wicked eyes

on blackened wings deceit takes flight ;;  indie roleplay blog for dragon age oc -- orlesian noble, lady faustine du cadrienne. please read my faq + about!

[orlxsian]

ofdxlish started following you.

“In the capital, we are subject to precious little interaction with the Dalish folk,” Faustine explained primly, pursing her lips upon the formation of the term Dalish. The whole notion was so alien to her; Orlesian gossip had painted the Dalish folk as half-savage, rabbitty folk– traipsing through the wilds, their faces indelibly marked by blood rites. The elf before her, however, seemed as civilized as anyone; and therefore deserved the benefit of the doubt.

“Those, ah, decorations you have there– they are called vallaslin? Is that the correct word?”

[ofdxlish]

    There’s a reason for that, the elf thinks to herself. The accent she bore causes Mihtriel to wrinkle up her nose slightly. The Dalish’s voice carried a slight Antivan accent itself. Though merely being in her presence put her on edge – she wasn’t oblivious to the Orlesians that have elves as servants. Still, it does seem like she’s putting some effort into the conversation, and Mihtriel is more apt to give her a chance as long as she continues to avoid calling her rabbit or even knife-ear.      Green eyes are still sharp, watching Faustine closely.  “Tattoos, to you. But yes - we call them vallaslin.” Mihtriel returns. A soft sigh as she maintains her head. “What makes you ask?”

[orlxsian]

"Our elves, that is-- Orlesian city elves-- don't have them. I suppose it's an old Dalish tradition, then," Faustine said, frowning slightly at her own poor choice of words. I must seem an ignorant fool.

The inflection of an Antivan accent in Mihtriel’s tone gave her pause. She'd had no idea the clans even wandered that far-- but then again, Faustine supposed there was much she did not know in regards to the Dalish. Something that ought to be remedied. Racial tensions were coming to their head in Orlais, forecasting a shift in the human-elven dynamic. Fine by her, as far as Faustine was concerned-- however, if she was to be greeting more elves in court, a little knowledge could be of great advantage.

 “I must admit I don’t know their significance, but they’re pretty, in their way. A curiosity.”

[orlxsian]

josiewosiie started following you.

"You seem familiar. Have we met before? At a soiree, perhaps? Not Lady Forsythia's, I hope. What a disaster."

[orlxsian]

cadashingrogue started following you

“Inquisitor,” Faustine mused, accepting a glass of wine from a passing server gratefully. “Such a weighty title, but no weightier than the Herald of Andraste, I daresay. A dull business. How do you find Halamshiral?”

[cadashingrogue]

Drawing her attention upwards (of course, where else?) Zera cleared her throat. She still felt the material of the uniform was tight against her neck. “It’s only weighty if you take on both titles at once. I prefer simply, Inquisitor.” The temptation to imbibe was strong, but she held back for the sake of doing her best to impress. “It’s certainly… pretty, and big. Not quite as loud as noble celebrations in Orzammar.”

[orlxsian]

"Then I suppose we'll have to try harder," Faustine said lightly, taking a cordial sip of her wine. The Inquisitor was obviously out of her element, yet Faustine was pleased that she had the sense to be respectful. Perhaps her staff had prepped her? After, their Inquisition did benefit from the advice of Lady Montilyet and Lady Nightingale-- two esteemed veterans of the Grand Game.

“I can hardly imagine what a soiree in Orzammar must be like. I suspect it involves a great deal less silk and far more ale.

[orlxsian]

bull-de-hierro started following you.

“You there, qunari,” Faustine sidles in besides the enormous man, appraising him with an expression poised between mirth and idle curiosity. “I hear you’ve a keen eye. What do you gather from that woman over there? With the atrocious orange capelet.”

Faustine raised a delicate, gloved hand and gestured vaguely across the ballroom, where a political rival stood in oblivious conversation with the empress’ ladies-in-waiting. Tragic, really. The fool woman was obviously colorblind.

