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open | the drunk horn's so violent, all spinning out sound

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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Araceli may not be as sneaky as she usually is right now, but given the celebration, she doesn't really need to be. Not when Jamie's also been drinking just enough that he's not paying as much attention to his surroundings as he possibly should be. They're among friends, so he's letting himself not worry about that, for a change, and it's not until there's that little pounce at the end that he realizes he has company - and she'll get the satisfaction of seeing him jump, although luckily he manages not to spill his drink in the process.

"H-hey!"

There is a faintly indignant look on his face as he turns, but when he sees who it is, the expression melts off his face quickly enough, replaced with something that might turn into a smile, given long enough. Right now it's more a half-quirk of his lips, as he's not sure if he's happy to see her or still wanting to be indignant over having cold hands suddenly becoming a part of his life.

"Och, you nearly startled me out of my skin. And I've not been doing much, just piping and dancing. How come you're so cold?"

Edited (wrong icon) 2016-11-04 15:53 (UTC)

Indignance is easily forgiven because if Araceli was on the other end, she'd be cursing a streak at cold hands anywhere on her, not even trying to hide the smirk on her face. After all, she's done with working at the party, she doesn't need to hide what her face is doing right now.

"I couldn't resist." Sorry, not sorry friend. As for her hands, she wiggles her fingers before she does tuck them into her pockets, careful with the one her mask is shoved in. "I have my lute with me, can't play that with gloves. Unfortunately. Many times I have tried but alas. I missed your piping?"

Many things Araceli has heard about the piping but she's never actually heard it for herself.

"Oh. Aye, that'd make sense. It's not so easy playing the pipes with them either."

Although at least there you could manage in a pinch, at least in theory. He couldn't say as he'd even tried, preferring to play the way he'd been taught, cold or no cold. He can always tuck his hands under his armpits to warm them up a bit if he needs to.

Right now, however, he doesn't need to do that. He's plenty warm thanks to those drinks, and he gives Araceli a broad grin that's only a tiny bit lopsided.

"And you've not missed my piping at all. I'm only just taking a wee break. Once your hands warm up a bit I'd not be opposed to see what we can come up with if you'd like to have a go at trying to play together? Unless you'd rather go find Korrin, of course. One of us should have the chance to go sneak off for a wee bit."

"That is the one advantage to the hall - oh! I almost forgot," and here her smile turns almost evil as she leans in quite close. "There was a certain lady asking for someone that I'm sure matched your description. There aren't so many men like you at the parties here." Remember the last one? Remember all the dreadful people?

Ah, fun times. She'll need to try to go back to steal some extra food to hide away in her and Korrin's room for later on. Maybe some extra booze as well.

It's a challenge, she can't really help herself when it comes to stealing at the fancy parties. "I'd never say no to that, do you think I'd turn the chance for a rifter duet of piping and the lute? Korrin I'm sure is still off arm wrestling people that are too far in their cups to look at her and know better since it is far too cold to sneak off for me. What about you? A handsome young man, easy to like? I think maybe you are just as likely to be doing the sneaking, no?"

He remembers that party - and those nobles - all too well, and there's a distinct look of dismay on his face as Araceli mentions that certain lady. There may have been more than one reason why he's kept to the party down here. With luck she'll not come down here looking for him, though...or so he hopes.

Still, the thought of it is enough to get him to rather quickly finish off the remainder of his drink and set the cup down with a faint, almost imperceptible shudder. At least that frees up his hands to pick up his pipes again, which he does, setting them in his lap for the moment while he double checks to make sure everything's where it should be. After a moment, though, he looks back up again, the corner of one side of his mouth quirking upwards.

"Aye, well, I'll not say as I'm opposed to the idea, but I can't say as I've done that sort of sneaking lately. Think I'd have to find a lass who'd not mind the idea first."

Maybe she'll be too drunk. It's already steadily turning into that kind of affair, and as amusing as it would be to watch the nobles come tottering down (slumming it, she assumes is what they'd call this sort of party, it's what they'd call it back home) the slopes, it'd look bad if they were drunk and started freezing. Even if they could probably stand to gain from losing a fair dozen of them.

