(no subject)

[theproperglove]

FORM: Sending Crystal
SENDER: Josephine Montilyet
RECIPIENT: Everyone!
WHAT: A question! (Please talk to her, she's lonely.)
WHEN: Current
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: n/a


Good evening, everyone. My name is Josephine Montilyet and I am the Ambassador for the Inquisition. I've not had the pleasure of meeting as many of you as would like personally, so... I thought this might be an easier, more - ah - approachable way of getting to know each other better.

( She clears her throat as though to prevent herself from rambling. )

I must confess I do not know where to start. Perhaps a conversational ice-breaker will have to do. ( So much for not rambling. ) What do you miss most about your life before the Inquisition?

Comments

[degenere]

Company!

[theproperglove]

I assume you don't refer to the usual occupants of the tavern?

[degenere]

Have you tried conversation, with the usual occupants?

[theproperglove]

I have indeed.

[degenere]

Then you understand the problem, and I need not elucidate or belabor the point. I cannot speak to the usual occupants.

[theproperglove]

So who's company is it you're seeking, precisely, if those at the tavern shall not do?

[degenere]

A better stock of company, of course. Those worthy of conversation and time, with the ability to match wits with the likes of me.

[Well.]

Us. Do you know how often we have tried, at the tavern, to draw in others to our conversations? And they have little to offer. It is depressing.

[theproperglove]

( There is much to be said for the available conversation in the tavern, Josephine thinks, but doesn't say: people have looser tongues when they're inebriated, and their stories become exaggerated in just the way she likes. Instead, she puts on her most polite voice and responds: )

If it is my company you seek, you need say only the word, monsieur.

[degenere]

Well, mademoiselle, when you put it that way... I do seek your company.

Please.

[theproperglove]

My schedule for the rest of the day is rather full ( lies ), but I do believe I can make some time for you tomorrow.

[degenere]

It would be an honor, mademoiselle, if you would make that time. In the afternoon, perhaps? The custom here seems to be to wake disgustingly early. Another strange habit that I cannot understand.

[theproperglove]

Ah, it must be something to do with the invigorating mountain air. ( She has heard someone, somewhere use that phrase before, and it sounds reasonable enough. )

The afternoon would do quite nicely, I should think.

[degenere]

It's funny. I have visited many mountains, in my travels, and never once felt inclined to be awake with the sun. Unless there was something interesting, of course.

[Truly perplexing.]

But, the afternoon at the tavern. It is agreed, mademoiselle.

[theproperglove]

I suppose it depends on what one finds interesting, truly. But, in any case, we are in agreement.

I will see you then.

(( ooc: would you be interested in threading this out here/wherever? C: ))

[degenere]

(( YES absolutely! here or wherever works for me, either way - i can set up a start regardless just lmk ))

[theproperglove]

(( here works for me just fine!! ))

trips in four days late without starbucks sorry

[degenere]

[In the tavern the next day, Val waits.

He should, in all honesty, be commended for how adroit he is at waiting. It is not in the blood of Valentine Nicasius Maxence Mérovée Olivier de Foncé to wait. A de Foncé does not wait. But as Val has successfully rejected most trappings of his upbringing, so has he trained himself toward a kind of patience.

Which means that he does arrive at the tavern first, and secures for himself a mug of ale (as the wine is still of a woeful vintage not worth his time, a fact which Val is very well-informed on, having charmed a serving girl into agreeing to inform him the moment a decent Antivan red should arrive).

All of which means that, when Josephine does arrive, she arrives to find him quite relaxed at a table all his own, leafing through a journal as if he is lunching on a terrace in Orlais instead of a tavern in Skyhold. No guesses as to who he is. He is well-dressed--not ostentatiously, but still very put-together. And he has a very nice ring on his right thumb. Rich boy.]

since i'm six days late i've brought the frappucinos

[theproperglove]

( Monsieur de Foncé stands out among the tavern's usual inhabitants; that is, perhaps why he had suggested it as a meeting place. Josephine still gets a few looks of curiosity when she sweeps into the room as she doesn't come here all too often, but everyone is focused on their own conversations and soon become disinterested in the Ambassador's presence.

She makes her way to the table where Val is seated, and without any further preamble, takes the seat opposite him. Inclining her head towards his mug, she smiles and says with a laugh: )

I see you have started already.

delicious, you are forgiven

[degenere]

[He glances up, and first his glance is mild, interested: a man interrupted while reading. Then he remembers himself, works out who she is, and his features rearrange accordingly. Charming smile, stricter focus.]

Can you blame me, mademoiselle? I must. It is a restorative.

[He gestures, expansively, toward the bar.]

Will you take a cup?

i will have to provide people with frappucinos more often

[theproperglove]

On the contrary, I do not blame you at all. ( She follows the direction of his gesture, glancing over at the bar. )

I believe I have a promise to fulfill, do I not?

you will go far in life

[degenere]

Of course. But promises are always fulfilled more easily with a drink in hand. Or do you mean to do without?

[He arches an eyebrow at her.]

Then I will be impressed.

if being the gopher is wrong i don't want to be right

[theproperglove]

I could indeed. ( She says it with a smile that is also a challenge, eyes sliding across the room to look at a woman - an Inquisition scout, given the uniform - who is fast approaching. ) But in this instance, it won't be necessary.

( The woman makes her way over, and with a few exchanged pleasantries, sets a pitcher and two glasses down on the table. )

I do believe I said I knew where to find some Antivan wine?

[degenere]

[Val's mystification ends the moment the pitcher is placed on the table. He knows what this is. And when she says those blessed words aloud, it only confirms what he knows.]

Mademoiselle.

[Never has the title been spoken so rapturously, at least not within these four tavern walls. Val grips the edges of the table as if he might otherwise collapse.]

You must not toy with me, mademoiselle. My heart, my affections, my devotion to a woman who can produce an Antivan wine in the barren wasteland of Skyhold--these are not to be bandied about, nor treated lightly.

[And again--]

Oh, mademoiselle. An Antivan wine?

[theproperglove]

( She cannot help but laugh at his reaction, more amused than cruel. )

Yes, only an Antivan wine, I'm afraid. I tried to source some Olesian varietals, but my more personal contacts in Antiva ensure that Antivan wine is never far from my grasp.

( She reaches out to grab a hold on the pitcher. )

Shall I pour you a glass?

[degenere]

[Val sags in his chair, a man quite overcome.]

By all means, a glass. And if I die of happiness the moment that wine strikes my tongue, please do not blame yourself. Tell everyone I perished a happy man, doing one of the things he loves best in the world.

[To the ceiling and, beyond the ceiling, the Maker, he offers a prayer of thanks:]

Antivan wine. What a woman this is, with connections and contacts most secret.