Carys_icon.gif Davan_icon.gif

Scene Title It's In The Manual
Synopsis Davan has a talk with Carys
Location Quaint Manor
Date 02 Kingsway, 9:31 Dragon
Watch For <things of interest in the scene>
Logger <name of person(s) who logged the scene>

Davan has been out most of the day. There are things he had to accomplish, people to talk to, but mostly it's been all about getting things for a certain room in the house. Now that it's late afternoon, he's back with a bag to place in front of Carys door before going about his usual routine, which has become a little too usual these days.

Carys, unsurprisingly, has been out most of the night. The nice thing about actually /having/ a place to crash is you can crash and then stay unconscious for however long your body needs instead of doing half-naps in an alley somewhere. So while Davan's been out, Carys has been, er, passed out. At least it wasn't alcohol induced this time. But it has the same effect. That being that when she finally rouses and joins the world of the living, she opens the door and just steps out into the hallway. While one hand is absently rubbing one eye and the other is closed. Cue yet probably another familiar thing at this point: Carys tripping over something and kissing the hallway's wall opposite the door before sprawling on the ground. A heartbeat passes, as ifs he were mentally assessing whether or not she needed to get her nose fixed, and then the hand that /was/ rubbing one eye flopps to the side while she lifts up the other to begin rubbing the sleep out of the opposite eye.

"Have you thought of waking up before you get out of bed? It's a wonderful experience. You run into fewer walls that way." Davan, apparently, is in a rather good mood and he reaches out a hand to help Carys up. "Sorry for that, I thought I put it off to the side enough to be missed. This is, by the way, how you interrupted a rather delightful morning nap." It's a mild tease, no venom there in his words or his smile. "We need to talk about the state of your room. I noticed nothing was put away."

The eye that doesn't have a the heel of a palm shoved into it peeks open and even half asleep, that rich violet color is twinkling. "Yeah, but this is me we're talkin' about," she says, her voice rough with sleep, "I'll somehow find it still an' end up th' same way. Or I'll trip over th' door jam." She takes the proffered hand and uses it to balance as she scrambles to her feet. There's a snort about interrupting the nap and she knows exactly what he's speaking of. "Th' Antivan end table over there totally jumped me when I was lookin' for food," she explains, her tone dead serious. The comment about her room and stuff not being put away gets her to waken a bit more fully and she shifts to stare past the still open door. "…I put my clothes away. An' I jus' woke up so that's why th' bed's not made. I mean, otherwise, It's pretty spotless." She's proud of that.

"Carys, I'm not talking about tidiness. You're living as if you're planning to run away. You have places for your things, yes? I told you, you can stay here as long as you like. You're allowed to live here. We can even have Liddy make up the adjoining room so that you have your own private sitting room if you like." Davan does chuckle about the end table. "Yes, well, we both knew exactly what it was, but I could have slept a few more hours." His fondness for their shared Templar shows, even if he doesn't want it to. "Besides that, it's very convenient for when the two of you become drunken hooligans singing drinking songs all the way from Lowtown."

There's that awkward shift of her weight and the rubbing of the back of the neck that seems universal to most who get socially uncomfortable. "Yeah, I…uh…." For want of something to do while she finds words, she ends up wandering back into the room after plucking up the culprit that caused today's make out session with the wall (Carys might as well call herself wallsexual at this point). "We were… really wasted," she admits with a bit of a wince. Not one of her better moments. "NOt a drink I'm goin' t'repeat drinkin' any time soon unless I gotta point t'prove." Beat. "Or a Fuzzy-haired grumpass who needs t'be knocked on his ass an' Hell-booze is probably a good way t'do it," this is grumbled as she shakes the bag as if trying to figure out what's in it. And… yes, she's still stalling on the 'moving in' front.

