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Dorian Pavus     An emptied tankard makes a thunk as its all but slammed down on the bar. This is not a drinking contest. Or if it is, Dorian's both the winner AND the loser. In this case, probably more the latter, because his eyes have that bleary look of someone who's been drinking for a while but isn't quite completely piss-drunk. Given the expression on Dorian's face, that's much to his regret.

    And what IS the expression on his face? There's a dark frown there, brows knit together. He's leaning heavily on an arm that's propped on the bar, and this sort of leaves him leaning sideways and looking very off-balance in general. Anyone who knows him will know there's something wrong merely by looking at him -- even beyond his defeated posture, there's a thing that makes it unmistakeable that there's something wrong.

    HIS HAIR IS MESSY!

    Obviously this is a clear red flag; Dorian NEVER lets his hair stay messy! At least his mustache isn't too terribly out of place. Though if it was, it would interfere with his consumption of alcohol, and that can't be allowed.
Inga Freyjasdottir As sometimes occurs, Inga has set out to wander the multiverse. Who knows what prompts her to do so, or go where she goes, but here she is. It's a tavern, somewhere, and she thinks she'd like a drink. She ties her horse outside and looks toward the doorway, suddenly feeling a pricking (perhaps at her thumbs!) that there could be an actual reason she is here, as is usually the case. Such serendipity is completely commonplace when one is a Seer.

She is still a bit surprised to see Dorian there at a table, drunker than she's ever seen and disheveled enough (for the impeccably neat mage) to be alarming. Staff in hand, she limps toward him and takes a seat at his table.

She doesn't say anything. Her expression says it all for her; something is obviously wrong, start explaining.
Dorian Pavus     Dorian looks in the direction of the movement when he notes the seat near him being taken. And he offers a wavering smile to Inga. "Greetings," he offers. A pause, and he notes the lowered-brow look. It takes him a few moments longer than it normally would. He chuckles. "I do look a fright, don't I?" His words are a little slurred. Not enough to not be able to understand, though, thankfully.

    Ordinarily he wouldn't have done this, but he trusts Inga. Also he's drunk. Instead of explaining, he reaches into his cloak and extracts a folded piece of parchment. He places this on the table and slides it over towards her. "Because this," he says simply.

    The parchment, if Inga wishes to look at it, is a letter. It's not addressed to Dorian. In fact it's addressed to a 'Felix Alexius'. It reads as follows:

    Felix Alexius,

    I do understand that you have misgivings about bringing Dorian to a secret meeting, particularly with me. With all you've no doubt heard from Dorian at this point, I can understand the dilemma all too well. This is difficult for me to ask of you, but as my son has rebuffed all contact, I can think of no other way. I know him well... he would be too proud to come to this meeting if he knew of it. I only wish to talk, to see to his welfare. The thought of him in this great Multiverse, placing himself in danger, alarms both his mother and I more than I can adequately express in words.

    If Dorian can be brought to this meeting, we will have a retainer there on standby, watching for his arrival. From there, the retainer will bring the boy to us, somewhere private, where we can talk undisturbed. However, if Dorian refuses to go with this retainer, you have my word that there will be no further attempts, and it will end there.

    Please, Felix. As Dorian's friend, you must help us with this. We are at our wits' end.

    Graciously Yours,
    Magister Halward of House Pavus
Inga Freyjasdottir Looking at him so out of sorts sets her on edge for some reason. Dorian is always so careful about his appearance. For him to look as he does, something truly awful must have happened.

She reaches accross the table and seeks to smooth down his hair, as if in some small way to make whatever it is better. Surely he will feel braver if he looks put together.

Inga takes the letter, looks at it, then looks to Dorian. She blinks. "Dorian, I cannot read," she informs him. Did he not know that she was illiterate? She scoots her chair closer and leans in. "Read it to me," she instructs.

Once he has done so, Inga looks thoughtful. Its a bit to piece together, but she knows Dorian's relationship with his family is strained. "So your father wishes to see you. I take it you have very little interest in meeting with him if the amount of drink you've imbibed is any indication," she comments. She remembers a vision she once had, however...

