driftfleet | 004 // the house of sin

Entry tags:

004 // the house of sin

Who: Dorian and assorted guests
Broadcast: Fleet-wide, 3/10
Action: In a villa practically in the forest (THE HOUSE OF SIN)
When: Broadcast- 3/10 // Action- 3/9-3/31? Until we leave.

Broadcast:

[The broadcast goes out on 3/10, and Dorian smirks a bit into the feed.]

I believe I've secured lodging for myself, with room enough for several others. If you need a place to stay, do let me know. It's a quaint little villa a bit outside of town. ...please don't mind the suspicious glances, I assure you, I've done nothing entirely against the guidelines that were set.

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Action:

[Dorian has secured a villa, but the residents of Mor don't seem too keen on having an evil mage for a neighbor. As the month goes on, more and more villagers will show up to stand at the gates of the villa and threaten to come in after the "evil wizard".

Maybe he shouldn't have gone so overboard with the whole "contacting the spirits of the dead" thing.]

((OOC: Mingle post for the House of Sin. We'll pretend there are enough rooms in here for everyone! Even if you character only drops by to rest their feet a bit, everyone is welcome to visit and stay the night if they want.))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Oh, that's right...!

[she bounces on the balls of her feet a little... excited about a surprise, but not wanting to flat-out ask about it. that'd be rude. to the rest, she's quick to shake her head.]

Um, no thank you. I don't drink.

[a polite decline. she knows some people do it anyway, but she's hard-set on following that Earth rule until she's of-age.]

Very well, I have water, and tea, as well. It's barely passable, but it's tea-like, I suppose.

[He sets off down the hallway to his room, trusting that she will follow.]

It's quiet in here with the elves all taking to the woods. You'd think they were just released from a pirson with how they bolted for the trees. ...save for Fenris, that is, but he's a slightly different case.

[He chatters as they walk down the hall.]

Fenris, yeah...

[she hurries to catch up with him, stepping in right alongside, leaning in to chatter and be heard--]

That guy's weird. I told a great interior decorating joke and I don't think he even noticed.

He is...his taste is a bit...different, I suspect.

[If only you knew, Dorian.]

Still, I consider him a good [A pause] ally.

Yeah, no kidding. He seems all right, though, aside from the scary glowy part.

[which she says very casually. she has way less fear of Fenris than she should. calling Fenris an "ally" makes Dorian sound like someone from Arcadia, which makes her wonder...]

...What do you guys do anyway?

You mean besides travel the countryside and murder cultists, all while gathering rocks and flowers? There are occasionally horses, and even less occasionally, dragons. Ah, and I can't forget about the whole "darkspawn Magister" business.

[He sounds amused, and he chuckles to himself. Krista, there are few people that would have been worse to ask.]

Edited 2015-03-19 11:31 (UTC)

Huh.

[like the whole Fenris incident, she takes this description surprisingly well..]

That sounds kind of like my life. Less cultists, though.

Fortunately for you, then. To think, they consider themselves my countrymen...with men like that in Tevinter, I am proud to be a pariah.

[They round the corner into his room, and he motions for her to follow. He steps to a vanity and pulls out small containers- pressed eyeshadow in red, blue, purple, green, and black, and he waved her over.]

You may have your pick of one of these. I thought you might appreciate it.

[the things that he says so casually... she's frowning to herself, a little, when she rounds the corner after him. her automatic move is to look all around the room, just to check it out... but seeing what he's gotten out for her pretty much makes her forget whatever else she might have been thinking about.]

Really? You're... [kidding? serious? being really, really, really nice to her?] Really?

[He nods, smiling a bit.]

I have, perhaps, over-purchased in some things, and these were spare. As we're out of Orlais, I see no reason for me to wear a full face of makeup each day, and I suspect you'll get more use from them.

[And totally not just because he wanted to do something nice for her.]

Dorian...

[she has no idea what to think. people who do nice things for her usually want something from her, or turn out to be crazy and have split-personalities and nearly end the world, or... end up her really, really good friend.

and all of those seem equally overwhelming, right now.

she bites her lip, looking at the different colors. mind going a lot faster than her eyes. come on, basic spectrum recognition. she has black. she has purple. she doesn't mean to look so serious when she finally nods a little bit.]

Then I want red. Please. That'd be really nice with one of the dresses I got--uh, back on those moons.

[He notes the hesitation, but doesn't remark on it. Instead, he smiles and holds out the small container to her.]

Red it is. Let me know if you need tips for it. There was, ah, perhaps that's an interesting story.

[He steps away, walking toward one of the windows, the curtains open to the outside, window open to let air in.]

