I hope you are well and not presently eaten by anything, or that if you have been eaten by something it was a thing majestic and fearsome, preceded by a battle worthy of songs, and your death was witnessed by those who will do justice to the tale.
If you have not been eaten then please hurry to join us. Valentine is making friends.
I am not sure my tone carries appropriately. Let me try again: Valentine is making friends. If we have been eaten before you return it will be not by something majestic and fearsome, but by Fereldans and Qunari. So, you see, whatever adventures you are having without us cannot be so wonderful and adventurous as it will be to arrive triumphantly in time to save us from that fate.
I do miss you terribly, for reasons other than the selfish ones described here, but if I write about them at length I will cry and the ink will run. I do most sincerely hope that you are on your way and in good health. Maker protect you, &c.
I must admit straight off that I am terribly cross with you. Our dear J---- reports that you have been consorting with Fereldans and Qunari and yet I hear not a word of it from you! I can only surmise that either you have somehow allowed them to get the better of your wit—a prospect which fills me with the most dreadful astonishment—or that you have simply been keeping your exploits to yourself—which instead inspires in me the most wrathful sorrow. In either event I feel quite hard done by, and you know how much I despise feeling low in any way. I shall expect you to make it up to me on my arrival.
And now I find that you have been engaging in epic battles for magical treasures, while I have been here on my own engaged in furious combat of a far less enjoyable sort. Yes, I have been forced at last to try myself against the great mountain of grading, climbing for my life as desperately as we once did upon the cliffs of the Hunterhorns, clinging to the edge of my desk lest I be swept away, parchment fluttering about my ears as if in the most fearsome blizzard.
And were that not enough I find myself in the same moment locked in a yet another mortal duel for my intellectual soul with that duck-witted fustian bastard the Dean. In truth I do not know if I will survive this one, dear Val, but I am certain that when we each play our hand I will have some cards he did not expect. I shall keep them close to my bodice for now and reveal all when next we meet.
For whether it is in ruin or in triumph, I will join you both soon. I am too terribly jealous of your strange company and your magic cold rings. I must come win one of my own at once, or at least you must let me examine yours. I wish that you could bring it here and perhaps we could drop it down the back of the blighted Dean's blighted waistcoat and give him a chill and a fright. (He wore a particularly hideous one yesterday I think you would have enjoyed. I enclose a sketch.)
Since I began with scolding I must close with praise: your victory sounds positively glorious and as always you know that I approve of your vigilance in preventing J---- from spending too long at prayer. I am sure he will indulge you and give the Cold Ring the attention it deserves soon, if he has not already by the time you receive this. I hope to hear more reports of its abilities soon.
Alas that I cannot myself be carried by ravens. I must instead gird my loins for battle with the Dean, but I shall wish myself luck in it from you, as I know that is what you would want.
LOVE ALWAYS IN GREAT ANTICIPATION OF YOUR ARRIVAL YOUR FAVORITE VAL OF THE COLD RING COMMANDER OF COOKS WEEPER OF TEARS BELOVED OF FREDDIE, THE SUN, AND J, THE HOLY (AND SO BELOVED BY ANDRASTE BY EXTENSION BECAUSE WHAT FANTASTIC CREDENTIALS WOULDN'T YOU SAY)
In case you have not noticed, you are still not here—deictic presently meaning "Halamshiral" rather than "the Frostback Mountains," so there is even less justification. I understand that you adore your desk and cannot stand to be parted from it for long, that the halls of the University are the only place you feel truly free, and that the dean is dearer to your heart than either of us could ever hope to be. But my need is greater. Our need is greater. Please consider a visit.
News other than my increasing but predictable desperation: I have spoken to the Right Hand of the Divine. She is magnificent. She is perhaps less impressed by Valentine than any woman I have ever seen. (Fereldans and Qunari excluded, of course, if they do indeed require specific exclusion.) I believe that you will adore her and that she in turn will be moderately tolerant toward you.