[mcntiroso-blog]

Iron Bull sent the woman a careful squint, shoulders raising in a light shrug. “She’s been laying around. Trying to weasel her way into people’s pants. Sometimes, for money. Other times she does it to just fuck with people – no pun intended I mean – she does it for revenge.

Untrustworthy too. But do you see the way she stands? Constantly looking around? She’s on edge. About what, is the question.”

[orlxsian]

"That does sound like her, Faustine agreed, with a tad more brightness than was perhaps necessary. "Promising, promising. If only I had names... ah, but perhaps such intrigues will reveal themselves before the night is over. You, however, are a treasure. An enormous, fantastically horned treasure, but I digress.” 

She gave Bull a brisk once over, from tip to toe, eyes lingering only for a moment over his uniform. A symbol of power to some, and to others, the mark of a heretic.

“Inquisition, are you?”

[tethrad-deactivated20151229]

semi-activity notice!!

((on mobile btw WHOOPS))

i just caved in and made a blog for my orlesian of faustine (orlxsian on tumblr) and activity here will be pretty slow sorry… i will eventually return to varric-full time but i wanna little time to focus on my new bae!!!

follow me there or eat bees!!!!!!!!

[orlxsian]

poor poor cullen...  ......

NAHHH JK //blows up a chantry

[orlxsian]

feelslikexquiet is following you.

“You’ve been stealing hearts all evening, commander,” Faustine said, her voice strained with the effort of containing her laughter. “A commendable feat. Though I imagine you are less than thrilled… if the fact you’re currently hiding behind a bush can be considered a sign to that effect.”

[feelslikexquiet-blog]

“I wasn’t hiding–!” He speaks indignantly, but he does jump at the sound of her voice. “I had…” He fumbles, he is not one to lie, his cheeks are tinting red and he sighs, straightening up, “…dropped my glove. Yes, that’s it.”

[orlxsian]

“I find myself unconvinced,” she muses airily, raising a manicured eyebrow and staring pointedly at his perfectly gloved hands, “seeing as you seem to have recovered your glove, and yet, here you are, still standing in the bushes.”

Her smile is a shade saucier than she’d originally intended, but she can’t help it; his response was far too perfect. The blush alone? Priceless. Oh, Fereldens.

[feelslikexquiet-blog]

“I…oh, maker.” There was no backing out of that one– and there was  little reason for him to have been crouching (besides  that it had offered him a moment’s peace.) in the bushes. “Everyone… everyone spoke at once, my lady– and my word, they were touching me!” He is not meant for this, he decides, as he’s decided ages ago.

[orlxsian]

“I imagine they were,” she sighs. “The curse of beauty, no?”

She leaned forwards to brush a stray twig off of his shoulder, poised between pity and amusement. So, the fabled commander of the Inquisition’s armies was an introvert. There was an interesting tidbit.

“I don’t mean to criticize, sir, but perhaps your expertise is more suited towards the war room and less so the ballroom.”

[orlxsian]

“Now, now,” Faustine admonished blithely, her smiling widening smugly at the acerbic tone of Iona’s voice. “The night is still young, and mind you– they haven’t stopped serving punch yet. You may very well still get your chance.”

[auraseeinghawke-blog]

“Oh so it isn’t time for me to read people’s tea leafs and be a party favor? Good, I’ll take more of that punch then,” Iona said sweetly, guessing she likely out-famoused the other woman. Thus, drink fetching.

[orlxsian]

“Such a pity you’re smarter than you look,” Faustine said ruefully, smoothing out her skirts as she straightened up. “You heroic types are absolutely shameless. Ah, well. So long as I am present when the court has you juggling fireballs, yes?”

With a long-suffering sigh, she gestured a server over, instructing the sharp-dressed elf to pour Iona a drink. Maker damn it.

[orlxsian]

ofdxlish started following you.

"In the capital, we are subject to precious little interaction with the Dalish folk,” Faustine explained primly, pursing her lips upon the formation of the term Dalish. The whole notion was so alien to her; Orlesian gossip had painted the Dalish folk as half-savage, rabbitty folk-- traipsing through the wilds, their faces indelibly marked by blood rites. The elf before her, however, seemed as civilized as anyone; and therefore deserved the benefit of the doubt.

