Les Misérables (closed)

This was a rather delightful day for the Ambassador Divos Incantates, a man who in his 40s on the best of days looked 45, and who now had a frightful affliction and glanced over his shoulder as if something were to get him the moment he let the dark creep in too long. With a ill-adjusted powdered wig, a cravat tied up to the base of his chin (not that it did anything to hide the frightful swords in his throat) and the technicolor eyes of damnation locked onto his companion, it was rather amazing that the words that spilled from Divos' lips were... pleasant.

Well, pleasant to him. The brilliant thing about Divos Incantates was that he had absolutely no idea that he was boring his companion to absolute pieces, and in fact his voice lit up with emotion that he had dared not feel for a year. That emotion was about paperwork, yes, but it was emotion that was not dread or the creeping, absolute horror collapsing his throat. Hell, even the current political climate was something of a fretful affair for Divos-- after all, if anyone but Guro won, well....

Divos did not realize how off-topic he had gotten until his companion reminded him with delicacy. It fit her mood and manners, the airy space around them. Divos felt a little cramped in the chair, long legs buckled awkwardly beneath him, and there was no erasing the nervous tic that was touching the swords lodged in his throat. He did not realize what a ghastly sight he made until he caught his own reflection in the tea, and hastily talked of paperwork. The fact that the young lady graced his presence with her manners touched him-- he almost felt... normal. It was only right to give her attention.

"What must be done," Divos repeated, and the man became rather pedantic, holding his Earl Grey tea close to his chest as he gazed once out the window. He let his companion speak, watching her curiously and offering a small smile, a polite dip of his head to the mention of her house. There was a twitch as he caught her gaze across his markings, glowing and pulsing as they did, and he tried to smooth it over with gloved hands.

"The Magocracy will absolutely make it worth the while of House Andraste for working in its best interest," Divos said, "But, as you so mentioned, this affair only works if the Witchfinder Miriam is no longer given a platform." Here, Divos frowned. "I have tried to contact my network, but I do believe the recent attack of the Archmage has rather... ruined some of the routes once used to deliver missives. It truly dawns as the brightest futures of both Ivras and Siregal if the Witchfinder was not elected. The nation is young and hungry." Divos spread his hands. "I am but a humble servant to their wants and whims. They wish to feast, and Siregal has starved for too long."

Speaking of feasts, Divos touched the menu before him. "We should order food before we discuss a way to deplatform Miriam. It is in our collected best wishes to get Enchanter Guro elected, but I honestly feel as if I am running out of ideas. Maybe food will stimulate the mental facilities as much as the appetite. Is there anything you recommend here?"

(WC: 572)

As if the whole debacle at the King’s Palace hadn’t been bad enough, Aleister had also decided it’d be fun to show up to the little get-together hosted by the Andraste heir. Why? Because why not. Did he have anything better to do but to scoop out little parties and political banter with people he did not know? No, and it did not sound like there would be anything better to do. That, sounded perfect to the tall man.

The place was impressive looking for sure. So thematic; white, gold. Al loved that. He’d dressed up with his best red robe, gold lining the fabric edges. His mask was gold as well, and the hood on his cape hid the back of it. Everyone already knew what he really looked like, and he wasn’t hiding his identity. Experience taught him it was simply the only way others would interact with him, instead of regard him with terror, not knowing where to look.

And he worked hard on his masks. Of course he’d show off a little, it’s shiny policed surface hiding all the horrors below it.

So far he’d enjoyed talking to a few others who didn’t flinch at him instantly, finding himself wandering here and there, though eventually he heard some voices he faintly recognized. One of those had spoken up against Miriam at the King’s Palace. She had been adamant against Miriam, and she’d raised points he did not feel the archmage candidate had good answers to. The other voice had spoken up for Guro, and by what words his abilities let him catch, still was. 

Interesting. 

Aleister’s keen senses caught on to a stressed servant who looked as if they’d rather be Anywhere Else, though kept up a really good face in front of any guests. And before they could return to the booth to bring, what Aleister could guess were some kind of sandwiches, the tall man stepped in. A gloved hand on the skinny shoulder below him, bending down to confront them with his masked appearance. “Thank you for the plate. Let me take this from you here, I hear a lady calling at the table with the punch. I believe it’s empty, hm?” The young fella’s face was full of surprise, but reluctantly he let Aleister have the plate. 

Without much delay, though briefly pulling his coat straight, the masked mage went to bring the food up to the two that had been talking; a beautiful young lady, her curls perfectly framing her face. Poised, with a strong opinion. Yes; he recognized her from the palace, and as the hostess. The other man was unfamiliar to Al, though he quickly concluded they could perhaps use some of his magic; hide those swords away. Maybe that’d help Lasair look less unhappy about their arrangement. “Apologies for intruding.” He rather apologized after than not seizing an opportunity, placing their plate down, folding his hands behind his back after. “I believe I have to thank you for organizing this get together,” he continued, bowing his head to Lasair. It is after all good manners to thank the hostess, even if he was interrupting a private conversation. “Of course I could not help but overhear, and I would like to offer my services to your cause. I believe dethroning Miriam is in all of our interests, after all.”

