Activate windows

Ever since the barrier had come down Deme had been even more stressed than usual, though he did his best to hide that fact when out in public. He often felt like a juggler who had too many balls up in the air.

His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and concerns, always spinning, always moving. Trying to appear calm and collected on the surface, while inside, he was anything but. What he really needed was to blow off some steam, and what better way to do that than to sneak out disguised as someone else.

He decided to don the persona of a traveling merchant, a role far removed from his own. With this disguise, he could wander through the city, momentarily free from the pressures of his real identity. Once he was set on what he wanted to do, and how he was going to disguise himself, he rushed off to tell Mal about his plan.

Mal! I need you! He called out as he poked his head into the usual places he expected to find Mal.

Rarely, Malachai was in his office reading through the various intelligence that had come from their forces stationed at the border. Ever since the Barrier had fallen life had become uniquely more interesting and testing, the few attempted crossings quickly seized and interrogated, providing curious accounts for them to investigate.

He looked up as the Archon’s head appeared around his door, the creases around his eyes deepening as Deme’s mood beamed through his features. Ah. It was another of those sorts of days. The line across his brow relaxed some, but he knew it would be short lived depending on the other man’s depth of eccentricity. It may be a simple easy night, or it could quickly devolve, but that was why Mal was there or at least why he was continually sought out. Deme had few close to him that he trusted, Mal and the Guildmaster of the Eye’s being the closest to him.

As Deme moved deeper into his office, Mal leaned back into the chair, bringing his hands together in a pondering steeple. And how may I assist you, Archon? A slight smirk curled at a corner noting the man’s attire. Are we auditioning for a play? The role of pauper Prince, perhaps, or the court jester?

Anyone else, these words may incur a swift death or punishment, but not Mal. There were too many secrets between the men to offend either with such frivolous words.

Deme, undeterred by Mal's jest, replied with a grin, Something like that, yes. I'm thinking more along the lines of a traveling merchant. Care to join me on this little adventure? His eyes sparkled with mischief, hinting at the chaos that could potentially ensue. He wanted to get out and live among his people, not above them for a change. It was hard to get into mischief if everyone saw you as the Archon.

I need some air, and some fun. This place has been far too stuffy since the barrier came down. I want to get out there, hear what people are saying, have some fun. There must be someone having fun somewhere in this city. He said with another grim and then started moving his head to music that was only in his head.

Mal let out a loud chuckle, head tipping while his brows rose in acquiescing to his superior’s demand. Though, there were a few details that needed to be adjusted before they wandered the streets of Minrathous. Of course I would, what servant of the Eyes would I be if I didn’t accompany the Archon. Though, might I make a few adjustments? You’re a tad… colourful to be just a travelling merchant. Taking his time to stand, Mal reached out a hand to guide the man back into his chambers and dressing area.

Following him, Mal would only take the lead when searching for something less… targeting, yet captivating enough for the eccentric mood of the day. It was a delicate balance some days, while most past relatively normally.

How about this coat instead, the fabric describes you more of a man of taste than crassness, yes? We don’t want to offend anyone with a clash in fashion. While he had diligently reported anything of note so far since the barrier had collapsed, Deme’s curiosity had spiked since visitors had been allowed entry. Yes, some fun indeed. Perhaps we’ll find a fresh bard, or a newly arrived merchant with wares, though I doubt their quality will match our exquisite craftsmen.

It wasn’t like Deme had spent a lot of time with travelling merchants, he’d been less thinking realistically about what they might wear and more thinking about his current rather outgoing and eccentric mood and what matched it. He tipped his head and agreed to follow Mal to see what the younger man had in mind. He trusted Mal, and although they weren’t without their occasional argument, it was never something that Deme held against Mal, one of the few people in Deme’s life that he didn’t mind if they spoke their mind.

Deme eyed the coat that Mal had picked out skeptically before shrugging and trying it on. You're right, this is much less conspicuous. He admitted, spinning around to get a good look at himself in the mirror before flashing Mal another grin. Alright, let's go see what we can find. Just then a thud came from across the room, Saxton the blind had entered and knocked his little protected head against the frame of the doorway, but undeterred the little cat meowed and tried again, trying to follow the sound of the voices and smell of the humans.

Well, first let’s get Saxton settled for the night. Have you seen his little stuffed mouse Mr. Jenkins? He usually carries it everywhere with him. He figured it would only be a ten or twenty minute delay to make sure one of his neediest cats was settled for the night before he went out on the town.