“Those, ah, decorations you have there– they are called vallaslin? Is that the correct word?”

[orlxsian]

feelslikexquiet is following you.

“You’ve been stealing hearts all evening, commander,” Faustine said, her voice strained with the effort of containing her laughter. “A commendable feat. Though I imagine you are less than thrilled… if the fact you’re currently hiding behind a bush can be considered a sign to that effect.”

[feelslikexquiet-blog]

“I wasn’t hiding–!” He speaks indignantly, but he does jump at the sound of her voice. “I had…” He fumbles, he is not one to lie, his cheeks are tinting red and he sighs, straightening up, “…dropped my glove. Yes, that’s it.”

[orlxsian]

“I find myself unconvinced,” she muses airily, raising a manicured eyebrow and staring pointedly at his perfectly gloved hands, “seeing as you seem to have recovered your glove, and yet, here you are, still standing in the bushes.”

Her smile is a shade saucier than she’d originally intended, but she can’t help it; his response was far too perfect. The blush alone? Priceless. Oh, Fereldens.

[orlxsian]

scandaloussparkler started following you.

"My, oh, my. You, my good lord, have been the topic of much scandal tonight. I am not sure whether to commend or console you," Faustine dipped her head, hiding a self-indulgent grin behind one delicately upturned wrist. 

Rumour, be it spurious or accurate, might as well have been the Orlesian national passtime-- and what subject was more ripe for rumour than the mysterious, handsome magister who had slunk his way into the Inquisition’s ranks? Gossip had already staked that he was an assassin, a spy, a blood mage, and the crux around which a half-dozen love affairs circled. Idle fancies. Probably.

“I suppose you do have the advantage of looking so pretty in red.”

[orlxsian]

feelslikexquiet is following you.

"You've been stealing hearts all evening, commander,” Faustine said, her voice strained with the effort of containing her laughter. “A commendable feat. Though I imagine you are less than thrilled... if the fact you're currently hiding behind a bush can be considered a sign to that effect."

[orlxsian]

auraseeinghawke started following you.

“The Champion of Kirkwall. A title that carries weight even here in distant Orlais. You do us such honour, tonight,” Faustine drawled, smiling with a poise that couldn’t quite conceal the mirth dancing behind her eyes.

[auraseeinghawke-blog]

“Oh, is it already time for the magic tricks?” Iona asked, “I’m not nearly drunk enough to put on a show yet, so I hate to dash any hopes and dreams you may have about that.”

[orlxsian]

“Now, now,” Faustine admonished blithely, her smiling widening smugly at the acerbic tone of Iona’s voice. “The night is still young, and mind you-- they haven’t stopped serving punch yet. You may very well still get your chance.”

[orlxsian]

heraldoflavellan  started following you.

"I'm quite fond of these formal Inquisition uniforms,” Faustine said amicably, pausing to admire the cut of the silk against Ellana’s pale skin. “Its like I've always been saying– red velvet does wonders in more than just cupcakes. If we’re lucky, you might spark a new trend tonight."

[orlxsian]

overshadovved has started following you.

“Ah, my apologies-- Carver, was it? My, you’re the spitting image of your older brother. Such a wonder I’ve never heard of you.”

[orlxsian]

bull-de-hierro started following you.

"You there, qunari,” Faustine sidles in besides the enormous man, appraising him with an expression poised between mirth and idle curiosity. “I hear you've a keen eye. What do you gather from that woman over there? With the atrocious orange capelet."

Faustine raised a delicate, gloved hand and gestured vaguely across the ballroom, where a political rival stood in oblivious conversation with the empress’ ladies-in-waiting. Tragic, really. The fool woman was obviously colorblind.

[orlxsian]

auraseeinghawke started following you.

"The Champion of Kirkwall. A title that carries weight even here in distant Orlais. You do us such honour, tonight,” Faustine drawled, smiling with a poise that couldn't quite conceal the mirth dancing behind her eyes.