Dorian of House Pavus (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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thesphererp2019-01-23 01:22 pm
tevinteraltus) wrote in thesphererp2019-01-23 01:22 pm
Dorian » Memory Share; A Warm Family Reunion » audio; afterward
[You're quite certain you've no idea what you would do without Brionne. Aside from her being proclaimed a leader of a heretical group bent on saving the world from a mad cult and their would-be god, she has been nothing but open to you, she entertains you, she playfully returns your flirting with nary a care. She is quite the gem and has done nothing but prove herself a loyal friend since the two of you found yourself thrust into the future.
Such as now, when she chose to share with you a letter sent to a clergywoman at the castle, a woman who had attempted to convince her to trick you into coming to this Maker-forsaken "city" in northern Ferelden, to this tavern, to meet the family retainer. The tingle at the base of your spine tells you it's a trap as you step from the bright light of the early autumn day into the dimly lit...and completely empty interior. You cast a look about uneasily, though you're careful to keep your voice quietly flippant.]
Uh-oh. Nobody's here. This doesn't bode well.
[It's silly, really, to stay, what with such an obvious trap dangling an enticing bit of meat in yours and her general direction, but then that voice...]
Dorian...
[From the stairway. Your name, uttered by him, fills you suddenly with equal measures of uncertainty, loneliness, hopeful innocence, and abject betrayal. You turn, your gaze falling on the man against whom you have always compared yourself, you reply before your mouth goes dry from shock. He's here?]
Father.
[And of course he says nothing, standing there, grandiose and superior, so satisfied his trap had worked. You feel your features twist in a snarl, Brionne's presence at your back momentarily forgotten in the wake of this unexpected turn of events and your rising anger and quickly crumbling security.]
So, the whole story about the "family retainer" was just...what? A smoke screen?
[He comes forward, then, glancing first to you.] Then you were told. [And before you can retort, he turns his attention to Brionne, a comfort at your back, watching, by all appearances placidly, the exchange.] I apologize for the deception, Inquisitor. I never intended for you to be involved.
[Smoke screen indeed. You move, placing yourself in the way of his advance, between Magister Pavus and your dear friend. The anger was quickly winning the tumultuous battle within you. The audacity of this man, to come so far, to-]
Of course not. [You said, feeling every bit of the derision lacing your words.] Magister Pavus couldn't come to Skyhold and be seen with the "Dread Inquisitor". What would people think? [He moves to retort, but you speak first, anger fueling the speed of your words.] What is this exactly, Father? Ambush? Kidnapping? Warm family reunion?
[He sighs in that irritating way that he does, shaking his head.] This is how it has always been.
[Before you can speak, Brionne speaks for you. Defending you. It's so odd, having a friend stand up for you. Until now, you've always faced your father's judgment alone, even when Mother had been present. It was certainly steeling to one's resolve.] Considering you lied to get him here, Dorian has every right to be furious.
[Ironic, that. She defends you without question, not even knowing what it is that's driven such a rift between the two of you. You turn to her quickly, her ardor fueling your own.] You don't know the half of it, but maybe you should.
Dorian, there's no need to-
[He tries to stop you, of course he does, but for the first time in your life, you have support, a friend who's on your side, who's there, supporting you, who's willing to listen, no matter what, and you look to her over your shoulder. It is meant for her ears, after all.] I prefer the company of men. My father disapproves.
[She blinks, uncertain?] I'll...need you to explain that.
[Your temper momentarily gets the better of you and you snap back a vehement reply.] Did I stutter? Men. And the company thereof. As in sex. Surely you've heard of it.
[You feel immediately apologetic as her tone shifts, but you're in the thick of it now. There will be plenty of time to feel like a thorough ass later.] I just...didn't expect that.
[For now, though, your anger is powering nearly all of your thought processes.] Well, it's not as if I introduce myself that way. [You don't feel the jovial tone with which you deliver the next, but the irony isn't lost.] "Hello, my name is Dorian. I like men." [You sigh as the initial anger at this deception begins to fade and the old wounds begin to ache. Your relationship with this man who's seen fit to pull one of your only friends into your muck is far more complicated even than this.] Maybe I should start. Some days it seems that's all anyone cares about.
[You should have known he wouldn't stay silent forever. His always has to be the final word.] This...display is uncalled for.
