The Honorable Renaldo E. Gade III D.O. CPA Esq. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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playersofthedas2015-09-30 10:04 am
renegadefolkhero) wrote in playersofthedas2015-09-30 10:04 am
Curtsy [Clementine Trevelyan]
Title: Curtsy
Prompt: Denerim/Hightown/Val Royeaux
Player Character: Clementine Trevelyan
Universe: Precipice
Characters: Vivienne
Summary: Vivienne attempts to make the Herald presentable for the Winter Palace. (700 words)
Trevelyan looked out of place in most of Val Royeaux, but she was most conspicuous in the high-end clothier shops, where her robes--just long enough to drag on the ground, resulting in a dark line along the hem--and her worried sleeves--unraveled along the edges by constant picking--drew the disdainful eye of every Orlesian in the vicinity.
Vivienne sought to remedy this. A thankless task, to be sure.
Trevelyan stood stiffly on the fitting platform, sucking in her stomach, and surreptitiously watched Vivienne out of the corner of her eye as the First Enchanter lorded over the proceedings. Her current task was making the Herald presentable for Queen Celene's court at the Winter Palace. Little of the material at hand met her specifications, and she kept shaking her head as she scanned a list of textiles.
"This won't do," she said. "You've no silk from Rialto?"
"My lady, I assure you, our Val Foret silk is of the finest..." Vivienne's eyes lifted from the parchment and the tailor trailed off. "Ah, yes, my lady," he said. "We will request a shipment immediately."
The tailor's assistant pricked Trevelyan with a needle and Trevelyan squeaked. Both glanced at her.
"You must relax, my dear," Vivienne said.
"It's hot," Trevelyan said.
Vivienne didn't answer immediately. She considered the little mage, then said, "It is a bit stuffy, isn't it? That will be enough for today, gentlemen." The tailor's assistants bustled around Trevelyan, removing the partial carapace of silk and chiffon still bristling with pins. The corset was loosened and Trevelyan let out a loud sigh, her soft stomach pooching out inelegantly in gratitude. The assistants collected their implements and vanished behind the curtain.
Trevelyan clomped off the platform with calloused bare feet. The fitting slip hung awkwardly from her frame, and when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror she frowned briefly and looked away. "Is this really necessary?" Trevelyan asked, unfolding her usual robes.
Vivienne's cheek twitched at the ragged garment, but she merely said, "Appearances are everything, my dear. The Orlesian nobility will judge you by your bussle before your title." There was also the fact that the Herald's "title" was still a source of contention. It was not Vivienne's job to educate, groom, and clothe an Ostwick hayseed, but Leliana and Cassandra's complete lack of concern in the matter spurred her to action. These were desperate times.
"They're just putting on a show, aren't they?" Trevelyan asked. "Surely they're not all so shal--um, concerned with appearances. None of this stuff is really important."
The thought that Celene's court might judge a mage by her skill rather than her coif was a tempting one. Pity Trevelyan had few magical talents to speak of. Vivienne had yet to see her cast, though she knew from Cassandra's reports Trevelyan had successfully closed several rifts. "Image is important," Vivienne said. "The sooner you understand that the better."
"I don't know if I can remember all these rules," Trevelyan said, gnawing on a ragged fingernail. The lure for her cooperation in these etiquette sessions--being escorted by Commander Cullen--had convinced her to try, but only barely. Making Trevelyan presentable had been an uphill slog from the start and it only became more difficult as the Herald persisted in dragging her heels.
"Surely your early noble upbringing taught you some courtly manners," Vivienne said, with more irritation than she usually cared to show. "Don't you know a single thing about interacting with nobility?"
Trevelyan thought, chewing her bottom lip. Suddenly, her eyes lit up. "Curtsy before you destroy someone," she said.
Whether it was the unexpectedness of the response or the stress of a trying day, for the first time in a very long while, Vivienne's emotions subverted her control. She snort-laughed, drawing an amused look from one of the tailor's lingering assistants. Vivienne quickly covered her mouth with her hand as she regained her composure.
"Right?" Trevelyan asked, looking up eagerly.
"Quite right, my dear," Vivienne said. She giggled once more, low in her throat, and cleared her throat, diverting her attention to the inventory list. "I have done so myself on a number of occasions."
