TEST DRIVE MEME!

[faderifting]

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.

Comments

[rowancrowned]

It is the mark of a fine ruler to appreciate the work of hands, and not merely the result itself. [ warm approval. it only furthers his disapproval of whomever allowed him to reach such an- dare he say it?- unloved state. gently, he undoes the braids, section by section, allowing himself to slip into the comfort of repetitive work. ]

It is. [ the smell of the steam and the rhythm is soothing. ] But then again, many firsts in an elfling's life are made ritual. First tooth, first bow, first ride. I think it now more for the comfort of the parents, in truth. To think of the delight of moving to hard foods rather than the pain of teething, the joy of archery rather than the worry of a cut from an arrowhead. The delight of feeling the wind on your face and hair than the ever present concern that the heretofore sweet old pony might turn feral and let your child fall.

[ all things that thranduil himself had felt to some degree. once maia's hair is freed- and it is quite a lot of hair- he tests the temperature of the water with his fingers and steps to the side. ] Lie back.

[drazhada]

It is not considered.. appropriate for the emperor, but we are an uncommon emperor in many respects, we've been told.

[ there's a combination of factors that contribute to his strangeness, he supposes; his half-blooded nature, his upbringing, his isolation from court for most of his life.. even csevet being his first encounter with someone from his court. if he had latched on to someone like, say, tethimada instead-- the gods forbid.

he leans back when bid, fingers laced together again, thumb brushing once more over his oath-ring. --csethiro and the others must be concerned. his nohecharei-- he fears for them, to be honest. what will happen, with the emperor having disappeared under their careful watch? ]

We have difficulty imagining, [ he admits after a moment, glance flicking to thranduil, then back up to the ceiling, ears flattening back. ] We are meant to be wedded within the year, and we can hardly imagine that. [ were it up to him, he'd call the entire thing off and bid csethiro train as a knight, as she'd be happiest doing. but that's no more within his power than it is in hers. ]

[rowancrowned]

Better for that uncommonness, I suspect. [ perhaps it's a bit of a too-quick judgement as a response, but despite the leisure with which he might have formed opinions of those he meets, he still decides often within the first quarter-hour or less how he feels about a person- though he does not consider himself stubborn enough to remain unchanged in his views forever. the mortals simply- do not live long enough to make him change.

but maia- he likes maia. he appreciates the trust in allowing him to touch his hair, to put him to rights. with cupped hands, he guides maia's head into the basin, his ears above water so that he might hear thranduil still as he begins to wet maia's hair, to hum softly to himself as he starts his work. ]

Tell me about the woman who is to be your bride. [ it is such a simple ring that maia fusses with. is this how they signal the promise? ]

[drazhada]

We hope to be, at least. [ he's probably not at risk for another attempted coup or civil war, at least, which he takes as a good sign.

the request makes his face heat once more, though, fingers stilling, suddenly embarrassed. what should he say..? they've been betrothed for months now, and there's still so much he doesn't know about her. ]

She is Dach'osmin Csethiro Ceredin. She is very kind and very strong, and we are very pleased to say that though it is the duty of the emperor to marry, we believe that we will have friendship with our empress.

[ provided nothing terrible happens, of course, but he likes her quite a bit, and she seems to like him, and they get along well now that they understand one another better. she doesn't terrify him, at least. ]

.. Still, she would be much happier learning the sword and being one of our knights. [ a small sigh. ] If we were a ruler of thirty years instead of one, we would give her that. [ a beat, and his blush deepens, finally showing itself as a darkening in his cheekbones and ears. ] We should not have said so much. Our apologies.