therookery | tonight on cops: thedas edition

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.]]]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Although a few moments later and the dwarf sounds like he's in...quite the bind. ]

If you manage to make it back to Skyhold...your wounds will be tended to.

If you manage to be arrested instead, do let us know.

I have never been arrested. That anyone can prove. [At this point Yngvi has had his face punched so his speech is slurred, and he's thrown up in--

Probably a priceless thing? But that was the brandy. Mostly. He thinks.]

What sort of tending? Tender tending or not-so-tender tending?

[ What is he even suggesting? She doesn't want to think about it. She isn't going to think about it.

Her tone might be a little clipped. ]

The sort that keeps you from bleeding or turning permanently green around the ears.

You've not met my brother, he's an alchemist. Drank one of his things once? Had blue lips for two weeks. [Their Carta-sort-of-dad, or the figure Yngvi thinks of as the most dad-like of all the various older male dwarves that had a hand in quite literally dragging him up through life, had just stared for a good solid hour.

Fair play to him.]

Also know a mage who likes to burn the fever out.

No I haven't met your brother.

[ She sounds a little concerned about blue lips. ]

Nothing like that. Do you have a fever?

You might, he's great. The not charming one. That's my gig.

[He is the legs of the outfit. And the bear.

One time they were a bear and nearly upended Lady Vauquelin's room in Skyhold.]

Well I might, who knows, long road between here and Skyhold with my spoons and my brandy and the Comte's lasting impression in my face.

[ Pamelia makes a non-committal sound to that. Probably not the best time to point out she has little use for charming or un-charming men, in general. ]

Can you give an honest assessment of your injuries?

[ Does she need to find a way to meet him before he gets to Skyhold? That's the question. ]

[Right. Details. Status report. If the accent was different it'd be like Melisende was somewhere out of sight as he peers around another corner and makes his way out into the night.

Please continue to ignore the Orlesian yelling from behind and above. There's a lot of it, it's rude, Yngvi doesn't even have that many relatives to curse so whatever Emeric, you're wasting your breath.]

Took a fist to the face. A fist like a hammer. Not a forge hammer but a proper war-hammer of a fist, didn't think lords hit like that but well, I do now. A badge of honour. Matches the dress I wasn't allowed to take. [No one knows how fetching he would've looked.] Drank about three men's worth of brandy? But that's not even an injury, that's just impressive.

[ She's less ignoring and more taking it to mean that he's safe(r), at least for the moment. ]

How dizzy are you, currently? Seeing double?

Um...the path is a little--What the fuck?

[Something comes whistling through the air, misses him but there's a shout to reload.]

Well I saw that in single but the side I hit is on fire. Did you hear that? Because I think someone tried to fire a crossbow at me.

Yes, I heard that.

[ Well, shit. ]

Please tell me they are a worse shot than boxer.

[An almost cinematic silence falls. Just beautiful. Picturesque. An arrow flies through the air, wobbles, goes very wide of Yngvi and plinks off a column.

He snorts.]

Piss poor. Think he might need some of those fancy seeing glasses from the opera for this. But he's opened his shirt for some reason, I don't know why. But points for it billowing, looks majestic as fuck.

Be thankful for small mercies.

[ And don't stick around, friend. ]

When you arrive back at Skyhold, ask for Pamelia, and we'll make sure your skull and everything else is intact.

tonight on cops: thedas edition

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