Carys_icon.gif Davan_icon.gif

Scene Title The Motorboat Story
Synopsis Carys takes Davan to task for his outing, then tells him a story
Location Quaint Manor
Date 07 Kingsway, 9:31 Dragon
Watch For Motorboats
Logger Davan

Davan is back. He's a bit dusty about the back and backside, and there are finger shaped bruises on one side of his neck to go with the thumb bruise on the other, but he's alive! He's also going to remove that light coat he's been wearing- look, it's cool here- to drape over the hook before setting in to look at the envelopes that have been waiting on the table for his attention. See? Everything normal.

The first sign that Carys is awake and about is the fact his mail has been very carefully stacked and arranged to resemble a building. The next? "… You've got muck on th' hem of yer trousers." She's in one of the nearby loungechairs, positioned upside down so that her feet are resting on the headrest and her head is where her feet should be. It's a classic 'I'm bored out of my skull but I'm too lazy to figure out how to remedy it' pose for her. Which may mean that Davan will be getting the full force of her attention.

"Yes, it's the danger of venturing to the lower levels of the city. Horribly unkempt, but then one can't expect much." It's a tease. Davan really can't complain much about his current home unless he's prepared to insult everyone in it. "You look comfortable. Bored? You look incredibly comfortable and yet uncomfortable at the same time. Bored and lazy?"

"I /am/ bored. But I'm comfortable." Carys tilts her head, processing. "Why in th' world would you be in th 'lower levels' of the city?" She's turning upright, those violet eyes narrowed just a hair as she processes this. "Y'don't look obviously mugged… there's that."

Davan tilts his head to regard Carys, grinning as he does. "Because I went to speak with this healer you've told me about. I was surprisingly accosted, but I'm generally unharmed. There was a request I wanted to make that I thought would be mutually beneficial. The man wants nothing out of saying yes, which is infuriating in itself. I despise not being able to repay something like this, but I'll find a way to do it. One way or another. So why so bored? You do realize that there is still an attic and a cellar in this place? Shouldn't you technically be robbing me?" Yes, that still amuses the shit out of him.

That has her to her feet. "You went there?! Alone?! You could've been robbed! Mobbed! Maimed! MImed!" BEat. "Wait, no, not that last one. Mimin' isn't painful." She draws a breath. "Please tell me you were at least smart enough t'be vague about how you heard 'bout him." The conversation shift is handled easily because, well, Carys talks like taht constantly. "Because that's /work/, y'know. An' you don't relieve boredom with /work/. It's like a companion'a mine once bitched about when he was in the orphanage. He'd go 'I'm bored' an' the Matron'd be like 'I'll give you osmethin' t'do' an' set him scrubbin' pots."

"Not exactly. Hard to not come up with a specific when you've got a man with lyrium tattoos ready to do bad things to you. As in actual bad things, not the kind you'd want." Davan laughs. "Carys, dear? I'm a mage, remember? From Tevinter? I'm quite used to people trying to kill me. I assure you that there was never any danger on the way to and from. During, perhaps, but I'm alive now. …I suppose when you put it that way. We could pick up some nice tops for those pants. I'd have to change first."

The comment about Lyrium tattoos seem to confuse her for a moment but it takes her only a few seconds to catch up. Who would have tattoos, a bad temper and hanging around Anders and his clinic? "Oh. Him." She just rubs her forehead at this and she shakes her head. "Still, not exactly yer wisest move. Especially since you stick out like a sore thumb down there." She's concerned! And it shows. "I'd be sad if somethin' more happened t'you. Be careful next time." She then walks over to fix her mail-building up again. "An' I swear, if I get an angry mage or his friend in my space tryin' t'throttle me? I'm puttin' itchin' powder in your silk sheets."

Davan laughs. "Oh, I doubt you'll have any of that. I'm pretty sure I got the sincerity of my reason for visiting across. If not, once he meets … well, I've made a point to not know what Cyras is calling himself now. Once he meets him, I think he'll understand. He needs to interact with people who have never been slaves and learn something that will give him some self reliance. But you see?" He shows off the bruises. "I'm perfectly fine, a few bruises aside. Not that I like having them, but they'll eventually go away." He shakes his head. "I'll be fine, Carys. You are much more likely to get into a life threatening situation than I."

