Post by Séaghdha Lavellan on Jun 23, 2016 16:28:09 GMT -5
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So far, nothing was broken or on fire. Séaghdha called that a good start.
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He’d spent awhile greeting people as they came (it was far more exhausting than he remembered) until deciding if people really needed to say hello, they could come find him. Perhaps not the most genteel course of action, but he’d never been known for his courtly prowess. The elf was fairly certain his success at court was widely due to being considered an adorable novelty, anyway. Sadly, at his own party, he was less so.
[break][break]
Not that he regretted it. Summerday was always his favorite, and with everything in bloom and the weather warm, it was worth celebrating. The Skyhold garden he’d worked so hard on was especially beautiful in the dimming sunlight. He often spent time there when he needed to decompress. Even now, when full of people, it brought him a sense of comfort.
[break][break]
He hung back around the far walls, under the alcoves formed by the paths above. It had a nice few across the green, and the wandering guests weren’t gathered quite as densely on this side. It was nice, just quiet enough for him to cue in on the chatter and gossip that happened around him. Old habits, though it gave him a surprisingly pleasant sense of nostalgia.
[break][break]
Getting to admire the style of this season was another benefit of hanging in the sidelines. Séaghdha’d become accustom to the ridiculous fashions of the Orlesians, their boundless (albeit ridiculous) creativity something he’d actually come to admire. This season was understandably full of bright colors, reds and blues and purples. The other nice part about the vibrancy of Orlesian fashion was that he was always able to pick out the origins of his attendees. It was hard to mistake a Ferelden or a Marcher in the sea of voluminous silk petticoats.
[break][break]
He imagined he stood out in a similar fashion; after all, you could take the elf out of the Dalish, but never the Dalish out of the elf. The materials were fancier of course, but the designs embroidered on the velvet doublet were reminiscent of his vallaslin, the fine laced leather of his knee high boots and gloves reminiscent of their armor, and he felt more at home in a pallet of darker neutrals and natural colors. Formalwear did no favors for his preference to blend in.
[break][break]
Séaghdha stole one of the few empty stone benches, crossing his legs at the ankle and pulling his hair over his shoulder so he could twist it around his fingers as he watched. Sitting there in the shadows of the setting sun, he was imagined he could have at least a few moments alone.
[break][break]
Surely no one would go looking for a figure as ‘illustrious’ as the former Inquisitor in the shadows of the sidelines.
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So far, nothing was broken or on fire. Séaghdha called that a good start.
[break][break]
He’d spent awhile greeting people as they came (it was far more exhausting than he remembered) until deciding if people really needed to say hello, they could come find him. Perhaps not the most genteel course of action, but he’d never been known for his courtly prowess. The elf was fairly certain his success at court was widely due to being considered an adorable novelty, anyway. Sadly, at his own party, he was less so.
[break][break]
Not that he regretted it. Summerday was always his favorite, and with everything in bloom and the weather warm, it was worth celebrating. The Skyhold garden he’d worked so hard on was especially beautiful in the dimming sunlight. He often spent time there when he needed to decompress. Even now, when full of people, it brought him a sense of comfort.
[break][break]
He hung back around the far walls, under the alcoves formed by the paths above. It had a nice few across the green, and the wandering guests weren’t gathered quite as densely on this side. It was nice, just quiet enough for him to cue in on the chatter and gossip that happened around him. Old habits, though it gave him a surprisingly pleasant sense of nostalgia.
[break][break]
Getting to admire the style of this season was another benefit of hanging in the sidelines. Séaghdha’d become accustom to the ridiculous fashions of the Orlesians, their boundless (albeit ridiculous) creativity something he’d actually come to admire. This season was understandably full of bright colors, reds and blues and purples. The other nice part about the vibrancy of Orlesian fashion was that he was always able to pick out the origins of his attendees. It was hard to mistake a Ferelden or a Marcher in the sea of voluminous silk petticoats.
[break][break]
He imagined he stood out in a similar fashion; after all, you could take the elf out of the Dalish, but never the Dalish out of the elf. The materials were fancier of course, but the designs embroidered on the velvet doublet were reminiscent of his vallaslin, the fine laced leather of his knee high boots and gloves reminiscent of their armor, and he felt more at home in a pallet of darker neutrals and natural colors. Formalwear did no favors for his preference to blend in.
[break][break]
Séaghdha stole one of the few empty stone benches, crossing his legs at the ankle and pulling his hair over his shoulder so he could twist it around his fingers as he watched. Sitting there in the shadows of the setting sun, he was imagined he could have at least a few moments alone.
[break][break]
Surely no one would go looking for a figure as ‘illustrious’ as the former Inquisitor in the shadows of the sidelines.
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