sweetestsins

The Sweetest Con [ rabidbacon and sweetestsins ]

σρнєℓια тяєνєℓуαη

Ophelia fought to keep her well-bred manners in check despite the utter insolence radiating off of the raider captain in front of her. At first, she was willing to hear the woman out — but now? Her patience was growing thinner with each lilting word disguised as a petty insult that dropped from Alba Selvaggio’s mouth. Though she let the woman finish her speech, Ophelia easily picked up on the half-truths and deflections littered throughout.

The pale-haired woman was incredibly keen, more than Ophelia might’ve expected from someone who spent all their time on the seas. What sort of education would such a person have under their belt? It couldn’t possibly be street smarts only that kept this woman sharp as a whip — or sea smarts, as it were. Ophelia was an objective woman, she really was. She did not judge as freely as her family did. Yet it was hard for her to believe that this … pirate talked with as much discernment as a person of her own background would.

With a too-forced benevolent smile, Ophelia finally rose from her throne and clasped her hands together over her midsection. “That is quite enough, thank you, miss Selvaggio. While you are a wonderfully sordid storyteller, I believe I have gathered enough information to make my verdict.”

Tearing her eyes away from the striking woman, who unnerved Ophelia so profoundly that she made a mental note to look under her bed before sleeping that night, she faced the mass of people and projected her voice for all across the hall to hear: “Alba Selvaggio of Rialto, you are hereby exiled back to your homeland, along with the rest of your crew.” A smattering of conversation exploded among the people below her but she continued her judgment without faltering. “The Inquisition will seize all of your assets, ship including, and you will have to find an honest way of living. Guards, secure her back in the cells — they shall be released in the morning under my supervision.”

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нуα¢ιηтн уєννιη

Hyacinth surveyed him with an air of stilted curiosity, wondering how exactly his time in the Circle may have altered his judgment. The mage-templar war had begun as mere complaints, as whisperings in shadowed corridors until the pot boiled over and rose to a blazing fire. What was happening in Skyhold right under the Inquisitor’s nose could set aflame if they didn’t tread carefully.

“Give me some time and I could track down the hidden stores,” she replied in a hushed tone as she stepped up to a door that led directly to the main hall. “Save your forces for now — this would only work covertly, not with brute strength.” Her words died as a deeply-accented voice boomed out from the hall.

She halted, reaching one hand behind her to stop Cullen from moving ahead. That was the Antivan prisoner Ophelia had brought back only hours ago. Had they already begun the trial? Training her ears to hone in on what was being said, she leaned against the wooden door and knitted her brows together, deep in concentration.

This Alba character, as Hyacinth had gathered from Leliana earlier in the day, was a pirate, and one with a glib tongue. From the sounds of it, the pirate was not so subtly questioning the power and authority of the Inquisition. No one seemed too inclined to halt her haughty speech, and yet, there was something interesting to note here …

Turning to Cullen, her eyes were alight with pure pleasure. The Inquisitor, as usual, had improperly judged a prisoner. Exile, and law indeed, mattered not to those who engaged themselves in criminal activity. Chances are the pirates would come back and hit ten times stronger. But Hyacinth would not allow it to get to that level. She may not be as smooth with her words as the Antivan was, but she sure could be persuasive when she needed to be. “I think I know how we might secure those supplies.”

The Sweetest Con [ rabidbacon and sweetestsins ]

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Ophelia kept her shoulders squared and her back straight despite the revelation. She had known, or at the very least assumed, what the odd assortment of vagabonds really were. From their eclectic, patched clothing to the windswept greasy hair, everything about them screamed pirate. But what was she to do with this information?

With a raised brow as her only flicker of discernment, she scanned the woman in front of her. “Tell me, Alba Selvaggio of Rialto, have you any say in your defense?” She had heard the pirate’s claim of innocence only hours ago but she was curious if there was anything else she might have to say for herself and her crew.