(WC: 560)

Divos was prepared for many things. One of the cautionary tales of his job was to be prepared for any possible situation he could encounter-- extra ink wells and quill nibs, an emergency pack of wax seals and an extra Siregal medal in case the worse came to befall the first one.

Nothing could have prepared Divos for seeing who walked toward them.

'By Fortune and Destiny, how many gods have I pissed off?' The man's face turned pale, sweat beading against the edges of his powder wig. Fingers curled into the seat beneath him, almost squirming in discomfort. Divos was normally a man who worked well under pressure-- but Aleister, the demon of his nights, the phantom of his parties, appearing twice in such quick succession... well. It was enough to make even the most stalwart politician a little weak in the knees.

The words of Aleister added another spike of fear into Divos's heart. How could this precious young lady deign to dine with devils? Alliteration aside, it appeared that she truly had no idea what hell was about to befall them. At least... Aleister would not remember him. Divos was too different now, and the haunting ghost's memory was a patchwork corrupted.

"Ah, so sorry! We were actually just concluding our business, or at least I was." Hastily, Divos exited out of his chair, putting on a proper bow to Lasair, catching his wig before it fell and showed the electric blue hiding beneath (he truly was his own quilt of horror). "Lady Lasair, you were delightful company, as always. Please call upon me again if you should wish it."

Aleister would not know, would he? No. There was no way, no possible way. Divos wondered if he should try to spare Lasair too... He watched her closely, trying to see if she was in some obvious sign of distress before he bade a hasty exit.

(wc: 322)

Oh, the way he twitched at her sweeping gaze had been so satisfying. He was a mess of nerves, distracted with a hundred other worries, and rather defenseless as far as noblemen went. His useless monologue he’d made for the last – she glanced at the nearest grandfather clock – twenty-three minutes had made her restless, eager for something to sink her teeth into.

She unlaced her fingers to take another sip of her tea, her lovely amber eyelashes lowering a fraction at his mention of his home country. The Archmage had never gone beyond the city walls thanks to the efforts of the Order, and his excuse all too conveniently made it impossible to double-check if his declaration of war tensions was real or not beyond the weight of his word and authority as ambassador. Her gaze fell lightly over his medal pinned near his (unironed) cravat (Grace’s teeth, what a crime), and she tucked away the decision to look into Ser Divos Incantantes when she had the time.

She was about to answer his question about what best to request, disregarding the menu in favor of the fact that the staff here knew her as a favored regular and saved a repertoire of special requests just for her, when they were quite rudely interrupted by a man in a golden mask holding a tray of little sandwiches.

She would’ve have been incredibly insulted, as she most certainly did not invite him the way he seemed to insinuate, but recognition quickly stifled that response. He’d been the anarchist at the Palace, the mage with the eye for a head who spoke against Sabora and nearly brought the crowd to riot, had that hideously scarred brute not shamelessly apologized on his behalf.

He smoothly offered to assist them both on the matter of what to do with Miriam, and she still might’ve politely declined (anarchists were rarely manageable, delightful as she found them), until she saw how blatantly terrified Divos had become.

Oh, how delightful.

While Divos’ attention was turned solely to their fascinating maverick, a sinful smile grew across her lips at Divos, one she fully let Aleister see. It was the smile of a cat who saw a struggling bird caught in a thornbush, smug to see it struggling and eager to take its time pulling it down.

That expression was traded in a flash for one of soft surprise when Divos looked back at her searchingly, and she reached out with fingers gloved in silk to his sleeve. “But – we’d only just broached the subject, my dear, you couldn’t possibly leave just yet. I was too enraptured with your wealth of knowledge,” She gave a façade of a hastily smothered sheepish smile as she told a bold-faced lie, “Calligraphy being one of my quieter interests, I admit I might have taken too much of your time greedily listening to your advice. But please, sit. We now have something to eat,” She paused here to glance at the sandwiches, her lips pursed in the smallest display of dissatisfaction that she presumed only Divos would understand for the wild show of emotion it was. “A generous courtesy by our guest here, and we can order something more substantial once we’re all seated and introduced.”

Her hand lingered a little too long on his sleeve before she fluttered her eyes demurely and turned towards their new companion. “Please, sit. By all means, I’m not one to turn away good help.” She gestured to the place opposite her at the table, and instantly a member of the staff came with another chair, bowing politely before hurrying away.

To the backs of their seats were tall hedge boxes for privacy, to their left, the café, and to the right, a wide veranda that looked over the street below, being on the second floor. Should their guest take the new seat, it would splendidly box Divos in and keep him from escaping.

“Now, where have I seen you before, my friend?” She smiled prettily to their guest, feigning pleasant ignorance. “I would remember your mask, artfully crafted as it is, had I but seen it before. What masterful artisan made it?” (702)

Aleister had not even made his introduction and this man was looking like he was about to faint. Perhaps he too had been at the palace, and already knew what Al looked like behind his mask. Fair enough.
The masked man tilted his head slightly at the whole little show, especially after Divos nearly lost his wig. Incredible. Were those still in fashion? He could never keep up with the speed things changed at. But something in him very much doubted it.

