[ he assumes obi-wan has forgotten, because- obi-wan. but also, he assumes the knight has the sense to own more than one set of clothing. so he won't quite need the level of attention that the outsider does. ]
Dressing yourself in burlap will do little for the Inquisition's reputation.
Oh, don't flap your dignity at me, I didn't ask for this any more than you did.
[Which is only slightly laughable because he also knows that this clothing thing is happening and all his protests are going to come to naught and ruin. There lies great strength in serenity before the inevitable.]
And I'm considerably more inconvenienced by it than you are, given that the duty has somehow brought you here to... dress me.
Yet you have it, and here I am, an elf apparently beholden to yet another mortal. [ pause. ] Have you yet realized you will be expected to 'clean up' Lady Galadriel's 'messes' as well as mine?
[ in other words, preemptive apology! like a fruit basket, but you can't eat it or share it. ]
Oh no, dear knight. I will not dress you. The finest Elven tailors of Halamshiral will dress you, and I will sit to the side with Duinenor and we will laugh when the misery and indignity shows on your face whilst the day drags on.
Since you bring it up, I'm sure you don't need reminding that I lack the lifespan to clean up all but the most minor of Galadriel's messes. She's your cousin.
[Verbal sparring with Thranduil is fun; even at his nastiest, it's still a recognition of familiarity-- a subtle distinction between annoyance and friendship, that he thinks Thranduil would appreciate. Most people only get to see a thick coating of ice and steel, as far as Obi-Wan can see.]
I'm only going along with this because I'm stuck here, just so you know, and as a favor to you, personally. It is completely ridiculous, and I've attended much more illustrious gatherings in proper Jedi attire.
Cousin by marriage. [ and by blood too, but he doesn't have the time to draw it out.
obi-wan is correct. he has the sense to know when thranduil spits barbs for the sake of being clever, and when they are actually meant to wound-- and obi-wan should know himself too valued, too respected to be wounded. ]
They will not know what a Jedi is, and so no respect will come of your sackcloth, noble as you hold yourself. Nor do these Men know of the House of Elmo. We are in their home, Obi-wan. We play their game by their rules, and we make certain concessions to assure a win.
Pretty clothing is a very small price to pay for even a sliver of an advantage over our enemies. [ pause. ] Though I do appreciate your favor, my friend. Does it come with a token of your affection?
I'm agreeing to this despite my better judgement, that'll have to be token enough.
[He wonders if, perhaps, there is a middle ground here between roughspun Jedi Robes and fanciful Orlesian frippery. Fanciful Jedi Frippery, perhaps? Finer fabric, a closer cut, concessions to the Orlesian fashion for masks, even, but still essentially alien.]
Yes, yes, I know. You're right-- but, how else will they have the chance to learn?
Imitating too closely the masters of this particular Game will only invite a comparison by which the Rifters will inevitably fall short. Perhaps, a compromise?
I have no intention of imitating. I will not mask myself, nor does my offer of helping you extend to finding you one.
For you? I do not know how. I make plans for my people, and you handle your own. But because we are both Rifters, I will aid you in this matter where our interests intersect.
[ and because they're buddies, but who would ever say that out loud. ]
The mask would be simpler to accept than other things. But, that's no matter for the present.
[Who would be so tacky as to actually acknowledges friendships, that so gauche. Equally so, one does not mention the fallings-out a friend has with their children, even if you are concerned for them:]
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[ he assumes obi-wan has forgotten, because- obi-wan. but also, he assumes the knight has the sense to own more than one set of clothing. so he won't quite need the level of attention that the outsider does. ]
Dressing yourself in burlap will do little for the Inquisition's reputation.
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[Oh my god Thranduil, you diss these robes, you wanna go.]
Concerning ourselves with the Inquisition's reputation, are we?
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[ somebody's bitter- but at least this might keep cassandra off his back. ]
Your attire reflects on me, gentle knight.
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[Which is only slightly laughable because he also knows that this clothing thing is happening and all his protests are going to come to naught and ruin. There lies great strength in serenity before the inevitable.]
And I'm considerably more inconvenienced by it than you are, given that the duty has somehow brought you here to... dress me.
no subject
[ in other words, preemptive apology! like a fruit basket, but you can't eat it or share it. ]
Oh no, dear knight. I will not dress you. The finest Elven tailors of Halamshiral will dress you, and I will sit to the side with Duinenor and we will laugh when the misery and indignity shows on your face whilst the day drags on.
Does this sound agreeable?
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[Verbal sparring with Thranduil is fun; even at his nastiest, it's still a recognition of familiarity-- a subtle distinction between annoyance and friendship, that he thinks Thranduil would appreciate. Most people only get to see a thick coating of ice and steel, as far as Obi-Wan can see.]
I'm only going along with this because I'm stuck here, just so you know, and as a favor to you, personally. It is completely ridiculous, and I've attended much more illustrious gatherings in proper Jedi attire.
And I reserve the right to veto any of it.
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obi-wan is correct. he has the sense to know when thranduil spits barbs for the sake of being clever, and when they are actually meant to wound-- and obi-wan should know himself too valued, too respected to be wounded. ]
They will not know what a Jedi is, and so no respect will come of your sackcloth, noble as you hold yourself. Nor do these Men know of the House of Elmo. We are in their home, Obi-wan. We play their game by their rules, and we make certain concessions to assure a win.
Pretty clothing is a very small price to pay for even a sliver of an advantage over our enemies. [ pause. ] Though I do appreciate your favor, my friend. Does it come with a token of your affection?
no subject
[He wonders if, perhaps, there is a middle ground here between roughspun Jedi Robes and fanciful Orlesian frippery. Fanciful Jedi Frippery, perhaps? Finer fabric, a closer cut, concessions to the Orlesian fashion for masks, even, but still essentially alien.]
Yes, yes, I know. You're right-- but, how else will they have the chance to learn?
Imitating too closely the masters of this particular Game will only invite a comparison by which the Rifters will inevitably fall short. Perhaps, a compromise?
no subject
For you? I do not know how. I make plans for my people, and you handle your own. But because we are both Rifters, I will aid you in this matter where our interests intersect.
[ and because they're buddies, but who would ever say that out loud. ]
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[Who would be so tacky as to actually acknowledges friendships, that so gauche. Equally so, one does not mention the fallings-out a friend has with their children, even if you are concerned for them:]
And how are your people?
no subject