Fall from Grace

[Indie Ser Michel De Chevin RP blog from Dragon Age. Blog is 21+. Any graphics are not mine, they are property of their prospective creators. Thanks.]

[disgracedchampion]

"I heard you were a chevalier." Aveline crossed her arms, uncomfortable but unwilling to leave before asking her question. "Did you enjoy it, being one I mean? What was it like?"

"In another life, yes. I was indeed." The blond regarded her thoroughly, face unreadable as he continued, "Far from the courts, regardless of my disgrace, I remain steadfast under the Chevalier's Code. I will not forsake it. It was truly an honor. I must ask, however, do you wish to pursue such codes? Might I be of some help?"

[disgracedchampion]

Celianne looked up at the man who had once served the empress. “I had not expected to lay eyes upon you here. My father said he had last seen you when you were both transported to Val Chevin. He said you parted ways there.” The inquisitor shifed ever so slightly moving the bow on her back to a more confterble possition

Michel straightened his back uncomfortably so. He was utterly aware of his past history, but to have a part of it staring at him blatantly in the face, it disgusted him. He was an utterly disgrace and failure to the country of Orlais, worst of all, his Empress. Swallowing down the self-loathing and bile behind his throat, Michel threw her a quick smile, "Indeed, Lady Celianne, it is often hard for me to remember just how I became of Emprise du Lion as well. I have a vendetta to carry out, you see. Such things as they are. Enough of me, however. To what pleasure do I owe such a reunion?"  

gildedherald 

[pharawee]

Ser Michel de Chevin

[pharawee]

[disgracedchampion]

“The Academie gave me my honor, and the peace of knowing that as long as I am true to it, I may die with a happy heart.”

[disgracedchampion]

Krem smiled, nodding. “Noble. The Inquisitor is damn impressive though. Hard not to follow.” He paused and considered. “What were you before?”

"Agreed," He mused, shifting his weight from one foot to the other subconsciously. "Past lives are just that, are they not? Is it not best to let whatever you were before this day stay there?" 

[disgracedchampion]

Gazing up at the rather tall form, Iron Bull gave a somewhat proud grin. “The one and only. Why ya’ askin?” He was always being asked this question, but something about this other hinted that the reply would just be different somehow.

Michel watched him closely, as he had been born to do, "Is it not of custom to make one's self aware and cordial with other soldiers?" He sipped at his ale, "One must always know as to whom he is sharing a drink with. Sometimes the drink isn't as friendly as it is feigned to be." He'd witnessed far too many deadly occurences in Orlais. His time spent had made him wiser-- and more selective in his company.

[heraldoflavellan-moved]

disgracedchampion

[disgracedchampion]

{♣}—- The Inquisitor smiled gently at the Ser. "More the merrier; it seems, besides we can use your skills to help us and while under the banner of the Inquisition, you will be protected."

He cocked a brow. Protection? In his entire existence, he had never truly been protected. Not even during his stay in the courts. There was always a duel or dainty title to be avenged at the scruff of his own neck, "Truly? I need no protection, Inquisitor. Please, as you see fit, I am at your disposable."

[disgracedchampion]

"Certainly not," she shook her head, the mere thought causing her to smile in amusement as she tried picturing herself wearing one of those ridiculous masks. "I am Asteria Amell, of Ferelden. And you are?"

He bowed low, as was custom, his leathers rustling as he let his eyes settle on the ground, "Madam, I am Ser Michel de Chevin, former Champion to Empress Celene. It is a pleasure."

[disgracedchampion]

The mage smiled at the other.  ”Well yes the tea is another reason, though, not this one.  This is my own personal blend.  I had it imported from antiva.”  he purred and smiled.  ”Do you enjoy it?  Just the right blend of tea and spice.”  he smirked.

He could see some mental conversation going on behind those eye that he was now focused on.  ”So why do you stay?  I hear the inquisitor recruited after slaying some demon in the Lion.  There must be a story there somewhere.  I am eager to hear it.” 

His nose crinkled as he attempted to process the angle this mage was approaching the conversation from. The Game was ruthless, and regardless of his nationality, he might have ties deeper in politics that he could not identify. 

"It's quite exquisite, yes. I thank you for sharing in its pleasures with me." 

He took another sip. In an attempt to further his relaxation, he crossed his leg over the other, his jaw tight as he contemplated an answer.

"The demon was Imshael. I have spent the latter part of my days in a rough attempt to off the devil. I so lucked into meeting the Inquisitor. Due to the Red Templars raiding Sahrnia, I had to leave the fate of the demon to the Inquisition. The Inquisitor killed Imshael. I am a man of honor and my debt was paid with my loyalty to the Inquisition. It is of no interest, truly."

[disgracedchampion]

"I don’t need your life, just your dedication," Una said.  She wasn’t looking forward to having anyone else die for her and was going to go out of her way to prevent such a thing, if possible.  The amount of fanatical dedication people put under her… she wasn’t sure she deserved it.

"I won’t tell anyone, I admit I was just curious," Una said, "So if it is a secret, I will keep it."

Tugging at his leather gloves, the former Champion glanced down at his ministrations, eager to put his eyes anywhere but her. If he kept himself composed in relation to his past, he would do himself a better service. There were too many people wishing to add to his disgrace. He would be damned if he gave them any sort of proper footing for such a scandal.

