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WHO: Everyone
WHAT: SATINALIA
WHEN: Firstfall 1
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Party hard, use content warnings, move explicit content to inboxes.

Named for Satina, the smaller of Thedas' two moons, Satinalia is a celebration of freedom, marked by wild celebration, pranks, the donning of costumes and masks -- not the fine, delicate masks of Orlais, but animals and caricatures and playful horrors -- and the exchange of gifts both sincere and satirical. There's also the crowning of a Fool to rule for the day, or two Fools, in this case: Iskandar and Valentine are given crowns and the right to issue orders. Non-military orders. Unless they manage to start some kind of battle between their imaginary kingdoms.

Elsewhere in Thedas, the festivities may last a week. At Skyhold, no one can pause the war for that long. But all those who can be spared are released by late afternoon, given the night and the next morning -- handle those hangovers before reporting back to work please -- to enjoy the celebration in the fortress or the even less restrained revelries in the valley.

This day was originally a celebration of Zazikel, the Old God of Chaos, but let's not dwell on that.

SKYHOLD

Tables in the Great Hall are piled high with several whole roasted tuskets, meats thinly sliced in the Orlesian style, a tower of cheeses and candied fruits, and great bowls of Antivan pasta with brightly colored sauces. Casks of ale and wine are tapped, emptied, and replaced to keep a near constant stream of alcohol flowing, only improving the efforts of a trio of bards in the corner playing music that's spirited but still easy to speak over. An area near them has been cleared for entertainers: a small troupe of exceptionally limber acrobats tossing and climbing each other in increasingly impressive shapes, and then a team of dancers, romantic and expressive, performing a piece made famous in the theaters of Val Royeaux.

Even once the entertainers finish and leave space for the guests to dance, the party remains more on the sedate side. The celebration indoors is meant to impress and entertain visiting dignitaries and nobles: others are welcome to assist with the schmoozing, but anyone too rowdy or otherwise controversial will be asked politely to relocate, and no one who looks even slightly mischievous or inebriated is permitted into the gardens or library or other easily-damaged areas of the fortress.

The courtyard is noisier. The sparring rings and archery targets are claimed for contests of strength and skill made intentionally ridiculous: soldiers fighting in costume with raw fish as weapons or their hands tied behind their backs, training dummies dressed in discarded finery, an archer capable of standing on her hands and shooting with her feet who's happy to give demonstrations. As the light fades the play-fighting does as well, replaced by music and dancing, with the way lit by braziers and candles and glowlights from Orlais strung in the trees and along the walls.

After midnight, the celebrations within the walls taper off. Some people need to sleep. But those who don't may make the journey down the path and into the valley.

THE VALLEY

In the valley, there's no one to say shush. The party starts early and runs late enough to be early all over again. The food is less fine -- stew and bread, cider and ale, some barrels of young wine and rough liquor gifted by the quartermaster from a mistaken shipment. For anything nicer than that you'll have to bring your own or charm someone who has, but plenty have brought out their carefully hoarded stocks tonight. Flasks of rum from Rivain or treacle-sweet wine from Antiva, tiny boxes of candies and chocolates, small pouches of smokeable herbs: there isn't much of anything but there's a little of everything, all available for the price of a well-played trick or well-placed kiss.

Tonight instead of the usual spattering of camp- and cook-fires, the camp is lit by torches and roaring bonfires, the entire valley caught in the shifting, flickering firelight. Shadows flare and twist, flames limn masked faces in gold and orange and red, and the constant crackle and spark provides its own accompaniment to the music. Fiddles and drums pound and wail, spinning dancers faster and faster, whether big circles of linked hands tugging each other round and round the fire, or a crush of couples, each clasping and spinning and catching and pressing close again. Some duck into shadows, clutched together out of sight until the wind changes and shadows shift, revealing some and concealing others.