“Oh, really? I was curious to hear about Siregal, you are from there are you not? I have not returned in, ah, a very long time.” Aleister too had originally come from there but found life in Ivras had suited him just fine. It was then that Lasair’s expression caught his eye, and his own invisible smirk grew behind the cursed visage. Ah. Obviously, Divos had not meant to leave before Aleister’s arrival. Maybe he should not let the other man escape.

What would be the fun in that anyway?

Aleister flourished another, small bow, this time towards Divos as well before accepting the Actual invitation, and sitting down on the offered chair. Quietly amused how this was looking; two stupidly tall men like spiders in chairs that meant their knees were angled up, and Lasair, who fit in perfectly with the environment.  Her beauty, if it were harnessed, could erase these two tall gremlins with nothing but a sigh.

Of course, Aleister easily trapped Divos, while making it look like he certainly did not mean to do so at all; this was just his assigned seat. And his legs did not fit in any other way than the path that would block Divos’ exit. Unless he felt like passing over Al’s lap on the way out, the illusionist did not believe he was going anywhere soon. “Thank you very much, Ms, and I would assume you have spotted me at the King’s Palace. I have roamed Ivras for a long time, though, and I do not always look the same.” The tall man had folded his legs, fingers intertwined and resting in his lap. While his expression was hard to read, his mask did seem to emote with him. The shifts were subtle, and the mouth seemed to be hidden behind metal flaps. “I wore a blue mask that day, and I took it off to shock the crowd a little.” A long nail, hidden behind a glove tapped the golden mask he wore. “Unfortunately, I am familiar with the monstrous shape mages can take on, if they are not careful. And I was young and stupid.” Aleister continues, twisting the truth her and there. “People’s reactions are never not comedic. I had worried you might have been angry with me with how I used the words from your impressive speech to amplify my own points, and I deeply apologize if I did offend you.” Politics were all a show, were they not?

Her compliments stroke his ego, a soft chuckle behind the mask. “I made it. I make masks and enchant them with my abilities. They are especially useful for stealth or changing someone’s appearance.” It would hardly be visible, but the eye behind the mask shifted to look at Divos once more. The guy should consider what that could mean for him. “Considering the only opinion we need to sway is the King’s, I considered simply thinning his options, and offering my skills to the people willing to help out with such. But I believe doing so may only anger the non-mages further, unfortunately.” There should be better options, they only had to find them. (WC: 610)

Courtesy? Of their guest? It was just as likely to be filled with poison, or some kind of sensory-addling concoction than it was meat and bread. Divos eyed the sandwich like it was a particularly nasty snake; given that it came from Aleister's gloved hands, it very well could be.

Unfortunately, Divos found himself trapped: first by the manners of his hostess, executed in the perfect way that only true blooded nobles had mastered, and second by physical location. Somehow, by the concocted plan of the lady that Divos had slighted and the ignorant machinations of the nightmare that was Aleister, Divos found himself trapped in the most fashionable prison that one could manage. Lasair wielded her manners like a knife in her soft nature, and Aleister took up so much space that Divos had to be wary of letting his legs brush Aleister's. In this game of wits, Divos only had two weapons; his bland mannerisms, and his new mage status. One would keep him inoffensive, the other would disguise him from the gaze of Aleister.

"Ah, but who am I to dissuade the lady from the gentle art of calligraphy? I only regret that our present company will delay such a talk," Divos said, smoothing his ruffled feathers over as he traced the edge of his finger against the folded edge of his napkin. "As for Siregal... technically, I hail from there, but I am an immigrant." Skirting truths with half-lies, Divos instead took one of the sandwiches and politely took a small bite, wiping his fingers against the napkin. The flavor profile was quite acceptable, but the taste of any food turned into ash in his mouth as he became too preoccupied with the space he took up in relation of his two guests.

Watching Aleister trace a finger against his mask was a mistake. Divos darted his gaze away, focusing instead on the delicate mannerisms of Lasair and how perfectly well she fit into this setting. He tried to mimic some of her body language; something he knew, as his decades as a bureaucrat, could help to sway sympathy in his direction.

As he picked up his sandwich for another bite, Aleister's words, combined with Lasair's mention of "help" caused the Adam's apple to bob against the swords in his throat. Without meaning to, Divos turned a spiteful glare in Aleister's direction. "No, Aleister, of course your little display angered the non-mages. I'm not sure what your intention was by causing such chaos, but let it be known that it has made our jobs quite a bit harder to convince non-mages that their best intentions lay with the one candidate who does not wish to continue extending control over us until the ropes bite into our throats."

Nibbling on his sandwich, Divos lapsed into silence in contemplation. "But, thinning the other options would make Enchanter Guro look... better, by comparison. I don't know why the King didn't declare his dear Prince Consort the winner by default; he certainly has the mannerisms to keep both sides placated, but I suppose the attack by the former Archmage has forced even the ruler's hand."

Divos looked a little past Lasair's head, lips pressed in a thin line. "Sabotage does have its time and place. Honestly, Enchanter Guro seems to hate the whole game altogether, so may as well stack the odds in her favor." So busy playing politics, Divos did not realize the mistake he made uttering Aleister's name.