"If I am to have a honest request, Inquisitor, I would prefer such things to remain far from the tip of the tongue as possible. It is my skeleton to reveal, should I so choose. I appreciate your curiosity, however. It's new, if I am to be quite truthful. I only held attention as a Champion due to my close proxmity to the Empress. People feign interest when they believe it will bring them a sort of influence or power. I apprecaite the conversation."

[shadows-embrace]

The Winter Palace is a structure in Orlais built on the ruins of ancient elven grounds in the city of Halamshiral. As early as 2:30 Glory, only ten years after the Exalted Marches led to the conquest of the Dales, the Winter Palace had become a seasonal retreat for the Imperial Court.  This remained a tradition for Orlais’ high nobility for years to come.

[disgracedchampion]

"I presume you mean to ask of my breeding, no?" Surely this was not a prerequisite of the Inquisition —one’s birth rights? Still, he had his debt to her. And he believed in the cause. He could not possibly fail her now. "The result is the same either way, no?" Michel gifted her a smile, bitter at his own misfortunes, but a smile nonetheless, "My mother."

"Breeding makes it sound as if you’re an animal - you’re not," Una said firmly, "Let the Orlesian high born shems shove their talk of breeding up their puckered asses," Una swore, she had had enough of Orlais and it’s court games to last her the eternal life her people used to have and then some.  That wasn’t what she was interested in.

"Your mother raised a fine warrior.  You know, when I was a child the Keeper wanred me against half-bloods.  She claimed they were always pulled two ways, but I don’t see that in you," Una said.

The breath he held was not something he had been aware of holding. He'd taken this disgrace because of his debt to Briala and yet he'd give it away so quickly to a guessing Elf? Perhaps it was the debt for killing the demon. Perhaps it was misjudgment. Either way, he'd let it air now. 

"I was raised in the Academie, Inquisitor. I know nothing of family."

At the mention of her Keeper, he nodded, "Wise conclusions to make, nonetheless. You must gauge your enemy quickly, sometimes without proper knowledge of their background. Your Keeper meant no injustice to you." He nodded, eyes searching her, "I live by the Chevalier's Code, Madame Inquisitor. My honor is my life, such is my loyalty. And I have given you mine."

[disgracedchampion]

"The only disgrace is on whomever decided you had to leave," Una returned, looking him over.  Yes, the signs were all there.  His nose had a higher bridge than ever graced shems, while his ears lacked points they seemed to move with sound a bit like hers (though not as obvious).  It was written all over him, really.

"So, was it your mother or your father?" Una asked gently.

His angular face was lost in heavy contemplation when the last of her comments fell upon his keen hearing. She knew. He'd spent years and too many near-death experiences protecting such a speculation, and yet in the matter of a few weeks, she'd pinned down the darkest of secrets he harbored. Well, perhaps not now. His life spent in the court had earned him more than his fair share of dark tales; all of which could earn his death, should be allow it. Or if he could be bested. 

The first person who had ever hinted at knowing his lineage had been subjected to his blade. It was not a subject he so carelessly spoke of, if at all.

His scarred eyebrow cocked upwards, his lips pressed together so tightly that it was certain he would never speak again. He, himself, thought as much.  Silence, he had learned, was just as much a tell-tale as admitting one's guilt. The Game had burned this notion into his being. And so, he spoke. Reluctantly.

"I presume you mean to ask of my breeding, no?" Surely this was not a prerequisite of the Inquisition --one's birth rights? Still, he had his debt to her. And he believed in the cause. He could not possibly fail her now. "The result is the same either way, no?" Michel gifted her a smile, bitter at his own misfortunes, but a smile nonetheless, "My mother."

[disgracedchampion]

"Spirit, actually, the only thing I agree with on him with it.  A corrupted one, but one none the less. Choice can very easily become desire and well… the rest is very complicated.  Magical… things," Una trailed off, demonology (what the shem called the study of spirits) was a complicated field especially with someone who had never studied magic.

"A personal vendetta for you, true," Una said, "But a warrior such as you doesn’t end up clanless and on their own," she pointed out, "Not without something having gone wrong."

Michel dared not argue with a mage concerning such matters. He'd learned that lesson long ago while watching a verbal assault from Madame de Fer to one of the ignorant nobles that so often slipped into balls and social gatherings. Regardless of how they viewed Imshael, at the very least they agreed it was best to be rid of the beast. 

The lion's head mounted upon his breastplate shimmered as he shifted his weight to his other leg, the motion fluid and light (never truly at ease). "I am disgraced, Inquisitor. Such is the nature of my being now."

[disgracedchampion]

"Don’t know. We’re in it for the mix of pay and cause. You?"

"Ah, if I am to indentify with only brief labels, I will choose the cause. I have witnessed the Inquisitor firsthand, I wish to ally myself with whatever promise I can offer."

[disgracedchampion]

"Ser MIchel?"

The male turned with smooth authority, his light blue eyes smiling where his mouth would not, "Duchess Calienne, I fear it has been too long since I have laid eyes upon you. It is a pleasure, as always."

[edeer-moved]

“Sitting on my throne, I see every city in the empire. If I must burn one to save the rest, I will weep, but I will light the torch.”