I get to choose the cheeses now? It's not even my birthday.
Strong, soft, & smearable is my preference. The Marquis of Val Firmin is horrifically devout & might give the Inquisition a discount from his dairy if someone works the whole Herald of Andraste thing into the conversation a few times.
If this is a late Satinalia prank I'll never forgive everyone involved.
I wouldn't ever be that cruel. She wouldn't, either. She remembers the Blight. And a few of the Wardens were talking about things you like, and a less-wicked-than-most spy was concealed nearby. So...
Like a cave beetle with its shell removed. Got it.
In spy circles, the spy's name is something really intensely cool like High Dragon or Dagger or The Storm. Her civilian name is Kitty. She sometimes serves you drinks at the tavern.
[ If there's any chance she might think he's genuinely upset, hopefully the back of the note—a stick figure cat perched on a stick figure dragon with a dagger in one claw, surrounded by lightning—will take care of that. ]
[ And there is a moment where she worries she went too far - after all, it's not like she knows the Warden and that might really offend him - but that stick figure drawing assuages her worries. And also it's wonderful and is going to be kept amongst her most treasured things.
In return, she sends back a (very bad) doodle of a man in armor holding a rudimentary block of cheese with outrageous stink lines coming from it. And, underneath: ]
Does Val Firmin have any military forces, or just dairies?
Last word is that the Duchess is lending her forces to the Empress or the Grand Duke. One of those two. The dairies are left without protection but I don't think either side is monster enough to attack a dairy.
That's the best likeness of me I've ever seen. Thank you.
They're her men. The Marquis might lead them in the field, but they're Caralina's (not the Duke's, he's useless) to round up for the Empress in whatever quantity shows adequate support.
That's 32 words I've had to write about the nobility just now, plus 20 or so last time. That's 2 words past my limit. You've officially used up all of my gratitude for the cheese and if you ask anymore questions you may no longer be my favorite spy/barmaid.
But you're doing a good deed. You're educating a spy/barmaid who might not actually be so good at the spy part, because she doesn't know anything about Orlais.
I've got an idea - why don't we meet up in person? You'll have a much harder time counting how many words you're using then.
[ Whenever it is, Alistair will be there in a corner, building a small tower out of the discarded mugs left by the people who had the table before him. ]
[ And Kitty will show up at the appointed time, right on time. The moment she shows up, though, she lets out a disapproving cluck - though not directed at Alistair. ]
Dirty mugs! Left on the table! I swear, this place falls apart when I don't have a shift.
[ And then she lets out a little laugh. She knows from observation and eavesdropping that drink isn't Alistair's vice - quips, one of the recruits had lamented, that's what he can't resist, quipping - and so she feels confident enough making this joke. ]
Unless they're all yours, of course.
[ And then she draws herself up onto the chair opposite him. In order to see over the table, she has to kneel on the seat, but it's fine because it puts her head right at the right level and so the other person forgets her height when they're both sitting. ]
The cheese is completely free of charge. Though that'd be quite the trick, wouldn't it - oh, admirable milord, we're so grateful to you, oh, what would you like more than anything else - Wait, what do you mean, you thought it was a gift?
[ Then her grin broadens. ]
If you'd like, though, you can come work with us here at the tavern. You look very good at reaching high shelves.
Oh, I am. Killing darkspawn and reaching tall things are my only two talents. I never thought I could do anything with it, but I've never seen an establishment with so many dwarves, either.
[ He taps the table with one finger, absent and thoughtful, and then takes apart his small tower to begin building a new one. ]
[ She lets her smile dim just a little bit, and lowers her head and pushes her hair to the side like there's some hidden sadness behind this answer. Like it's hard for her to give. She makes herself sound just a little hesitant, just a touch tentative - but only a little bit, because she also needs to sound like she's someone who's chipper and optimistic in spite of it all. Brave-and-a-little-wounded-and-good-natured-and-not-willing-to-let-herself-be-dragged-down-by-dark-memories - that's the effect she's going for. ]
And the tall walls. And the many, many very competent soldiers. It's not an easy life out there for a girl with a pony-cart, even a very clever and resourceful one. Even with the threat from Corypheus, it's safer here, in Skyhold - especially since in an emergency, I know the tavern's going to be the best-defended building. The Inquisition likes its wine.
[ She gives a little laugh and, very genuinely - not in an effort to manipulate or anything, in genuine kindness - ]
Disallowed. You'd share bedding with the rest of us. If you were working here, we'd take care of you, same as anyone else. [ And then, with a grin: ] Besides, you look like you'd be big and warm - a nice radiator to have nearby.
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note
Did ZevranI'm a simple man with simplI get to choose the cheeses now? It's not even my birthday.