As Davan speaks, Carys is standing there, arms crossed, weight shifted to one side. For someone who's confessed to not having a day of parental oversight in her life, she's really got a good idea of the whole 'Mom' look, and it's leveled at the mage before her. Then she just lets out this sigh like she is the most put upon person /ever/. … It also lets her hide the reaction his last comment might've caused. It's really hard to bluff people you get close to, she's finding. "Alright. You win," she holds up her hands before she ambles over to eyeball the bruises. "Get those faded before Cenn sees 'em, though. He'd likely be a bit cross. Though, with you or the guy that put 'em there, I dunno. But he'll be cross."

"Well, then let's hope they fade before he sees them. I'm no healer, I'm not even remotely good at creation magic. We're not taught that, it's all destruction and …well, demons if you're willing to pay attention. I'm not good at demons, either." He grins. "I heal quickly, it'll be fine. Now, let's see what can be done about your boredom, hm? I can take you somewhere, or we can track down this man you're interested in." The last is equal parts tease and offer. Because he won.

"We're all thankful for that!" Carys quips quickly about DAvan's ability with demons and the magic that causes them. "'Cause otherwise, I think you wouldn't be as well liked around here as you are." She then flops back down in her chiar, sprawled as she does. But she is making use of those britches, at least in the house. Logic would dictate she's probably making sue of them outside too. … Probably under the skirts. Maybe. And then that last? THAT has her blood run cold. The thought of Davan meeting Carver and her having no way of somehow controlling the situation? Forget Demons, THAT is scary! "I… er… Uh. Well, we /could," she tries to speak casually, "Save at the moment, I haven't a clue where t'find him!" Yup. Smooth as butter, Carys. YOu're a pro. Really.

Davan can't help it. The reaction is raised eyebrows at first, followed by another laugh. "Oh Carys, you needn't be so nervous. I wouldn't do it without your being comfortable with it. I did tell you that you could have the house to yourself should he come over, didn't I? I'm not going to measure him up to whether or not I think he's good enough. If you think so, then that's good enough for me. If he hurts you, then I'll show you what aptitude I have for demons."

"It's not so much…er… measuring," Carys is thankful that apparently Davan isn't offended. "I'm afraid y'might yank him off t'fix his wardrobe." She then nods. "I know. I jus' need t'get things actually, y'know, arranged. An' somethin' to wear."

"Oh please, you won't have to worry about that either. I love to buy things for you to wear, I love finding things for Cenn to wear, but I prefer my subjects to be willing. Now, let's see…" Davan tips his head, thinking the concept over. "This young man is Ferelden and- if I'm judging right- he's the practical sort, yes? So we just need to find someone who can give you a slightly dressier version of a dress you'd find in Ferelden and you're probably set."

"Huh," Carys comments idly. "'Cause now that I think about it… the idea is more hilarious than I originally thought." Her hands lift up and she waves them back and forth. "I'm workin' on it. Don't worry. Can't have you supplyin' /all/ my stuff, right? It'll make all my hard earned skills rust! An' then where will I be?"

"What, me dragging off this young man of yours, or me dragging him off to be dressed?" See that grin? Davan is most pleased with his turn of the conversation. "Where would you be? Dressed magnificently with an unused needle, but if you feel that you need to make your clothing I'm not going to stop you. The offer is open. Maker knows I'm not going to tire of it."

Oh she got her mom moment in, she's not really one to milk it. Davan knows he messed up (in her eyes), there really is no use in remaining cross. "Both! I mean, have you compared yourself t'me? Really, there's jus' no competition," she says, her grin quirking a bit here. As for the unused needle. "Lifetime'a habits yer contendin' with, Davan. But, I'll have you know that I did put stuff in the bureau, like I promised." So there's that.

"I believe there are a few assets that I lack which you possess," Davan informs Carys. "And those, my dear, are likely more appealing to him than my own." He puts a hand on his chest and sighs. "Alas, I will have to content myself with that. After all, if I keep doing wonderfully intelligent things like venturing into Darktown, you'll have no choice but to stay. If only to inherit." That is a tease, clearly. "Someone has to look after Princess."