The mention of her company’s unsavory dealings with merchant companies had her on edge. Realistically, Ophelia should cut off her hands, or seize her ship and all her valuables inside, but the mere thought had her shifting uncomfortably in her stiff throne. There was another option, something so morally questionable that it would likely cause an uproar, but she had to consider all her choices. After all these years playing as a puppet under the eyes of the Empress, and now being spearheaded by the lesser people as a token of faith, she knew it was utterly impossible to keep everyone satisfied. She would make the decision that would provide peace in the long run, not light a flame of false hope that would burn her at the stake when things went haywire.

“I would like to hear more of these unseemly practices with the balance sheets. Selvaggio, if you would tell me your own personal accounts, so I may fully weigh all factors tying into your final judgment,” Ophelia spoke clearly and calmly. It didn’t escape her notice how Josephine sent her a fleeting skeptical look, but she kept her eyes on the callous pirate in front of her.

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нуα¢ιηтн уєννιη

With the last lingering mage out of sight, Hyacinth shot out of the shadows and cast Cullen a disapproving glare. “I know all of them, it is my job. The short pasty one that was yelling in the middle of the crowd - that is Merren. She hangs out by the stables eyeing the Warden fellow all day,” she snorted as if she couldn’t possibly understand the infatuation with such a man. “And the elven man I bumped into? His name is Ryvalle, and he has only joined us recently. One of the stragglers from Alexius’ former team.” She shrugged as if none of this information really mattered.

“The leader is the least of our concerns.” Throwing her hood back, she stepped directly into the moonlight and faced the Commander, the jut of her high cheekbones glistening under the night’s starry skies. There could be no official confirmation on whatever they had witnessed that night. The mages were angry, as they were likely to be regardless of their outcome, the finicky beings they were, but Cullen had made a good point. If the Inquisition appeared to be weak, the mages would poke and prod to expose them.

“I shall alert Leliana of the concern, though we don’t have enough information for a full report,” she explained as she began walking out of the courtyard. “I have been overseeing these meetings for a fortnight and nothing has come out of it yet. Only complaint after complaint. We should prioritize their concerns, not dismiss them. We are in need of lyrium, and the upper council is failing to negotiate a proper resolution with the dwarven merchants, from what I hear.”

From what she’s heard from the dwarves themselves. They weren’t exactly quiet about their demands, and about their dissatisfaction with the inability to secure a favorable deal between both factions. The issue lied with those in power, not with the people who were in need of those resources.

The Sweetest Con [ rabidbacon and sweetestsins ]

Hyacinth is sm like Leliana, she would just execute all prisoners & then bye bye Alba 💀

The Sweetest Con [ rabidbacon and sweetestsins ]

absolutely having a blast playing ophelia rn, she’s not the best fit for inquisitor and i think it’s hilarious

The Sweetest Con [ rabidbacon and sweetestsins ]

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“What have you done now, Inquisitor?” Cassandra huffed the moment a council meeting was called, late into the evening. With Leliana and Josephine taking up their rightful position on either side of the oversized mahogany bureau, Cassandra had filled the last spare seat, usually occupied by Commander Cullen. Ophelia decided she would inquire about him later.

“It was purely coincidental, I assure you.” Ophelia tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, meeting each of their concerned stares with a confidence that didn’t quite match her shaky words. “We stumbled across this old inn — how it balanced on that steep slope, Maker only knows — and it was freezing outside, so we entered as one does. And what would you know, a whole ship of pirates and raiders filled that place.” Ophelia clucked her tongue. “A fight broke out, a woman died, and we left with the culprits. They await their destiny in the holding cells, may Andraste have mercy on their souls.”

After her rambling speech, not once stopping for breath, the others displayed a mix of reactions. Josephine, bless her heart, stifled a smirk whereas Leliana hyperfocused on the yellowed, cracked map pinned down to the table. Only Cassandra seemed wholly unamused, a quirk of one brow betraying her irritation with Ophelia.

“And you did not … exacerbate said fight?”

Ophelia pouted indignantly. “Of course not!” She protested, throwing her hands in the air like a child who’s been denied a tin of imported chocolates. “I was an esteemed lady as always. I did not even have to restrain Sera this time.” With a furtive glance at Leliana, who had finally shifted her expression into her usual neutral one, Ophelia sighed deeply.

