Participants:

Carys_icon.gif Davan_icon.gif

Scene Title In the Mirror
Synopsis Carys and Davan discover the similarities of their very opposite lives.
Location Quaint Manor
Date 20 Kingsway, 9:31 Dragon
Watch For Similar differences
Logger Davan

It's after hours in the household. That is, the hours when the servants are dismissed and permitted to go and do whatever. It's prime time for Carys to…completely mess up the cleaning job that was done after dinner. She's in the kitchen making a royal mess. There is starch and flour pretty much from one end of a section of the kitchen to the other. Set on the stove, the fire being carefully monitored, is a large pot with a bowl sitting on top of it and Carys is at the heart of this mess carefully spooning what's in the bowl to whatever she's made with the starch flour mess. She's wearing one of the pairs of breeches Davan had bought for her, though they're rolled up above her knee and she seems to have swiped /some/ man's shirt and has that tied up tight about her in a fashion that probably would get her tossed in the Rose if she were to walk out. Oh and barefooted. But she is really absorbed in what she's doing. And whatever she's doing smells a lot like brandy. and cherries.

"Hard at work, I see." Davan makes his entrance, though he's hardly a frequent sight in the kitchen. In fact, the mage wasn't seen at all overnight and made an entrance in the morning looking rumpled and wearing what he'd gone out in. Now he's had a chance to nap, clean up, eat, and have another nap. So here he is. "Well, well. Not a shirt I've seen you wear. Can I take it to mean that you had company and the night went well?" He can hope. He's also not stopped genuinely smiling since he entered the room.

So into her task that she actually /doesn't/ careen in surprise at the voice. "Yeah. Just… gotta get these molds jus' right. The castin's don't last long so it's kind'a somethin' of a race t' get the chocolate int' the mold, get them t'harden then pop 'em out before the molds themselves fall apart. S'what y'get when you make 'em out of starch and shite." She then blinks at the last bit and she glances behind her. "Whu? Oh, you're lookin' magnificently…rumpled." And she has so much powder on her hair and face it looks like an Orlesian stylist mugged her. AS for the shirt? "Nah… it came off'a some guy's clothesline. I think it's silk. Probably didn't miss it."

"You know, we could get you metal molds." Davan offers. "Oh? So you did lose your shirt. Please tell me you had someone over since you had the house all to yourself all night? I'm going to be terribly disappointed if you didn't." His rumpled state earns another grin. "Well, that was the nap. You surely didn't miss my entrance this morning. I was positively disheveled. You look like you've been attacked by Orlais. So, come along, tell."

"Too much hassle!" She gripes about metal molds… which, there's a grumble afterwards as she realizes how stupid that sounds after she just explained how much work it is to work with what she has. Maybe Carys is just really fucking stubborn. "Yes I had someone over for dinner, but no it didn't go anywhere 'cause of stuff so I ended up walkin' him home." She lets out a phew as she finishes depositing tempered chocolate into the molds as she moves the pot that has the bowl on it so that the chocolate doesn't get nasty and burn. She walks over to a small barrel and using tongs plucks something out and then moves to her housemate. "Have a cherry." And if he permits she'll even feed it to him. It's a brandied cherry… and if DAvan knows his brandy that's some expensive shit. "I was in a mood this mornin' and jus' plucked a bunch'a shirts off'a clotheslines." Because, y'know… that sticks it to the man! Ugh

Davan lets the cherry be put into his mouth and then makes a face like it's pure heaven. "Maker, where did you get that?" He finishes it and then glances over at Carys. "Stuff? This young Ferelden man? Why do I get the feeling that it had something to do with you having him here? Well? Go on, tell me. I'm going to guess otherwise and you would not believe the places my imagination can go. Especially if it led you to just go pluck shirts like fruit." He's going to let the talk of hassle slide and just add the molds to his mental list. "Tell me yours and I'll tell you mine."

"A customer used Lion's blood t'pay f'r an order so I used it in what I'm makin' him. Been sittin in there for a couple'a weeks now." Then at the other…Carys's powdered face looks … sad … when Davan insists she explain what happen. "I don't… I dunno. You're my friend an'…" And she realizes just then that by saying those words she probably gave him all the info he needed. "Somethin' about where yer from spooked him. It wasn't a case'a general 'People from Tevinter are bad'… it's like…he had somethin' goin' on an' that clased with it, y'know?" She shrugs. "Maybe he's a Templar in hidin', I dunno."