"How can I ever put myself in a posisition t'abandon Princess? She's trainin' hard t'be my side kick. We'll be shootin' around the rooftops o'Kirkwall yet!" Welcome to another session of 'is she joking or not?'. She then snorts, and laughs. "Those assets don't do as well as people'd think! I did tell you how I so wonderfully hit on Cenn, right?"

Davan raises both eyebrows, but the fact that he trusts Carys with his fox means there's no protest. An amused expression at the idea of his fox in banditry gear, but no protest. "You… No, you hit on Cenn? Oh, I simply must hear about this. I can't say I blame you. I did the first time we met, but who wouldn't? Alright, you mentioned it so now you have to give me the details."

Oh man, this embarrassing story…. and the way Carys covers her face sort of indicates that she doesn't quite count this amongst her best moments. Even if she's already laughing. "Alright, as you've no doubt notice, Cenn is /quite/ attractive. I think it was fine until I got a few strong ales in me…." She glances ceilingward. "An' then I decided it was a great idea t'offer my bosom to him. For him to put his face in." She pauses. "Usin' the words 'Want t'put yer face in my tits?'."

Cenn's reaction? "What yer tryin' very hard /not/ t'do right now," she informs. "He laughed for I swear t'Andraste a minute straight before he informed me that while they were very nice, it wasn't somethin' he was interested in." She sighs here. "An' all I could do was go… 'Oh, okay….want another beer?'. Y'know, on top of bein' completely red due t'motification at … I dunno. I don't think it was the rejection so much th' fact I pipped up with that in th' first place."

Davan can't really help it, he sits back to let the laugh play itself out. "Oh Carys, if only you knew how precious that line was. Really, you shouldn't want to be any other way. I'm sure it's a memory that Cenn looks on fondly. …as mortifying as it might have been at the time. You do understand that- and I'm sure it goes for Cenn as well- were I interested in women, I'd likely have sought out more than merely dressing you. And before you give me looks, I'm still taken by that wonderful personality of yours." And now he's just got this mental image of Cenn being asked this question. He's never going to be able to unsee it.

She is confused. "Why would I wanna be any other way?" Really, she is who she is! Even if what she is baffles the hell out of half of kirkwall. "Eh, we've refered to it from time t'time," she speaks of 'The moment'. "It wasn't my best, but it was a good ice breaker," and she can't help the relaxed, fond smile that appears here because in her mind, she got something better out of it. She then laughs. "Knowin' my luck, Davan, somethin' would've still made us be jus' friends, your interest or not. Because… I dunno, everythin' always went that way."

"That's only because you've just run into friends so far," Davan points out. "And I'm glad you wouldn't, you're perfectly delightful as you are. I, for one, am very glad you have a unique way of meeting people. If it hadn't been for exploding buildings and nightmarish creatures, we may not have met until much later. I would have missed out on a great deal of time, and so would Princess." Which is what's important. "I can still picture it, though, and…" Yep. Funny.

She can't help but chuckle. "Eh, we'd have run int' each other sooner or later. Probably involvin' my hands in yer pockets an' not in a fun way, I'm sure." She then sighs dramatically. "But fortunately for me, things turned out differnetly 'cause otherwise, I'd have a Princess-sized hole in my heart an' wouldn't even realize it." She does adore the hell out of that damn fox. She does snort when it goes back to motorboating Cenn. "Things I will never live down."

"She really is my most redeeming asset," Davan admits, and the fox makes her entrance as he does so. It's even entertaining watching her bound down the steps because it's as if she has to pounce every one of them in order to get there. "Oh, but would you really want to? You really do have the most entertaining stories."

Princess is scooped up and cuddled before she's deposited in her own little sitting space. "IO'll mkae sure t'build up s'more entertainin' tales," she says with a wink before she stretches. "I'm gonna go look for some grub an' maybe drive the chef insane again t'day before I go out an' do some work. I'll see you around." She disappears into the hallway only to reappear a heartbeat later, "An' no skivvin' off t'Darktown!" So there!

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