allthisshitisweird | TEST DRIVE MEME!

TEST DRIVE: ORLAIS EDITION

I. EVERYBEAR I GO

Believe it or not, there are bears in Orlais, too. Stuffed ones posed in noble salons casting intimidating shadows as lords tell unlikely stories about how they bravely stared the great beast in the eye before they slayed it with a single shot. One comtesse keeps bears as pets in large pens on her estate, much to the distress of her nearest neighbors. But most common are the dancing bear acts found on street corners here and there. Perhaps there is some sort of special bear communication network that has passed on a message, because it seems like the presence of the Inquisition has inspired these bears to finally make a break for it out of servitude, and that is how you find yourself being chased by a bear in a belled hat down a narrow cobbled alley lined with street vendors.

II. OUI OUI MON AMI

The Inquisition's efforts are currently focused on Orlais, where a civil war is raging and intelligence indicates Corypheus seeks to eliminate Empress Celene, while the oppressed elven population's discontent threatens to bubble over into a second rebellion. The Inquisition's activities here are mostly political and designed to gather influence and information: endeavoring to make a good impression at the ball of an influential comtesse with ties to the Council of Heralds, or assisting with the reconstruction of the alienage district destroyed by fire. There are rowdy soldiers in taverns to eavesdrop on, and restless crowds listening to streetcorner speakers preach Celene's virtues, or Gaspard's, or lament the end of the world.

But honestly, who cares about any of that? Halamshiral also offers great high-end shopping. Priorities. Gowns, tunics, fur-trimmed cloaks, sleeves slashed and puffed with layers of bright-colored satin. Tall boots with gold spurs to clink as you walk. Veils, lace-trimmed smallclothes, perfumes, necklaces worth your weight in gold. If you have the coin, the shopkeeps have time for you. The slightest whiff of poverty will leave them cold toward you. They might even pretend not to see you, but hey: they work on commission.

Even among decadence and finery, there are signs of unrest. In an out-of-the-way village square, little Orlesian children gather to throw thick gold coins in a gilt fountain, with whispered wishes and giggles. All at once, a thief pushes his way into their circle, breaking the idyllic scene. He leaps into the fountain and grabs a handful of coin. Thin, dirty, ragged, hollow-eyed and, under the hood of his cloak, elven, he scans the now-screaming children -- and then takes off running.

“Stop him!” howls one precious Orlesian cherub, her rosy cheeks streaked with tears. “That dirty knife-ear took my money!”

Kids are just the cutest.

III. SKYHOLD

Skyhold is where people who don't like fun accents and life being a constant masquerade hang around repairing walls, filling out paperwork, and, on rare occasions, engaging in elaborate, color-coded team snowball fights.

That last occasion? Totally over. Now the Inquisition will see you work, work, work, work, work. Working to save Thedas is not all fun and games, and there are plenty of things to keep you busy in Skyhold. See that roof over there? It has a hole in it. Climb up, someone suggests, and fix it. See that hole over there, in the wall? Some drunk from the tavern fell through it yesterday, and it needs repairs. See that floor over there? It’s dirty. And here’s a mop.

If these tasks seem too menial and demeaning, perhaps you’d like to head up to the library and reshelve some books. Perhaps you’d like to meet a special friend there? The stacks are warm and cozy, and at least a little out of the way. Secret spaces are at a premium. But be careful: you aren’t the only one in Skyhold, no matter how many people shipped out to Orlais.

If warm ovens are more your style than warm books, try the kitchens. They could always use a helping hand - especially because one of the baby griffons has made its way down there. A sharp-beaked competition for your plans to pilfer snacks, but you’ll prevail, right? The griffon loves chicken, and the taste of your blood. Get her outside before she gets too comfortable.

Or just feed the dogs, you dirty Fereldan.

IV. WILDCARD

Thedas is a big place. Do something else in it. Maybe in the Hinterlands.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Skyhold holds so many people, of so many different manners, that it's often difficult to discern who's a local and who isn't. Even linguistically, Skyhold was a sea of accents. Orlesian, Avvar, Qunari, Rivaini... new rifters would be hard-pressed to discern Tevinter among them.

Lucarius held his tanned hands up, palms out, smiling at the command to stop, and smiled smoothly. ]

Ah, what a helpful servant! But I assure you, I'm intelligent enough to avoid the puddles and mud.

[ He turned the toes of his finely-polished boots, as spotless as the rest of his finely-tailored attire, as if to demonstrate. ]

[ He mutters under his breath: ]

Not enough to take your shoes off before coming inside...

[ But he has to remember that as much as he'd like people to follow the rules he knows, it has yet to actually happen here. Having someone mindful enough of their boots to keep them in pristine condition when wandering around indoors was a plus he shouldn't look away from.

Though being called a servant was annoying. On a scale of priorities, all it earned was a brief scowl that looked more like a pout, and a small sigh as he lifted a hand and made a come-come motion, gesturing Lucarius forward. ]

Fine, fine, you can come on through then.

[ Lucarius would have blown past even without a servant's say-so; but now that he had it, he mimed a polite smile and folded his hands, sliding past nearer the wall than the floor-scrubber. ]

Why, take shoes off at the door? Then I'd get all the grime you've left behind on my bare feet. Or worse, develop calouses, or be stepped on. By chance, you wouldn't happen to be one of those Avvar barbarians I've heard so much about?

[ Shino quirks up his eyebrows, snorting in obvious amusement. What? He's the barbarian? (... Who are the Avvar...) ]

Put your indoor slippers on and you won't be so worried about your troubles with foot hygiene.