"Pants, dear. Pants." Davan listens, affecting a look that's somewhat patiently amused. "Yes, yes, and none of that has to do with staying here," he points out. "Honestly, Carys, there's no pressure but I do rather enjoy having you here. I've become a little attached, you know. It's not smart to make many friends back home, you can't trust anyone. You I trust, and not just because Cenn calls you his best friend. Besides, with you here… there are times when I can spend time with both of you. …especially since it's not smart for me to spend too much time in Lowtown. Not for safety reasons, but…"

"Pants?" This is echoed and she opens the bag up to eyeball said pants. "S'not really th' fashion for ladies," this is drawn out for effect, "In Kirkwall…" But she's tugging them on her ass anyway because… well. It'd be a waste right? And all this ass wiggling and pants wrangling contributes to her stalling. But finally. "It's… not that I don't want to… I just…." She throws her hands up. "I'm not used t'it. T'people. T'bein' in the same livin' space. I /barely/ got used t'havin' my own roof over my head before it went all…" She does her best 'Building Asplode' sound effect complete with flashing flexing fingers and puffed cheeks. "An'… an'… I'm like… s'posed t'be like, Mostly Anti-Posh 'Cause they're fucktards an' sooner rob a poor man than' help him, an'… Dammit… All th' posh people I run into are like so sweet an' not at all what I'm used to and…" She then flops to sit on the edge of the bed. "Honestly… I jus' don't know what t'do."

Davan leans against the door frame to think it over. "Work for me," he suggests. "And before you say yes, there are… things you should know." He's silent, giving himself time to line up the details in the right order, then lets out a sigh. "There's no good way to say any of this. You see… I did more than just cause a scandal for my family, Carys. I …In Tevinter, not being willing to get married to someone you can produce children with… It's not acceptable. Sex between men is, but only as long as it's just that and I absolutely refused to marry." He cards his fingers though his hair and gives a hint of a laugh. "This is all very, very complicated. The short of it is my father gave me a slave to… keep me at home, if you take my meaning. I didn't mean for anything to happen, but… well, it did. I was drunk or nearly there most of the time and I'd managed to say no up until my father told me I was going to marry or I couldn't come back from this particular trip."

Carys turns her sight on DAvan as he begins speaking. "We established yer Da's about on the level as what grows 'tween my toes when I don't bathe for three weeks," she informs him quietly, her words completely a judgment on his father, not on him or his decisions. "But what d'you mean 'didn't mean anythin' to happen'?" She then gestures to the bed. "If yer gonna talk, make yerself c omfortable. I think I gotta tin of cookies somewhere." Cue her shifting so she's belly down on the matress, and hanging her front end off of the edge in order to look underneath the bed. … Pants will prove to be a tremendous saving grace it would seem otherwise…

Davan thinks it over for a few seconds and then sits. "There are slaves that are given certain… training. Either they're born into it and accept slavery as normal or they're… broken." The way his teeth clench over the word hints at just how distasteful the practice is. "So he was trained to approach and offer, and I was incredibly drunk and stupid and didn't tell him no. I'm not proud of it. When I asked if I could bring him along on this trip, Father was so very pleased. So I've arranged for him to have employment in an inn in Lowtown. I haven't asked if he's changed his name." He rubs at his forehead. "So if you think I'm not like the rest of them, you're somewhat mistaken. However, I do know that- whatever it is you do- you do it for the right reasons. If you want better access to the network of live-ins and households here, I can help you get it. I'm not asking for details, but Liddy is a wonderful line into the world of lady's maids and interior staff."

Carys's nose wrinkles a bit and that flash of what could only be described as murderous intent that tends to happen whenever slaves and such gets talked about makes a cameo before she closes her eyes and sighs. "You come from fucked up place," she informs her host… housemate? "But…People make mistakes. What's important is that yer tryin' t'fix it." A pause. "This mean y'can't go home?" She does finally find that tin of cookies, and she pops it open revealing shortbread within. She's quiet as he speaks about 'what she does'. "I steal things," she says frankly. "Breakin' an' enterin' expert, or have y'forgotten?" Her brows shrug upwards and she nods. "Unlike… associates," she doesn't go into that, not yet at any rate, "my beef with nobility doesn't mean I completely exclude they're usefulness. But…" She sighs. "It all goes back t'how I don't know how t'live with another person. How t'live without… havin' t'figure out where I'm gonna get /my/ food for th' night…shit like that, y'know?"

