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And anyways, she's not mooning over things past, which displays an emotional fortitude and the constitution of someone Val can stand to be around. Which is why he clinks his mug against hers.]
The very same to you. Now, tell me-- [Oh, wait; he takes his drink and swallows, quickly, leans forward to ask this pressing question:] One thing I must know of mages firsthand is, do they each have a specialty? And if they truly do: what, then, is yours?
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We usually do. Even the Tranquil... Some are of study we prefer or some magic we perfect. I am most proficient at Storm magic which is lightning and energy barrages. Beyond that, I am studying to be a Knight-Enchanter.
[Although her cup was nearly empty, she took a long sip from it after toasting with him.]
But surely I cannot be all that interesting. I feel I've done you a disservice. Not asking about you and your life.
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I know all about me and my life. Why would I want to speak on it more? [Well. Because of vanity. To this end, he adds, very self-aware:] Now, I mean, at present. It is not every day that I am sat in a tavern with a lovely mage, who specializes in lightnings--a specialty of great destructive power and power--who is studying to be a Knight-Enchanter.
You must see how this would be a conversation I would prefer to details of all my accomplishments and daring and--
[Well. Actually. He tips his gaze upwards as he considers this.]
All right, I see why I would be interested in this conversation. And why you would. But there is time enough for it, in our long and storied friendship.
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Well if you want to keep talking about me and my magic, I will oblige. [So She did have a small ego and he was flattering it. She'd go to her grave before admitting that, though.] I just didn't wish to bore you or seem uninterested in you. I am interested, by the way, in learning more about you. But yes, I am keen on becoming a Knight-Enchanter, I have been training my mind and body for it as best I can.
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[And only some of it will be boasting, how about that. Val puts his chin in his hand with the clear air of a man settling in to listen.]
Mine are of course stories worth hearing, but for now: please, continue. How do you train to become a Knight-Enchanter? What must be done?
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There is physical training as well as mental. It's not just practicing some fancy magic, but a calling too. You are expected to serve out on the front lines. I'll admit I am still in the training part. I haven't even made myself the handle for a spirit blade yet.
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[--He repeats, with enthusiastic relish.]
That sounds terribly exciting. I have little enough experience with a blade without spirits, I will tell you. I prefer projectiles. A knife, if necessary. A thrown knife is more useful than a stabbing knife. So you see that a spirit blade would be doubly interesting to me. What is spirit about it? Does it have a form that can be carried, or must it be called upon before battle?
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A spirit blade is much like a regular blade, only it is weightless, and made of magic. Yet it can cut, bypassing armor and barriers alike. Some Knight-Enchanters, carry a special hilt instead of a staff. They can channel their magic into that. Others have mastered being able to summon a blade of pure magic without the hilt.
[Her enthusiasm died a bit as she looked down at the table.]
I've not even made the hilt yet. Every Knight-Knight enchanter makes one when they start training officially.
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[He qualifies, after a beat:]
At least, I presume there is talent. I do not know what constitutes 'talent', for a mage. But there are so many here with such gifts. Scholarly talent? Lacking. But many other gifts! As disagreeable and miserable and unfashionable and crass and crumbling a place as it might be--and it is all of those things, mademoiselle, truly, you must trust me on this--there is a reason for the Inquisition. Or so I have been told.
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[The comment about scholarly talent earns him a quizzical look.]
It's true few mages are university trained but we're not all lacking in talent. I will admit I might not have the broadest education, but I have met some who would certainly qualify.
[Not that she wanted to start an argument with Val, so she shrugged lightly.]
As for the Inquisition, its already done much by putting an end to the mage-templar war and giving you something to complain about.
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But I remind myself, it is not their fault. We have had a great many advantages, a great many books, libraries, instructors... and our own natural talent. People work with what they are given. Such is life, as it is said. And we are not here to be challenged. We are here to be assets.
But don't worry. I could find a great to complain about, should I set my mind to it.
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Alright, I'll agree to that. There seem to be few scholars here who aren't mages. Then again, it's almost expected since the Inquisition is a military force. Usually, people with learning tend to run the other way from combat-- unless it is their job to run to it.
[A smirk appeared once more as she again settled for leaning across the table slightly, putting an elbow on the table and resting her chin on her hand.]
I'm sure you could find many things that are substandard here. But I think it might be more productive to praise the things you like. For one, this conversation certain has not been what i was expecting. It is a delight.
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An unfair stereotype. Some scholars love a fight.
[Case and point: Val.]
But I do feel cheered by your assessment. A delight. What did you expect? A trial?
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[She nodded to him, lifting her glass in a sort of salute before lifting her head up off her hand to take a drink.]
The truth? I didn't know what to expect. But you are Orlesian, and I won't deny that not every Orlesian, especially one of noble stock will be dein to pass time with a Marcher and a mage.
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Everything they are and stand for, I take opposition to. So I am delighted that you did not know what to expect of me. That means I have done my duty to myself most excellently. I would like to write to the family matriarch to tell her, but she is my mother and I think she feeds all of the letters that I send to the de Foncé horses.
[Actually, that reminds him:]
I like the horses. I don't take opposition to the horses. And besides, even if I wasn't in total war against the standards of Orlais: you can't help that you are a Marcher. It is an accident of birth, as is my own heritage an accident. We must not hold these things against one another too much, but love each other regardless of shitty farms and shit families, yes?
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[At the mention of horses, she couldn't help bu chuckle some. Limited as her experiences were with fine equines Orlais did seem to have a love of their horses, almost as much any Ferelden their Mabari. Not that she was going to say that. She didn't know how much he'd like the nickname horselord.]
All too true Val. As such, I hold nothing against you. [Any and all irritations that might have lingered had indeed faded with the use of wine, even the piss poor quality served here.] Instead, let us think about a better future for us both rather than the ground from which we sprang up from.
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[Like so: he raises his cup to hers again.]
To a better future. And again, to the continued and storied relationship that we are no doubt beginning here, in this most humble of taverns. Someday there will surely be a song written of all of this.
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I'm sure there will be interesting tales told. I look forward to having them made and perhaps hearing them one day.
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[--He adds, before he drinks to that. It's the last of his ale, and he leans forward to peer into her cup, taking stock of its contents.]
But before we discuss anything else: you need more wine. I will fetch it.