I am from a country called Tevinter. Terribly curious place. Treacherous, but there's nothing else quite like it in Thedas. But, you see, I am a pariah. I disagreed with much of the excesses there, and thus, I had to flee the country. All terrible things, but part of it was, as well, that men like me, we are not accepted there.

[He nods softly.]

Things between men, they are...it's not uncommon, but it's a mere dalliance. My father wished me to take a wife, to live a lie, and I refused. Shortly after, I left Tevinter. My travels took me to an especially...it's a silly place, Orlais.

But one of their little quirks, aside from their political games that would get them laughed at for being mundane in Tevinter, is that aide from the masks they wear, they also have a habit of wearing makeup. All of them, men included. There are even fashions among them. It was terribly, terribly curious, you see.

They are a nonsensical people, the Orlesians. But the other odd thing is that men like myself, they considered my predilections to be nothing more than an odd quirk.

It was curious, to say the least.

[she takes the little container and looks at it carefully, still very much slipping back into thought. she's one of those types who live in her own head. she forgets that she has arms, sometimes, or that people might be expecting her to look or respond a certain way.

but she listens very carefully to everything that Dorian says to her, looking at the shade of red she's been gifted, calculating. what she wants to say is a gamble, but... she feels like the odds are in her favor. she grips the little container tightly against her chest and looks up at him again.]

You're really lonely, aren't you.

[she doesn't sound pitying or demeaning. more knowing than anything. she sounds like she thinks she's right.]

[That simple assertion stops him right where he is, turning to glance at her, hesitantly.

The truth about Dorian Pavus was that he was a great liar. Not merely in the good at it sense, but that so much about him was a genial facade, something to disguise the true loneliness in his soul. The hurt. The desperate longing for people to accept him, to love him.

He hesitates, and he almost gives her a scoff, another lie. But he knows that he can't lie to her, and nor does he want to. Dorian was always as emotional man, at heart, and he merely meets her eyes and nods, his expression unguarded and showing her just how right she was.]

...I suppose you could put it that way.

[she's been paying attention. his grandiose persona could rival that of a Sidhe duke. "Look at me, I'm Dorian Pavus! I waltz around in makeup and speak verbosely about everything! Come to my party! Come stay in my summer home! I was kicked out of my own country, but I don't even care!" ...except he does care, because you don't mention those kinds of things casually, jokingly, unless you desperately want someone to pay attention. she knows. he is trying to get attention wherever he goes. he's trying to get her attention. and that's where it stopped adding up--because she's been to his party. he cut her hair. they've traded books. he all but insisted she stay in this house. but what does she know about Dorian?

nothing.

almost nothing, anyway. she knows he likes men. she knows he's a pariah. she knows he likes fancy things and nice clothes and has a lot of opinions, but--what does he want? what makes him happy? what motivates him, what does he care about, what bothers him? what are his hobbies? his hopes, his dreams? his opinions on people like her?

he doesn't talk about himself in any meaningful way, really. he wants to be noticed, but he can't let people actually see who he is. Tek's the same way, but at least Tek has the convenience of saying he talks to Krista for the sake of their business agreement. why should Dorian bother with her? he won't gain anything from it. he has no idea what she can do. he might not even like her, if she admitted what she really was. why has he invited her into his home? giving her a gift? why bother being nice to her, or even giving her the time of day?

trying to get close to people, while not allowing them to see his true self... it's not hard to imagine how horribly empty that must feel, after a while. it was pretty much sealed for her the moment Jove said that he needed more "real" friends, and when he couldn't call Fenris more than his "ally". this may be a house full of strangers to him, for all she knows.

but she's the girl who pretends to be a ditzy airhead, sometimes, and sometimes pretends that she's way tougher than she feels, and often laughs about how miserable her life is because she wants someone, anyone, to maybe notice that she isn't really joking. she sighs heavily, slipping her new eyeshadow in her pocket, very glad that Dorian didn't try to fight her on it. she likes being right. it makes everything a lot easier. and it says a lot about Dorian--more than most of his previous useless chatter has.

instead of getting sad, which she... probably should have, she suddenly looks... annoyed.]

Okay, asshole. You and I are going to have a talk.

[she crosses the room. pointedly takes one of his hands. she uses both of hers to do it, since her fingers are small.]

You and I are going to be friends, so you better not turn out to be a fucking psychopath, okay?

I...

[He looks down at her hands around his, and he could almost laugh for how absurd it is. He was Dorian Pavus, he didn't need someone to tell him that he needed friends. He had many friends.

Superficial friends, who rarely got past his bluster and bravado. Who did he really have? Jove. Arhen. Fenris, perhaps? And who else could he count? Krista, apparently, but even still...

How many of the others could truly say they knew him?

He looks down at his hand, Krista's hands almost ghost-white against his, and he's silent for a moment longer, before he simply nods.