"You could look at it that way but I've benefited from the existence of slaves and I still do. My hands aren't clean by any means." Davan laughs at the mention of thievery. "You? My dear, I would never have noticed. …but you have my undying gratitude for rescuing me from those… poor decorating choices. And yes, that means I can never go home. I don't have much to worry about. My father wants me to come back, marry, and increase the family's standing. My mother would rather I stayed here where she doesn't have to think about me and is willing to finance that. Either way, they both win. As for you, think about it? I'm not going to force you to stay where you're uncomfortable but I think you can learn to live without the stresses of trying to find food and shelter. It'll give you more time to focus on getting rid of those horrible vases that are STILL in the cellar storage."

Carys closes her eyes here. "Davan, you're my /friend/," she stresses this. "STop tryin' t'give me reasons t'rethink that." She chucks a cookie at him. "Yeah, th' whole…slavery thing pisses me off…" Her brow furrows slightly as if she was thinking about something but she shrugs. "I like my freedom, an' I think others should have th's ame thing. Not a far stretch. But if all I did was focus on shit like that… I'd be runnin' around stabbin' like a maniac. I gotta put that into perspective an' I don't see you utilizin' an' benefitin' /now/ do I?" She then stretches. "As f'r your da's gift… if y'want him t'disappear, I can make that happen." Pause. "If /He/ wants it."

More to the point about the living arrangements she finally sighs quietly. "Fine… fine…before y'sit there an' show me y'picked up Cenn's 'I'm a sad puppy' schtick an' start givin' me the big eye look and wibblin' yer bottom lip. But I'm not givin' any guarantees. I'll at least put shit in' the bureau… deal?"

"He has to learn what he wants first. Slaves don't often have the will to form that for themselves, but thank you. If he ever decides it…" Davan laughs as he catches the cookie. "Maker, please, if I picked that one up can you imagine how much power I'd have? It's a good thing that man doesn't use that look for evil." A nod is given the agreement, and it really does seem to be enough. "Deal. Thank you. Because if I had to resort to… wibbling? I think we can both agree that I wouldn't be at all successful. I'd just have to send an invitation, have him give the look, and then aim him at you." Weaponized sad puppy Templar.

A nod's given about Davan's, ah, 'property' and it is one of understanding. "Let me know." She then shrugs. "I'll warn you, I don't bank on it bein' permanent," she speaks instead of safer topics, that of her living arrangements. "D'you know how hard it's been t'remember t'throw somethin' /on/ before I go wanderin' for food?" Apparently she got used to the 'I can walk around stark ass naked and nobody cares' part of having your own place /really/ quick. "Wouldn't do at all t'scare the staff, I think." Or the host. When was the last time he saw a bared pair of boobs? "/But/," She's throwing her hands up in horror at the thought of Cenn being used against her. She's playing it up, but there is truth in the motion. The Templar /could/ be used against her, something she should really keep under wraps, "I promise that if I /do/ move out I'll let th' two of you help me find an' acquire somethin' new." She lowers her hands, "Because I can't see neither you /nor/ Cenn agreein' t'lettin' me grab some shabby one room apartment in Lowtown again."

"Honestly, I think half the staff expect it, the other half are disappointed it doesn't happen." Davan laughs. "Honestly, I'm one of the two men who enter this house who would still look you in the eye while talking to you in that state." He raises an eyebrow at the one room apartment mention. "Good, because I know we wouldn't. The idea of you being where all of that could happen again and living in those conditions. Really. There are resources. Use them." He winks and stands. "And I'm invading your space, but when I saw everything packed… By the way? If Tyce ever gives you a drink? The safe option is no. Whatever that was… Well, I can't complain too much I suppose."