(WC: 589)

She sat back and enjoyed the show before her, her pretty golden eyes darting back and forth, devouring every little gesture and hidden meaning between the two tall gentlemen before her. There was an air of tension around Divos that she found herself enjoying thoroughly, but surprisingly none from the masked fellow. She wondered why.

Her lips twitched in amusement when the masked gentlemen apologized for using her speech as a diving platform for his own little show. She noted his invitation to his skillset, her eyes glinting in interest for a moment, but instead of responding, she politely waved down a member of the café staff, quietly ordering new delights as she listened to how Divos jumped right in, making the fatal mistake of showing familiarity and weakness. Ohh, Divos.

“So your name is Aleister, then,” She smiled prettily at them both, handing the menu to the bowing staff. “Ser Divos, you should have told me you two were already acquainted! I don’t recall him saying his name prior, so that must be the case. What a lovely name to go with a lovely artisan such as yourself. And as for the matter of your speech, I personally forgive you. One must be willing to do what it takes to acquire their own goals, especially in trying times such as these.” She took a sip of her tea. “But as Ser Divos said, as a nonmage myself, it was...an interesting point you made. I pride myself on not judging others on appearance, but it did shake my nerves for a moment.” She looked over the rim of her cup, lightly pointing to his anarchistic goal. “Made me question the Order for a little, as I’m sure you wished it to do.” 

“And Divos – may I drop the title? Let us not be so formal here, and you two may call me Lasair – I am glad the matter wasn’t purely in the King’s hands this time around. We have a chance to act instead of being forced to accept one candidate over the other.” Her eyelashes lowered as her voice took on a serious note. “Without an Archmage, with the majority of support left in Miriam’s hands, there will be open suspicion in the streets, if not open witch-hunting. I propose that the three of us address a way to stop this matter first, in case we ever come across it, lest it be an uncomfortable surprise we are not equipped for. If we see such a possibility as an opportunity to denounce Miriam, perhaps we should start there.”   

Once said, the staff came with three tiered trays of treats and delights, everything one could ask for - one tray being sweet, another savory, and the third being artistically flower-cut fruit for a palate cleanser. Aleister was also offered something to drink in a politely low tone. (477)

While he’d wholeheartedly agreed to bullying the other tall man with Lasair, his evident hostility was a little lost on Aleister. Not that Divos was wrong; Aleister sure was not one to talk about calligraphy. But that was not what stuck to him, this man knew his name.

This did not come as much of a surprise to Al, after all many people did, often people he did not recognize due to poor memory, but also people who arrived at his doorsteps through word-of-mouth.. There was something in the way Divos spat it out that made Al curious, so oddly venomous and personal. Had Al slighted many people? Obviously. But he could not recall this man at all.

The masked didn’t stop the laugh in his throat at the anger. It’s fun, he appreciated the emotional display. “You don’t? Politics is mostly a game of shock and terror. Sweet words and fake promises don’t cut it anymore these days, people are wise to that. They’re not wise to fear, as Miriam is demonstrating.” Aleister continued solemnly. This he had seen again and again, fear was more powerful than hope.

Interesting how easily these two were into the idea of murder. Maybe he should’ve gone with that after all, it’d sure make things spicier. But his attention turned to Lasair, a polite nod at the mention of his name, and then a bolt of… Something, in his memory, at the name of the other man. Divos? 

“Thank you, you are correct. Perhaps I have gotten very disenchanted with the world over the years, but I do not believe people make decisions out of love for others, but out of fear for their own position. Mages do the same. The idea of “having to” become monster hunters does not sit well with freedom-loving mages. Regardless of that possibly being incredibly helpful to people they care about. It is just not as important.” He adds with a shrug, looking ever unimpressed with his fellow mages in general. Perhaps he really was. “It did.” Answering Lasair’s conclusion. He did mean people to question the Order. “The Order is not built on honest intentions, and I believe it is in its core flawed. It will continue to create flawed, troubled mages.”

Lovely name, lovely artisan. She was buttering him up, and he found it very amusing. “Dear Lasair, you shouldn’t waste such words on me. I am skilled, but certainly not lovely.” Those kind of flattering would be only fitting for someone like Lasair herself. Also not to Divos, sorry pal. That wig, y’know.

Her suggestion made sense. Al too figured things would go back to the days of witch hunting. He remembered his own frequented hiding spots in the jungle, the way he’d kept himself invisible for days. Tiring. He was more powerful now, at least. “My magic makes it pretty easy to make anyone a liar. If they demand proof, I can give it. If someone needs to disappear, I can make it so. Over the years I’ve been able to influence groups of people, instead of just the one or two. Take a bite of a sandwich, they might now taste of strawberry.” The man offers, very much not eating anything himself. That’d require he takes off his mask, and while these two knew what he looked like.. People did better when not constantly confronted. “Miriam is a liar in her own way, mostly to herself. She is simply repeating history, veiled like a new era.” 

His attention was caught by the offer of a drink. That he could do, producing a straw out of a pocket hidden in his coat. He had to move aside one of the flaps hiding the masks’ mouth, trying not to shock them with the large amount of red teeth he’d crafted underneath. Those were for special occasions, not for scaring plotting companions. He simply stuck the straw through, and had anyone been able to see through his mask, the straw would go straight through the eyeball. Not the most fun visual.