There are games down here, too: knives and axes and arrows aimed at hay bale targets, circles marked out with rope for grappling or boxing rings, a bizarre struggled over a greased pumpkin, even pairs growling across tables as they arm-wrestle. The prizes are mostly just the cheers of a wildly enthusiastic crowd and maybe a half bottle of stolen brandy, but there are plenty of challengers all the same and plenty willing to bet on the outcome. The Inquisition is a truly motley assortment, and scattered around are plenty showing off their skills, from juggling to firebreathing to telling fortunes. Instruments from a half-dozen countries can be heard, and small groups clustered around dry patches of ground or upturned crates roll dice and deal cards two dozen different ways.

Unlike up at the keep, this party takes a little while to ramp up, as more and more people finish their shifts and make their way down to join, and it only gets louder as the hour grows late. There haven't been many chances to let loose since all this began, and Maker knows they've all been under plenty of stress. Loud laughter and singing and music continue well into the wee hours, and the crowd only finally thins out several hours past midnight, with a hardy (or foolhardy) core still just stumbling home at dawn.

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Kain is watching the festivities, content to mostly just observe what's going on. He knows the importance of making an appearance, having that idea drilled into his head from a young age. Some old habits never truly change, really. As he's walking through a somewhat more crowded spot, he happens to accidentally brush against the bag that Rydia has in hand.

"My apologies. Pardon me." The tall young man with long blonde hair certainly might resemble Kain at first glance, dragon mask and all. He'd gotten a few odd comments when he'd first arrived, though no real explanation for who they'd mistaken him for. But there are enough differences, including the Orlesian accent, which make him not quite the same. He looks at Rydia curiously. Why someone would drag a bag around through this event is beyond him. But he admires what shes wearing all the same. "That's a fine mask you have there."

Oh, Rydia isn't going to bite if someone brushes against her (large and heavy) bag, she would just dismiss the stranger with a smile and shake her head before leaving but something in that person sends a shiver down her spine and the woman freezes, straighteng her back and turning to look at him. No, that accent is wrong and the man seems different, it must be her stupid immagination playing tricks on her because she's a silly old woman who still struggles so much at accepting death- especially a friend's death.

Yet there's something in that stranger that reminds her of her now gone friend, maybe it's something in his voice, perhaps something in his posture... no, he's gone, stop feeling guilty for a night. "Ahm..." Right, she's been staring at him, even if hidden behind a mask, for a good moment now, probably gaping like an idiot. Leviathan, she wasn't drooling, was she? "Apologies..." She still remembers something about talking with others in a court, doesn't she? Come on, Rosa teached you better than standing silent in front of others, especially when you're probably making them uncomfortable! Casual conversation... casual conversation... come on, you big idiot, it's all in your mind! And only because you spent almost a month in your room, alone, wondering how to tell Cecil and Rosa about the dragoon's death!

"...I was distracted. You have quite the fine mask yourself. I like dragons. Even if people here hate them. They breath fire, ice, poison... that's... cool." Nailed it.

Edited 2016-11-05 00:18 (UTC)

These rifters are all so fascinating. She has green hair, after all, which makes her look all the more otherworldly. Kain does notice she's staring at him a bit oddly, but that could be for a number of reasons. It may even simply be surprise at seeing another person with a dragon-mask.

"I appreciate hearing that. Truthfully, although people here of my world generally loathe and fear dragons..." He steps a little closer to her, leaning in a bit. "...I don't. My family have always been closely connected to dragons, and I take pride in that. It's even my family's crest." He's started to feel comfortable telling rifters about this, though it takes more time to actually get into the more distant past of his family. Still, he likes that he can feel at ease about discussing the scaly creatures. "Do you have dragons on your world?"

Her green hair are a rarity even in her world and she got used to people looking at them... maybe it's something she inherited from her father? Anyway, she's still... staring. Sweet Leviathan, when he leans closer she can almost smell Kain. The summoner has to give herself a mental slap before she can speak again, a hand now rest on her bag as grim reminder that it's all in her head and the man she called 'friend' is in there.

