#skyholdstarter

It had been some time since Isabela had been to a party like this. That’s not to say she hadn’t been to parties recently. Most of them had been drunken affairs with sailors who needed to learn to keep their hands to themselves, but there’d been music and laughter and fun.

She had been to parties like this before too. Back when that prig Luis was alive and she was unfortunately still married to him. She remembered those affairs. They were a fair bit less grand than what the Inquisition had thrown together, but there were still people in beautiful clothes drinking expensive alcohol and doing things (or people) they’d regret in the morning.

As a result of her past, Isabela had some grasp of how to behave at these events. She knew how to manipulate the other party goers as she pleased, when to throw a smirk, when to wink, when to feign indifference and when to tell people to shut up. There was only one part of these parties that she didn’t know about: Dancing.

That’s not to say she didn’t know how to dance. As Luis’ pet, she’d been expected to be able to be flawless on the dance floor. Really, it was the only part of those events that she hadn’t minded. The trouble was that at those, she was only allowed to dance with Luis, a carefully guarded plaything kept out of the hands of others. As a result, she had no idea how to approach others to ask them to dance.

ooc;; short note that this is occurring after the events of Proper Introductions. Since that thread only just got started, I’m going to avoid mentioning it until I know more about what happens there.

Only a few minutes following his time with the Inquisitor, Fenris was again assaulted with unwanted questions and comments from strangers. Asking him why he left Kirkwall; wondering if he was still friends with the Champion; commenting on his hair, his ears, his bare feet. The final straw came when some giddy Orlesean woman asked,

“Do they hurt?”

and then proceeding to place her gloved hand on Fenris’ arm. He swatted her hand away, eliciting a gasp from the others around him. “Not anymore,” he stated, hoping it would end the onslaught. It did, but not without the whispers starting as soon as they thought he couldn’t hear.

“The Champion has poor tastes in friends.” “He might be handsome if he didn’t scowl so much.” “They really are beautiful. What a waste on someone so sour.”

Drinking was one of Isabela’s preferred past times. The warm, smooth taste of honeyed-mead as it trickled down her throat, the pleasant buzz of alcohol clouding her sense, the numbness to any painful memories. She didn’t often drink to get drunk, but when she did, it was for the latter.

The tavern was near-empty, the fire all but burnt out as the rest of Skyhold slept. Isabela, however, was awake. A dream of her past, a nightmare if she were being honest, had woken her and kept her from sleep. So instead, she sat in a quiet, hidden corner of the tavern, sipping on a large tankard of ale.

Her thoughts drifted back to her past, to her mother’s conversion, to being practically given away, to times spent locked in a room because she refused to sit there and look pretty. Briefly she mulled over her name. Isabela. Her first captain had called her that, his ‘little beauty’. She let out a somewhat disgusted noise as she took another drink from her cup. Was that all she was, what that how she’d managed to get this far? A pretty face? Disgusted, she drained her tankard, getting another one off a tired-looking waitress as they went by. It was going to be a long night.

ooc note;; I decided to just...make the posting order the order that people replied in the OOC chat. If that’s alright? Also, I wasn’t sure if Cullen was really in on it or not, so please let me know if you aren’t going to be involved, Alex! ETA: Alex is game.

It had never been a big secret that Fenris had arrived at Skyhold. As a person of note in one of the most read books in Thedas, the rumor had spread like wildfire. So had the rumor that he was trying to get a group together to venture out to the Hissing Wastes. He had originally asked Josephine to find agents to spare, but the Inquisition didn’t have the spare resources. After some particularly failed attempts at research on the Venatori, Fenris had broken down and decided just to do it himself. When he made the decision, he’d been eating dinner with some of the servants, mentioning that he would be leaving three days later, in the morning. They told other servants, who told more servants, and within the next day, the whole castle had at least heard of the expedition.

Regardless of whether or not the attention had garnered interest and aid, on the third day, Fenris was strapped into his armor and ready to leave. He had his fur vest and a tattered scarf and hood for the cold, but made plans to find something more on his way. Desert nights were supposed to get bitter cold, according to what little he had been able to find out from the scouts. He didn’t need much else after that, other than his sword and a bit of food to start off with.