I have also met Anders, the mage who destroyed the Chantry in Kirkwall. You may be either proud or disappointed, or some combination of the two, to know that I kept my temper. I was in fact very civil. Perhaps I was even charming, given that he did not end our meeting by causing me to explode—or perhaps he was the charmer and I the charmed, as he began that meeting by bribing me with sweet bread. In either case I am not sure why this miraculously civil and explosion-free meeting does not warrant some sort of prize from the Inquisition equivalent to those awarded for tossing snow about.
That sounds envious. I suppose I am envious. I will not begin this letter again and hide the evidence from you now. But it is bad enough that the Maker must know of my sins; please do not tell Val.
Lastly, The Creature that I acquired in Rivain sends its regards, if I am correctly interpreting its noises. I may not be. It has bitten my hands three times in as many days. I do not think The Creature appreciates the cold or all that I have done for it. I would free it, but I also do not think it would live long in such cold climates or without company. Perhaps, when you decide that you can bear to be parted with your comfortable desk chair, you will have better luck convincing it of our good intentions.
Yours,
Jeannot
Edited (I MISSPELLED A LINGUISTICS TERM SHOOT ME) 2016-08-16 02:44 (UTC)
Yes, there. That's what I have missed so badly. Freddie, removing all suspense from my conversation. Neat order only.
In any case, now I have two projects. One of them involves dragons. There is a woman here, she comes from another land. With the-- [what're they calling it] --in her hand, you know. Freddie, she keeps dragons where she is from. As pets.
Wellllll. [ she is thinking. ] Would you call the Lamb's Neck blue? I suppose it is arguably nearer to purple. And the Illuminalis is close as well but, again, perhaps it is more orange than red? Hmm. I can consult Romachert if you would like?
[Good call because Val was seconds away from opening his mouth and expressing his antsyness. Mollified, he settles in to respond.]
There is a list of items that is being sought. Each item is specific in its nature, a degree of specificity that might render it difficult or even impossible to find, and a handsome reward is promised.
On that list? A blue flower with red thorns. If there were such a bloom, it would grow nowhere near Kirkwall. Of the flowers I have beheld, they are, none of them, so exotic as that.
Freddie. I have an idea and I must tell you of it immediately. It cannot wait. Stop whatever you are doing and devote your attention to me.
[This is also how he'll talk to her when they're inevitably married because there will be no change and also just pay attention to Val or he will wither away and die, merci.]
Edited (i meant no change but also there will be no chance sorry ) 2018-05-16 21:26 (UTC)
[Written in, of course, Orlesian, in purple ink, and delivered by a messenger from Kirkwall, who was hired by a messenger from Orlais, who refused to comment on how it was he came by the letter.
Inside the crisply folded parchment: a smattering of dried and pressed hyacinth blossoms in blue and pink. They tumble out when the letter is opened. As anyone of good breeding and education knows, hyacinths symbolize playfulness and sport, rashness... and constancy.
Get it, babe?]
TO THE BARONESS DURFORT-LACAPALETTE: A CHALLENGE.
A WOMAN OF MEANS FEARED HER DAUGHTER WAS LAZY AND STUPID. WHEN THE OLD WOMAN DIED, SHE LEFT BEHIND A WILL. HER ASSETS WERE LIQUIDATED AND WITH THE SINGLE LUMP SUM, THE MOST FAMOUS PORTRAIT IN ALL OF THEDAS WAS PURCHASED.
FIRST: TELL ME THAT YOU KNOW IT.
SECOND: THE PORTRAIT WAS SEALED IN A VAULT. THE VAULT WAS LOCKED WITH A KEY. THE KEY WAS PLACED IN AN ENVELOPE. AND TWO OTHER KEYS, IDENTICAL, WERE PLACED IN IDENTICAL ENVELOPES. AND IF THE DAUGHTER COULD DETERMINE FROM THE WRITING ON THE ENVELOPE WHICH ENVELOPE CONTAINED THE KEY TO THE VAULT, SHE WOULD INHERIT THE PORTRAIT, THE MOST FAMOUS PORTRAIT IN ALL OF THEDAS. IF SHE CHOSE WRONG, THE PORTRAIT WOULD BE BURNED.
