[Dorian, true to his word, is waiting outside the library. His stomach is growling. In hindsight, a bagel isn't really a substitute for a proper lunch and probably wouldn't have been enough to state him, but... principles, principles. He's tapping his foot impatiently when Stannis arrives.]
Now, I don't know if Valyria is a poor spelling of Val Royeaux, but I am still going to say no. You'll find that my accent is the stuff they write psalms about, not something that'd make you want to plug your ears and perish within a few minutes.
[Maker, they are such different people. He does a once over.]
Either you're Ferelden, or you're from another world entirely.
[ the man looks like a Salty Dornishman, though doesn't have a trace of the accent. curious. ]
I am from a place called "Westeros". Valyria was the land that some of my ancestors came from, and they had a habit of marrying brother to sister, before their whole civilization was destroyed by the Doom some four hundred years ago. Be that as it may, you do not particularly look like the ruling class of that city.
[ still, it would seem their worlds had a passing resemblance to one another. but back to the matter at hand. ]
...You required assistance in locating the thief of this "bagel"?
[ he is not about to ask what it is. his pride will not allow it. ]
But I do look like the ruling class of something. [He adds, because of course he does.] ... Don't answer that unless you're going to agree.
[Best not risk getting even more irritable. Dorian sighs, gesturing towards the hall that leads to the break room, then to the one in which Stannis came before he starts walking for the former.]
Yes. It was my only lunch, still perfectly in tact from my journey from the local cafe. It isn't the first time someone's done something like spit in my soup before, but I'd rather not see it happen again. Our salary isn't exactly a fortune, as you should know know.
Though you do not look much alike, apart from hair colour, sound like my younger brother. And would likely appreciate his manner of dressing. He was a Lord.
[ Stannis takes pride in looking as little like (former) royalty as he possibly can. this man... clearly does not. ]
I do not have any particular complaints about the pay, but it is dishonorable for a man to spit in another's soup, or to steal this "bagel". You have only discovered the crumbs? Can you be certain that is what they are from?
[ with luck, the man will explain what a bagel is without prompting. ]
[It's at that point Dorian realizes he has no idea what this man's name is. His username, yes, but his name? No. He isn't about to admit it, either. How long can they both of them do this song and dance.]
Yes, well, it was toasted. Quite thoroughly, black on the underside, but just right. Like a dragon swooped by and blessed my meal. [He's not helping.] The only other foods within were a few soft deli sandwiches, because no one working under this roof would know taste if they were hit over the head with a spiced cheese wheel.
A King, though before that I was a lord. My elder brother took the throne from Aerys Targaryen, the Mad King. As he died with no trueborn heirs, the throne fell to me, regardless of my personal desire for it.
[ he has not yet offered his name. though he supposes he should, as he only knows this man's network name as well. ]
I know not what the dragons in your world are like, but dragonfire leaves little left where I come from.
[ or, perhaps "bagels" are shockingly durable foodstuff. in that case, why would anyone eat one? ]
[Well that was... unexpected. Dorian looked Stannis over again, as if to judge if he really looks all that regal. He doesn't, really, but not so egregiously that he'll comment on it. Until it turns out he is the reason he's starving.]
You must be right at home, then. With Mad Kings and all. [A beat.] And the dragons. How big are they, in this... West...?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
Now, I don't know if Valyria is a poor spelling of Val Royeaux, but I am still going to say no. You'll find that my accent is the stuff they write psalms about, not something that'd make you want to plug your ears and perish within a few minutes.
[Maker, they are such different people. He does a once over.]
Either you're Ferelden, or you're from another world entirely.
no subject
I am from a place called "Westeros". Valyria was the land that some of my ancestors came from, and they had a habit of marrying brother to sister, before their whole civilization was destroyed by the Doom some four hundred years ago. Be that as it may, you do not particularly look like the ruling class of that city.
[ still, it would seem their worlds had a passing resemblance to one another. but back to the matter at hand. ]
...You required assistance in locating the thief of this "bagel"?
[ he is not about to ask what it is. his pride will not allow it. ]
no subject
[Best not risk getting even more irritable. Dorian sighs, gesturing towards the hall that leads to the break room, then to the one in which Stannis came before he starts walking for the former.]
Yes. It was my only lunch, still perfectly in tact from my journey from the local cafe. It isn't the first time someone's done something like spit in my soup before, but I'd rather not see it happen again. Our salary isn't exactly a fortune, as you should know know.
no subject
[ Stannis takes pride in looking as little like (former) royalty as he possibly can. this man... clearly does not. ]
I do not have any particular complaints about the pay, but it is dishonorable for a man to spit in another's soup, or to steal this "bagel". You have only discovered the crumbs? Can you be certain that is what they are from?
[ with luck, the man will explain what a bagel is without prompting. ]
no subject
[It's at that point Dorian realizes he has no idea what this man's name is. His username, yes, but his name? No. He isn't about to admit it, either. How long can they both of them do this song and dance.]
Yes, well, it was toasted. Quite thoroughly, black on the underside, but just right. Like a dragon swooped by and blessed my meal. [He's not helping.] The only other foods within were a few soft deli sandwiches, because no one working under this roof would know taste if they were hit over the head with a spiced cheese wheel.
no subject
[ he has not yet offered his name. though he supposes he should, as he only knows this man's network name as well. ]
I know not what the dragons in your world are like, but dragonfire leaves little left where I come from.
[ or, perhaps "bagels" are shockingly durable foodstuff. in that case, why would anyone eat one? ]
no subject
You must be right at home, then. With Mad Kings and all. [A beat.] And the dragons. How big are they, in this... West...?