“So, Divos. How do we know one another? Forgive me for my poor memory, an unfortunate family ailment.” He lied, though did not believe the cause of his memory issue was of importance. Amnesia, dementia, his magic eating it; it all came down to the same. (772)

“Yes! Tell us, Divos, how you two met! You speak with such familiarity that you must know each other quite well.” She smiled very warmly as she took a thin piece of toffee and bit into it. “A pity you can’t recall, Aleister, but I’m sure it’ll come to you once Divos explains.”

She listened to Aleister as she poured herself another cup of tea to accompany her toffee, her eyes lighting up at his mention of magic. Crowd manipulation and disappearance? Both of those sounded incredibly tempting. But then he said he was far from lovely, and she gave a charming laugh.

“Au contraire; beauty is in the eye of the beholder, is it not? And we’re all familiar with how lovely your eye is, Aleister.” Her lips twitched at her own jest before she set down her teacup. “But on that note, would you be willing to craft something for both Divos and I, my dear, in case either one of us runs into trouble?” She asked. “Not for free, of course – I would be more than pleased to offer you both whatever aid a noble house can give. Connections, favors, shelter, what have you, beyond payment for your masterful talent. And of course, I would be honored to commission one on Divos' behalf as well, as a gift for his charming company.”

“But....hm....I should think something for crowds would help me best. I tend to place myself in the public eye as best as I can, and if it would help me persuade an angry crowd against violence, well...” Her elegant fingers twisted her teacup this way and that. “There’s only so much a young lady can do on her own, dire circumstances or not.” Then she smiled brightly, pushing that admittance of weakness to the side. “But I don’t know if I can pull off a mask as part of my ensemble, much to my regret. If it were more inconspicuous, that would be perfect.”

She wondered what Divos would ask for. He was a compelling public speaker when he had the spine for it, but she rather thought on a personal level he was the type to prefer the ability to disappear. He was a bundle of screaming nerves, sticking up like a palm tree in the middle of a rose garden. Or, he might simply refuse the offer entirely on how adamantly he seemed to dislike their masked friend. Regardless, Lasair was enjoying the way the afternoon was going, especially when her secret game arrived to the table.

She let the conversation move on, content with her piece. As Aleister’s drink came and his mask shifted to accommodate for it, she wished most dearly she could peer into that mask of his when he opened up those jagged teeth to allow for the straw. But that would be rude and incredibly unladylike, alas. She gave a silent sigh, making a resolution that she’d find another opportunity again in a less public setting. Aleister was enjoyable company, and she wondered very mildly what mystery ingredient the staff had added to his teacup in regards to the order she’d made.

She’d come up with the idea years ago, inspired by a certain voracious chef wandering the streets of Faline. She’d needed to entertain the world’s most blathering banker in order to secure an investment on a business deal. He’d made one too many lecherous comments that she refused to tolerate, so her retaliation had been ordering what she routinely called her Roulette of Delights.

Each treat on the three tiers was poisoned with some sort of effect, both mundane and magical, ranging from delirium, to temporary transformation, to a powerful aphrodisiac and everything in between. She only pulled it out for very special occasions, such as Divos’ insultingly boring speech, but she didn’t think Aleister would mind the game, anarchist that he was, and she politely and shamelessly invited them both to partake. Everything on the table was dangerous.

Well, everything but the toffee. Grace forbid she poison the toffee. (652)

This was not the most uncomfortable situation Divos had ever faced in his life, but by the Gods, it was damn close. The bureaucrat was trapped, by his own slip of his tongue and by the manners that Lasair continued to wield. Missteps were not uncommon in Divos' line of work; he could not say his record was spotless, in the decades of experience he had. But there was a chance to smooth over his mistake and deflect. Despite the needling of both his companions, Divos kept a cool head, only daintily serving himself from the wonderful platters of food. Divos let Lasair and Aleister converse, using their polite mannerisms as a shield, giving him time to put all of his broken pieces together.

"I believe you are mistaken, Lasair," Divos said. "One does not need to be familiar with someone to know their name. I merely heard his name expressed in shock in the crowd. In a job like mine, I tend to remember names and faces rather instantly. I have no passing connection with Aleister, anymore than you knew my name by a passer-by. Coincidence tends to make situations look like fate, when they are anything but." Divos touched the swords to his throat self-consciously, his altered appearance the only saving grace he had. He still tried to make himself as small as he could, compared to his two companions (though he and Aleister had the same gangly height problem).

Crafting, however... Something in the bureaucrat's eye sparked, but died instantly at the thought of taking anything from the demon seated near him. "That is a novel thought, Lasair. However, I think your appearance is not one when is terribly in danger," Divos said, pontificating with his tiny fork as if Aleister wasn't near him. "I, also, do not need to put myself into another's debt. The Magocracy I represent would be rather insulted if their beloved ambassador came back with a bill to his name. That being said... I do think wisely pulling our resources together to at least deplatform one of the candidates in and of itself is a capital idea. While I think Aleister is going about it all wrong with his 'shock and awe' approach, there is something to be said for making the citizenry see that Enchanter Guro is their only option. Truly, the Magocracy would tolerate almost no other. The Order is a bit of a blight on the land..." Divos waved his hand. "Mage protectors besides. If Siregal never needed an Order to protect their kind, I daresay this kingdom could do without it as well. As for those who don't want to become a Mage protector, well... that is something they can worry about after Enchanter Guro makes sure they aren't going to be shackled." Divos made no mention of how his own powers could help-- and for good reason, none of which he would let company know about.

