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Location: Orlais
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Alias: planxty
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Character Age: 32
Race: Human
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Specialization: templar
Occupation: red templar
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Joined: 8-January 18
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Last Seen: Apr 11 2018, 01:59 PM
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Genevieve Marchand

Warrior

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Mar 11 2018, 11:01 AM
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-12 Kingsway- 9:27 Dragon<p>


Even though Genevieve now felt comfortable moving though the upper levels of Orlesian high society, in some ways it felt as though her world was still turned upside down: the rich and the powerful did things so very differently, and it would all get overwhelming. For example, Genevieve thought she knew what a wedding was like: a couple exchanged their vows at the Chantry, they had whatever sort of celebration they could afford, they consummated the marriage, and that was the end of that. The wedding of Comte Boucher, however, was a week long festival. A small army of guests and servants were all relocated to a beautiful estate in the countryside, and each night there was a feast, a ball, or both. They were only two days in and Genevieve was already exhausted.<p>

She loved playing the Grand Game, the celebration, and the high fashion, but all of the dressing up and keeping up a friendly social face (and sometimes outright lying) wore her down. What she craved was some quiet time to clear her head and be herself. Luckily, this afternoon granted her a few free hours. Luckier still, it was a clear warm day and the grounds had a large field set for archery practice.<p>

The bow was her weapon of choice, and the simple, repetitive action of target practice was calming and meditative. Aim, notch an arrow, release, repeat. Everything else left her mind. It didn’t matter that she had an awful time last night, or that she dreaded tonight's festivities, or even that her aim today was less accurate than usual. For now she was at peace.

@orchid

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<strong style=color:#732525>Warrior Speak</strong> <i style=color:#732525>Think Colour</i> <br>
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Mar 11 2018, 09:58 AM
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-4 solace- 9:41 Dragon<p>

Genevieve thought she had finished this chapter of her life long ago, but now she found that slipping back into the world of intrigue was just as easy as slipping into the blue velvet gown that hugged her broad frame. The old skills came back without much trouble, and she even found reconnecting with some old contacts was not the struggle she expected. The last time she moved through the circles of high society is was publicly disgraced, but coming back and showing interest in it again made her a curiosity, and Genevieve used that to her advantaged. “Wasn’t she the Baron du Moreau’s favored bard?” some would say. Or “What ever happened to her? I heard she joined the Chantry.” Or “How brave of her to dare to show her face here again.” If they were talking, they were interested. If they were interested, that would help get her into more places. Genevieve had her stories and explanations all laid out: she could tell the truth up through her discharge from the Templar Order, and after that she took her time to find her true path and sort her life out before realizing that she was truly meant to play The Game. In a way it was mostly true.<p>

Tonight, however, she didn’t matter. She was one guest of many at another more important person’s celebration. Baronet Fevre’s son was recently engaged to an upstanding and wealthy young woman, and he spared no expense to commemorate the occasion. It had been a little complicated, how Genevieve managed to secure an invitation. She went through a long line of meeting friends of friends of friends before finding a Chevalier who didn’t want to go alone. That was good enough for her, and these things got simpler once one had a good head start. She’d earn enough prestige to waltz in the winter palace in no time.<p>

However, there was some lingering anxiety about going back to this old lifestyle. Not long ago she saw this kind of life as forgivably indulgent and sinful, and to willfully return to it felt wrong. She reminded herself that this time was different. This time she had a purpose, a reason being here, and the knowledge and experience to keep herself room making the same old mistakes. A drink and a dance might be enough to chase away her fears.<p>

Or other concerns might do the same. Genevieve knew she would eventually cross paths with old rivals, but she didn’t expect it to be so soon. She should have avoided the damn woman altogether: gone off in another direction and found someone else to talk to, but something inside her craved a little conflict. <strong style=color:#732525> “Babette Auberjonois?”</strong> she called in a voice that was sickly sweet. <strong style=color:#732525> “It’s been quite a while, hasn’t it?”</strong><p>


@momo

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<strong style=color:#732525>Warrior Speak</strong> <i style=color:#732525>Think Colour</i> <br>
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Feb 18 2018, 09:13 PM
QUOTE (Genevieve Marchand @ Feb 12 2018, 09:24 PM)
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To be perfectly frank, Genevieve didn’t give much of a damn about the Baronet Faucheux’s forty third name day--and she didn’t give much of a damn about the man himself either, but she was still thrilled to be at the party and joining in on the festivities.  Maker, though, it had been ages since she had attended a proper celebration, and while she had once been sure she left that life behind, she still slipped back into it like not time had passed at all.  All the decorum and etiquette were easily remembered.<p>

Genevieve looked as though she was right at home too.  She wore a voluminous green and gold silk gown and had an easy smile on her face and a glass of wine in one hand.  One thing, however, was different from the old days: she was here simply to enjoy herself.  No lies, no intrigue, no ulterior motives hidden behind a smile...but she did have a small knife tucked secretly down the front of her bodice, just in case, but she doubted she would need it.<p>

She had already paid her respects to the Baronet and was now free to spend her time however she pleased.  Genevieve milled through the crowd with her head held high and an air of confidence as she looked for another familiar face, but she found herself feeling quite alone.  Had it been so long since she spent time in high society that she no longer knew the important people?


