Deliberations upon the next Divine continue.

Sister Leliana and Seeker Pentaghast have withdrawn themselves from consideration. That they were approached speaks favourably of the Inquisition’s present position. Provisional Chancellor Pascal was kind enough to host us for discussion, [ and rifling through papers, and listening at walls, and ] During which we gained the names of several likely candidates.

I stress that this decision does not belong to the Inquisition — but it is our duty to support all who work toward a better future.

We must keep an eye to the proceedings, and assist where we might. [ like: saboutage ] Sra. Bonaventura and I believe that three faces are worthy of particular note. We will make the value of our work known through action. I welcome your thoughts and ideas therein.

You know, I feel it has been too long since I have had a chance to speak with many of you. That is the way when we are all working so much, no? The coming and going makes it so easy to work with people and never truly know them.

( Imagine her, if you will, reclined on a fainting couch, a glass of port lightly held in one hand, a cigarillo balanced between the fingers of the other, and wearing something appropriately luxurious. )

So, I am wondering, what does responsibility mean to you? More what you consider your responsibilities, than the offerings of a dictionary. Understanding one another is key, I hear.

For goodness sake, it's marriage, not plague that I am asking if you've contracted. Why on earth do so many of you look like I've asked if your leg has rotten off over something as simple as marriage and children? And at your ages no less?

[ There is that tsk, that universal tsk of a Mother, Grandmother, Aunty, pinching a cheek and fussing. ]

Your fathers and mothers must be growing grey hairs as we speak in worry with your being in a war camp and they are still with no grandchildren.

[ P.S, this is Byerly's fault. ]

Greetings, Inquisition. It is truly a pleasure to be welcomed amongst your ranks, even in these strange times.

[ The voice is soft, formal, a touch accented - certainly not Ferelden by any stretch. Well educated, probably, at least from the intonation. ]

My name is Sidony Venaras, lately of Nevarra, and I have come to fill any gaps that you might have in your medical needs. [ And, quickly - ] Yes, I am well aware that there are magical means of healing, but magic cannot cure everything. A doctor can often be required. It wouldn't do to forget that.

[ She doesn't necessarily have anything against mages, exactly, but it might not seem that way. ]

If anyone can inform me of any healers or doctors I might confer with then I would appreciate it. You have my thanks in advance, and I appreciate the support should it be given.

[It's late enough few people in Kirkwall are still working, but not so late anyone is likely to be asleep. He sounds... relaxed, but thoughtful.]

Good evening, Inquisition. I am sure some of you are tirelessly working on important business at present. I salute you, and beg you to ignore the interruption.

For the rest of you, I'm curious. Do you have a favorite card game? I know Wicked Grace well enough, but given the diverse points of origin of our organization, there is the opportunity to expand our horizons. If anyone's willing to go so far as teaching the game in question, I'd be interested.

[ The voice on the crystal is not Orlesian, no matter how he peppers his speech with little words and phrases: he’s Ferelden. But Ferelden of the drawling, upper-class sort, with a nasal accent that speaks of nothing so much as it speaks of a sort of mocking cosmopolitan condescension. ]

Bonsoir, Inquisition. My dear brave warriors and warrior-ettes, lately returned of the wilds of Tevinter, oh my. I have arrived, so you may release that breath you have bated; you may allow your loins to ungird themselves. Je m’appelle Byerly, Byerly Rutyer, once of Dragonmount, today of — well — here, I suppose. Do tell me all about this sweet little cottage with its charming statuary. Who was the sculptor on those? Where might he be found? My great-aunt Mathilde would simply adore a figurine from him, I think, of a sweet little round-cheeked puppy being whipped and tortured to death. I’d be the favored nephew if I could get her that.

But once we’re done speaking of architecture, I’ve a far more serious matter. Grave, even. Dire. I have here, in my hands, two bottles of red. A very fine vintage, velvety with just the slightest bit of grip. Semi-dry. If you can come and guess the provenance of the one bottle, then, dear friend, you’ll win the other. A fun game, no? The second-best sort of game - one that ends with both parties a little bit tipsy.

[ From the sound of his voice, he may have gotten started on getting tipsy a little early. ]

Oh, and diplomats, diplomats! To me. I'm joining your ranks. Introduce yourself to me at once, I do demand it.

Those on the Galicia saw it first hand, but to those on the Walrus, the Venatori abroad the warship pursuing us have made us an offer of safe passage in exchange for the currently incapacitated Archon Radonis, who is aboard.

I would hope [ thranduil’s voice low and dangerous. ] that no one need reminding that the Venatori are liars and their promises worth nothing.

[ but there’s one in every batch who might think first of saving their own skin, and that’s why thranduil is hanging out with the (unconscious) radonis and his friend, a knife. ]

And I would think that we would far prefer to strike fear into the hearts of the Venatori after the ordeal we were put through in Minrathous, with some of our comrades still missing and presumed captured, rather than simper and beg their mercy.

Kirkwall hasn't changed very much at all, has it?

[ For those who recognize the voice, Merrill sounds almost as cheerful as ever, if not a bit more contemplative. ]

I mean, I suppose the last time I saw it, the Inquisition was already here. But it's still very twisty and turny and made of stone and statues.

[ Hopefully none of those statues have come alive recently. ]

Well- um, anyway. Hi! I'm Merrill, and I'm back. What have I missed? Who's still about?

[ There's a loud griffon squawk, and Merrill laughs. ]

Yes, Ghostface, I know you're still here.

The next time any of us— [ That isn't an all-inclusive us; he means, specifically, mages and rifters and maybe templars, but everyone can figure that out on their own. Or not. He doesn't care. ] —is in the position to make demands, I think we should make sure we have a say in which rifters go to which Circles. We could pick in turns. Like choosing teams.

[ That's all. ]