Divos tasted the confectionery on the tip of his tongue. Something in his refined palette told him there was something... off, about it, but it could be that everything he tasted simply turned to ash next to Aleister, and then swiftly tasted of strawberries. Thank you, Aleister. A visible shudder ran down Divos's spine as Aleister moved his grotesque mask to complete this charade of manners.

Aleister's question once again ruffled Divos' metaphorical feathers, almost soothed from the entire ordeal. He reached into the endless amount of patience he had, glaring at Aleister with his technicolor eyes. "As I said earlier," Divos said icily, "You are mistaken. We have never met, and I daresay after all this business is concluded, we shall only be ships passing in the night. Do not fret about your memory, for we have none together."

There would be no way Aleister would recognize him, not like this. Divos instead rested his cool gaze on Lasair, trying to understand how he could escape this situation without insulting his host. He did not realize that he had hooked a finger into his cravat, tugging at it as if the room had warmed.

(WC: 683)

Alright, well, her horrible joke did earn her a quiet chortle, Aleister shaking his head. Appreciatively, of course. 

The illusionist hadn’t joined to look for business, but he welcomed it all the same, a solemn nod in reply to her question. “Such wouldn’t be an issue of course. I have crafted my magic into masks and jewellery alike over the course of many years,” how many he did not disclose, “and I am confident I can make something suiting for the both of you.” Al continued with a flourish, almost a brag. After 400 years of experience, that’d only be fair.

As Lasair went on, Aleister listened. He could very well see what she meant. “I’m sure we could work something out. I work more with the senses as opposed to feelings, though a lot of things we sense influence how we feel. Perhaps far more than we realize.” Adding a brief look towards Divos. He could discuss specifics with Lasair another time. She sounded like she had something specific in mind, a specific scenario as well. “Ah, yes. I understand not everyone is willing to walk around looking like this,” he continues, tapping the mask with gloved, sharp fingers, “so I have started a collaboration with a jewellery artist as well. I think you’d like their work.” A bracelet or necklace would suit Lasair far more, though he’d also easily convinced Az of wearing one of his masks instead of a ring. It was all in the display, and appealing to your clients sense of style.

As time progressed, and his drink emptied, he’d noticed how warm the room had gotten. But Divos’ rambling had distracted him from that temporarily. Something about the way he was deflecting made it aaallll the more suspicious, and the more Divos tried to pull Aleisters’ puzzle apart, the more pieces fell together. They’d met, obviously. And Divos was not enjoying being reunited with Al. Which made it all the more tempting to prod him.

The rest of his talk went, unfortunately, on deaf ears. As the other man went on about Siregal and the order, Aleister briefly got up to take off his long, pale coat. A muttered apology under his breath, something about the room having gotten a bit warm, draping the piece of clothing over his chair’s arm. His gloves soon followed to rest atop, revealing the long, sharp nails hidden underneath the leather. Underneath he wore a sleeveless vest of sorts, his dark hands running out into a gradient over tanned arms. He was toned, even for how lanky he was, and even the outfit under the coat was shaped to accentuate his sharp edges. 

Finally, Divos turned his angry words back to Al, who’s mask simply turned to face him. “It’s odd. I don’t enjoy making people out for liars, but the more you speak about not knowing me, the more I doubt it.” Al admitted, folding his legs and accidentally brushing his foot past Divos’ calf. “Did I wrong you perhaps? If so, I’d rather put it right now, while we’re here.” The tall man leaned forward ever so slightly towards Divos, making his escape even more difficult. “Did you not enjoy our time together? Was I not satisfactory after all?” The smirk seeped in through his voice, as it obviously couldn’t be shown on his face. Lasair being there did not bother him, if anything the opposite. Even Al could tell she’d been having a great time giving Divos a hard one, impeccably polite all throughout. Al felt he had been losing that polite filter a little, his heartrate slightly elevated. Maybe he had a hunch his drink had been spiked, but maybe he didn’t care all the same. 

His words? A bluff. But he was curious to see Divos writhe a little. 
(WC: 636)

Divos would have been content to let Lasair and Aleister talk about their needs for fine jewelry and trinkets meant to deceive. In fact, he would have been perfectly happy with that conversation to continue its trend, had Aleister not decided to be the most distracting bastard in all of Faline.

First was Aleister standing up, filling Divos with a renewed sense of hope that he could escape his predicament. After all, an opening was before him! There was a half-formed excuse sitting on his tongue for Lasair. Then, the jacket came off.

Something caught in Divos's throat, a hard lump he could not attribute to the swords. His eyes dragged down Aleister's body, the fine vest emphasizing the toned body and inviting the gaze to roam. The heat that Divos experienced previously seemed to settle low in his gut, swirling like wine in a glass as Aleister deliberately began to peel the gloves off his fine hands, revealing nails like claws that Divos had experienced previously, despite all his mannerisms to the contrary. That gaze of Divos's traveled up his arms, tracing every muscle like it was a fine document and Divos needed to find the bottom line.