Inga sighs. She cannot influence him with that now. It would need to be his decision. "How did you get hold of this letter? As it was meant for this Felix?" she asks.
Dorian Pavus     ~* The letter is active, on a level that Inga can detect. The regular 'thump, thump, thump' of a pacing man's steps; feeling frazzled, fear and frustration, fighting against fate from outside and in. Stuck in the middle, knowing someone important's going to be angry no matter what. Inga can see him there in her mind's eye, pacing while a scribe takes down the words. He looks old, and not just because of his age. The feeling of fear, that he's about to fail, has taken a toll on him. *~

    Dorian, of course, has no idea what's going on with Inga's seering thing. He answers her question, though. "I have less desire to talk to him than I would to have a merry chat with a squad of Qunari spies," he states. As for how he got hold of it? "Felix is a friend of mine. He's the son of a magister I trained under after I was expelled from the Academy in Qarinus."
Inga Freyjasdottir If he's paying attention, Dorian would see the pupils of her eyes rapidly widen as she looks down at the letter, her finger still resting on a corner of the page. It is not the text she sees though, that is clear. Her black gaze is far off, another time and place. Her body is stiff as if she were carved of wood for a moment before the vision lets her go.

She shakes her head, knocking it lose from the forfront of her mind to bring herself back into the here and now. She looks up to Dorian, not unsympathetic, but now possessing something Dorian does not have. A view from the other side.

"Regardless. Will you meet with him?" she asks. For that is the important question.
Dorian Pavus     Dorian does indeed notice the weirdness with Inga, and blinks a bit. "...Inga?" he ventures. Since the letter seems to have served its purpose, Dorian returns it to his cloak. Though he needs a few tries because his motor skills aren't exactly the best right now, for obvious reasons.

    Ah, there she is. Dorian seems to relax when Inga asks the question. And he sighs. Tkaes a long drink from his recently-refilled tankard. "...I don't know," he admits. "I can't just 'forget' what he tried to do... how he was ready to sacrifice me for his standing with the magisterium..."

    That is... not something Dorian has actually talked about. Just that there was 'bad blood' between his family and him. He never went into detail exactly why.
Inga Freyjasdottir The people she spends a good deal of time with get used to this sort of thing. The people at Dun Realtai barely raise a brow now. They just know.

As Dorian clearly doesn't need any more drink, Inga takes the tankard and begins quaffing it herself. To save his liver, obviously. So kind and thoughtful, she is. "Now when you say sacrifice, I assume you do not mean kill you," she comments. "Tell me what happened?" she asks.

Hopefully he won't fuss too much that she took his drink away. She wonders if this tavern has any coffee, for she certainly won't be carrying him out of here, but she wouldn't leave him alone in this state either.
Dorian Pavus     Dorian blinks when he finds the tankard taken away. Once he realizes what's happened, he pouts. "How can I drink myself into a stupor now?" he asks. Though he also chuckles, so it's clear he's not too terribly upset by it. And he doesn't reach for it again, so there's that.

    However, that question draws the smile to fade. "...It had a chance of leaving me in a state where I'd be better off dead," he replies. "You see... Tevinter's families have been intermarrying to try to make 'the perfect leader' to carry the Imperium into the future. There was a wife selected for me. I elected to leave instead. Which I imagine she's just as happy about as I am, if I'm honest."
Inga Freyjasdottir Inga is glad he isn't an angry drunk, and gives him a smile in return for his pout. "I've come a long way, I'm thirsty," she informs him. He wouldnt say no to a thirsty woman.

Inga raises an eyebrow. "A woman you dislike? Or simply the being married off that you dislike?" she asks. While she's fairly sure a wife isn't his first choice of companions...well, people make all sorts of things work for the sake of stability.

"Tch...one does not breed a good leader. That's silly. Temperment has something to do with blood I suppose, as does charisma...but wisdom is not a quality one is born with and it takes wisdom to be a truly good leader," she says. Silly Tevinter...and most of medieval Europe for that matter.
Dorian Pavus     "Livia and I... we're too much alike," Dorian replies. "We'd be great friends, if our parents didn't insist on us starting up the baby-making factories together. Now we can't stand to be seen anywhere near each other, because if we are, we'll give our families hope that we'll eventually 'get busy'." His vernacular has been so very polluted by the modern era.

    As if to illustrate this? His next words. He sighs a little, folding his arms on the surface under him. "Besides that. Well. I should say our families are 'barking up the wrong tree', I believe is the saying," he hedges. "At least, in my case." Toph knew, what was the problem with Inga knowing?
Inga Freyjasdottir Inga can't help a chuckle at the coloquialism. She understands so many more of those these days! Mostly thanks to Harry. When she'd first met him she hardly understood what he was saying half of the time!

At that confession, Inga just blinks. "Well, yes, I imagine that would be difficult...but it is done. Agreements can be made. It is not ideal however, and I do not blame you overmuch for leaving to live your own life in the way you choose," she replies.

"The question stands however...will you meet with him?" she repeats. She'd like to hear his answer before she reveals her vision.
Dorian Pavus     Dorian sighs a bit. "If you'd seen my parents, you'd understand even more why I left," he said. "They couldn't stand each other. Which is, I expect, why my father's trying this now -- he and my mother can't stand each other enough to try again for a more 'acceptable' heir. And I doubt the Imperium would accept the help of science in a magical endeavor."