[Uncalled for, is it? After...after everything? You turn back to your father quickly, once again giving him your full attention.] No. It is called for. You called for it by luring me here.
This is not what I wanted.
[Six words and that betrayal turned against you, becoming a stabbing dagger of boyhood hurt in your gut. Your voice is low, laced with venom.] I'm never what you wanted, father, or had you forgotten?
That's...a big concern in Tevinter then?
[Again her presence is a comfort, an island of reason in a sea of roiling emotion.]
Only if you're trying to live up to an impossible standard. [You turn to regard her over your shoulder as you explain.] Every Tevinter family is intermarrying to distill the perfect mage, perfect body, perfect mind. The perfect leader. It means that every perceived flaw-Every aberration-is deviant and shameful. [You turn back to your father then, the betrayal once again rising, clenching at your throat.] It must be hidden.
[To his credit, father casts his eyes to the ground, though you would highly doubt it was anything more than an act of guilt for the Inquisitor's benefit. Still, he says nothing. The air hangs, pregnant with something weighted and unspoken thing, for a moment before her voice once again fills the void.]
So that's what all this is about? Who you sleep with?
[But that question brings forth the fruit of the matter, and the hurt and betrayal threatening to suffocate you forces your voice to a whisper.] That's not all it's about.
Dorian, please. If you'll only listen to me.
[The silver tongue of Magister Pavus wants to lash, but you won't let it. You've inherited it, after all. Once, it would have honored you beyond reasoning to think you had something in common with this man, but now? You turn on him at his pleading, spitting your words and you step nearer.] Why? So you can spout more convenient lies? [You stop, glaring into his eyes so like your own even as you explain to this poor woman caught in the middle.] He taught me to hate Blood Magic. "The resort of the weak mind." Those were his words.
[You stalk away, anger mixing with your betrayal once again, strengthening your voice if nothing else.] But what was the first thing you did when your precous heir refused to play pretend for the rest of his life? You tried to- [The word gets caught in your throat at first, and when you force it out, your voice breaks through tears you won't give him the satisfaction of seeing, even if they are fueled by the pain of a son who had only wanted the love of his father.] -to change me.
I only wanted what was best for you!
[It would be laughable, really, if it weren't such a self-serving sentiment. It was enough to take that hurt and pain and force it back into the anger it should have been and you move forward quickly, your words leading the way.] You wanted the best for you. For your fucking legacy. Anything for that.
[The tears threaten to choke you again and you turn from the man you adore and despise in equal measure, not moving far, but catching yourself on a nearby table, leaning against the surface for comfort, stability, to get your mind in order again and control of your emotions. He always had this effect on you, this way of making you so furious and filling you with so much you couldn't think clearly. You needed a drink. Several, really.
And then she's there again, that comfortable strength at your shoulder, with her calming voice and her gentle reassurance and her...fucking logic you couldn't deny.]
Don't leave it like this, Dorian. You'll never forgive yourself.
[She's right, of course, and you know it. You'll spend the rest of the time saving the world wondering what your father wanted to badly it brought him from the safety of the north to the Tevinter-hating south. You meet her eyes for a moment before shoving down your emotions as best you can and turning back to your father. You do your model best to keep from sounding like a petulant child.] Tell me why you came.
[What you see in his face surprises you, but you don't trust it. Could it be? Remorse? From Magister Halward Pavus? Never.] If I knew I'd drive you to the Inquisition...
[You scoff, you can't help it. Of course, he believes this is his doing, that you are incapable of independent thought, that your only motivations are insult and rebellion.] You didn't. I joined the Inquisition because it's the right thing to do. [You meet his eyes, then, uncertain. Had his opinion of you really fallen so far? It...hurt, more than anything, and that hurt refused to be kept from your voice.] Once...I had a father who would have known that.
[Maker it is remorse, but he says nothing, and so you turn, take a few steps toward the door. What had Brionne thought you would accomplish?]
Once I had a son who trusted me. A trust I betrayed. [His words stop you and you turn back, incredulous.] I only wanted to talk to him, to hear his voice again, to ask him...to forgive me.
[Uncertain, lost, dangling over what feels like a precipice, you look to Brionne for guidance. Can I trust this, you wonder? She smiles, reassuring. You'll stay. You'll hear him. Perhaps the rock in your chest won't be as heavy, afterward.]
audio; un: d.pavus » After seeing his own broadcast
[Curse this mind bauble for its inability to keep emotion from your voice. Dorian's is thick with it, after all.]
