inherit
The Redeemer
3
0
Sept 29, 2015 4:43:18 GMT
0
Dorian Pavus
12
July 2015
dorian
{"image":"http://i.imgur.com/ry2fcMj.png","color":""}
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Post by Dorian Pavus on Sept 10, 2015 3:00:42 GMT
Dorian sauntered toward the little gazebo in the gardens, fashionably late as usual. It was a pleasant enough day, as these things went; the sun was at least shining, giving the illusion of warmth to the day if doing little enough to genuinely raise the temperature of the air. How did Fereldans stand it? So high in the mountains, the peaks around them snow-capped even in the height of summer, the air was thin and cold and dry enough to suck the moisture from his lips within moments of stepping out into it. But at least the gardens smelled of flowers and herbs, and were quiet. If he squinted, he could nearly believe himself back in his mother's gardens at the Qarinus estate.
Cullen was already waiting when Dorian rounded the last little bend in the pathway and the stone gazebo came into view. Maker's breath, did the man live in his armor? Not that Dorian himself wasn't guilty of the same thing; Tevinter haute couture did run rather toward decently practical, functional armor, at least for mages. At least for altus mages. But at least Dorian's armor was of padded leather and layered velvet primarily! Not that great bloody tortoise shell of a steel breastplate Cullen insisted upon toting around with him everywhere.
Dropping into the chair across from the Commander, Dorian pulled out a small velvet bag and brandished it in the air almost teasingly for a moment before loosening the satin cord and spilling out a deck of intricately painted, vibrantly colorful, though somewhat worn, cards into his hands. The back of each was figured with a golden diamond shape. He set the deck on the table between them, fingertips resting lightly on the back of the top card.
"I thought we might try another diversion this afternoon, Commander," he said. "Chess isn't really my favored game."
And certainly his rationale had nothing to do with the fact that Cullen had soundly trounced him the last three times they'd played it.
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inherit
Commander
16
0
0
Cullen Rutherford
25
July 2015
cullen
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Post by Cullen Rutherford on Sept 10, 2015 3:18:33 GMT
Being early has its perks. Amber eyes watch movement from his seat in the gazebo as others flit about their way. The sisters in their gaggle prattle about this or that before ducking into the area in which a convenient statue to Andraste has made its niche. Cullen would shake his head at the idea of that surviving ( Or was it brought after? He never notice a requisition for it pass across his desk ) the destruction of Haven had he not frequented the pillar to seep strength of his own through these trying times. A thin sheen of sweat, despite the chill in the air, makes it known that he cannot, probably, regulate his temperature. It matters not, he wears enough armor to cover the aesthetically displeasing symptoms of his refusal to play a leashed dog any longer.
Being early also has its disadvantages. Dorian is always late, fashionably he adds with a mental flourish that belongs to the man he's learning to call a friend. He'd snort but he's rather not make a right fool out of himself. Time, alone, gives his mind too much to wonder. He's thinking about getting up and leaving the mage to do his own game when movement catches his eyes. Dorian. Late. As. Always. Cullen would sigh out his distaste for anything punctual but asking Dorian to be punctual was like asking the man to be up before midday. Alas, not everyone grew up in a Circle where daybreak meant shift change to relieve those of their nightly duties.
" Another diversion? " A blond brow perks, interest piqued. He doesn't blame the mage for wanting to step aside from their usual chess match. Cullen has been beating him ungracefully for the last few games. The man needs to soothe his ego. Unfortunately, the cards receive a blank look from the Commander. He holds little to no interest in such games. He attempted, back in Kinloch, but he had been so honor driven to protect that the others stopped inviting him when he would bet on games. Gambling wasn't his favored pastime, if he's allowed to comment on it, " It can't be favored when the game hasn't been in your favor for the past few games. " He'd laugh but the cards leave him a bit-- unsure. If he's allowed to be unsure of anything like this.
" Forgive me if I decline card games. They are not my... specialty. I doubt I even know how to play any games that you may know. "
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inherit
The Redeemer
3
0
Sept 29, 2015 4:43:18 GMT
0
Dorian Pavus
12
July 2015
dorian
{"image":"http://i.imgur.com/ry2fcMj.png","color":""}
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Post by Dorian Pavus on Sept 10, 2015 14:12:23 GMT
Dorian laughed gently, rocking his weight back in his chair and dipping his chin, keeping his eyes on Cullen. Such sass! He'd not known Cullen had it in him! How positively delightful. He waved one hand in an almost dismissive sort of gesture, giving no outward sign that his own pride was stung by his inability to ever beat the man at chess. It really wasn't his favored game, and he was woefully out of practice -- but then again, Felix had always beaten him, too. Somehow, he hadn't minded when it had been Felix.