    Though... that is the 65 million sovergin question, isn't it? Is he going to go? "...I don't think it's a good idea, no," he says. "There are... other circumstances. I do still love my father... but I don't trust him. He made... arrangements that... well, let's say I'd find my life changing drastically if they came to fruitition."
Inga Freyjasdottir Inga has finished his tankard and signaled for another. She's started drinking, she may as well continue. "Ah, I see. I can't say that I knew my parents. Not so much as their names in fact. They left me to die so I'm sort of alright with it," she offers with a shrug of her shoulders. "Yet I think perhaps I was more fortunate, in the end."

"Other circumstances?" she asks. "I'd say you are in a good place now to make your own decisions. You've escaped, but your heart is still there, isn't it? If what you truly want is nothing to do with your father you may have it....but I do not think that is truly what you want," she continues. "If it was, this would be easy. This letter would not unsettle you if you were not at least considering it."
Dorian Pavus     This bit of news surprises Dorian. "Left you to die?" he echoes. "What do you mean? Why would they do that?" The concept of 'have strong baby or leave it for beasts to devour' is one that's utterly alien to him, so it doesn't occur to him.

    Here, though, he pauses, trying to think. Which is not easy, since he's more than a little drunk. "It's not that simple," he admits. "I still love my country, too. It was once great... the center of Thedas, once. Now? Every child in Thedas is taught that all mages in Tevinter are magisters, and all magisters are cackling villainous clichés, like some stupid antagonist from a child's bedtime story. It can be better... and I want to figure out how to MAKE it better. But if I go back..."

    Pause. He frowns, clearly angry at something. "...My father disapproves of my... tastes. And I don't mean in ale. So he..." Pause. How to explain it? "...Do you remember the book I gave you for that winter holiday a few years back, yes?" He means the book of Thedan blood magic. "My father always taught me that Thedan blood magic was not something that the proper mage relied upon. 'The resort of the weak mind', he called it. But that's what he was going to do... a blood magic ritual. One that... could have killed me. That was, ultimately, why I left."
Inga Freyjasdottir "Perhaps yours was a bit of a kinder world than mine, or you were luckier," she says with a smile. "I was born...crooken. Weak. Clearly my parents did not think I would survive. Perhaps they thought it was a kindness...or maybe not. I will never know. I do not know who they are and I have no desire to find out. I was found in the woods by the old woman that raised me--she was a Seer like me. She knew I was chosen," Inga explains. There's no warmth in her eyes when she speaks of her parents, but there is sadness in her gaze when she mentions her mentor. Long gone, just like everyone else. Bones dust in the ground. "I wasn't as weak as they thought evidentally, I've made it this far and it turns out I'm not entirely useless," she says, raising the tankard once a full one arrives.

Inga listens then, shaking her head. Her lip curls briefly in disgust for Dorian's father's actions--and maybe for his disdain of blood magic. Tch! It is different on his world, she knows, but she can help feeling a tad insulted. "I can see why you would never wish to see or speak to him again. That is...truly dispicable. I will say this however; your father does not hate you. What he hates is his own fear...and that fear is not a creature that was simply born inside of him. It was placed there, probably by his own parents... and nutured. It was a terrible thing he tried to do...but it makes me sad, mostly, for he's a slave to his fear. I think that he has realized that," she says, looking up to meet Dorian's eye.

Her own gaze is unnervingly intense. She's a small woman, and crippled, but that's a look that has made many a warrior step back.

"I had a vision of your father. Do you want to know what I saw?" she asks.
Dorian Pavus     Dorian listens to Inga's tale and explanation, and frowns. "I've never known anyone to do that," he said. "Give a child to others to raise, yes. Magister Caritas, a magister who lived in Minrathous, even let his slave mistress keep her child, despite the scandal. He became one of the most talented dancers in Tevinter, in fact." He gives a smile, though. "Good. I've always approved of spitting in fate's eye whenever possible."

    He sighs a bit when she talks about his father, though. "I believe he doesn't," he admits. As for who put the fear there? "Tevinter itself put it there. I'm a loose end to their careful selective breeding, an abberation. In Tevinter, no one wants to acknowledge their own flaws. Anything outside the 'status quo' is seen as an abberation, and is therefore shameful."

    Though he blinks at the mention of a vision of his father. "You did?" Another blink. Then... he nods. "I have a feeling I'm not going to like it, but yes. 'Better the trouble you know', hm?"
Inga Freyjasdottir Inga laughs at the mention of fate. "Fate's eye can not be spit in. It is far too complicated." Take it from someone who knows! "It was not my fate to die there," she says, then looking away. "Or at all, it seems."