Strong, soft, & smearable is my preference. The Marquis of Val Firmin is horrifically devout & might give the Inquisition a discount from his dairy if someone works the whole Herald of Andraste thing into the conversation a few times.
If this is a late Satinalia prank I'll never forgive everyone involved.
no subject
I wouldn't ever be that cruel. She wouldn't, either. She remembers the Blight. And a few of the Wardens were talking about things you like, and a less-wicked-than-most spy was concealed nearby. So...
no subject
This is the only situation where I won't say not to thank me. Please thank me, with cheese.
Does the spy have a name?
no subject
In spy circles, the spy's name is something really intensely cool like High Dragon or Dagger or The Storm. Her civilian name is Kitty. She sometimes serves you drinks at the tavern.
no subject
[ If there's any chance she might think he's genuinely upset, hopefully the back of the note—a stick figure cat perched on a stick figure dragon with a dagger in one claw, surrounded by lightning—will take care of that. ]
no subject
In return, she sends back a (very bad) doodle of a man in armor holding a rudimentary block of cheese with outrageous stink lines coming from it. And, underneath: ]
Does Val Firmin have any military forces, or just dairies?
no subject
That's the best likeness of me I've ever seen. Thank you.
no subject
But all right - does the Marquis not command the military forces? Why does a Duchess get to decide?
no subject
That's 32 words I've had to write about the nobility just now, plus 20 or so last time. That's 2 words past my limit. You've officially used up all of my gratitude for the cheese and if you ask anymore questions you may no longer be my favorite spy/barmaid.
no subject
I've got an idea - why don't we meet up in person? You'll have a much harder time counting how many words you're using then.
no subject
no subject
no subject
[ Whenever it is, Alistair will be there in a corner, building a small tower out of the discarded mugs left by the people who had the table before him. ]
no subject
Dirty mugs! Left on the table! I swear, this place falls apart when I don't have a shift.
[ And then she lets out a little laugh. She knows from observation and eavesdropping that drink isn't Alistair's vice - quips, one of the recruits had lamented, that's what he can't resist, quipping - and so she feels confident enough making this joke. ]
Unless they're all yours, of course.
[ And then she draws herself up onto the chair opposite him. In order to see over the table, she has to kneel on the seat, but it's fine because it puts her head right at the right level and so the other person forgets her height when they're both sitting. ]
Anyway. Hi. You're Warden Alistair. I'm Kitty.
no subject
[ She is lucky she won't actually fit in any of his various pockets or pouches. ]
I wish they were mine. I'm near out of coin. Your friend isn't planning to charge me for that cheese, is she? I might need a second job.
no subject
The cheese is completely free of charge. Though that'd be quite the trick, wouldn't it - oh, admirable milord, we're so grateful to you, oh, what would you like more than anything else - Wait, what do you mean, you thought it was a gift?
[ Then her grin broadens. ]
If you'd like, though, you can come work with us here at the tavern. You look very good at reaching high shelves.
no subject
[ He taps the table with one finger, absent and thoughtful, and then takes apart his small tower to begin building a new one. ]
How much do they pay walking ladders here?
no subject
[ She says that a little ruefully, but then flashes a grin at him. ]
Though the company of amazing coworkers has to be worth something.
no subject
[ He's grinning back--not as brightly as he would with more sleep and fewer worries, but good enough. ]
Is that what has you barmaiding for the Inquisition? The good company?
no subject
[ She lets her smile dim just a little bit, and lowers her head and pushes her hair to the side like there's some hidden sadness behind this answer. Like it's hard for her to give. She makes herself sound just a little hesitant, just a touch tentative - but only a little bit, because she also needs to sound like she's someone who's chipper and optimistic in spite of it all. Brave-and-a-little-wounded-and-good-natured-and-not-willing-to-let-herself-be-dragged-down-by-dark-memories - that's the effect she's going for. ]
And the tall walls. And the many, many very competent soldiers. It's not an easy life out there for a girl with a pony-cart, even a very clever and resourceful one. Even with the threat from Corypheus, it's safer here, in Skyhold - especially since in an emergency, I know the tavern's going to be the best-defended building. The Inquisition likes its wine.
no subject
That's good thinking. Maybe I should move in here instead. What's the policy on sleeping under the tables?
no subject
Disallowed. You'd share bedding with the rest of us. If you were working here, we'd take care of you, same as anyone else. [ And then, with a grin: ] Besides, you look like you'd be big and warm - a nice radiator to have nearby.
no subject
[ More or less. ]
How old are you?
no subject
Seventeen.
[ And then, for some reason she doesn't wholly understand, she feels impelled to add: ]
Plenty old.