I would ask that you all disregard everything you've just seen. I know I will. Unrelated, but does anyone know where one might procure something stronger than wine?
Such as now, when she chose to share with you a letter sent to a clergywoman at the castle, a woman who had attempted to convince her to trick you into coming to this Maker-forsaken "city" in northern Ferelden, to this tavern, to meet the family retainer. The tingle at the base of your spine tells you it's a trap as you step from the bright light of the early autumn day into the dimly lit...and completely empty interior. You cast a look about uneasily, though you're careful to keep your voice quietly flippant.]
Uh-oh. Nobody's here. This doesn't bode well.
[It's silly, really, to stay, what with such an obvious trap dangling an enticing bit of meat in yours and her general direction, but then that voice...]
Dorian...
[From the stairway. Your name, uttered by him, fills you suddenly with equal measures of uncertainty, loneliness, hopeful innocence, and abject betrayal. You turn, your gaze falling on the man against whom you have always compared yourself, you reply before your mouth goes dry from shock. He's here?]
Father.
[And of course he says nothing, standing there, grandiose and superior, so satisfied his trap had worked. You feel your features twist in a snarl, Brionne's presence at your back momentarily forgotten in the wake of this unexpected turn of events and your rising anger and quickly crumbling security.]
So, the whole story about the "family retainer" was just...what? A smoke screen?
[He comes forward, then, glancing first to you.] Then you were told. [And before you can retort, he turns his attention to Brionne, a comfort at your back, watching, by all appearances placidly, the exchange.] I apologize for the deception, Inquisitor. I never intended for you to be involved.
[Smoke screen indeed. You move, placing yourself in the way of his advance, between Magister Pavus and your dear friend. The anger was quickly winning the tumultuous battle within you. The audacity of this man, to come so far, to-]
Of course not. [You said, feeling every bit of the derision lacing your words.] Magister Pavus couldn't come to Skyhold and be seen with the "Dread Inquisitor". What would people think? [He moves to retort, but you speak first, anger fueling the speed of your words.] What is this exactly, Father? Ambush? Kidnapping? Warm family reunion?
[He sighs in that irritating way that he does, shaking his head.] This is how it has always been.
[Before you can speak, Brionne speaks for you. Defending you. It's so odd, having a friend stand up for you. Until now, you've always faced your father's judgment alone, even when Mother had been present. It was certainly steeling to one's resolve.] Considering you lied to get him here, Dorian has every right to be furious.
[Ironic, that. She defends you without question, not even knowing what it is that's driven such a rift between the two of you. You turn to her quickly, her ardor fueling your own.] You don't know the half of it, but maybe you should.
Dorian, there's no need to-
[He tries to stop you, of course he does, but for the first time in your life, you have support, a friend who's on your side, who's there, supporting you, who's willing to listen, no matter what, and you look to her over your shoulder. It is meant for her ears, after all.] I prefer the company of men. My father disapproves.
[She blinks, uncertain?] I'll...need you to explain that.
[Your temper momentarily gets the better of you and you snap back a vehement reply.] Did I stutter? Men. And the company thereof. As in sex. Surely you've heard of it.
[You feel immediately apologetic as her tone shifts, but you're in the thick of it now. There will be plenty of time to feel like a thorough ass later.] I just...didn't expect that.
[For now, though, your anger is powering nearly all of your thought processes.] Well, it's not as if I introduce myself that way. [You don't feel the jovial tone with which you deliver the next, but the irony isn't lost.] "Hello, my name is Dorian. I like men." [You sigh as the initial anger at this deception begins to fade and the old wounds begin to ache. Your relationship with this man who's seen fit to pull one of your only friends into your muck is far more complicated even than this.] Maybe I should start. Some days it seems that's all anyone cares about.
[You should have known he wouldn't stay silent forever. His always has to be the final word.] This...display is uncalled for.
[Uncalled for, is it? After...after everything? You turn back to your father quickly, once again giving him your full attention.] No. It is called for. You called for it by luring me here.
This is not what I wanted.
[Six words and that betrayal turned against you, becoming a stabbing dagger of boyhood hurt in your gut. Your voice is low, laced with venom.] I'm never what you wanted, father, or had you forgotten?