But that had been Felix, who already respected him. Cullen -- was an unknown quantity, as yet. Dorian had been shocked to discover he genuinely cared about this man's opinion of him.
"Cannot have the Commander of the Inquisition's forces beaten at a game of strategy, can we?" he rejoined airily, for all the world as though he'd been letting Cullen win all along. "Certainly not by an evil Tevinter 'magister,' in any case. Bad for morale."
He leaned forward and lifted the deck, cutting and shuffling it with deft, quick, elegant movements of hand and wrist, a practiced sort of flair. The cards hissed from hand to hand, fanning out between his fingers. Nothing wrong with a bit of showmanship, surely? After a moment, he sorted through the cards -- he had enough in this deck to play Diamondback with four players -- and pulled out fifteen cards, setting the rest aside.
"Sounds to me as though it's time for you to learn something new!" he exclaimed. "Don't you Fereldans have some quaint saying about dogs and tricks?"
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inherit
Commander
16
0
0
Cullen Rutherford
25
July 2015
cullen
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Post by Cullen Rutherford on Sept 10, 2015 15:10:14 GMT
Cullen's brows only rise more in disbelief but he'll let the man have his statement. Then again, if the strategy advisor could not win at chess versus a man with no experience in moving forces, what kind of commander was he truly? Eyes roll as brows settle. Dorian is not a Tevinter ' magister ' as the Altus rant echoes in his head. Maker, his head gives him an echoing throb and he wonders if it's just him or is it suddenly brighter outside.
" Altus. If heard that particular rant enough times to know you're not a magister. For as much as you deny it, you certainly enjoy painting yourself as such. "
A short huff of amused air leaves his nose, a huff; if possible. Though, the next moment found his eyes encaptured by the way the deck of cards moved fluidly from one hand to another to shuffle. That was certainly new and certainly captured the man's interest. His hands shook too much now to be of any decency at shuffling more than cutting a deck. Amber eyes flick upwards, right into gray ones before brows furrow. Again. What is with the man and dog jokes? He's yet to have a dog, Maker's breath.
" And when I attempt to make you learn something, remember this moment, " Cullen makes a moment to lean back fingers moving to pinch the bridge of his nose to help quell the building pressure. He can make it look like an exasperation at Dorian's comment. He's become quite good at that-- passing off his symptoms as other, lesser things, " Teaching old dogs new tricks? I'm not old, Dorian. I haven't passed 30 yet. "
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inherit
The Redeemer
3
0
Sept 29, 2015 4:43:18 GMT
0
Dorian Pavus
12
July 2015
dorian
{"image":"http://i.imgur.com/ry2fcMj.png","color":""}
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Post by Dorian Pavus on Sept 11, 2015 15:19:40 GMT
Dorian's brows shot up and his lips parted in mock astonishment at Cullen's reply. He could see a peculiar sort of strain on Cullen's face and wasn't quite certain of its provenance and causes. The man overworked himself shamefully, that much was entirely certain. He needed to take rather more time for himself, and for such light diversions as these. Sometimes, Dorian wasn't sure how he'd ever convinced the man to begin playing chess with him in the first place, Cullen was so resistant to anything which wasn't directly related to his work.
"So you were listening! How novel. Given how your eyes tend to glaze over the moment I open my mouth, I wasn't sure!" he retorted. "And it's not so much that I prefer to paint myself as a Magister -- lovely mental image that, by the way -- as that everyone else does anyway and I'd simply hate not living up to their expectations of me." His voice was wry, self-deprecating. He barked a short, sharp laugh.
"It's not the years, it's the life in them, Cullen," Dorian added, lips flickering toward a slightly more genuine smile. "And it is quite nearly a crime that you can be not-yet-thirty and be unable to play a single card game! Andraste's mercy, however did you survive Templar training? Surely if there's a group prone to dicing and gambling, it's the military."
He sorted through the fifteen cards he'd pulled out of the greater deck, spreading them out in a sharp flick of his wrist like an Orlesian lady opening her fan. "Look, Diamondback is very simple; I'm certain a master of strategy such as yourself can pick it up in no time."