Sighing, she looks at her stuff. "Well, it's habit. This… well," She point sto one bag, "That's new." Stuff she's acquired since she took Davan's offer of a bed. "But otherwise… I'm jus'… it'show I live. One bag's really all my stuff. On one hand, I was so excited t'have a place t'put stuff finally, but then when that mess happened, I recalled why it was prudent not to." Carys then glances to him and she shrugs. "Too busy usin' my resources for stuff that matters." It's not said in a self-deprecating manner of the low self-esteemed, just more towards the fact it likely never dawned on her to use her abilities to permanently better her own livelihood. Totally the sort to steal food and then give it away without even taking a bite. "Well… I… uh." She siiighs. "Have no excuse for it. I took a drink an' it was repulsive, but he was buyin' anyway, so I didn't want t'come across unappreciative… so I kind'a chugged th' whole thing. And then the second one?" Shoulders SLUMP. "WAs jus' plain stupidity." She then /snorts/ at the complain part. She might not've been aware enough to catch the hints, but she's a big girl. "Lucky you. I had pillows."

Davan chuckles. "You mean you were drunk and it seemed a good idea t the time? I've been there a time or two. Just enjoy the space you have and if you want to move on, then we'll find something for you that doesn't involve a slum." The mention of pillows earns a laugh. "Oh Carys… I… well, I sort of did as well. Probably a bit firmer than yours." The idea is just that amusing. "Remember to invite that young man you seemed to enjoy landing on so much. I did tell you I'd leave the dining room free for you."

"Story of my life," Carys reveals about 'it seemed like a good idea at the time' defense. "… Alcohol optional." And then he mentions that? Fingers in her ears! "Lalalalalalala I don't need details I'll probably spontaneously combust from a combination of envy an' embarrassment." But she does pick out 'young man' nad 'landing on' and her face turns red anyway. "I…uh. Yeah. Jus' need t'get the time t'get him here. Already did the dinner invite thing. An' he somereason said yes despite me butcherin' the shit out of it." She's going to rub her neck some more. "Wouldn't mind landin' on that again anytime soon."

Davan laughs outright. "Don't worry, I'm not a man to kiss- or anything else- and tell. Have him over in the next couple of days. I'll ensure you have the rest of the house to yourself. I can spend the evening reading or even go out. Then perhaps I'll be the one putting up with a noisy night." Because he knows, he knows. The walls aren't exactly meant for blocking out all sound. "He said yes because you're delightful, charming, and beautiful and he apparently has the good taste to recognize this. I have a feeling you'll be landing on him again. Without the armor."

She's going to sit here and just… try not to have her entire body's worth of blood relocate to her face. Because that's how red it is. "Yeah, well… if it gets that loud, you deserved it." She mumbles something under her breath before she just grabs a pillowa nd hides her face.

Davan can't help it. That blush is funny, and it's cute, and he's going to admire it for a few seconds while trying not to laugh. "Deserved? Oh… /oh/… I…" Ahem. He doesn't blush often, and even now it's just a hint of color, but he's clearly surprised. "They let out that much…? I think I'll have someone in to see about that. We can put something in there, surely."

And the resulting laugh is likea little child trying to do their 'evil megalomaniac' laugh…which is probably equal parts cute and disturbing. "Gotcha," she whispers as she peeks over the pillow, her forehead still a lovely shade of crimson that's usually only reserved for very daring 'ladies' and combat wounds.

"Maker, Carys, you had me." Davan's relief shows in his laugh. "I… was not about to explain any of … that." He puts a hand over his chest. "Even if…" No. Nonono. "Never mind." He grins and heads for the door. "Ask your young man here soon. Let me know, I'll go find ways to keep myself occupied and I won't be back until the late hours. I'll either convince Cenn to try that little inn that I found not too far from here or … well, something."

"Well, if you /did/ explain, at least I'd have somethin' t'try, right?" Carys actually says this with that damn naive tilt of her head. "NOt that I"m… y'know… /completely/ inexperienced but, uh…." She's going to go back to looking like a beet now. "An' I did! Just need t'… get schedules to click and… finish th' dress I'm tryin' t'sew." Have we mentioned she's still not used to this whole 'I get to buy shit now' concept?

Davan shakes his head. "We could find you a dress, and I'm sure he doesn't have a schedule so full that he can't move something for a beautiful young woman who is interested in having him for dinner." Two can do this, Carys. TWO. "I could give you pointers, but every man is different. I know, pictures. I'm not a bad artist. I'll draw you pictures." But there's that head tilt and he just can't. "Maker, do you both have this power? Why do you have me suddenly entertaining this idea?" He rubs his forehead. "W… alright. If you want to know, I can illustrate. I'm sure you'd faint from all that blood rushing to your face if I sad it aloud. I'd probably faint, for that matter.

