The tumblers inside the lock could hardly be heard over the pitter of the rain falling about his shoulders. What a wonderful time of night to go visiting, Ashton though as he locked the door to his shop. Still under the awning that led into his shop, he gazed out into the rain and heaved a big sigh. A marvelous night indeed. So it was with some resignation he flipped the hood of his cloak and adjusted his grip on the brown paper bag and it's contents in his hand. He then dove into the rain, running towards his mark, the local shifty dive bar, the Hanged Man. A couple of minutes and splish-splashes later, he found himself inside the bar, dripping wet. He knocked back the hood and sighed, once again, and began looking for his target. She shouldn't be that hard to find, considering her smile would light up the bar.
"I understand, Varric. I'll see what I can do," Nostariel promised, rising from her seat and returning the amicable dwarf's farewell. Stepping out from under his doorway, she contemplated the noisy main room of the bar for a moment, then shook her head. She'd rather not deal with all the people and the noise this evening, though she did feel very much like partaking in some of the ale. That job for Thrask had torn open more than one sluggishly-bleeding old wound, and it was something she'd be much better off forgetting. She was going to head straight back to her room when the door swung open, admitting a familiar face. Well, it would be rude not to acknowledge him, anyway, so the Warden stepped out to the middle of the top stair and waved, a somewhat shy effort that at was at the very least visible. Ashton was one of those people that she had absolutely no idea what to do with or how to predict. Not that it was necessarily a bad thing; it just left her feeling very often flat-footed or surprised and slightly awkward in his company. Considering that those were times she wasn't morose and abjectly miserable, that might be a good thing.
He didn't have to wait long, as Nostariel waved to him from the stairs. The rain dripping from his shoulders nearly evaporated from the sight of the Warden, or some such poetic nonsense. Seeing how he was not a poet, he decided to not compose a serenade right then. Sure, forward he may have been, but even he knew there were boundries. At the sight of the pretty little Warden, Ashton unclasped the cloak around his shoulders and tossed it on on the bar. If luck willing, it'd still be there by the time he left. If not... No harm really. It was a rough thing, made by himself, for himself, with only one purpose in mind. Keep him dry when the day was wet. He took his leave from the door way and slipped through the crowd on the way to the stairs.
The dive seemed to be a lot more active than usual, probably due to the rain outside. People looking for somewhere to escape it probably. And what better place than a place that sells ale by the barrel? Sure, sure, they all ran the risk of partaking a little too much and end up drowned in a gutter somewhere, but hardly anything could get in between a man in his ale. Not even Ashton. He made a point of slipping through the crowd in such a way that he'd have to touch the fewest people possible. Again, his movements showed the trained agility of the hunter, slipping in and around the people like a whisper. By necessity no less, the previous day revealed the fact that he didn't take punches well. It'd ruin the night he had planned if he got cold-cocked in the jaw by an unruly bar patron.
It didn't take long for the slippery Ashton to make it to the stairs and began to ascend them. He bent his lanky frame in order to better talk into Nostariel's ear. "Know of anywhere quieter? I'd like to not yell at you," Ashton said, his grin tugging at his lips. Yelling certainly wasn't romantic.
Insinuation had a tendency to do exactly one of two things to Nostariel: it either rendered her a blushing, stuttering mess of a person, or else it flew over her head entirely. In this case, the latter was fully at work, and she took the words at face value. Also having no desire to raise her voice to be heard, she simply nodded, turning and padding a little further down the hallway until she reached the wooden door after Varric's. Touching it with one flat palm, she spoke, probably audible, but not considering it much one way or another. "Ewan." A ward flared to life on the door, then faded, allowing her admission. Sometimes, she wondered why she did that to herself, forced the name to pass her lips several times a day, but masochistic as it may have been, she also thought it necessary.
Pushing the planks of wood inward, she held the door for her friend to follow, then let it fall shut. A spell lit the fireplace, illuminating a small, but serviceable sitting room with a small table and a few chairs, one armchair in a corner, and not much else. Assorted books were piled here and there on the table or the floor, a few loose parchments sticking out here and there. Despite the lack of furniture pieces, the room gave off an air of homey comfort, and was clearly quite lived-in."It's not much," she admitted ruefully, "but you're welcome to make yourself comfortable. Can I get you something?" Not that she had much on offer, but it seemed polite to ask anyway. Nostariel remained standing, shifting from foot-to-foot slightly uncomfortably. She wasn't exactly used to recieving guests here, as the slight untidiness might attest. Usually, when people wanted to see her, they just slid into the chair across from her in the tavern proper, but... he'd had a point about the noise.
The seal thingy on her door made Ashton's head tilt in curiousity, but he kept it to himself. Surely she had a reason and didn't go through all that hassle for no reason. The spell lighting the fireplace though, that was neat. The sight of the display caused his eyes to widen in awe. He'd never seen magic used for such mundane purposes, and already the gears were turning on the possible uses he could put to it at his shop and home. He'd have to inquire about that... Later. he wouldn't really just stop everything and ask, how you do that.... He'd do it later. "It's more than what I got. I sleep in a closet upstairs in the shop... No, forgive me. Closet is wrong. It's smaller," Ashton joked, the turn at the corner of his mouth revealing it as such.
"In a matter of fact, I suppose you can get something for me," He said, making his way toward the table chairs. He let her suffer through a few moments of silence before he answered, "Two glasses, I've got a present." He held up the brown paper and it's contents. It was blaringly obvious that the contents inside was a bottle of some sort. He then took a seat in one of the chairs and sat the brown papered bottle on the table. "You do drink right? You look like the drinking sort," he said, seemingly unaware of the blunt nature of the observation. Still, he patiently waited for Nostariel to gather the glasses and take a seat before he continued.