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inherit
Commander
16
0
0
Cullen Rutherford
25
July 2015
cullen
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Post by Cullen Rutherford on Sept 11, 2015 15:48:14 GMT
Cullen barely resists the urge to roll his eyes again. He does zone out of their conversations when the man begins to prattle and his mind is tilted more towards their game but he doesn't ignore the man. He merely knows when to listen and when Dorian is trying to fill the air with light hearted chatter as it becomes more known that the Commander is a man of very few words, more keen to listen than stumble over words that aren't meant to inspire an entire army.
" Dorian, of all the things I know about you-- living up to an expectation hasn't been one of them, " The tone bothers him, rankles his flesh as Dorian's sharp bark makes his limbs feel chilled. He cannot lie and say he's unaware of the rumors ( Mother Giselle, herself, stopped by to pay him a few words with his blooming friendship with the Tevinter man ) but that doesn't settle him to know the mage wishes to play into them-- if only for a rise. Fereldans were not one to take such things lightly. He wonders if he'll need to have someone watch the man in case someone tries, well, something.
" Again, cards were never my game, " There-- that is a better smile than the self depreciating one from earlier. His scar pulls as his lips attempt so some hint of amusement at the Tevinter's words. Oh, there wasn't much in the way of card training; the friends he had made found cards lack luster in favor of sparring or just idle, teen, gossip. Those had been simpler days when the worst thing he'd have to do was think about killing an abomination to protect themselves and their mages, " I was... different, back then. I didn't have time for tomfoolery. " His lips threaten to frown but he refuses to go back there in this moment. He has time for that later when the shadows can be mistake for the dead.
Amber eyes drop to the movement of the man's hands; cards shown before glance back up. Cards weren't just strategy. There was a fair bit of mathematics involved if he remember correctly. Still, he stays silent and gives a quick nod to alert Dorian to continue.
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inherit
The Redeemer
3
0
Sept 29, 2015 4:43:18 GMT
0
Dorian Pavus
12
July 2015
dorian
{"image":"http://i.imgur.com/ry2fcMj.png","color":""}
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Post by Dorian Pavus on Sept 14, 2015 22:36:06 GMT
"Perhaps," Dorian retorted with an arch to his brow and a crooked curl to his lips, "all the things you know about me are, in fact, wrong!" He laughed, a short, sharp, brittle sort of sound. Dorian considered himself an inherently honest sort of person; he very seldom, if ever, lied outright. That did not mean, however, he was a straightforward person. He knew what people expected to see when they looked at him, and it was generally just much easier to let them see it. Otherwise, it was an uphill battle and one he seldom had the energy for.
Really, the fact that anyone here tolerated him was remarkable. Kossala was an astonishing woman, though, and he supposed she had her own uphill battle to fight. A Qunari as the head of a Chantry-associated organization! it was positively scandalous. She bore it all with such grace, however; he rather admired and envied her that ability. His own moods weren't quite so stable nor so sanguine.
He laughed again. "Different?" he demanded of Cullen, incredulous. "You say you didn't have the time for tomfoolery in your younger years, and this is somehow meant to be different from how you are today? Commander, if there is one word which most clearly does not apply to anything you do, it is tomfoolery." Perhaps if Cullen were more prone to relaxation, Dorian wouldn't have to poke and prod him into taking even this bare quarter of an afternoon to himself, once a week. He shook his head. Tomfoolery, indeed. If the man were to work himself any harder, he'd begin to bleed ink from all the paperwork he signed daily.
"Diamondback is very simple," he began, spreading the cards out between them and touching them all in turn as he explained. "For two players, we have five Priests, four Kings, three Queens, two Priestesses, and one Magician. They are valuable according to their rarity, with the Magician being the best card, the Priest the worst. Each of us is dealt two cards, face down. Check your cards, decide whether you'd like to match the wager or fold. If you match the wager, you expose one of your cards, and I expose one of mine and initiate a new round of better. Based on the card I expose, you can decide whether to match the wager or fold. Best hand wins."
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inherit
Commander
16
0
0
Cullen Rutherford
25
July 2015
cullen
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Post by Cullen Rutherford on Sept 15, 2015 4:48:21 GMT
The Commander responds with a mere raise of his brow. He will not attempt to worm out why that reaction had taken place, there are few things shared between them that are genuine beyond the cursory discovery on one another's talents. Chess has been all that lead to small talk. There wasn't much Cullen had revealed to Dorian and vice versa-- only that the racism towards Dorian was, mostly, without cause. The idea nearly makes him frown but, surely, the mage would have a witty retort about his face freezing as such Cullen is sure.