Curbing his excitement to have it seem it was his own idea, was becoming a delicate art for Mal. A lifetime spent in the shadows of the battlefield to then rise into one lurking in every home had prepared him, though he couldn’t keep diverting his attention when Deme’s mood took a violent swing. Too many plates to spin, yet, he couldn’t entrust anyone quite yet with the mans care during these times.

Mal’s wide smile was genuine, the coat did suit the man more and offered a more conspicuous appearance. See. It brings out the eyes more, and those are the true doorway to the soul… isn’t that the saying? Not that he cared about the answer, it was merely to keep the man engaged while they began to leave, only for them to be interrupted by one of the many cats.

Mal stiffened, already summoning more magic to suppress his allergy to the furry beasts. A weakness inherited from his mother since his father had no allergy. He let out a small sigh, nodding. I have not, as lovely as your… menagerie is, my senses don’t allow me to spend much time with them. Where do you think we should start the search for Mr Jenkins? Do we have an address? If it delayed them some, it wouldn’t matter to the two most prolific men.

Demetrius paused, his gaze softening as he looked down at Saxton. With a fond smile, he turned to Mal, his trusted adviser and friend.

Let's start with the library, Demetrius suggested. Saxton loves to nap there, and he often leaves Mr. Jenkins on the window sill or near the fireplace. If it's not there, we can check the study next. He has a habit of batting it under the desk.

He bent down, giving Saxton a gentle scratch behind the ears. We'll find your little mouse, old friend. Just sit tight for a moment.

Standing up, Demetrius turned back to Mal, a hint of determination in his eyes. Once we find Mr. Jenkins and get Saxton settled, we can head out. This evening will still be grand, just with a slight detour to make sure our furry companion is comfortable.

@Malachai Valentius

Mal wasn’t sure what the attraction was to the feline beasts, but whatever it was enraptured most around him. Perhaps because of his affliction he couldn’t see past the inconvenience they caused him to entertain any other feeling than disdain.

Let’s do that then, nodding to the man’s idea, he would know best of course. If it's under the desk then it is a simple retrieval for dear Saxton.

Striding towards the door, Mal paused at the threshold, waiting for his Master to cross through first. His advisor would grin at him. Now. Which desk? I highly doubt your library has only one. North or South? Though, depending how long this took they might avoid going out entirely, today seemed to be… unpredictable, Deme’s attention fleeting from one desire to another. Perhaps he could convince him to summon Lady Salvo instead, she danced well and the two could drink instead and enjoy her performance.

Regardless, Mal would defer to the man's whims, safeguarding him always.

Deme glanced at Mal, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk at his advisor’s thinly veiled exasperation. He enjoyed the playful exasperation Mal often displayed; it was a part of their strange but enduring dynamic.

Ah, the perils of my ever-expanding collection, Deme mused, his tone light. He tapped his chin thoughtfully, pretending to ponder the immense task of navigating his library. North desk, I believe. That’s where I last saw little Saxton.

He crossed the threshold, giving Mal a reassuring pat on the shoulder as he did. Don’t worry, Mal. If we’re lucky, Saxton will find it quickly, and we can return to more enjoyable pursuits.

As they made their way to the North section of the library, Deme’s mind did indeed flit from one desire to another. You know, Mal, perhaps just milling about the taverns around Minrathaus is a bit blah. A drink would be smashing about now, but a dance would be a splendid way to unwind.

He shot Mal a quick, mischievous grin. Despite his seemingly carefree demeanor, Deme was always aware of Mal’s dedication to his safety and well-being. It was a comfort to know his advisor and friend was always there, ready to navigate both the chaos of his library and the unpredictable turns of his whims.

@Malachai Valentius

His loyalty to Demetrius was only overshadowed by one event, one order that had cast doubt in Mal’s unwavering drive. It had been a revelation to discover that his mentor, Bhaal, a man who’d practically raised him to adulthood had fallen under the spell of the Venatori. It was the one time where Mal had hesitated, his weakness resulting in another injury and his friend's blood on his hands. Bhaal had needed to die, his crimes too heinous, there was no way he could live the remainder of his life behind bars yet the order had left a mark, cementing Mal’s position as Deme’s left hand of death.

He did not want Deme’s blood to join the many others staining his hands though. If a cure or treatment could not be found to stall or repair the caveats of the man's fragile mind… Mal wasn’t ready for the alternative.

He rolled his eyes as Deme teased him about the collection. The annals of the Archon went back countless Ages, some scraps even dated to their homelands founding, yet he was reassured his Master knew exactly how to narrow their search. Enjoyable pursuits? I can hardly say mulling around the.. fragrant strangers visiting is an enjoyable experience.