"I realized that soon after I arrived here." And this world's dragons may be more violent an aggressive but perhaps they're just wary of possible hunters and trying to defend their nests. Anyway, she would love to see if she can approach one of them, someday. "Uhn... yes." she bites her lips- his family is connected to dragons and he takes pride in it, mh? Why, thank you fate, just right after she decided to leave her room and end her isolation! "My father is a dragon." There is a short pause "I mean... he's not the one who sired me but he still raised me so he is my father." At least she feels finally at ease talking about dragons with someone, Rydia almost misses how people just accepted the thing back home "Ah... my apologies, I can usually handle conversations a bit better, you just... really reminds me of a dear friend I recently lost."

That stare is so weird, but it's no more strange than the ones he'd gotten when he'd first arrived at Skyhold. At least he finds her pleasant enough to be around, so far. She seems to mean well, anyway. Kain nods to her remarks about dragons, then looks at her, astonished and intrigued to hear of her own origin.

"You were raised by a dragon? Then we may get along well. What was that like? My ancestors once lived right in the dragon lairs..." Kain sounds quite envious when he says this, he only wishes he could have had such an honor. Drinking the blood of a dragon had been the closest experience he'd had.

He looks at Rydia, expression even softening some for him. Or as much as he does. He's not someone who does emotions too well. All the same... "I'm sorry for your loss. Was he also in the Inquisition?" He's curious about this resemblance, but of course, will let the woman answer what she wants, in her own time.

It's to be expected when he looks and sounds so much like someone who just recently passed away... right? It's almost painful to speak with him when even the way he speaks reminds her of the dragoon, even if he seems a bit friendlier than the man she traveled with.

"I certainly hope so, I spent far too much in my room recently and I'd certainly welcome a change." Oh, living in dragon lairs, that's how she'd feel home. A small smile appeares on her lips, even if the mask still hides most of her features making it hard to tell how she really feels "It was... perfect. Lord Leviathan has always been a kind and wise creature-" Maybe their first meeting was traumatic, she is still unable to swim and afraid of large pools of water "-and he always shown me his love. Even when we had to fight during our training, even when I left. And while I have countless stories to share, I can only say we were a happy family. But enough about me, what about your family... uh..." whatever your name is? "sir? I will be hoenst, it's a surprise to speak with someone who isn't completely against them in this world."

The summoner stiffens a little at the question "Yes. Yes he was." Do rifter have any other choice? "And he was a good man." Rydia wishes she had a chance to know him better.

That's sad to hear, and he thinks back to losing his own family, what loss feels like. "I'm so sorry. Yet as an Inquisition member, he died for a good cause. I'm sure he won't be forgotten."

"Living among creatures... your world sounds incredible." Kain is definitely envious in certain regards. He only wishes he could have lived like his ancestors, in a dragon's lair, protecting their young and in return being granted the dragon's power. There was a mutual respect there. Still, he's made a very important step toward bringing their family ways back.

"My family are a rare sort, when it comes to dragons. It's part of our heritage, though. We cannot lose that, even if most would never dare think of dragons as any good." He sighs. "I'm from Orlais. My parents were Baron and Baroness Ventfort, at one time. Though it's been years since they died, and I have no other blood relatives." He gives the short version of his story, for now. "Because I'm all that's left, I must honor my father and my family legacy as much as I can."

"My name is Kain. Warden Kain Ventfort. And you are...?" He looks at her curiously.

Edited 2016-11-11 18:29 (UTC)

"Not his cause. But you're right, he won't be forgotten, at least as long as I live." The summoner waves her hand, she's been unnecessarily hostile toward him and that's just... unfair. It's not that man's fault if he looks and sounds so much like her now deceased friend. "He was a good man."

"To be fair, it's qite unusual to be raised by monsters or dragons, even in my world." Then she just... listens in silence crossing her arms and trying to learn more about this... awfully familiar stranger. "I've read about Orlais, it seems quite the... lively and colorful territory" To be honest she heard the most absurd stories, it's hard to think they're true. "And... I'm sorry about your family but... you're still alive. And you stll have a chance to keep your bloodline alive, mh?" That's important, isn't it? At least for humans "They still live in you, a..." and she freezes.

