001 // too much time

[serpentis]

Who: DORIAN THE EXPLORIAN (Dorian Pavus)
Broadcast: Video, fleet-wide
Action: The Marsiva~
When: 1/21

[Dorian spends a fair deal of time poking around the ship before deciding to try out sending a broadcast. He's not entirely certain how he knows how to use the device, only that he does, and that almost unnerves him.

Still, his voice is pleasant, almost chipper.]

Well, if this isn't a curious little jaunt that I didn't exactly expect to take this afternoon. I do hope someone might be able to enlighten me as to where, exactly, I am...and when, for that matter. ...and where one might find passable reading material would also be appreciated.

Comments

[merchantprince]

Ah... yeah...

[He doesn't even fight it. Kirkwall is definitely a shithole. It's worse than before Hawke even got there, which is saying something. THANKS ANDERS.

Still, talking about Mae perks him up a bit.]

Oh, please do. Mae is flawless. She could always use more like-minded people in her company.

I'm trying to figure out how we met, or... will meet, exactly. [He smiles disarmingly.] Mind indulging me with the story, this time?

[serpentis]

Very well, but when you sell it, I demand a cut of the money.

[And then he smiles, teasingly.]

Ah, yes, where did I first come across that handsome face? As I recall, there was a ritual that we all sort of interrupted. You, Cassandra, Solas, and the Inquisitor happened upon me trying to close a fade rift. I suppose we were all in the right place at the right time, as it happened- I was uncertain if I was going to be able to close the rift, or if I'd be a snack for the demons. Dreadful.

The Inquisitor closed it, and when you all headed back to Haven, I followed behind not too long after. There was some business with an old friend of mine, a Magister from Tevinter. I wanted to lend what aid I could.

After all of that, we were fast on the track to gambling debts and poor nicknames.

[merchantprince]

Don't get ahead of yourself, there. I haven't even lived it. How do I know it's interesting enough?

[But he shuts up and listens, for once. Dorian's not a terribly unreliable narrator.]

Inquisitor? Cassandra? Maker's breath, did the Seeker drag me into that Chantry mess after all?

Also, I don't know exactly what a fade rift is, but it sounds very bad.

[serpentis]

To a point. You were tagging along with the Herald of Andraste, so the moniker goes. The figurehead of the Inquisition. Or, rather, the leader, but we all have a bit of a stake in it, I suppose. And yes, Cassandra Pentaghast. Delightful woman.

[He sobers, but only a bit.]

There was a...well, it's a long story and we're still working on the finer details, but regardless, fade rifts, yes. Little rips in the fabric between Thedas and The Fade. The Inquisition is trying to solve that little problem. Demons are apparently bad for the economy- they shit on the carpet, make a mess of the place.

[merchantprince]

So that's what I have to look forward to. And here I thought I was free to go! What a joke.

[GRUMP GRUMP GRUMP.]

Yeah, demons are definitely bad for the economy. Why do you think Kirkwall looks like a high dragon pissed on it? Son of a bitch. [He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.] Thanks for the heads-up.

-- You really hated the nickname I gave you?

[serpentis]

Sparkler. An apt name, I suppose. A decoration- all flash, no heat. I suppose there are worse ways to describe the Pariah of Minrathos.

[It wasn't that he exactly disagreed- he had been called worse things. He simply wasn't used to nicknames and the like. Other Altus were far more formal- the closest thing he had to it was a term of endearment given to him by a nurse.

For as good as he was with people, Dorian simply wasn't used to letting them closer than arm's length and giving them the illusion they were closer.]

[merchantprince]

'Highborn idealist with snakes at his heels', maybe. But that's too long.

If you were trying to fix the Fade, you're probably...

[A mage. But he doesn't quite say it.]

Sparkler it is.

[serpentis]

Probably a what? A mage? I am an Altus, yes, but for all that they throw the title around down South I may as well call myself a Magister.

[He says it without a hint of shame- for he has none. He is proud to be a mage.]

[merchantprince]

[That's a breath of fresh air. Reminds him of Hawke, in a good way. He hurts, suddenly.]

So you haven't entirely pissed off the Tevinter elf yet? He just loves mages. For dinner. You've probably figured that out by now, though.

[serpentis]

Not entirely.

[Dorian chuckles softly.]

Really? I will keep that in mind. Charming man, really. Very direct.

[merchantprince]

Charming is... not the word I would've used. But he does have a sense of humor, somewhere.

Try to stay in one piece, will you?

[serpentis]

You as well, Varric.

[He smiles.]

There is a shortage of handsome dwarves that I've seen, I would mourn you.

[merchantprince]

[He blinks-- and then he grins unexpectedly.]

I would mourn me, too. Where else are people going to find handsome, charming dwarves with incredible chest hair?

[serpentis]

Indeed. Until we speak again.

[And he smiles, cutting the feed. For all the nicknames and gambling debts, he did generally enjoy Varric's company.]