“Okay, perhaps our announcement as the Inquisition had something to do with the following commotion. But —“ She stuck up one manicured finger, pausing for effect, “Now we have saved the seas and coastal towns from those ruffians. Cassandra, would you —“

Her reply came abruptly. “No. You will lead the investigation. With all due respect, Inquisitor, this is your responsibility now. The throne is yours and now you must wear the crown, no matter how heavy it may be.”

And so it was, Ophelia thought glumly as she perched her bottom on the uncomfortable stone and metal chair, more of a bronze bench than a proper throne. When this trial was over, she’d have to see about getting a replacement. “Bring the prisoner forward.”

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нуα¢ιηтн уєννιη

With the sun nearly set, Hyacinth donned a thick brown cloak, keeping her long hair loose underneath the hood to conceal her too-long, too-sharp ears. Not that it really mattered; elves and humans alike meandered the gardens, each of them wearing robes in various shades and styles. Some were fur-lined to combat the chilly Skyhold air, others were silk or cotton linens.

She easily sidestepped a city elf, marked by his unremarkable plain face, just as her own. He sneered at her but she pushed through the crowd, much larger than it had been two nights prior. That was to be expected, but the mass seemed to have doubled in size. This did not bode well, not at all.

“You stick out like a sore thumb, do you know that, Commander?” She breathed out to the stiff shadow in the shrubbery, his stance giving him away as one of a soldier, not a fellow mage. “We might have to report on this. They are multiplying far too quickly.”

With the group now encircling the gilded statue of Andraste, Hyacinth strained her ears to pick up on the murmured conversations. Crouching low, she darted from bush to bush, unbothered that she likely resembled a crab as she used her open palms to support her weight while crawling on the dewy grass. She had left Cullen a few paces behind — without proper training, the training that only a seasoned assassin such as herself would have, he would make far too much noise and she preferred he clung to the shade. He would be more of a witness than anything else on this night.

“They’re holding out on us, I tell ya!” One woman exclaimed from the center of the horde, too short to be seen but loud enough that her booming voice carried across the grounds. “I seen them dwarfs carting a dozen wooden crates in here just last week! And what is inside of them, do you reckon? OUR lyrium!”

Hyacinth’s eyes nearly rolled out of their sockets. Yes, they had been receiving weekly lyrium shipments, that much was true. But the reality was that their supplies were dwindling; less and less was being imported each month. The cost was only rising and the Inquisition was struggling to cut a deal to satisfy both parties. If they weren’t able to secure a contract soon, there would be no lyrium to distribute whatsoever within the next month or two.

It didn’t help that the Circles stockpiled lyrium by the droves, claiming they held utmost priority with their forces of templars and mages. It was a never ending political struggle, it seemed.

The Withered -- An Interest Check

Interested! Looking forward to when you reveal the rest of the world and how exactly it operates.

The Sweetest Con [ rabidbacon and sweetestsins ]

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With a great attempt, Ophelia's gracious smile did not falter once. In truth, she could not determine if the woman was playing a role, one who seemingly did not believe in consequences, or if this was truly who she was -- a jest in every sentence she spoke, and yet harboring not even a flicker of emotion in dire circumstances. A woman's throat had been slit in front of her and she did not even blink. Ophelia knew she would implement a request to have the tavern closed as soon as she made it back to Skyhold. An establishment as fickle as that one could not allow to stand so near to her home, or anywhere, really. It was simply barbaric.

"You will be provided a ration of water and stew while in the cells. Should your sentence prove favorable, then you may be allowed in our tavern. Cadot will set you up rather nicely, so I'm told." She hardly found reason to step inside such a place. Bars were not to her liking and she preferred to keep her business away from prying ears. Shifting closer to Alba, who was still at the front of the group, Ophelia took note of the calculating gleam in the woman's blinding stare. It was much like peering directly into the sun and she dropped her gaze a split second later.

"I know little of ships, though I am well-versed in geography and overseas procurement. You need not bother yourself with the Inquisition's status or position." Up ahead, billowing blue-and-gold banners waved at the group from the near distance. Ophelia spread her hands wide as the stone bridge and heavy metal gates appeared soon after. "We are doing quite well, I assure you," she proclaimed confidently, waving away the prisoner's unfettered concerns. Alba may have considered herself to have a silver tongue, capable of talking her way out of sticky situations or attempting to gather information with nothing more than an imploring stare, but as the Inquisitor, and as a woman from a highly-regarded noble family, she could smell the farce a mile away.