"..." Look at her, staring again behind that mask and holding her bag so thight her fingers are now white "Your name... is Kain." That's so... wrong. On so many levels. Did she lose a friend to really meet another him in that reality? It wouldn't be so strange considering even the Kain she's carrying with her was different from her world's but... "I need a drink" more than one, probably.

"I'm Rydia of Mist." It's barely a whisper to answer his question but she's just looking around for a good excuse to dash away right now "Calling me Rydia is... fine, I don't have a family name..."

"Then he will never be entirely gone, if you keep him alive in memory. He sounds like he must have been a good person, to join a cause not his own, even to the point of giving his life for it." If it came down to it, could he make the same sacrifice, he wonders? Maybe so. It pains him to think that better people than him are laying their lives down.

Kain definitely is interested in learning more about this rifter's strange upbringing. To live among monsters... she doesn't seem like one herself, after all, she gets along here among people. He nods when she mentions Orlais. "Colorful is one way to put it. Their fashions are like no other." Then he looks down for a moment about mention of his family. "My fellow countrymen are obsessed with that sort of thing, the bloodlines and all the rest... It's less important to me. All that matters is being the best Grey Warden I can be."

He's confused by her reaction though. "It's good to meet you, Rydia." He pauses, unsure what to say, but feeling like he ought to say something. "Are you all right? Did I say something wrong?" Like all Kains everywhere, he worries it's his fault somehow.

"He was a good man, even in our world he risked everything to save his people and his friends. And I know he... probably put his heart in this world's cause as well, it's just hard to accept he's gone now." Or that she will probably bury even her other friends? She must be one of the few ladies who look at themselves in the mirrior hoping to see a gray hair. "But- enough with this, it's just... it's my sad memory and this is a party, not a funeral."

Oh, nor all monsters have fur, claws and long tails, quite the contrary, and she would probably love to discuss about her house in another circustamces. "Every country has its costumes, I do appreciate... peculiar choices when it comes to one's fashion." Rydia winks behind her mask "This isn't a costume." Enough people see her around all the time to know that, right? "And... I do consider bloodlines important myself because that's how a tiny bit of us survives in time." The summoner was still raised by monsters who had other priorities than people, something remained in her mind even if she, herself, isn't planning to have children and keep the summoner bloodline alive in future. "But I do see your point. It's great to have goals in life, to plan to be the best in what one chooses to be. And... you say you're a Grey Warden? I think you're the first one I meet."

"It's nothing. It's just..." She actually motions to her bag "I'm just being a silly and sentimental old lady, you really remind me of him and... it's not your fault. As I said, it's a party, we should celebrate." Maybe, just maybe, he is that world's Kain? Somehow? After all the dragoon she met was different from the one she knew. In any case, it's not time and place to think about certain things- Rydia puts up a bitter smile, trying to reassure the other man "How could I blame you just for looking like someone else?

Edited 2016-11-18 22:25 (UTC)

"I know the feeling... I had very similar thoughts after my father's death... But you're right, we shouldn't dwell on it right now." As much as Kain is very much someone to dwell. It's not as if he means to do it, but it always ends up that way. He still can't imagine how hard it would be to lose someone when so far from home... that would make the agony worse in ways. Plus, it's more recent than his own loss. He can't blame her for still feeling it.

He raises an eyebrow. "That's a very fascinating way to dress, but then again... some might say that about Orlesian fashion as well." He never would have guessed it was normal clothes... rifters really were full of surprises. "Anyway... yes. I'm a Grey Warden, and proud to be one. I became one to follow in my father's footsteps... and I'm determined to represent them as best as I can." No matter what the Wardens have done recently, he won't turn his back on them because of a bad individual.

With a glance toward the bag with its dragon symbol, he looks a bit unsure. He wouldn't have even guessed it before, but a realization is sinking in. "What... then... are you saying that you're carrying, in that bag... is that...?" He trails off, finding it hard to ask it outright. "Forgive me, though. I don't mean to cause you any distress, even by my presence alone. I don't mind doing anything you'd prefer." He may not be much of a 'party' person, but he can still try for her sake, especially with a few drinks in him. She seems to need the distraction.

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Skyhold

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