tonight on cops: thedas edition

[inagutterson]

FORM: Sending crystal
SENDER: Yngvi Congealedinagutterson. Yes that's his name
RECIPIENT: Unfortunately everyone.
WHAT: Yngvi goes to check in on Gwen's dad. He tries to contact her using Asher's sending crystal before he heads to Skyhold. He ends up contacting all of Skyhold. (But Gwen's dad is trying to murder him so that can probably be forgiven.)
WHEN: Probably slightly backdated to a few days back. Timey-wimey
WHERE: Orlais; the Vauquelin estate
NOTES: Language. Dwarfing under the influence. Violence in the background.  Threadjacking totally allowed!

[Here's the thing: just because Yngvi took possession of Asher Hardie's sending crystal upon Asher's death (some one had to, since someone has to stay in Skyhold to honour the fact that Asher signed them up and Yngvi is the charming one okay, most suited to that legacy) that doesn't mean Yngvi knows how to use said sending crystal.

So what's meant to be a private message to one Gwenaëlle Vauquelin becomes horribly public.]

Gwenaëlle? Is this thing-- [Okay that is a lot of angry background noise? Does it sound Orlesian? It probably sounds Orlesian.

To some who know him it might sound alarmingly like Emeric Vauquelin actually. And the frantic scramblings of a dwarf.] So here's the thing, I stopped by to see your old man, avail myself of his legendary hospitality. He's in rude health. Just wondering if you wanted anything picked up? I've got the silverware and the best brandy. By the way, what's that really dark purple colour because it's my colour I look--

[There's a very loud crash, and a truly ear-piercing shriek from the dwarf on the other end of the sending crystal.] Sir! Sir I am changing!

[[ooc: Hello welcome to Yngvi's liveblog escape from the Vauquelin estate where Gwen's dad is going to eventually try to shoot him with a crossbow. He has this completely under control.]]]

Comments

2/2

[inagutterson]

[Right, second wind, second chance, second life (he's Carta, they rigged the game for infinite lives shut up).]

Oh ye of little faith. [Slurred because the whole world is spinning?] Right about hammers. Big, blood hammers. What is your dad?

But 'm small. He [wait for it, big triumphant pause as he-- totter-runs headlong down the stairs oh wow there are so many stairs why are they moving, stairs help a dwarf out here c'mon] is not. Small.

[elegiaque]

Violent.

( a succinct answer. what even is emeric vauquelin? complicated, that's what - handsome dandy, melee bruiser, devoted father (whether she likes it or not), appalling husband, always contrite (always something to be contrite for), the life of the party and the reason it gets broken up early.

but 'dangerous in close quarters' about covers what's relevant right now, probably. )

Is your head all right? Are you all right?

[inagutterson]

I thought he was some weird Orlesian attempt at a golem.

[Look at him, putting a spin on it. Probably because his brain is swinging around wildly.]

I'm offended at how many stairs your house has, it's like Kirkwall but in one house, who builds this many stairs inside one-- nevermind, on the floor. This place is nice, hospitality is probably better with you around but everything's better with you around.

[Time to turn on the old Congealedinagutterson charm before he clears his throat to ask a question. A serious question. Because sometimes Yngvi has those when he's sober.]

Your old man. Does he own weapons other than Bruiser and Crusher. Those are his fists, they need names, they have them, I think they make him sound distinguished, don't you?

[elegiaque]

( everything is better with her around, thank you, however there are serious discussions afoot-- )

Yes, of course, but so long as you only stay out of swinging range - he does best in close quarters.

( she is alarmingly knowledgeable about her father in a fight. )

[inagutterson]

[Look he will be properly contrite--

Actually no, let's not even attempt to entertain that for the end of the sentence, that word isn't in his vocabulary unless he's reading it for some reason. But he will throw himself at her feet in his bear pelt and it will just fall open??? It'll be grand, and wonderful.]

Of all the men, he's not even the one with a chevalier's code. I think he sent someone off to fetch something so my carriage awaits.

[A keg. It's a keg. It's a really cool keg. Go-faster stripes.]

[elegiaque]

Be quick about it. I don't know what he could possibly be fetching.

( quick theory 'nothing that bodes well', though. )

[inagutterson]

For you, fairest of all ladies? Anything. [Lex are you hearing this? This is your competition, come at him bruh.]

[There's gentler clattering, a few servants giggling--] Madames, younger madames, not-madames because that word is hard. [Orlesian what even are you. Also yes, that is squeaking.] Shit, dropped m'spoons. Ah, cheers. You're a credit to the Lady of the house. Thanks for the hospitality, I'll be off.

[And he just kind of falls into something. There's a lot more squeaking as he rights himself somewhat, the clattering of spoons, the clinking of bottles of brandy he must settle in his keg.]

Onward. Go. Go forth. [Any minute now.] Mush. Hup-hup. I'll roast you if you don't--

[Splendid, away we go!]