"Dreadfully sorry, I fear the wine's going to my head.
Did you say something about Andraste needing a saviour?" Two sets of masks and overpriced silks parted as Dorian Pavus slid between them, a crystal flute half-empty in his hand.
He shifted his body toward one Orlesian while casting a wink at the other. "Not that I'm terribly learned in theology, but I must admit my curiosity. So much
conversation about, don't you find?"
The two masked figures shared a look between them as the foreigner took a sip of his drink.
A third party that had been hovering nearby drifted off toward the main ballroom, leaving only the three of them on their corner of the balcony.
"And just what would a Tevinter know of Andraste?" The more slender of the two crossed their arms, head angled in challenge.
"Just the rumours, of course." Dorian flicked one hand in dismissal, an exaggerated gesture that almost caught the mask next to him.
"She escaped my countrymen, which is no small feat of bravery and cunning, I assure you. Caught the attention of the most powerful being in all creation, being that He created it and all.
Had a real dick of a first husband." He shifted his weight heavily, clumsily, from one foot to the other. The Orlesian that had spoken flashed a smirk at their silent companion --
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