Letting people in was terrifying, but perhaps being an island was even worse.]

I will endeavor not to be.

Edited 2015-03-24 00:59 (UTC)

Good. Because I'm trusting you, okay?

['Adults', she thinks, derisively. it's astounding how many she knows that don't have their shit together. now she has to be the grown-up in this situation? it's ridiculous. it's also at least partly hypocritical--but her first defense against any sort of nervousness is anger. allow her to churn on the inside so that she doesn't take it out on Dorian more than she already has.

she pulls him along. or tries to. she has no real physical strength, but she's trying to lead him over towards a bed or a couch or some other convenient nearby piece of furniture.]

And you can relax. I'm not gonna tell anyone.

Edited (reading comprehension, stick!) 2015-03-24 03:17 (UTC)

[He settles on the bed, propping a leg against it and leaving the other foot just touching the floor.

He almost dreads this, but at the same time, he knows it may very well be for the best.]

...very well, what now?

[see? no more pontificating. she surrenders his hand so that she can pull her cute little flats off and sit, cross-legged, mostly facing him. she sounds very authoritative--quite bossy, for a young lady.]

Well, first I need to tell you some stuff. Starting with the truth about my identity, because you really should have been more curious about me before you invited me into your house. What if I was a serial killer? Or, like, a vampire?

[she pauses, then adds:] If you don't have vampires where you're from, just ignore that I mentioned them entirely.

Very well, what are you, then, if not a...vampire or serial killer?

[He glances aside, uncertain of what to do. He hasn't felt like this since he was younger, and Berille was lecturing him over somesuch foolishness.

He missed her, in a way.]

[what a doofus. she feels a pang of uncertainty--that two-second window where she suddenly feels like a child talking down to someone much older and wiser than her--but she takes a deep breath and strengthens her resolve. this is for Dorian's own good. she likes Dorian, she thinks, and he's... useful, probably, and she feels bad for him. there are a lot of reasons.

not that she's got time to think them out. she's kind of going with her gut on this one.]

I'm a fairy. A sluagh, one of the Kithain. Do they have any of those where you're from?

[Dorian sits back, and his demeanor changes. He's not uncertain, but he looks her over, as if he's seeing her in a completely new light. He smiles a bit, and shakes his head.]

Decidedly not. Is that...is it like a spirit? Are you a spirit? Or a demon, perhaps? Do you come from a world beyond the physical? What about your human form? Why do you look like that? How old are you, really?

[Congrats, Krista. You just discovered the biggest nerd in the ENTIRE FLEET. He can barely contain himself, he looks rapt, almost giddy.

New magic?! YAY!]

W-What? [well, now it's her turn to look surprised.] No, I'm not a-- Wait a minute--

[the spell is broken. Krista is a teenage girl who has no idea what she's doing. she runs her hands through her hair, groaning.]

Oh my god, Dorian... Just... Calm down.

[He does settle down, but it's the kind of settling that is a wound spring being pushed into place and less actually calming down.

He nods.]

Forgive me. Please, tell me more.

[this is... not where she thought this was going to go, at all. they were supposed to be having a somber conversation! ugh, but... excited is at least... better than mopey...? SHE GUESSES?

so she rubs her forehead and takes a breath, and thinks of somewhere to start.]

Okay. Quick story time. Once upon a time there was this magical kingdom called Arcadia where everything was supposed to be perfect. Everyone was happy, everything was full of life and color and you could create things by thinking them as easy as you could breathe. All of the Fae Folk lived there, I guess. The important, consistent ones were called the Kithain, and they ruled the kingdom and everything was great.

Except--one day, for some reason, they got kicked out of Arcadia and were forced to live in the world of humans. The human world has two halves, uh, at least where I'm from. One half is the normal, totally boring human world where there is no magic and everything is structured and logical. There's also the Dreaming, which is everywhere, but also kind of on a different plane of existence than the mortal world?

[she's gesturing with her hands. layers. one on top of the other. she hopes this is still making sense, because she's started talking fast and isn't sure she can stop.]

It's where magic and imagination and creativity and stuff come from, and also where the Kithain now live. The only problem is that the mortal world keeps getting bigger and bigger, while the Dreaming keeps getting thinner and smaller, and Kithain can't survive outside of a magical surrounding for very long, so--!

[she suddenly points! and... takes a breath.]

So, when one of the Kithain would die, their souls started being reborn into human bodies. Most of them, anyway. I mean--that part's weird, but we can talk about that later. Anyway. That protects them from the banality of the human world while still allowing them to spend time in the Dreaming... and... so, these fairy souls wake up and remember themselves sometime during their human life, and then they, uh, decide what to do with the rest of their existences from there.

[...and, so, here she is.]

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