THE DAUGHTER WAS NOT ALLOWED TO TOUCH THE ENVELOPES. SHE WAS FORCED TO CHOOSE ONLY BASED ON THE WRITING ON THE ENVELOPES. THE DAUGHTER WAS TOLD: ONE OF THE STATEMENTS WRITTEN WAS TRUE. THE OTHER TWO WERE FALSE. HERE IS WHAT THEY SAID:
1. THIS ENVELOPE DOES NOT HAVE THE KEY 2. THIS ENVELOPE HAS THE KEY 3. THE SECOND ENVELOPE DOES NOT HAVE THE KEY
WHAT DID THE DAUGHTER DO?
WRITE UPON THIS LETTER AND DISPATCH IT TO THE MESSENGER IMMEDIATELY OR I WILL KNOW YOU FOR A WITLESS FOOL AND WILL REMAIN EVER SUPERIOR.
You are the very king of tediousness. I can hardly care to guess what the unnamed daughter would have done, as she might very well have been as lazy and stupid as her mother feared. Certainly I should have chosen the first envelope, and we both know you would have eschewed envelopes altogether and simply stolen the painting out from under the nose of the grief-stricken young lacebrain. I might have preferred it find the fire, for I have always hated Valrucheau's 'trois nymphes poursuivies par le cerf'. It is utterly fatuous in subject, the background is an inferior copy of Larelle's 'berger dans la vallée', and his use of light is almost certainly the result of a late revision by his student Dechambreux who toiled in obscurity all his days while his vaunted master availed himself of the adulation of a credulous and undiscerning public.
If you will insist on continuing this correspondence, I must demand you provide if not actual conversation--which I had heard tell was one of your great skills though my own encounters have been less than fully convincing on that point--at least witty tales of your daring exploits that I might marvel at your boldness and then pass along the details to the relevant authorities to see that no precious works of art are destroyed by your cavalier adventuring.
You may continue to reach me via the Inquisition, the Gallows, Kirkwall, for the foreseeable future.
HOW ASSUMPTIVE YOU ARE, TO NAME ME. AND WHILE WE SPEAK OF NAMES: HER NAME WAS AGATHE BRODUER AND, IF THIS WAS THE TRADITIONAL RIDDLE, YOU WOULD HAVE IT. ALAS IT IS A TRUE TALE AND WHAT LACEBRAIN BRODUER DID WAS, CONSULT HER DEAR FRIEND, LORD GIRARDOT, A RENOWN SCHOLAR WHO--ACCORDING TO RUMOR--POSSESSED SOME MINOR SKILL AT DIVINATION, BLESSED AND HOLY. SHE GAVE GIRARDOT THE ENVELOPES THAT HE MIGHT DIVINE THE CORRECT KEY.
AND AS YOU HAVE GUESSED, I STOLE THE PORTRAIT OUT FROM BENEATH HER DARLING NOSE AND REMOVED THE TROUBLE ALTOGETHER.
SHALL I BURN IT? IF THE BARONESS WOULD PREFER IT, I WILL. I ENJOY YOUR CONTROVERSIAL TASTE. YOUR SALON MUST BE HIDEOUSLY DECORATED, AND MOSTLY OUT OF SPITE. I ENJOY DECHAMBREUX'S WORK WITH LIGHT. PERHAPS BEFORE BURNING I WILL TEAR OUT A SCRAP OF IT TO KEEP FOR MYSELF, ISOLATING THE LIGHT. PERHAPS I WILL GLUE IT TO LARELLE'S PIECE WHEN I SECURE IT, AND DISPLAY IT ONLY TO MYSELF, THE MOST DESERVING OF PUBLICS.
HOW DO YOU FIND THE INQUISITION? I HAVE NOT WASTED A THOUGHT ON IT. BUT THEN AGAIN, I HAVE BEEN HARD AT WORK, AS MY LETTER WILL ATTEST. I WILL END THIS LETTER HERE, THAT I MIGHT FETCH KINDLING FOR THE BURNING OF TROIS NYMPHES.