Warm, yes, it was warm. Divos reached for his tea and sipped it, trying to work past the knot that was forming in his throat, the butterflies in his stomach. No-- why should he care? This was Aleister, the man whom Divos had spent some of his nights attempting to burn sage as if he was a ghost sent to haunt him.

This feeling turned into an electric spark as Aleister's foot dragged up his calf. The good bureaucrat jumped, a flush spreading across his pallid skin to the very tips of his ears. While Divos would not know this, his pupils had swallowed all the colors in his eyes as he glared at Aleister, the hypnotizing mask drawing closer. Divos had to struggle to remember there was an eye, and a smug bastard, under all of that.

"You are starting to border on impropriety," Divos attempted a growl, but his voice was rough, the rest of his body all too aware how close Aleister was to him. "Whatever you're attempting to imply, know I do not play those kinds of games. Especially not in front of guests. Perhaps remember that we are in public and conduct yourself in a more seemingly manner." Unconsciously, Divos had leaned closer, his own hand very close to Aleister's, breath caught somewhere in his throat.

He dragged his gaze back to Lasair, and cleared his throat, settling back. "Apologies, where were we?"

(WC: 442)

My my my.

Lasair naturally leaned back from the conversation, utterly content to watch the back and forth as she finished her piece of toffee and cup of tea. Aleister’s acceptance of her commission brought a legitimately warm smile from her, and Divos’ further denouncement of knowing their masked friend rang falsely enough that her warmth was paired with honest amusement. The sheer uncomfortableness radiating from Divos was doing wonders to soothe her sense of retribution, and her eagerness to see what spell they landed on the roulette soothed the rest.

Can’t have today be boring, after all. What a sin that would be.

Lasair was watching Aleister as she took some delicate, silver-wrought tongs to place a few more pastries onto a gilded little plate, and imagine her surprise when the tall man rose to take off his coat in the most extraordinarily scandalous manner! She took no more than a sweeping, calculating glance from him before turning her gaze modestly to her tea cup – and almost choked on tea when she pushed the gilded plate towards Divos and glimpsed at how he’d became a mess for him.

Soon neither of the two were paying her any attention, and she was left to revel at the show in front of her. Divos was devouring Aleister’s fine figure with his hungry gaze, and she knew the poor man had been poisoned with the aphrodisiac option. She wondered for a moment if Aleister had gotten the effects of strong confidence, but with the way Divos jumped from a unsubtle touch under the table and Al implied they’d been intimate together (which they had; Divos, darling, sweetheart, you aren’t fooling anyone), it was obvious he’d been given the same.

For a moment Lasair was caught off-guard – had the kitchen poisoned the entire ensemble with one ingredient? She tore her eyes away from the show to glance at her receipt, lips pursed. It was supposed to be a roulette! She must’ve been too vague with her order this time to keep from her guests from catching on, but she let it go with a slight tsk under her breath before tucking the receipt (and a few more tarts wrapped in a silk napkin to take home with her) into her reticule. Ah well. She enjoyed the result nonetheless.

She returned her attention back to the two when Divos kindly invited her back to the conversation, and now that his sin was far forgiven, she was starting to warm up to him. A dull diplomat and a corrupted anarchist with a shared, lascivious past? What a wicked thing Divos was underneath that horrible wig and wrinkled cravat. He was so thoughtful to remember her in the midst of riled emotions – either that, or he was desperate for a distraction from said riled emotions, which she would happily deny him.

“I believe we’ve discussed the beginnings of a solid little alliance, a good starting point in the strife to come,” Lasair replied flawlessly, setting her empty tea cup down, for all the world beaming at the two like they were all old friends, her enjoyment genuine and authentic. “But I find myself thinking of your neglected appointment, Divos, and of home and my beau who is more than likely waiting for me. I couldn’t possibly hold you two more than I already have, but I would love nothing more than to call on the two of you again.” 

With patient grace befitting the Andraste house, she rose, handed the two of them her calling cards they could use to visit her home as they liked, and glanced over the table. If they were all the same, then surely she could safely indulge in that delectable strawberry tart that’d been taunting her for a moment there. With a pleased little smile, she plucked it from the tray, rounded the table, and glanced at Aleister.

“It was a delight to meet the both of you, truly,” She said honestly, “And I hope whatever is between you two can be sorted out through amicable means. Let us meet again soon, shall we?” She then took a bite of her tart, and it was every bit as delicious as she thought it would be – mixing perfectly with the taste of toffee, sweet and sharp. “And, Aleister, my dear...if you’re too warm, some water will suffice to cool you down.” It was an easy enough remedy to her poison, one that guaranteed it wouldn’t last too long. A game was no fun if it lingered beyond its welcome.

“Have fun, you two,” Lasair crooned, tucking her parasol under her arm and walking away like the cat who got away with the cream. She let her amusement bubble over once she left the shop to the delightful ringing of the shop bell, and laughed as she finished her tart and made her way home.