"What power?" She blinks here and then she pulls out the stops. She is still young enough that there's still some 'child' in her features and she puts the full on 'I'm pathetic and starving, give me money' big eyes and cute for Davan. But then she breaks out laughing before she wavesa hand. "I don't need pi—" She pauses. "You'd draw somethin' like that?" she then says in a conspiratorial whisper. "Oh my."

"Alright, you can stop that now. Please, please do not tell Cenn you can do that. You'll both be the death of me." Davan puts a hand over his heart as if he's truly in danger. "Really. Just use that power for good, alright? Well of course I would. I used to do it in the books in my father's library. Made him turn purple with fury. It was magnificent."

Carys smirks here but she relaxes. "It only has so much stayin' power now," she says. "You get older, y'lose the fat in yer cheeks an' it's not as effective." She pasues. "Well, in th' 'I'm cute give me money' sort'a way. It usually gets mistaken for another sort of plea an'… nah. I'm not one of /those/ kind'a gals. Not knockin' the ones that do, but… Too much effort." Says the girl who's specialty in the underworld is /breaking into peoples homes/. HOw is prostitution 'too much effort'?! "Oh please tell me you didn't doodle dicks in th' old books…" That hurts her appraisal skill.

"Not the valuable ones, just the ones that my father liked to reference. …doodle dicks…" Davan laughs. "Oh, I don't know. It has a lot of power, I just don't think you realize how much. Between the two of you, I'll be perfectly unable to utter the word 'no' ever again. Not that he hears it much, but… never mind. I could even give you an instruction manual. I'd suggest not consulting it in the act," Davan warns. "But other wise…"

'Consulting it in the act'? That phrase has Carys suddenly /roaring/ with laughter, flopping back and hugging her pillow so she can rock back and forth on the bed while she laughs. "Th' visual!" She even rolls over onto her stomach, in a pose obviously meant to reference a, ah, act, and she uses the pillow she was hugging to mime a book. "HOld on, I need t'consult page sixty-nine here…"

Davan can not help the laughter, and he leans against the doorframe in order to recover. "Reasons why I adore you," he points out. "Then again, you can never go wrong with a well illustrated diagram. …until you've memorized them." AAaaaaand he's not saying more than that! "And really, if you want one and are wondering if I'm serious about it? Completely. I've scandalized more than one librarian with my work."

"Only for giggle purposes for now," Cayrs says, still giggling over her miming. "I think I'd like t'see how things go an' if my fumblin' really is a problem /should/ things go along those lines any time soon." There she is blushing again. "I gotta first make it through a meal!" She pauses and then frowns exaggeratingly at Davan. "A /real/ meal."

Davan grins. "Well then, it would be my pleasure," he informs. "Why Carys, whatever do you mean 'real meal'? I invited Cenn over for a real meal. …apparently snails really are food in Orlais. Who would have known? Dormice, I can understand, but snails? Not that they were bad…" He's still trying to get over that. He didn't think the snails were absolutely disgusting.

"About th' only thing decent regardin' Orlesian cuisine is th' pastries an' sweets. I spent a year there," she explains, "In between my leavin' Ferelden an' comin' t'the Marches. I… ddind't like it there. But, that's where I learned th' basics of my whole sweet makin' thing. They were good for that."

"Their cheeses aren't bad, but I'm incredibly grateful for your talent with chocolate. You can't find decent sweets otherwise. The baked goods are decent, but I think they put in too much wax here. It can't be the heat, it's positively chilly here." Davan misses the heat of home, it's true. "I didn't mind it. The culture isn't bad, but people do take certain things to extremes. Speaking of food, it's time I had something. …and Carys? Thank you."

She nods at thea ppraisal of various cuisines, and she moves to stand up and begin ruffling around. She even opens one of the drawers to dumb one of the bags in to keep her promise. AT the last though, she blinks those wide violet eyes before giving him one of those broad grins. "Anytime."

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