YOU ARE EVER DEMANDING AND NEARLY CLEVER. PLEASE REMAIN SO.
[ When Freddie wakes, she’ll find that she’s received a terribly mysterious invitation to meet with an 'importer' of rare fruits. She claims they’ve been cultivated off seeds 'recovered' from a Qunari ship, and intends to auction them to the highest bidder. A stranger (terrible, mysterious) may already be waiting.
The invitation is beautifully calligraphed, and includes a rakish silk scarf to wear, to signal her involvement. The sale takes place in a small, rickety ship that's been converted to a floating bar; the crowd is somewhat less than fashionable, and has several fewer limbs than they ought to between them. The 'importer', however, is nowhere to be found. And those rare fruits are definitely just normal fruits painted gold painted gold — golden apples, golden grapes, a golden...potato.
It's mostly golden potatoes. At least their tab's been covered.
Freddie doesn't have to actually accept the invitation. Not intentionally. Should she ignore or otherwise attempt to circumvent its summons, a chain of coincidences (terrible, mysterious, you get it by now) and well-timed accidents will conspire to see her there.
OOC Note: Byerly is played by Hope. Feel free to play out a thread, handwave things, or ignore it entirely, but check with each other first! ❤ ]
A small jaunt to Ostwick, with the purpose of swaying a few hearts and minds. Though I should ask, how attached are you to the idea of Grand Cleric Gertruda ascending to the title of Divine?
I'm considering a handful of others, some with their own connections. But I believe this entire attempt would be easier managed with a number of high-born individuals involved.
It has come to my attention, through kindly means, that you are curious and interested in learning more of how one might heal without the use of magic. As the most proficient member of the Inquisition on this topic, Head Surgeon and a high born lady myself, I am content to offer tutelage in such a thing if you desire to learn more.
Please, allow me to know what it is you would like to learn and I would be glad to teach you as much as I can.
I appreciate your generous offer to share of your time and expertise, but am afraid you have been misinformed. My present interests do not extend to learning healing myself, though I am sure that your experience would make for fascinating conversation.
I confess I am curious how you came to extend this invitation? We must have some acquaintance here in common to have misspoken of me, or perhaps someone has decided to assume my identity! That would be an unexpected diversion.
Forgive me for my forwardness in that case! If you are truly not interested then please ignore my previous letter and consider yourself free of such a possibly obligation.
A mutual friend offered your name; I will make sure to speak with them.
Freddie, I will be married. I am telling you before I am telling Jeannot, because it will take some time for the letter to reach him and I cannot guarantee when it is that he will receive the letter. And because he will forgive me the sin of hearing the news second to you quite readily, and the same will not be true in reverse.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
A LETTER. translate it into Orlesian in your head.
ANOTHER LETTER.
ANOTHER letter.
ANOTHER letter
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YET ANOTHER, tucked along with the same messenger.
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THIS ISNT WHAT IM SUPPOSED TO BE DOING.
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this is an important message
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In any case, now I have two projects. One of them involves dragons. There is a woman here, she comes from another land. With the-- [what're they calling it] --in her hand, you know. Freddie, she keeps dragons where she is from. As pets.
also an important crystal message
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I have come to you as my expert, Freddie. Please, consult what you must. It is important: I am exposing a scam.
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[ and before he can get antsy: ]
while I look.
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There is a list of items that is being sought. Each item is specific in its nature, a degree of specificity that might render it difficult or even impossible to find, and a handsome reward is promised.
On that list? A blue flower with red thorns. If there were such a bloom, it would grow nowhere near Kirkwall. Of the flowers I have beheld, they are, none of them, so exotic as that.
a letter
[--signed with an ink of a horse branded with a V.]
this is a crystal message dated to whenever we find out that jousting is a thing
[This is also how he'll talk to her when they're inevitably married because there will be no change and also just pay attention to Val or he will wither away and die, merci.]
quelle surprise: a letter!