How many years had she suffered through the Orlesians silly games, always saying one thing but meaning something entirely different? One wrong move, one incorrect verbiage or phrasing, and you were cast out. She had learned what the quirking of pretty, painted lips signified; could feel the conversation shift with the slant of a kohl-lined eye, or the fluttering of a fan over a heaving, restrained bosom. She knew all the signs and knew when to play dumb. So she smiled coyly at Alba.

"You will meet Cassandra momentarily. Forgive me, but the bonds will not be removed until after your talk with our Seeker. I will not be present if that concerns you." As they stepped through the open gates, the guards blinked in a moment of confusion but immediately recovered. They had been expecting a party of four, not a party of ... well, a dozen and a half, at the very least. Ophelia stopped the taller woman in her tracks, tilting her head in unbidden interest. "Should you have any issues, take it up with the cell guards." With a curl of her fingers, Blackwall was at her side in an instant, still shouldering her hefty bag while the others drifted off to their respective posts. "We will meet again soon, Alba. Whatever story you spin, let it be a good one."

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нуα¢ιηтн уєννιη

A deep frown etched into her otherwise impassive features as Commander Cullen marched over and thrust the rationing sheet in her hand. She jerked away on instinct, surprised at the warmth in his touch even through his thick wool gloves. She shoved the paper deep into a spare pocket of her leather breeches. Her shift for the day would soon be over, and she made a mental note to stop by Fisher's cot in the infirmary tower, something the Inquisitor had erected not even a fortnight ago.

"I harbor no great love nor hatred towards mages and yet ... I am concerned about the possibility of mutiny," Hyacinth admitted as she worried her bottom lip with her teeth, one palm outstretched on the door behind her. "Well, in any case, I should like a second opinion before involving the Inquisitor in their mess." She shook her head, dropping her gaze from the too-stiff soldier before her. "Perhaps next time she finds herself stuck between a rock and a hard place, she will consider other opinions and not implement a decision based on what feels right to her." This time, Hyacinth did roll her eyes. As capable as Ophelia Trevelyan might be, her decision-making skills were not quite up to par. Were Hyacinth in charge, the mages would not have been considered an option -- no, she had half a decade to learn just how volatile mages were, and she was no exception to that rule.

First, however, she would notify Leliana of her whereabouts that night. Not that she expected anything of note to happen tonight: more complaining, likely, with the boldest ones declaring their intent to show the world their true power which signified no real action, as usual. "When the sun goes down, meet me near the pavilion in the gardens. The others will form around the altar so we will stick to the shadows. See you then, Commander."

She grinned once, almost feral, and dipped out of his room. Fisher was only two doors down. Hyacinth ignored the other scouts littering the walls, stopping momentarily to deposit the rationing sheet with the healers. As she expected, Fisher was in deep slumber, flipped on his stomach to avoid irritating the open wounds on his back. With a grimace she quickly exited and found Leliana last, notifying her of the small group of mages gathering in the courtyard at night. "I suspect nothing beyond talking shall occur, but I will update you nonetheless." She failed to mention Commander Cullen would be joining her. Had he not inquired on unsavory business and troop morale, she would have continued to attend the late-night rendezvous alone; but he, along with the other advisors, had standards to uphold. He needed to see with his own eyes how his people were faring.

oc x cc fandom rp - advanced lit

bump!! still searching for a twilight or hp partner to rp with <33

The Sweetest Con [ rabidbacon and sweetestsins ]

Same with Ophelia, unfortunately. She's very new so I'll have to make her a playlist! In the meantime, I'll also be creating Ophelia's pinterest board so I'll keep you updated :) And anything you have for Alba, I'd love to see

The Sweetest Con [ rabidbacon and sweetestsins ]

you said you had playlists, right? were there any you wanted to send me for Alba? i’d love to get a good feel for her character, if you have anything specific!