Perhaps Trevelyan was not so hopeless after all.
Prompt: Denerim/Hightown/Val Royeaux
Player Character: Clementine Trevelyan
Universe: Precipice
Characters: Vivienne
Summary: Vivienne attempts to make the Herald presentable for the Winter Palace. (700 words)
Trevelyan looked out of place in most of Val Royeaux, but she was most conspicuous in the high-end clothier shops, where her robes--just long enough to drag on the ground, resulting in a dark line along the hem--and her worried sleeves--unraveled along the edges by constant picking--drew the disdainful eye of every Orlesian in the vicinity.
Vivienne sought to remedy this. A thankless task, to be sure.
Trevelyan stood stiffly on the fitting platform, sucking in her stomach, and surreptitiously watched Vivienne out of the corner of her eye as the First Enchanter lorded over the proceedings. Her current task was making the Herald presentable for Queen Celene's court at the Winter Palace. Little of the material at hand met her specifications, and she kept shaking her head as she scanned a list of textiles.
"This won't do," she said. "You've no silk from Rialto?"
"My lady, I assure you, our Val Foret silk is of the finest..." Vivienne's eyes lifted from the parchment and the tailor trailed off. "Ah, yes, my lady," he said. "We will request a shipment immediately."
The tailor's assistant pricked Trevelyan with a needle and Trevelyan squeaked. Both glanced at her.
"You must relax, my dear," Vivienne said.
"It's hot," Trevelyan said.
Vivienne didn't answer immediately. She considered the little mage, then said, "It is a bit stuffy, isn't it? That will be enough for today, gentlemen." The tailor's assistants bustled around Trevelyan, removing the partial carapace of silk and chiffon still bristling with pins. The corset was loosened and Trevelyan let out a loud sigh, her soft stomach pooching out inelegantly in gratitude. The assistants collected their implements and vanished behind the curtain.
Trevelyan clomped off the platform with calloused bare feet. The fitting slip hung awkwardly from her frame, and when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror she frowned briefly and looked away. "Is this really necessary?" Trevelyan asked, unfolding her usual robes.
Vivienne's cheek twitched at the ragged garment, but she merely said, "Appearances are everything, my dear. The Orlesian nobility will judge you by your bussle before your title." There was also the fact that the Herald's "title" was still a source of contention. It was not Vivienne's job to educate, groom, and clothe an Ostwick hayseed, but Leliana and Cassandra's complete lack of concern in the matter spurred her to action. These were desperate times.
"They're just putting on a show, aren't they?" Trevelyan asked. "Surely they're not all so shal--um, concerned with appearances. None of this stuff is really important."
The thought that Celene's court might judge a mage by her skill rather than her coif was a tempting one. Pity Trevelyan had few magical talents to speak of. Vivienne had yet to see her cast, though she knew from Cassandra's reports Trevelyan had successfully closed several rifts. "Image is important," Vivienne said. "The sooner you understand that the better."
"I don't know if I can remember all these rules," Trevelyan said, gnawing on a ragged fingernail. The lure for her cooperation in these etiquette sessions--being escorted by Commander Cullen--had convinced her to try, but only barely. Making Trevelyan presentable had been an uphill slog from the start and it only became more difficult as the Herald persisted in dragging her heels.
"Surely your early noble upbringing taught you some courtly manners," Vivienne said, with more irritation than she usually cared to show. "Don't you know a single thing about interacting with nobility?"
Trevelyan thought, chewing her bottom lip. Suddenly, her eyes lit up. "Curtsy before you destroy someone," she said.
Whether it was the unexpectedness of the response or the stress of a trying day, for the first time in a very long while, Vivienne's emotions subverted her control. She snort-laughed, drawing an amused look from one of the tailor's lingering assistants. Vivienne quickly covered her mouth with her hand as she regained her composure.
"Right?" Trevelyan asked, looking up eagerly.
"Quite right, my dear," Vivienne said. She giggled once more, low in her throat, and cleared her throat, diverting her attention to the inventory list. "I have done so myself on a number of occasions."
Perhaps Trevelyan was not so hopeless after all.
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