That's...a big concern in Tevinter then?
[Again her presence is a comfort, an island of reason in a sea of roiling emotion.]
Only if you're trying to live up to an impossible standard. [You turn to regard her over your shoulder as you explain.] Every Tevinter family is intermarrying to distill the perfect mage, perfect body, perfect mind. The perfect leader. It means that every perceived flaw-Every aberration-is deviant and shameful. [You turn back to your father then, the betrayal once again rising, clenching at your throat.] It must be hidden.
[To his credit, father casts his eyes to the ground, though you would highly doubt it was anything more than an act of guilt for the Inquisitor's benefit. Still, he says nothing. The air hangs, pregnant with something weighted and unspoken thing, for a moment before her voice once again fills the void.]
So that's what all this is about? Who you sleep with?
[But that question brings forth the fruit of the matter, and the hurt and betrayal threatening to suffocate you forces your voice to a whisper.] That's not all it's about.
Dorian, please. If you'll only listen to me.
[The silver tongue of Magister Pavus wants to lash, but you won't let it. You've inherited it, after all. Once, it would have honored you beyond reasoning to think you had something in common with this man, but now? You turn on him at his pleading, spitting your words and you step nearer.] Why? So you can spout more convenient lies? [You stop, glaring into his eyes so like your own even as you explain to this poor woman caught in the middle.] He taught me to hate Blood Magic. "The resort of the weak mind." Those were his words.
[You stalk away, anger mixing with your betrayal once again, strengthening your voice if nothing else.] But what was the first thing you did when your precous heir refused to play pretend for the rest of his life? You tried to- [The word gets caught in your throat at first, and when you force it out, your voice breaks through tears you won't give him the satisfaction of seeing, even if they are fueled by the pain of a son who had only wanted the love of his father.] -to change me.
I only wanted what was best for you!
[It would be laughable, really, if it weren't such a self-serving sentiment. It was enough to take that hurt and pain and force it back into the anger it should have been and you move forward quickly, your words leading the way.] You wanted the best for you. For your fucking legacy. Anything for that.
[The tears threaten to choke you again and you turn from the man you adore and despise in equal measure, not moving far, but catching yourself on a nearby table, leaning against the surface for comfort, stability, to get your mind in order again and control of your emotions. He always had this effect on you, this way of making you so furious and filling you with so much you couldn't think clearly. You needed a drink. Several, really.
And then she's there again, that comfortable strength at your shoulder, with her calming voice and her gentle reassurance and her...fucking logic you couldn't deny.]
Don't leave it like this, Dorian. You'll never forgive yourself.
[She's right, of course, and you know it. You'll spend the rest of the time saving the world wondering what your father wanted to badly it brought him from the safety of the north to the Tevinter-hating south. You meet her eyes for a moment before shoving down your emotions as best you can and turning back to your father. You do your model best to keep from sounding like a petulant child.] Tell me why you came.
[What you see in his face surprises you, but you don't trust it. Could it be? Remorse? From Magister Halward Pavus? Never.] If I knew I'd drive you to the Inquisition...
[You scoff, you can't help it. Of course, he believes this is his doing, that you are incapable of independent thought, that your only motivations are insult and rebellion.] You didn't. I joined the Inquisition because it's the right thing to do. [You meet his eyes, then, uncertain. Had his opinion of you really fallen so far? It...hurt, more than anything, and that hurt refused to be kept from your voice.] Once...I had a father who would have known that.
[Maker it is remorse, but he says nothing, and so you turn, take a few steps toward the door. What had Brionne thought you would accomplish?]
Once I had a son who trusted me. A trust I betrayed. [His words stop you and you turn back, incredulous.] I only wanted to talk to him, to hear his voice again, to ask him...to forgive me.
[Uncertain, lost, dangling over what feels like a precipice, you look to Brionne for guidance. Can I trust this, you wonder? She smiles, reassuring. You'll stay. You'll hear him. Perhaps the rock in your chest won't be as heavy, afterward.]
audio; un: d.pavus » After seeing his own broadcast
[Curse this mind bauble for its inability to keep emotion from your voice. Dorian's is thick with it, after all.]
I would ask that you all disregard everything you've just seen. I know I will. Unrelated, but does anyone know where one might procure something stronger than wine?