They’d meander further in and as Deme abruptly halted, speaking his mind the Chancellor could only offer a gentle chuckle, nodding, It is a long walk I’ll admit, there’d be no carriage if we were to keep our low profile. I do have a very nice aged brandy in my office, however. His grin broadened as Deme shot him with that look of mischief.

Let us check the desk for Ser Jenkins, then I’ll summon Lady Salvo to gather some ladies to entertain us all before dinner? It was preferable to venturing into the crowded streets. Mal was sure to have a heart attack if they managed to lose the Archon when out.

@Demetrius Arvina

Deme's mind often felt like a fragile tapestry, threads fraying at the edges, threatening to unravel completely. His grip on reality was tenuous at best, a delicate balance he struggled to maintain. The pressures of his position, the constant vigilance required, and the ever-present threat of enemies both seen and unseen weighed heavily on him. In these moments of vulnerability, he found solace in small, seemingly insignificant things. His 33 cats, each with its own unique personality, provided a grounding presence. They were his confidants, his silent companions in a world that often felt overwhelming. The simple act of caring for them, ensuring their comfort and safety, gave him a sense of purpose and normalcy amidst the chaos.

Deme appreciated Mal all the more for putting up with Deme’s cat obsession, especially since the man was unfortunately allergic to them, though Deme would often joke that one day perhaps he would discover an arcane magical cure for the malady that put an end to the affliction once and for all. This thought brought a small smile to his face as they reached the North desk.

Here we are, Deme said, crouching down to look for any sign of Mr. Jenkins. Let's hope our search is short-lived so we can enjoy that brandy and some entertainment. Then Deme paused and looked over at Mal. Hmmm, well it wasn’t what I had in mind at first, but I suppose there is something to be said for having some enjoyable pursuits come to our home instead of us having to go to the enjoyable pursuits. He reflected, then had an aha look on his face as he retrieved Mr. Jenkins from under the desk.

Found it! he exclaimed, holding up the stuffed mouse triumphantly. Now, let's get Saxton settled and move on to more enjoyable pursuits. He handed the toy to the cat, giving Mal a satisfied nod.

@Malachai Valentius

Fortunately for Mal, there were few of the feline horde that tolerated his company. A cure would be a novel thing, but not for himself. Demetrius had been a steady, well measured and calculative man once, someone Tevinter could depend on regardless of how he came to occupy the seat. The vultures were circling as it was with the collapse of the barrier and the opening, albeit marginally, of their borders to the outside. The balance enjoyed by those within the magical cocoon was now beginning to slip.

Think of it, Mal began, crouching to search under the nearby shelves, You can still wear that outstanding jacket, even better you won’t ruin it with some grubby serfs hands. Avoid possible food poisoning, or worse, a dalliance with some foreign woman who’ll claim in a month's time she’s carrying your child. It was a tad dramatic, but who would Mal be without some theatrics.

Lady Salvo is becoming quite the accomplished thing. Mal encouraged, brows shrugging, offering news of one of the states wards. I’m expecting a letter from the Grand Arcadia requesting she attend there and you haven’t enjoyed one of her performances in some time. You should see what they are making all the fuss about. Somewhere, along the road of illness, the weight of managing the household had fallen to him, but Mal refused to determine the possible future of what he could call a potential enemy.

The triumphant cry of Deme almost startled him and rising to his feet, Mal offered a small cheer, even raising his clenched fists to the sky in jest. Wonderful. Now let us head to my office and on the way we’ll call for Lady Salvo and refreshments. The sooner they were further away from the hair the better, he could feel his neck becoming itchy, unable to suppress the sudden sneeze either.

The walk back wouldn’t take too long and Mal would call an attendant to summon the young woman and whatever other ladies were available. By the time the two would arrive at his office Mal had reapplied the antihistaminic energy to rebuff the cat hair, the redness of his neck reducing its spread along the bare skin. I’ll just grab the brandy and then we’ll go back to the receiving hall.

@Demetrius Arvina

Demetrius listened to Mal's theatrics with a mix of amusement and contemplation. Adjusting his jacket, he mused, I suppose the same could be said for domestic dalliances, a faint smile touching his lips. Not that he went that far much, he still struggled with the death of his wife and child, so it simply wasn’t a place he could allow himself to go often, but that didn’t mean it never happened, as it often varied with his moods.

