Prompt: "There are certain moments where I consider you someone with brilliant ideas and a good future. This is not one of those moments."
This chapter contains spoilers for Dragon Age Inquisition.
Florianne nods, listening to a Tevinter merchant speaking about a meeting with his friends from the Magisterium. She only agreed to talk to him because he's wealthy enough that he surely has connections. Even so far away from home Florianne feels the need to get to know the right people that can later prove useful. As important as this merchant appears to be, it doesn't change the fact that he's so dreadfully boring it's difficult not to yawn.
She glances at the man standing near the tall window. Erimond looks as bored as she feels. Noticing he holds a bottle in one hand, and a glass full of wine in the other, Florianne swears in her thoughts. It was supposed to be a pleasant evening. Now it seems she'll have to do something before the magister embarrasses them both.
Livius Erimond is back in Vyrantium after his failed attempt to turn the Grey Wardens into a demon army for Corypheus. His family paid a lot of gold to save his life. It was rather generous of the Inquisitor to spare him, considering his crimes. But it seems that Erimond doesn't appreciate his family's efforts to bring him back home. It's good he's the eldest son, the heir; Maker knows what would happen if he was the youngest child. He'd surely spend his remaining years locked up in Skyhold.
Florianne's eyes move back to the man by her side. She continues to talk to the merchant for another while, looking at him with a polite smile that doesn't reach her cold eyes. Deciding she's had enough of listening to his atrocious attempts at speaking Orlesian she thanks him for a wonderful talk. Before she walks away, she touches his shoulder and leans in just so he later remembers the sweet smell of her perfume. It's important to have friends, especially so far away from Orlais.
As she walks across the room, holding her head high, the expression on her face changes. Tevinters don't wear masks, but Florianne plays the Game well enough to always know what people expect from her. Feeling eyes following her every step, some curious, some jealous (she is, after all, a mysterious Orlesian noblewoman), she walks forward, smiling to those who openly stare at her.
Erimond merely glances at her as she stops next to him. He pours himself another glass of wine, then sets the empty bottle aside with a disgusted noise. Florianne, still with a smile on her lips, takes the glass from his hands. She drinks the wine, ignoring his angry glare.
She quickly inspects his clothes, looking for any imperfections. He's wearing a fine Tevinter robe, with too many buckles and belts for her taste. It's something that people here consider fashionable although she would use a different word to describe it if anyone asked her.
"Are all Tevinter parties so dull?" she asks in an innocent voice.
"I invited you here but did you come here as the Grand Duchess or the Inquisition's agent?"
Florianne laughs, covering her lips with a gloved hand. He tries to sound angry; usually his anger is quite amusing but now she feels more and more annoyed.
"You invited me? I invited myself. Let me remind you that I had to spend all afternoon convincing you to come here."
"And for what?" he asks, twisting his lips into an ugly snarl.
Florianne lets out a sigh. It's tiring, responding to his petty anger. Instead of enjoying Tevinter, making new connections, seeing everything this country has to offer for a wealthy person such as Florianne, she has to deal with a brooding magister. She came to Vyrantium two days ago, and so far she's only seen Ermiond's estate because he's so fascinated with his liquor cabinet lately, he doesn't have time for anything else. He wasn't particularly thrilled to see her, but Florianne didn't come to Tevinter to watch him drink himself to death.
She should leave this foolish man and go back to Val Royeaux. It's difficult to say why she wastes her time on him, but she's willing to give him one more chance.
"There are certain moments where I consider you someone with brilliant ideas and a good future," she pauses, giving him a significant look. "But this is not one of those moments."
She may be lying but perhaps just enough compliments will work. Words are all she has now. She can't yell at him to stop moping and slap him in the face in front of all these people. But if he insists on being so irritating Maker knows she will, once they're alone.
She puts the half empty glass on the table next to the bottle. Erimond is looking at her with doubt in his eyes, clearly not quite believing her.
"Everyone here is watching you because you're the one who fought against the Inquisition and survived. Show them that even the almighty Inquisitor could not defeat you."
"The Elder One is dead," he hisses, anger colouring his face red. "The Inquisition won."
"They merely won one battle. Don't forget that there are other games we can play."
Perhaps the smile on her lips is genuine this time. It works well enough that Erimond looks intrigued. She says nothing else, this isn't the time and place for explaining her skilfully crafted intrigues. There's still one thing she wants to do while they're here.
"Ask me for a dance, and let's give these people something to talk about."
After a moment of hesitation he offers her his hand. Florianne narrows her eyes and smiles with satisfaction.