Inside the crisply folded parchment: a smattering of dried and pressed hyacinth blossoms in blue and pink. They tumble out when the letter is opened. As anyone of good breeding and education knows, hyacinths symbolize playfulness and sport, rashness... and constancy.
Get it, babe?]
TO THE BARONESS DURFORT-LACAPALETTE: A CHALLENGE.
A WOMAN OF MEANS FEARED HER DAUGHTER WAS LAZY AND STUPID.
WHEN THE OLD WOMAN DIED, SHE LEFT BEHIND A WILL. HER ASSETS WERE LIQUIDATED AND WITH THE SINGLE LUMP SUM, THE MOST FAMOUS PORTRAIT IN ALL OF THEDAS WAS PURCHASED.
FIRST: TELL ME THAT YOU KNOW IT.
SECOND: THE PORTRAIT WAS SEALED IN A VAULT.
THE VAULT WAS LOCKED WITH A KEY.
THE KEY WAS PLACED IN AN ENVELOPE.
AND TWO OTHER KEYS, IDENTICAL, WERE PLACED IN IDENTICAL ENVELOPES.
AND IF THE DAUGHTER COULD DETERMINE FROM THE WRITING ON THE ENVELOPE WHICH ENVELOPE CONTAINED THE KEY TO THE VAULT, SHE WOULD INHERIT THE PORTRAIT, THE MOST FAMOUS PORTRAIT IN ALL OF THEDAS.
IF SHE CHOSE WRONG, THE PORTRAIT WOULD BE BURNED.
THE DAUGHTER WAS NOT ALLOWED TO TOUCH THE ENVELOPES. SHE WAS FORCED TO CHOOSE ONLY BASED ON THE WRITING ON THE ENVELOPES. THE DAUGHTER WAS TOLD: ONE OF THE STATEMENTS WRITTEN WAS TRUE. THE OTHER TWO WERE FALSE. HERE IS WHAT THEY SAID:
WHAT DID THE DAUGHTER DO?
WRITE UPON THIS LETTER AND DISPATCH IT TO THE MESSENGER IMMEDIATELY OR I WILL KNOW YOU FOR A WITLESS FOOL AND WILL REMAIN EVER SUPERIOR.
SUPERIORLY,
LE ROI
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Lord Dompierre,
You are the very king of tediousness. I can hardly care to guess what the unnamed daughter would have done, as she might very well have been as lazy and stupid as her mother feared. Certainly I should have chosen the first envelope, and we both know you would have eschewed envelopes altogether and simply stolen the painting out from under the nose of the grief-stricken young lacebrain. I might have preferred it find the fire, for I have always hated Valrucheau's 'trois nymphes poursuivies par le cerf'. It is utterly fatuous in subject, the background is an inferior copy of Larelle's 'berger dans la vallée', and his use of light is almost certainly the result of a late revision by his student Dechambreux who toiled in obscurity all his days while his vaunted master availed himself of the adulation of a credulous and undiscerning public.
If you will insist on continuing this correspondence, I must demand you provide if not actual conversation--which I had heard tell was one of your great skills though my own encounters have been less than fully convincing on that point--at least witty tales of your daring exploits that I might marvel at your boldness and then pass along the details to the relevant authorities to see that no precious works of art are destroyed by your cavalier adventuring.
You may continue to reach me via the Inquisition, the Gallows, Kirkwall, for the foreseeable future.
Fatiguedly,
Baroness Haut-Brion
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HOW ASSUMPTIVE YOU ARE, TO NAME ME.
AND WHILE WE SPEAK OF NAMES:
HER NAME WAS AGATHE BRODUER
AND, IF THIS WAS THE TRADITIONAL RIDDLE, YOU WOULD HAVE IT.
ALAS IT IS A TRUE TALE AND WHAT LACEBRAIN BRODUER DID WAS, CONSULT HER DEAR FRIEND, LORD GIRARDOT, A RENOWN SCHOLAR WHO--ACCORDING TO RUMOR--POSSESSED SOME MINOR SKILL AT DIVINATION, BLESSED AND HOLY.
