Moments

Moment of Satinalia

"She can't get in much more trouble. The day's almost over and we're out of brontos," I tried to reassure myself, but Bull only shrugged. That's what I was afraid of.

The masses moved apart as if by magic and a sparkling white dress crossed the new canal. "Darling!" Vivienne called, her arm draped across an older noble who wrinkled his nose up at the smells of our little tavern.

I turned towards her and tried to hide my drink behind me. Even then I still felt the condescending eyes of Vivienne's companion judging me.

"My dear, you simply must meet Monsieur Rocqfort," she cooed, pulling the man towards me.

I held out my hand and he glared at me as if it were diseased.

"This is the Inquisitor," Vivienne continued.

"Charmed," Rocqfort answered, before turning to Viv and speaking in punctuated Orlesian. Her cold face never wavered but it was easy to pick up on the background whine of a man forced to brave the dregs of society. He even gestured to his shoes as if he'd waded a river of shit to approach the fabled Herald of Andraste. Hm, maybe we should try that next time. Want to ask the Inquisitor a favor? Cross the bog of crap first.

Vivienne talked over the man's whining and smiled at me, "Dear, my Rocqfort is having the time of his life."

Rocqfort snorted and I coughed to hide my smile.

"It is impressive what you could conjurer up given the limited nature of your upbringing," Vivienne continued, speaking as if I'd only wandered out of the wilds a few years ago having kissed my adopted wolf mother goodbye.

"That's all Josephine's doing," I answered truthfully, "If it were up to me we'd have gathered all the nobles together and watched them fight to the death. Winner gets crowned Queen of Satinalia."

Bull laughed, gurgling into his mug until the bubbles sloshed over the side.

"I see," Vivienne said, the frost thick in her words.

"Oh, and pie. Lots of pie."

"Pie's good," Bull said, "Can't go wrong with pie for holy days."

"Not for eating," I said, waving my head, "We'd put them on everyone's chair and have them sit on it. The person with the filthiest pants wins."

"You have a curious approach to celebrations," Vivienne tried to save face in front of her guest.

"Just what someone of my upbringing would come up with," I finished. The bite in my tongue was matched by the burn from the alcohol guiding my words.

"Indeed..." But the cloud passed and Vivienne's face cracked in all smiles, "Come, Rocqfort. It is nearing the hour of the moon and we should join the others in the chapel."

"Thank ze Maker!" Rocqfort exclaimed, waving his hands in the air in praise. Vivienne guided him past the other nobles who'd have been all for my pie idea and probably come up with some better debauchery.

"Andraste, preserve me," I muttered to my hands.

Bull shook his head, tossing off one of the cracked masks, "Have you tried hiding yet?"

I glanced at him through my fingers and asked, "Is there a single crevice of Skyhold that isn't crammed full of nobility ass?"

But a new voice answered me, "No, there is not." The bald head of our elven apostate poked around the back room. Solas was far less ruffled than I expected, his back straight and that ivory sweater still pristine. He took the bartender's place. We'd lost that man three hours into the celebration and feared we'd never see him again. Minaeve was taking up a collection for his memorial.