The statement was so plain, she almost didn't know what to do with it. She was too aware of herself to be offended, and instead she simply found it... funny. A smile cracked her discomfort and scattered it to the four winds, though she didn't quite laugh, instead disappearing through the one other door in the room and reappearing with two dusty, but serviceable, glasses. These, she cleaned with a dry cloth, and set one in front of him, settling across from him and eyeing the bag with curiosity. "I could say something about the redundancy of bringing alcohol to a tavern, but something tells me that's nothing this place serves." She quirked a blond eyebrow, conveying the rest of the question with a rare levity.
This was certainly unexpected; she had rather thought he might be here for business, but if so, he had yet to mention it. "How are you feeling?" she asked seriously, folding her hands primly on the table in front of her. "That was a hard hit you took yesterday, and emergency healing is only good for so much. If you're still in pain...?" She let the statement trail off. Nostariel knew she could be the pushy, overly-concerned type, and tried to avoid it where possible, since it wasn't the best impression to give off. Especially as a Warden; it made her seem like she didn;t have enough confidence in the abilities of her fellows, and that wasn't good for any of them. Still, some habits could only be curbed, not broken.
"No, no nothing like that. I'm fit as a fiddle," Ashton said. If that fiddle had been dropped down a flight of stairs. There was still the pang of soreness, but nothing to worry anyone with. It'd go away on it's own eventually, as long as he wasn't dragged into many more adventures any time soon. Now that that was out of the way, he steered the conversation away from himself and back to the bottle on the table, "A clever one, aren't you?" Ashton teased, "I guess you can say that." He then opened the bag and retrieved the bottle that was within. Now that it was free from the cloak, it was revealed to be the Monrenny Vintage that Rilien had so kindly dropped off for him.
"Something about it's worth being measured in soveriegns? I know it's better than anything this watering hole has. I'm surprised the bottle didn't just explode when I walked through the door, being subject to such mockery. Luckily it didn't, and we get to enjoy the fruits of Orliasian vineyards-- Er.."' he paused, his hand on the cork ready to pull. "But before we drink, I'm going to need your name and a smile," Ashton said, his own smile stretching from ear to ear. He chuckled at the personal joke before popping the cork and pouring for the both of them.
Nostariel, despite being accurately-describable as a lush and perhaps even a drunk, didn't really know that much about the subject. Still, pretty much anyone knew that Orlesian wine was fancy. If you didn't know it about wine, you still knew it about Orlais, after all. The second half of the statment perplexed her, and her brows drew together over her eyes. "Um... what?" She blinked quickly a few times. No, her vision wasn't swimming, she didnt feel the slightest bit dizzy, so she was definitely not drunk... somehow, that made the request make even less sense. Still, she shrugged and decided to play along. "Well, my full name's Nostariel Shea Turtega, which is a bit of a mouthful, I suppose. Most people don't use it anymore, but my friends used to call me Nosta." Back when she'd had friends, anyway. But maybe that was unfair to some of the people she knew now.
She offered a smile, though it wasn't the most natural one. It was genuine enough, even if the confusion was still clear in it.
At the, although forced, smile Ashton sat a glass in front of her and took the other for himself, "And I am-- and don't laugh, because I'm dead serious-- Messere Lord Ashton Cuthbert Riviera," the way he said his middle name told that he didn't particularly care for it, though he went right on to explain the "Messere Lord" part of it. "Yes, I was a noble. Once. A long, long time ago. I don't even remember it. I had it for an entire year before it was stripped. No fault of my own mind, it's just that my parents weren't... Quite right in the head," and the family resemblence shines through... "I don't dwell on it, I liked the way I was raised better. That's a story for another time perhaps," Ashton said, flicking his hand as if shooing the thoughts away. He brought the cup up to his mouth but hesitated, and he looked at Nostariel with all seriousness etched into his face. "Do not tell Sparrow my middle name is Cuthbert," he said, taking a drink of the wine. His eyes widened at the taste and he beheld the glass. It was really good.
The Warden bit her lip to stifle the snicker that threatened, though it wasn't so much at the name itself as his reaction to it that amused her so. "Cross my heart," she told him with mock gravity, drawing an 'x' over the left side of her chest with a small flourish. "Truly, though, I would never have guessed-- about you being a noble, I mean." She paused, coloring slightly and shaking her head. "Um, that wasn't an insult, I swear! I just meant that you seem to fit so well into your present occupation that it's hard to imagine you doing anything else. I'm a little jealous of that, actually." She took a sip of the wine upon noting his reaction and had much the same one. "Though from the looks of things, you have extravagant tastes in wine, so maybe I can believe it." Her eyes crinkled just slightly at the corners with the force of her grin; clearly, the statement was meant to be a joke.
"Hah that's a funny one. I wouldn't know fine wine if it hit me upside the head. You've got the Tranquil to thank for that, it settled a bit of a... Debt, I suppose you could say," Ashton said, rubbing his cheek. The woman that Rilien scared off really had a hand on her... "Anyway, I was like... one when I was cast off to my uncle and aunt. They raised me. Taught me how to be a hunter and fisherman, how to live off the land. They were good people, if the hardy sort. Uncle tried to beat the nobility out of me... and I think it worked," Ashton said, chuckling. "I start wincing and twitching when I walk through Hightown," he said jokingly, miming the effect of twitching. It was obvious he was fond of his uncle and thankful to the both of them. Another drink from the cup and he shrugged, "But enough about me. How about you? How does a Warden Mage get her beginnings?" He said, raising an eyebrow.