[ OPEN ] Sesso, Carcere, Sangue, o La Fama

[ombranera]

FORM: Sending Crystal
SENDER: Zevran Arainai
RECIPIENT: Everyone
WHAT: Brief Announcement, Sex, Jail, Blood, or Fame?
WHEN: Current
WHERE: Kestrel House
NOTES: Possible mature themes and stuff.

As of this moment I would like to announce the availability of my Kestrels for contracts. Any marks that align with the desires of the Inquisition will be given a discount, any requests from the Inquisition proper will be done Gratis. Likewise if you feel you are skilled in the art of subterfuge and murder and would wish a guild with which to align yourself we've opened our ranks.

Serious business aside- we are scattered quite a ways now, we members of the Inquisition, and the months have been quite hard, there has been much traveling, much fighting, and I am willing to bet more than a few wild nights in the past few weeks. The time has come, I think, for another Antivan Game. Sesso, Carcere, Sangue, o La Fama.

The rules are simple: you share a sultry tale of a carnal evening, a time you spent in or around a prison for whatever reason, personal injury from which you have recovered, or an incident meeting with someone famous. A musician, a composer, a member of those that saved the world during the fifth blight, the Champion- etc. I have a fine bottle of Antivan brandy that will go to the most remarkable and engaging of these tales upon your return should you be in Orlais, or in the morning after all the tales have been told. Be as elaborate or as brief as you like, and should you find any tale in particular quite entertaining and think it ought to win? Say so. I shall consider all opinions equally.

Comments

[amygdalae]

You'll live through it, I'm sure.

[ombranera]

No, no. There is no recovering. My son shall grow an orphan and this shall be on your hands.

[amygdalae]

[Wow Zev don't use ur kid here]

If you say so.

[ombranera]

What must I do for a kind word, mm? A smile? Some small sign of your regard?

[ Some small sign that his trolling is working- honestly he'd like a laugh more than anything else. ]

[amygdalae]

[What's laughing]

Pretty sure you don't need my regard for anything, Zevran.

[ombranera]

For the good of my soul, to heal wounds beyond my ability to bear- is that not your job as a healer? Not your task?

[amygdalae]

I'm disinclined to think the power of my smile can do so much.

[He is as dry as the sands of the Western Approach right now.]

[ombranera]

It is a healing balm upon a wounded heart. A soothing tonic for the soul, a- [ Keeping a straight face is difficult, now, but he tries, repressing his laughter. ] Poultice upon my weary bones?

[byblow]

I thought you were supposed to drink poultices.

[amygdalae]

No. You're not.

[Also: why.]

[amygdalae]

If its your 'favorite' kind of poultice, then yes.

[You can practically hear them quotation marks.]

[ombranera]

Perché mi devi fare così?

So cruel, Bruce, so cold.

[amygdalae]

Vivrai.

[ombranera]

Not without your affection. [ Overplaying, definitely- and the solemnity of this is completely undermined by the bright, burbling laughter of his son at the faces he is making. ]

[amygdalae]

[Bruce hears those laughs, alright. And its hard to not break into something of a grin even though Zevran can't see it.]

You can always ask Alistair.

[Revenge is sweet.]

[ombranera]

Ah, but it is not the same.

[ Give him a bit to wrangle the baby curled in his lap and to think of how it isn't the same. He's grabbing at straws, here. ]

He lacks your unique charm.

[amygdalae]

I'm sure whatever 'unique charms' that he has instead is probably more effective than mine will ever be.

[ombranera]

I can only tease him so much before he starts to make the sad eyes at me and have feelings. You take such things in stride and volley right back! It is marvelous.

[amygdalae]

I like to try and give as much as I take.

[Which is to say, a lot.]

[ombranera]

Which is half the fun! [ Clapping, now, Lucci well pleased by the banter. ] Isn't it Luciano? It is marvelous fun, the teasing.

[amygdalae]

Nice to see the audience of one approves.

[Dryly once again. But maybe not as dry as he had been previously, because. Well. Baby. Even if its Zevran's child.]