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

[silverfist]

[ when he can no longer taste bile, he finally opens his eye again, breathing in carefully through his nose. he doesn't have enough distance yet to allow himself to think consciously of his imprisonment. ]

There are things we have yet to discuss, but I have heard.. some. [ his mouth twists, self-conscious. ] I fear that I have not been steady enough for everything just yet. [ she knows that, and so does celebrimbor. his physical damage is the very least of it, but.. slowly, he's picking up the pieces of himself. ] It seems good to know, at least, that he was never able to touch the Three. [ it gives meaning to what he'd suffered for and died to hide. he's grateful beyond words for that.

his glance lifts at the introduction, eye widening faintly for a moment before his expression evens again. ] I assure you, there has been no rudeness on your part. I am grateful for the company.

[rowancrowned]

She is your kin. The right falls to her. [ and it is not one that thranduil particularly wants, so it makes this all very simple- he leaves it to her, and tidily moves on, skipping the topic of the three entirely, and all the hurt that might live there. ]

And I am glad to have another Quendi in Thedas, where there is much work to be done. [ but- later. celebrimbor has hurts to heal- the physical ones will be impeded, due to the veil and all the harm it does to those who have their fëa on one side and their hroa on the other. the other hurts can, perhaps, only be healed by mandos and time. well. they are elves, they are entitled to both. ] And especially one who knew my wife.

[ thranduil shifts on the bench, turns his body more towards celebrimbor. ] May I fetch water for you? Tea? Whatever the healers have deemed acceptable for you. Lembas in milk, perhaps, with honey?

[silverfist]

I-- [ he blinks at the offer, startled, finally offering a small shake of his head. ] You have my thanks, but I am well enough. Actually.. [ he reaches for his cane, leaning against it as he rises carefully to his feet. ] I would be more grateful for a distraction from my thoughts, and it would be good for me to walk.

[ he taps the cane against the side of the brace on his bad leg, smile thin. ] My healers fret, but I tire of being an invalid. Will you tell me about this place? All I have learned has been from the native folk thus far.

[ it will be good to hear about this-- world from one of his own people. .. and as he said, it will give him something to think about that isn't (annatar) sauron. ]

[rowancrowned]

[ thranduil nods, standing with his hands held at the small of his back and his head inclined. ] Of course.

[ celebrimbor can lead- celebrimbor knows his limits. celebrimbor is- one known to thranduil only by legacy. there were times they may have crossed, but each one passed without their meeting. ] The Men are Men, as they always are. The Dwarves- I cannot speak of them, for I am afraid I know too little, beyond that they seem as Dwarves always do.

[ dwarfy, in other words, and utterly foreign to thranduil's mind, beyond him ever guessing their motivations being anything beyond pride and greed. as they imagine thranduil's mind runs, for how could they imagine a way of thinking different from their own.

(the less thranduil has to speak of dwarves, the better.) ]

Our kin are-- well, you have seen them. Tell me what you see.