(no subject)

[magicalfisting]

[Fenris has only been in Kirkwall for about a month, but he is the talk of the town. A foreign noble with strange tattoos, moving into what had been a previously empty mansion. Nobody is likely to actually check up on the story, he hopes. But he's intriguing enough to the rest of the nobles in this place that he knows there's been snooping, gossiping. Pathetic. As if anyone couldn't just mind their own business.

There's a distinctive frown on his face as he surveys the party before him. Brightly colored lords and ladies moving about together, loud and obnoxious as they drink and dance and gossip behind their soft hands. His teeth grit together. What is he even doing here? Lord Fenris Hunt, what a joke.

His fingers clench into fists.

They're a joke, too, this entire crowd. But he is here, as he was implored to be.

The man notices her then, walking just slightly behind her older sister, the lady Marian Hawke, heir of the Amell line. For the moment, the girl's name escapes him, but she is... Beautiful. Softer than her sister, who is more a man than most of the others in this room. They're business partners, something that surprised the nobility. A man and a woman working together, but Fenris has never really cared what people had to say.

His eyes go back to her, though, the younger sister.]

Comments

[passive]

[Bethany has, of course, heard the talk. It's pretty hard not to. And she's intrigued, of course... it is, again, difficult not to be. She's asked her sister about him, the mysterious lord, but in typical Hawke fashion, she can't get a straight answer. "Don't know, don't care" is the gist of it. As long as they make good business together, which they do, it's no one's business.

That doesn't make her any less curious.

But she is here to mingle, to socialize, to help her sister wiggle her way into the good graces of Kirkwall's nobility. If she's lucky, she might be able to court a man and forge an alliance for her family, ensuring that all their hard work doesn't go entirely to waste.

That won't happen, though. The lady Marian Hawke is an oddball, the talk of the town as much as the foreign tattooed nobleman is, and one who worked her way up from rags to riches. Few are willing to take a chance on them. Not that Bethany minds; these people are all so full of themselves. So dull. She'd thought being a noblewoman might be a little more exciting.

Eventually, she excuses herself from a particularly stuffy Orlesian duke and strolls over to him. What better way to get to know him than to find out for herself?]

Lord Fenris. I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting properly. [A curtsy and an amiable smile; she's better at playing the part of the lady than her sister.] Bethany Hawke.

[magicalfisting]

[She catches him completely off guard, of course. On and off, Fenris had been watching her. No, not watching. That phrasing made it seem as though he was spying on Hawke's younger sister, and he certainly hadn't been. He'd simply been keeping an eye on her, for his partner's sake. She is a beautiful woman among the dredges of high society. More eyes on the younger Hawke girl wouldn't be harmful.

Still, when she approaches him, he had been in a mostly stifled conversation with his overly flirtatious neighbor, a few decades his senior. The old woman had moved on a split second before Bethany's approach.

There's a pause before he nods in response. No smile, but he doesn't scowl, at least.

He's heard that scowls aren't particularly friendly.

Bethany. That was a name that should not be forgotten.] Lady Bethany. I don't believe we have. [It takes him a moment to remember that nodding isn't the proper greeting. Stiffly, he bows and takes her hand, lips brushing over the knuckles.

It's just the tiniest bit awkward.]