Her fiancé Basileios would love this. [819]

(End Thread)

(Lasair Sabotages Miriam)
((3815) Total Word Count + 1 World Specific + 1 Character Mention + 6 Completed Posts = 46 Gold x 2 for event = 92)

Taking off his coat had perhaps not been subtle, but damn if it hadn't made him feel better. Though his face still felt warm, the eyeball in its stead was completely unaffected. He’d caught on what had happened here, and everything about Divos confirmed Al’s hunch that he was going through the exact same thing. Lasair was obviously trouble, and highly entertaining to boot.

He promised himself he would remember this, but would he? Doubtful.

Divos’ obvious angry look at him brought rise to a gleeful feeling in his chest, remembering exactly why he adored bullying this man. “Bordering?” Al echo’d, wasn’t exactly trying to border on it anymore. Divos’ continued complaining elicted a laugh from the mage, shaking his ‘head’ at his own improper behaviour. “You’re right, Divos, my apologies. Let’s continue my improper behaviour in a more private setting sometime.” Al continued, his voice lowering a few octaves as he goes on, dangerously close to just saying what’s on his mind.

But that’d be improper.

Instead, the other man cut his attention back to Lasair, and Al saw no reason not to do the same. 
He had long forgotten why they were here. Divos was wonderfully distracting, in dire need of fashion advice, and Lasair had been the most amusing host he could’ve wished for. Nothing else was half as important to Aleister. But he gracefully took the card, amusement on an invisible face. 
At her suggestion he chuckled again, sitting back slightly in his chair. “That’s a common mistake, but an easy one to make. The best way to cool off is to drink something hot instead, work up your body temperature so you sweat more.” If there was a way to make ‘drink tea’ sound suggestive, Aleister had found it and would utilize it. Everything to make Divos squirm some more. “That, and this fopdoodle thought it was a good idea to put on a thick coat on a summer evening.” He admits to his own mistake. 

“Thank you for the company, Lasair.” Aleister replied, getting up to bow towards her. “It was a pleasure. Let’s do this again sometime.” What, exactly? Plot the downfall of some politician? Or find a way to raise the possibility another got elected? Realistically, bringing down Miriam would only make her a martyr; another would rise in her stead. Sabora was not an option. Perhaps all Aleister could was assist Divos with Guro, and his attention turned to the man. 

Al offered a hand, reaching out to him, “Any interest then in accompanying this improper man, hm?” Fully expecting to be shot down. But you miss any opportunity you don’t take. And why not, when there was nothing to lose? (WC: 450)

(Aleister supports Guro)

(3028 total word count + 1 world specific + character mention + magic use + familiar (THE EYE) + 5 completed posts = 30 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 5 = 39 x 2(event bonus) = 78 gold)

Lasair was his lifeline, his way to get out of this terrible situation that Divos had managed to entrap himself into. But as he found himself casting that lifeline, Lasair instead beamed as bright as the sun for two of them, and cooly extracted herself from the situation. She threw a subtle hint to Aleister-- something about water-- and it was only then Divos caught on to what exactly had been done to him.

On one hand, he prided himself. Just because it had been a year did not mean that he was so craven as to immediately throw himself at the nearest opportunity-- of course something had been slipped into his food or drink, and with Lasair's rather unsubtle hints, Divos was finally able to put it together. His face remained carefully blank as he spoke. "As always, thank you for your time, Lady Andraste. Do be careful, however. I would hate to miss your games." Something edged into Divos' tone as he spoke; he did not take light such cruel games to his person.

Games that were continuing as Aleister managed to push into Divos's bubble and prod at him. Divos tried to control his breathing, but instead only became aware of the fire spreading quick through his blood. He tried to find a carafe of water anywhere, and instead felt himself caged by Aleister and his insinuations. He choked at the mention of hot tea, and tried, once again to glare at Aleister.

"A fopdoodle is the perfect word for what you are," Divos tried to hiss, though the effect was rather dulled by how Divos' gaze kept dragging across Aleister's chest and arms. "I would say bastard, however, is a more accurate word." He tried not to rise to the bait, even if the thought of 'continuing' their conversation left him dizzy.

When Aleister offered his hand, immediate memories sprang to Divos's mind of the last time he let the man whisk him away. With the way his head was spinning, it took the last of his self-restraint for Divos not to reach for it, desperate as he was. "I wish for nothing less than to continue this," Divos attempted to spat. He started gathering his items, and a few more besides. "And if you attempt to follow me or do-- do god-knows-what is going on in that eyeball you call a brain, I will get the authorities involved and you will be sorry for it! Mark my words, Aleister, you will not lay your craven hands on me! Now, good day, sir!"

Divos gathered the rest of his documents, and Aleister's coat, and Aleister's gloves. He attempted to walk out of the bustling cafe with those items, not realizing that they did, in fact, belong to Aleister, and were not his own personal effects. Soon, he would realize his mistake.

(WC: 483)

(Divos supports Guro! Total: 3,087 [30 Gold] + World Specific [1] + Magic Use [1] + Other character [1] + Completed Posts [6] = 39 Gold x 2 GRAND TOTAL: 78 Gold, Support of Guro!)