"Tricky. My land certainly had its own prejudices that upon examination make very little sense. I can see that, with offspring being so prized it might be...inconvenient. However, that is certainly not the way I would have gone about the situation. It just might take a bit of...creativity..." Inga trails off, because that is an awkward conversation at the best of times! Nor does it matter.

Inga takes a drink before she tells him of the vision. She is able to recount it now without suffering its grip once more. "I did not seek to sway you Dorian, but as I can see you are torn on this issue...I thought you should know what it was I saw--and what I still see. It could be an opportunity to mend a bond--or it could not. It could lead to more animosity...but I ask you, what have you to lose, really? You have a place among people who accept you. You need not live that life. You must know that it is your choice to put yourself through the pain of staying involved. Of trying to make Tevinter better. You must weigh that against the pain of knowing you didn't try."
Dorian Pavus     "I don't know about 'fate'," Dorian replies. "Maybe our choices are just stacking the deck, who knows? I'd feel far too inclined to give up if I thought I didn't have control of my own life, though." Though here he tilts his head. "I don't know about offspring being prized, so much as it's a waste of a resource. Particularly when many of the families in Tevinter that have been made to intermarry can't stand each other. Hard to make a child with someone if you hate them, yes?"

    He goes quiet then, listening to Inga's account of the vision. He seems almost... frozen somehow. She does have a point -- he's already gone from there, it's not like he can be MORE gone from there if things don't go well. But there is something. "My concern is... well. Tevinter is not full of morally-upstanding people. This COULD be a trick. He could have an army there waiting to drag his precious playing piece back home."
Inga Freyjasdottir Inga blinks, frowning softly. "For a woman, it is not hard at all. Often she is given no choice in the matter," Inga replies.

"As for fate, it is not as people think it is. It is flowing, changing with every moment, every decision made...the threads are always in motion, very rarely set. Sometimes, the destination is all but inevitable...but there's always some room for deviation. Almost always, anyway. Very rarely have a seen something that will absolutely happen," she explains.

"That is a logical concern, yes. Which is why you should almost certainly bring people with you. I volunteer, for whatever it is worth. I can be quite a handful," she says, gleam in her eye. "I am sure Harry would also volunteer. Others too. Some regular muscle to add to our magical muscle."
Dorian Pavus     Dorian frowns a little at the words of a woman not being given a choice in the matter of child-bearing. "Sometimes a man isn't, either," he notes. That was, after all, part of the problem. But there are slightly less unpleasant things to talk about! He listens to her explanation of fate. "Major events have to remain unchanged, but how they happen is open? The 'what' has to stay the same but the 'how' can change?"

    The mention of bringing people with him gets a nod. "A good idea. I know of a couple of people who'd qualify for 'muscle'," he remarks. "So, I suppose I can go and hear what this man of my father's has to say." More brightly, "If it's a trap, we escape and kill everyone! I know people who are good at that."
Inga Freyjasdottir "Mmm, it is so," she replies.

"There is free will...your decisions have an influence on your future. Fate is not set in stone. It is a tapestry being woven, the strands that go into the tapesty being chosen from a myriad of threads available. Some are more likely than others. They have a stronger pull, a larger...presence. But even that can change. Only on a few occasions have I seen someone's fate arrive in the same general place in all paths I have looked to. It is a strange thing to see--those are the people, generally, who are involved with things much bigger than themselves. The chosen of gods, for instance."

Inga laughs then. "Yes, we know plenty of such people. I would bring my own blood magic. I think it must be quite different from what they do in Tevinter."
Dorian Pavus     "Hm... interesting," Dorian replies. "The insight is appreciated. And it's comforting to know we're not all 'on rails', as the expression goes." It goes in post industrial worlds, of course, since trains are a relatively modern-ish invention. But anyway.

    He nods to her words of blood magic. "It is," he confirms. "Yours can be used for benefit. Most blood magic in Tevinter tends to be used only to further someone's own aims." And then he chuckles. "Well, what say we try to find our ways home? I can probably walk you there." He makes to stand, and stumbles. "...Or you could walk me home, whichever works better."
Inga Freyjasdottir Inga laughs. "No, not at all on rails. If I could show you what it is like...well, it would probably be very confusing. Especially now, as you are /quite/ drunk," she tells him. She's had a couple herself, but seems no worse for wear, despite her petite size.

Inga makes to stand as well, and for once, it maybe a bit better at it than Dorian. She takes her walking stick and then offers an arm to Dorian. "I have an even better idea. I brought a horse," she smiles. Jodis can carry them both, and if Dorian needs to sleep it off on her couch, well he wouldn't be the first nor the last.