The memory of their loss was a shadow that lingered, influencing his decisions and interactions. Yet, despite the ache, he found solace in moments of distraction, like the prospect of attending Lady Salvo's performance. It was a fleeting escape from the constant weight of his responsibilities and grief.

As Mal led the way to his office, Demetrius followed, allowing his thoughts to shift towards the present. The mention of the Grand Arcadia intrigued him. It had been years since he immersed himself in the cultural vibrancy of their society, and the idea of witnessing Lady Salvo's talent was a welcome reprieve.

Entering the office, the familiar scent of aged wood and parchment greeted him. He took a seat, feeling the tension of the day ease slightly. Watching Mal reach for the brandy, he felt a rare sense of camaraderie. Mal's ability to lighten the mood, even in the most trying times, was something Demetrius appreciated more than he often let on.

I had no idea Lady Salvo was getting so much attention. I’m even more curious now to see her performance. He paused and then reflected on Mal’s service and friendship to Deme, it was valued more than he could ever truly put into words. I do appreciate you Mal, I don’t always say it, and I know I can be a handful at times…. In a moment of real clarity, he attempted to express his emotions, but the moment quickly faded, his face changed to one of mischief and mayhem Deme stood up and walked towards the door, eager for the evening to continue.

@Malachai Valentius

Well, she is a busy young lady and you are the Archon, Mal teased. If she’s not dancing she’s helping arrange the domestics of the household. The laundry, cleaning, food supplies even down to ensuring the incense is freshly set out. She’ll make a good Mistress of the House if, when she catches the eye of some nonce. There was an annoyance in his tone, despite him never having children he had thought the three brats under his care were as close as any. Ella had married for Family, though from all accounts it was going well, they had a babe between them. Malik and Seraphine, however, were a complicated affair given the family blood feud. Yet… there was hope still, eyeing Deme with a calculative grin. I think the boy likes her, deep down under that cold dead stare. He protected her when it mattered. I’ve ordered him home for a time… if you’d like to play matchmaker at any point, given they are your wards, do let me help.

The brandy acquired, Mal’s pace slowed when drawing up beside Deme. His eyes softened and with a gentle shake of his head the Chancellor sighed, ...You put me to shame some days, chuckling, I know you do, but I also know, had the roles be reversed you’d have me taken care of too. That, and I owe you everything. Watching the brief moment lapse back into mild confusion, Mal offered the man a nod, the smile under the mask fading a little.

Squeezing his shoulder they’d leave to settle down in the Receiving Hall, Mal pulling out a comfortable chair for the man before taking a seat for himself. The small table already had some refreshments prepared, glasses and bottled wine ready to be poured but ignored for the brandy Mal measured into cups. He’d glance around the space before them, noting the musicians assembled and the gabble of girls helping set up. He lingered on the lead for a few seconds, remembering what was being gossiped over and passed Deme his glass, grumbling, She is garnering a reputation as the entertainment to have at your event. If the Grand Arcadia doesn’t send in an offer of acceptance I will be questioning its legitimacy as a reputable institution.

@Demetrius Arvina

Deme watched Saxton with a fond smile as the cat trotted around them, Mr. Jenkins, the stuffed mouse, securely in his mouth. The little creature was clearly on a mission, determined to find the perfect spot to settle in for the night. [Look at him, so focused, Deme remarked with a chuckle, his eyes following the cat's determined movements. Saxton suddenly taking Deme’s focus away from anything else that Mal had said, which wasn’t altogether unusual.

As they continued down the hall, Deme let out a contented sigh. It’s the simple things, really, isn’t it? Watching Saxton make his rounds, ensuring everything is just right before he settles in. It’s like he’s got his own little world of order amidst all the chaos we deal with.

He glanced at Mal, his expression softening for a moment. You know, Mal, sometimes I think we could learn a thing or two from him. The way he goes about his evening routine without a care in the world, completely absorbed in the task at hand. There’s a certain peace in that, don’t you think?

As they neared the receiving hall, Deme’s mood seemed to lift further. The thought of the evening ahead—music, laughter, perhaps a bit of mischief—was exactly what he needed to unwind after the stress of the day. But of course, he added with a sly grin, we’ve got our own ways of finding peace, don’t we? And tonight, I have a feeling it’s going to be one of those nights we’ll remember.

Deme paused, watching as Saxton finally found a cozy corner, the little cat circling once before curling up with his mouse. "There we go," he said with satisfaction, turning back to Mal. Saxton’s all set. Now, let’s see what the rest of the evening has in store for us, shall we? His eyes sparkled with anticipation, eager to dive into whatever the night would bring.

@Malachai Valentius