SHE GAVE GIRARDOT THE ENVELOPES THAT HE MIGHT DIVINE THE CORRECT KEY.
AND AS YOU HAVE GUESSED, I STOLE THE PORTRAIT OUT FROM BENEATH HER DARLING NOSE AND REMOVED THE TROUBLE ALTOGETHER.
SHALL I BURN IT? IF THE BARONESS WOULD PREFER IT, I WILL.
I ENJOY YOUR CONTROVERSIAL TASTE. YOUR SALON MUST BE HIDEOUSLY DECORATED, AND MOSTLY OUT OF SPITE.
I ENJOY DECHAMBREUX'S WORK WITH LIGHT. PERHAPS BEFORE BURNING I WILL TEAR OUT A SCRAP OF IT TO KEEP FOR MYSELF, ISOLATING THE LIGHT.
PERHAPS I WILL GLUE IT TO LARELLE'S PIECE WHEN I SECURE IT, AND DISPLAY IT ONLY TO MYSELF, THE MOST DESERVING OF PUBLICS.
HOW DO YOU FIND THE INQUISITION? I HAVE NOT WASTED A THOUGHT ON IT.
BUT THEN AGAIN, I HAVE BEEN HARD AT WORK, AS MY LETTER WILL ATTEST.
I WILL END THIS LETTER HERE, THAT I MIGHT FETCH KINDLING FOR THE BURNING OF TROIS NYMPHES.
YOU ARE EVER DEMANDING AND NEARLY CLEVER. PLEASE REMAIN SO.
DARINGLY,
LE ROI
a very late mysterious invitation
The invitation is beautifully calligraphed, and includes a rakish silk scarf to wear, to signal her involvement. The sale takes place in a small, rickety ship that's been converted to a floating bar; the crowd is somewhat less than fashionable, and has several fewer limbs than they ought to between them. The 'importer', however, is nowhere to be found. And those rare fruits are definitely just normal fruits painted gold painted gold — golden apples, golden grapes, a golden...potato.
It's mostly golden potatoes. At least their tab's been covered.
Freddie doesn't have to actually accept the invitation. Not intentionally. Should she ignore or otherwise attempt to circumvent its summons, a chain of coincidences (terrible, mysterious, you get it by now) and well-timed accidents will conspire to see her there.
OOC Note: Byerly is played by Hope. Feel free to play out a thread, handwave things, or ignore it entirely, but check with each other first! ❤ ]
crystal.
[ pronunciation: on point. ]
Gwen advised I contact you about a small venture I need some assistance with.
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Not in the least. Do these hearts and minds belong to scholars or aristocrats?
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[ or frame them as venatori. tomayto, tomahto ]
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[ already a stretch ]
I'm considering a handful of others, some with their own connections. But I believe this entire attempt would be easier managed with a number of high-born individuals involved.
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I'm the one typically standing beside the ginger. With a shirt on.
letter.
It has come to my attention, through kindly means, that you are curious and interested in learning more of how one might heal without the use of magic. As the most proficient member of the Inquisition on this topic, Head Surgeon and a high born lady myself, I am content to offer tutelage in such a thing if you desire to learn more.
Please, allow me to know what it is you would like to learn and I would be glad to teach you as much as I can.
Yours, in kindness and warmth,
Sidony Venaras Rutyer
letter
I appreciate your generous offer to share of your time and expertise, but am afraid you have been misinformed. My present interests do not extend to learning healing myself, though I am sure that your experience would make for fascinating conversation.
I confess I am curious how you came to extend this invitation? We must have some acquaintance here in common to have misspoken of me, or perhaps someone has decided to assume my identity! That would be an unexpected diversion.
Cordially,
F. Durfort-Lacapalette, Baroness Haut-Brion
letter
Forgive me for my forwardness in that case! If you are truly not interested then please ignore my previous letter and consider yourself free of such a possibly obligation.
A mutual friend offered your name; I will make sure to speak with them.
Yours,
Madame Rutyer
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