[ #cultural differences ]

Being stepped on is a matter of being quick enough, or healthy enough, to avoid anyone clumsier than you are. Callouses take more work than just walking around inside, even on stone.

[ A quick glance over Lucarius followed by an equally guileless shrug. ]

You'd probably be fine.

You sweet, simple darling, you must be so new to the serving staff that you haven't had to suffer the crowds thronging the main hall. At least if an Orlesian steps on your foot, you can be certain that they meant to do it, but the lumbering Qunari and shuffling dwarves about will likely quickly disabuse you of your fallacies.

[ He spoke with the effortless air of an airy gossip, smiling and certain, a long-fingered hand gesturing mildly as he spoke. His smile seemed a sort of farewell, terse and smooth, and he turned to go with a swirl of dark and heavily embroidered clothing, stepping nonchalantly through the area which the other man had just been cleaning. ]

You're really set on that idea, aren't you?

[ Said neutrally, with almost a shrug of his own. The whole servant thing feels silly. The patronizing is annoying, but he shrugs it off, not sure he cares all that much about anyone's opinion here unless it directly touches on his ability to get home.

Which is to say, as the oh so charming man is leaving, Shino reaches into his bucket and pulls out his cleaning rag, wringing it out and flicking it to send droplets of water flying at the Tevinter man's embroidered back. If they make it to their target or not, he's already returning to simply wringing the rag out into his bucket, nonchalant. The bandages around his right hand slip, objecting to the continued water abuse as some of that annoying soft, green light leaks through. ]

[ Some of the wet droplets tickle the nape of his neck. The rest dampen his finely-cut surcoat only a little, which he can't feel beneath the layers of fabric he's wearing. The cloth is black, but the vining stitching along the hems are white, pale, delicate little vines and leaves. Golden-threaded flowers winked here and there, no bigger than a fingernail. A month or better of someone's work had cone into the single garment alone, into the stitch-perfect tailoring.

A queer stiffness traveled up his back and shoulders. Even from behind one could see he he squared them, and lifted up his chin. And then, quietly, looked over his shoulder. His mouth was smiling; but his eyes were not. His tone was no less jovial when he said, ]

You are what you let yourself be, little man. And here you are, Fade-touched or no, scrubbing dirt on someone else's word. Whatever else you are, whatever else you've been, whatever else you might be in other moments...

[ The black leather of his boots creaked when he turned, but only quietly. His long sleeves whispered as they brushed against his surcoat, the sound of it suddenly louder than his voice when he pitched it very low, raising his hands, ]

You are a servant now. Should I pity you, for the work you resign yourself to? Commend you for such a noble dedication to the drudgery only ever assigned to the low?

[ His fingers crooked, and the water in the bucket filmed with ice. The cold spread, so that both their breaths steamed and plumed in the air before their faces. The water on the other man's hands frosted and formed stinging crystals; beautiful patterns of ice formed on the water spread along the floor. Even the droplets on Lucarius' back froze pale, and hardened. ]

Wisen up. The Inquisition has made a tool of you, and you're being used. And I have no time or patience for the tools of other men.

[ It was a curious thing to Shino, settling onto his haunches as this man he doesn't know turns back around to face him. He's wary, mostly because he doesn't know him, but under it all is a lack of sympathetic understanding. He has no problem with what he's doing, but he's a compulsive neat-freak. It was such an ingrained part of his childhood, and had he not been as ill as he was at times, he would have likewise been responsible for helping keep that environment clean.

He is, after all, but a simple country lad. Political machinations and levels of aloofness brought about by class has only touched on his life to dictate what he is or isn't allowed to be; in a way, being here cut him off from the Church's careful, wary, thirsty dictations. Now he has a whole new set of the same. He's a tool? Of course. Anyone involved in a war is part of its machinations, regardless of how well armed they are, or where they find themselves relative to the front line.

For him, these accusations are strange, simply for him sensing he is perhaps meant to take offense, and he has none to give. He serves to get back to those he loves and has kept close due to his own selfishness. The Church dictates that he serves, and so does his benefactor. He does what he must, though at his pace and at his own whim, unless circumstances have forced his hand.

Which passes as a series of impressions through the back of his mind as he carefully let the rag drape over the bucket's edge, away from the floor. Part of him even appreciates the beauty in that ice; the rest of him is shifting up, tuned toward the possibility of a fight, but not expecting there'll be one. He braced himself and calculated, kicking out with his heel to break the thin film of ice that was otherwise attaching the bucket to the floor. It does little for the ice inside. He'd expected nothing else. ]

Sounds like a problem for you, in that case. If you're here, you're one of those 'tools' as much as any of the rest of us.

[ It's said with a verbal shrug, ducking down to pick up the iced-bucket and it's iced water and iced rag. He's going to have to go find a hearth to borrow to help thaw this all out. What a hassle... why him? (Because, Shino, you instigated.) ]

You may want to mention to people you've iced the hall around here to avoid any potential accidents. Unless you're as adept with healing magic?

[ A curious look tossed his way, as if that's the important thing here. No real regard for what those magics may mean; Shino's fought powerful magic on another world, and he knows the devastating harm it can do. But he'll handle what he needs to handle. ]

Then I'll just let those who need to know to refer themselves along to you.

[ ... Yep, he's not turning his back on him (he's not quite that much of an idiot), but he's calm and unconcerned with the man who he'd provoked into icing the area as he'd been from the start. He just cared about the dirt. And germs. ]

TEST DRIVE MEME!

Skyhold

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i'm so sorry

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