Davan nods as if he's not even the least bit surprised. "We're the evil that lurks in the North, Carys. I'm afraid your association with me may not do you any favors when it comes to him. I do apologize. Depending on what it is or who he's had dealings with… I know some very, very bad people." He sighs, thinking it over. "You know, we could always get you a suite at the inn. I hear it's very nice. I'd offer to meet him but it may do very little good. Unfortunately, whatever it was could be a whole list of things. And here I was hoping your night had gone half as well as mine."

She sighs here, one of those heaving hefty ones and lets it out as if she's so put upon. "It didn't go… badly. I didn't know what t'think, really. I mean, originally I thought it was jus' the Tevinter thing, but I asked him an' he said it wasn't that. So I guess… I dunno, there's somethin' else there. That he can't talk 'bout. Not yet, at least." She pulls out a stool and flops on it, sprawling her limbs like so. "But… no, it didn't go… badly," she repeats, this time a bit of an impish quirk to her lips appearing.

"Well, at least it didn't go entirely badly." Davan reaches out to pat Carys' shoulder. "I'm sure he'll come around. Whatever it is, if I can give any assurances that I'm not going to be an issue…" But then he's pouring a glass of wine and offering to pour one for Carys as well. "I mean it. I'll get you a suite at the inn for the next one. No dining or … other things in the house of the evil mage. I, on the other hand, spent the night on Sundermount." Which would explain the rumpling.

Carys accepts the wine easily and downs it like it was so much cheap whiskey. Because she abuses fancy alcohol like that, probably on purpose. "If yer an evil mage than I'm the Knight-Commander." She points out here before she just kind of lapses into that kind of dumb smile kids get when they're a bit twitterpated. Then she blinks. "Sundermount? That's a curious place t' spend the niiioooooh. Lucky." She toasts her empty glass.

Davan raises his glass. "Knight-Commander." He teases, wearing his own version of that besotted look. "It would appear we're in much the same place. If at different parts of it." Really, there's more smiling than he's done in his whole time here as he offers out the bottle to refill Carys' glass. "So, did he say anything at least? Express some sort of sentiment?"

She leans forward to accept the refill and does take her time sipping the wine this time. It's not like Davan is in the habit of buying the cheap stuff, and if she's going to actually hang around Hightown she should probably at least attempt to mime their habits a bit better. "You might be a bit further on th' line than I am… not that I'm complainin'," this gives her cause to grin, as she's definitely someone who delghts in seeing her friends happy. Now that she actually has real ones. "That we're both absolutely horrid with words," she says of sentiment. "So…we didn't talk for a bit." She just lifts a shoulder here as if it was no big deal (tm). "But I think th'… awkward has finally been dealt with."

"Well that's a relief. On both our counts. There's not much more frustrating than a man who seems to randomly have 'a thing' they've suddenly remembered." It's said with so much fondness that it can hardly be a complaint. "Perhaps, unless this man of yours has admitted to loving you." And yes, there's still that pleasant shock to it all. "Which he should. Adore you, that is."

That actually causes Carys to pause and her brows furrow slightly. "Too soon for that. Not 'nough exposure, I think. Definitely need t' wake up t'gether once, I think." She's chewing the side of her thumb thinking here. "Yeah, too soon." Is that… panic? Crushes are one thing, even something beyond that. But words that begin with capital L? She's quick to latch on Davan's commentary though. "Wow, sso that means you'n… rEally? Wow…" she's awestruck.

"It's terrifying." Davan admits, seeing that expression. "And, of course, there's all the rest of it, but yes." He grins at Carrys' take on her own situation. "Well, there's no reason to rush. You should enjoy it. And yes, that's what it means." He gives a sigh. "Not that I didn't deny it to myself the entire time."

Her expression for a brief moment saddens, only aided by the smile that remains on her face. And not even the random splotches of flour and starch do much to soften it. It's a flicker though. "Braver man than I on that front!" she spouts out with that cheshire grin of hers. "But really, I'm glad… it's good t'hear good things instead of other stuff. An' if it succeeds? Lasts? All th' better." She does pause. "I'm not scared," she huffs about the terrifying part. Just in case it was aimed at her. "An' the only thing I"m rushin is the damn coolin' of these shells." She gets up from her chair, drains her glass of wine and goes to poke chocolate. "An' let's be honest. It ain't for me," she finally says, giving into a rare moment of melencholy and angst.