Shifting, amber eyes leave Dorian's visage in favor of something other than the look that will inevitably cross his face as he says some comment on his personality as it stands. Of course, there are other things to witness in the garden. There are plants about them that Cullen can't fathom their survival in the harsh chill of the weather upon a mountain. However, he could surely do without the Rashvine that hangs precariously over the ledge where an unsuspecting person may bump into it. However, glancing at the plants can only do so much for his attention. The blond still catches the words he wishes to not hear. He's been trying so hard to be different-- no, the Tevinter did not know him in Kirkwall. He doesn't know the extent what Cullen was to make sure a call. He does not know what he speaks about and the Commander does not offer anything in its place. Instead, he turns his head back to the fellow man as he states the blond has never been someone for tomfoolery.
Oh, if only Dorian had known him when he was a child. Having three siblings could certainly bring about a variety of mischief in any.
" I... truly not wish to gamble. Is there a way to play without betting? " Eyes drop down to the cards, running over them before glancing up. The man shifts, moving to a more comfortable position that leaves him leaning slightly forward for a better view, " I think I understand? "
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inherit
The Redeemer
3
0
Sept 29, 2015 4:43:18 GMT
0
Dorian Pavus
12
July 2015
dorian
{"image":"http://i.imgur.com/ry2fcMj.png","color":""}
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Post by Dorian Pavus on Sept 25, 2015 16:43:31 GMT
"Play without betting?" Dorian exclaimed in mock horror. "But then however will we keep track of who's come out ahead? How will we boast of the prestige of it all? Don't tell me you don't enjoy winning; I've seen that smug look in your eye, Commander. Hm. I'd suggest making this into a drinking game, but I suppose it is rather early in the day for that yet -- for you, anyway. Tell you what; perhaps we play for favors, not coin. I confess myself all but penniless these days, in any case; my purse could use the break."
He rocked back in his chair, eyes on Cullen's face. The other man looked exhausted, with purple smudges so deep and dark beneath his eyes that they almost looked bruised; his skin seemed paler even than usual, drawn tight over his bones and pinched at the lips and brow. Dorian's eyes narrowed a bit; Cullen nearly looked outright ill, pushed quite nearly to his limits. Worry twinged in Dorian's throat, but it was clearly not his place to criticize nor advise.
"It's very simple, really," Dorian said, waving a hand a bit blithely. "There are fifteen cards in the deck, and fourteen possible hands of two cards each we can be dealt. The hands are assigned a point value, from the best hand possible, Magician and Priestess, at seventy points, down to the worst hand, Priest-Priest, at five. It's all a game of strategy and luck. Strategy ought to be familiar to you, I'd hope? For example, if I have a hand of Priestess and King, I know that there are only four hands which will beat it. Attempting to determine the odds of you actually having one of those hands will inform my willingness to up the odds and let the bet ride. Or I might have the worst hand imaginable and simple brazen it out, bluffing completely if I think I can fool you into folding. It's all very exciting."
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inherit
Commander
16
0
0
Cullen Rutherford
25
July 2015
cullen
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Post by Cullen Rutherford on Sept 25, 2015 21:04:04 GMT
"I've never been a fan of games that rely on luck." Cullen nearly scowls as Dorian prattles on about betting and keeping track. He doesn't care to keep track of their winnings or losings. The man is a friend and keeping tallies to hold over one another seems one of the least things he's ever wanted to do. He's not going to hold anything over anyone. Not anymore. But if betting is a must-- better with favors seems to be something the commander can do, "Favors within reason." He adds to cover the fact if Dorian lands in jail he can't use the Commander's sway to escape. Like Hawke did. Constantly. How she escaped such fates time and time again annoyed at best. It surely paid to be friends with Varric.
"Dorian, you're speaking-- I don't understand how this goes. Show me don't just tell me." His tone sounds click, rougher than he intends. Chess is easy. Well, easy for him. Cards is another matter entirely that involves outliers that he doesn't quite like. Bluffing. Maker. He can't lie to save his life. He's too blunt, too forward. Another reason among many to never play cards.
Between this and the exhaustion that tugs him in every direction but the present, he man resists the need to pinch his nose. Maker preserve him, this building headache will be the death of him. Nothing helps, either. He just needs a decent distraction where he doesn't have to think about the amount of work he'll miss if this ends up being a bad day.
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