@Momo

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<strong style=color:#732525>Warrior Speak</strong> <i style=color:#732525>Think Colour</i> <br>
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Feb 9 2018, 09:06 PM

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<center><i>4 Cloudreach, 9:31 Dragon</i></center><p>

Genevieve was still new to The Game, still new to life as a bard and moving through the upper class: new enough that she was full of naive confidence and nothing but joyful enthusiasm for the lifestyle she was living. She had yet to experience anything to make her doubt her abilities, and thus she had managed to thoroughly convince herself that she was the best at what she did and had nothing to fear.<p>

To all of the guests at tonight’s soiree she was nothing more than an entertainer brought along by the Baron du Moreau, her performance was to be a gift for the hosts. She wore a mask with a peacock motif that reflected the Baron’s own, and the blue and green silk of her down draped dramatically on her tall, broad form. What no one knew (or, what they weren’t supposed to know) was that she was not only present to sing and dance but also to collect a little information on those very hosts.<p>

Years ago, the Linville family lost their holdings and most of their wealth, but within the past few months, they had begun to make outrageous shows of wealth, tonight’s party was one such example. Rumors abounded: everything from simple and believable explanations (like the family matriarch taking in a wealthy lover) to the complicated and outrageous (like secret involvement in organized crime). Genevieve was tasked with finding the truth, and while the Baron favored the more elaborate theories, she had yet to form an opinion.<p>

She didn’t have much time to work, just an hour before she was set to perform. Genevieve slipped away from the crowd to her work, and she had a number of excuses and explanations prepared just in case she was caught lurking somewhere she couldn’t be. <p>

<i>”Forgive me, I only wanted to find a quiet place to prepare for my performance.”<br>
”Oh dear, I seem to have gotten lost in such a large and lovely home, please, could you be so kind to help me find my way back to the party?”<p></i>

As she crept through the empty halls, Genevieve rehearsed those excuses in her head, but she was confident she wouldn’t need them.


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<strong style=color:#732525>Warrior Speak</strong> <i style=color:#732525>Think Colour</i> <br>
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Feb 4 2018, 05:51 PM
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<center><b>Mature Content Warning</b>
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This thread may contain sensitive subject matter including but not limited to strong language, blood, violence, substance use, nudity, and/or suggestive themes.
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<i>Content Tags: eating disorder thoughts and behaviors, substance abuse/addiction</i></center>

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<center><i>16 Haring, 9:40 Dragon, Montsimmard</i></center><p>

Genevieve hated winter. She couldn’t handle the cold like she used to (though, lately even the summer months left her at least a little chilled) and even if she could she didn’t have proper clothing or a warm place to seek shelter from the bad weather...at least the snow had stopped.<p>

The cold was the hardest part of her situation to bear, and it was the only thing that didn’t get easier to handle as time went on. She had grown used to feeling the lyrium cravings in every waking moment, and she never felt hunger any more. She never felt it, all her thoughts revolved around food and fasting. Yesterday morning she found a burnt roll discarded in the garbage heap out behind the bakery. She meant to only eat half but lost control and devoured the whole thing. It felt like a moral failing, like a complete loss of control that still dragged down her conscious. Maybe if she could make it until the next morning it would be enough to atone for her most recent failure and lift her low mood.<p>

Failure. One of many. She failed as a bard and as a Templar, and now failed at the discipline and self control in which she took so much pride. It was the only thing she had to take pride in.<p>

Lyrium did a decent job of keeping those nasty thoughts away, but she was unable to find any today. Walking around the town was the next best thing, something she felt overwhelmingly compelled to do even though her feet felt like heavy stones and her head felt dizzy. She had a routine that she had to stick to: once: two loops around the tavern, to the tree in the center of town, around the tree five times, three times past the brothel and back to the tavern, counting her paces all the way. The few times she stopped to think about it, she was sure that every person she passed by must think she was out of her mind: a sickly looking beggar woman pacing in circles and counting to herself. For that reason, Genevieve tried very hard to avoid thinking about it and simply allowed herself to act on her compulsions.<p>

Once around her circuit wasn’t enough to clear her head, and so she started over again. By now the sun was setting, and a few stray snow flurries fell from the sky again. Damn. She’d have to find a place to spent the night...and worse yet she lost count of her steps. <p>
@Raleigh Samson

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<strong style=color:#732525>Warrior Speak</strong> <i style=color:#732525>Think Colour</i> <br>
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