"My dear Carys, whyever not?" Davan looks completely unconvinced. "I'm not the hopeless romantic who will tell you it's there for everyone, but certainly you've as much right to it as anyone else. …and if the thought doesn't terrify you, you're braver than I am. It's even more terrifying now."

"I got…stuff," Carys comments as she begins moving small hollow domes of chocolate onto a sheet and she moves back to where she can have conversation with DAvan. "Like… I'm a damn thief for cryin' outloud. An' proud of it too. Not t'mention this annoying habit I have o'interjectin' myself where people are bein' dicks t'each other." The sheet's set aside while she reutnrs to the stove to again temper the chocolate in the bowl. "And… " There's a huff. "Okay, I'm fuckin' scared shitless'a stuff like that. I ain't even had real /friends/ b'efore I came here an' that scares me t'bits. I'm scared'a losin' what I've got. Imagine what I'd be if I had somethin' more."

"Carys. Before I came here I had Princess. That's it. You don't make friends in Tevinter. Not when… Not when you're unacceptable. Especially when you're the unacceptable fourth son. The idea of having what I had before last night was terrifying. Believe me, I know." Davan still can't quite shake it, but he's doing his best to ignore it. "And losing part of it is a certainty. But if you think the other things you listed are reasons for you not to have, you're wrong."

For some reason, DAvan's words cause her to bark a laugh. It's a bitter hollow sort, and seems totally off putting coming from her, as she's so often genuine with her laughter. She's returned to where they were sitting with their wine, and she even indicates another glass please with a nod of her head. She's got a bowl of those brandied cherries, something mixed in with it to give it a bit more thickness, and chocolate and she sets about assembling the little domes right there. Even going so far as making pretty little designs on the top, because… well… okay, that wasn't pretty, that was apparently a butt. "Sorry, I didn't meant t'laugh at you. I was laughin' at… well. We're worlds apart…yer bein' noble, an' me bein' street trash. But when y'said that just now…it's like we had really similar lives. You don't make friends with how I grew up 'cause you can't trust nobody not t'stab y'in the back an' take yer shit. You make /contacts/. Tools. People who're temporarily useful t'you an' then you drop 'em like bad meat before they do you in." She glances up to the Altus. "Familiar, huh?"

Davan refills their glasses and grinning at the decoration. The laugh might take him by surprise, but he's willing to wait and nod once the explanation comes. "That sums things up fairly nicely." He admits. "And you try very hard to not be a tool for others to use. Of course, you could say that if you have to live that way, the trappings of nobility dress it up nicely."

"I guess actually havin' a /bed/ would've been nice," Carys quirks a grin here. "So much I ain't used to," she murmurs quietly before she draws a deep breath. "But yeah, that's the crux of it. Though, t'be honest, you an' Cenn are pretty much still the only people I can trust as far as I can throw ya."

"The bed does help. Not starving, I suppose. You and Cenn are all the people I care about in the world. At least specifically." Which is exactly why Davan growled so much with Tyce. "But at least we know we CAN trust each other. Between the three of us we can fend off the rest."

She smiles with that. "An' there's a whole world t'fend off," she says quietly. "'Course, I got this thing where I like tryin' t'protect people. Save 'em from bullies. Oppression. Kidnappin' an' gettin toted off an' stuff." She shrugs. "Guess I can't be all stabby an' pickin' pockets." No she stabs for a /cause/. … that's probably worse. "So, what'cha think?" She pushes the cordial with the butt on the top towards him. "An' Davan? Thanks."

"That there is." Davan agrees, taking the chocolate and tasting it. Once he can, he speaks. "Carys, you have a gift. …and you say those things like anyone should think they're bad things. They aren't, and I should be thanking you."

She shrugs here. "They're not. It feels good t'be doin' somethin' that's bigger than me. Somethin' that may make a difference." She then beams that trademark smile. "'Bout the only useful thing I picked up from Orlais! Spent a year there, learned how t'work around a kitchen. "


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