Then again, a dozen more that might be even worse would just as quickly rise up to take their place. And with plenty of chaos in the process, more to blacken the name of the Inquisition so she won't even breathe the thought just to be on the safe side. Instead she looks at the pipes curiously, reminded a little of an octopus. One with stiffer arms maybe but there's something there. Or she's had too much to drink. Why are there so many parts? (And she might have asked that aloud, someone back at the party liked good brandy and who was Araceli to deny a soul fond of a drink other than wine?)

"Do you not have a lass? I could have sworn there was a rumour of you and a young lady making eyes at one another."

It is turning into that sort of affair, and Jamie wouldn't be surprised if there were nobles here somewhere - although he hopes that Araceli is mostly having him on when it comes to that one particular noble that'd expressed interest so very long ago. While he's not opposed to spending some time with a bonny lass, that woman makes him more than a bit uneasy, the feeling he gets around her very much like he'd imagine a fly would feel right after it's realized it's gotten stuck in a spider's web and the spider would be there any moment.

Assuming flies have enough brains to realize that sort of thing, which might be giving them a bit too much credit, but the way he rationalizes some things only really needs to make sense in his own head, so he's going with that.

Any comment about Araceli's possible comment about there being so many parts winds up unspoken for the moment, however, because the rumour that she mentions is a really good way to drive other thoughts out of his head. He'd heard it too, and while it was true enough at the time, now it's about as far from the truth as one can get. That doesn't change the fact that it gets his hands to go still and his eyes to drop off to one side. He can't remember the last time he's even seen Kallian, let alone talked with her. While part of it was originally his decision, at this point he's thinking that she's decided to stay away too. Maybe it's better that way, but...he's still quiet a moment or two too long before he actually answers her.

"There was someone, but- look, things didn't work out, alright? There isn't anyone now." He shakes his head and picks the pipes back up, tightening one of the drones that seems to be a bit loose. "Doesn't really matter, anyway. Here, do you have anything in mind you'd like to play or should we just have one of us start and see what happens?"

Flies are smart enough to know how to keep out of Lux's reach. But Lux probably needs to be balanced out by a healthy dose of being made the fool in situations or there'd be no living with him.

Watching Jamie as she slips her lute into her lap, she hides any little sigh under fiddling with the strings as she tests to see if they're too sharp or too flat from being out in the cold and strapped to her back like this. It gives her a little time to think as she plucks at the strings, the blood coming back to her fingers; Jamie seems upset - he's not a flighty strutting bravo, the kind she knows only too well from home - and maybe her teasing has pressed down too close on a happy night.

"Lo siento." A nudge with her knee and not her cold hands this time, the smile small and apologetic. "I did not mean to spoil a happy evening. But you are a handsome young man, and more importantly? One with a good heart. That always matters more. As for the music? Why don't you start? Most of what I know are things from home, Orlesian courtly nonsense or anything Antivan."

(Gotta balance out all the Orlesian courtly nonsense and no she is not going to play along to Andraste's Mabari if she can help it Ferelden why are you like this.)

Araceli's compliment brings out a smile from him - and though it may be a touch lopsided, that's only because he tends to smile more strongly one side of his face than the other. It's not her fault that the teasing hit as close to home as it had, and even though he was a little upset by it, he's not upset with her, and that's an important difference.

Besides it's not like he tends to stay upset all that long normally anyway, and it's not long before his good humour is restored, the smile stretching into something closer to a grin.

"You do realize most of the things I know are from home, too? Don't think you'll have to worry about Orlesian courtly nonsense on my end."

Or Andraste's Mabari, for that matter. He's just figuring they can play it by ear, and see what happens, although he does start with something he's picked up from Earth, rather than from Thedas. Hopefully, even if it's unfamiliar, it's something Araceli'll be able to play along with, one way or another.

"I have heard many tales of your piping," she replies, all mysterious and knowing. Because she actually has heard some tales either from in the tavern or up on the battlements so colour her very much intrigued when she's managed to hide her own music away. Usually because she likes to play up on a rooftop completely out of sight of people so they might think they're going slightly mad when they hear music coming from seemingly nowhere.

Who knows, maybe bagpipes might be all the rage in Orlais one day thanks to Jamie. Maybe rifters and their contributions will see Orlesians painting their hands green or finding some sort of jewellery to make the same sort of effect as a shard. (Sometimes, when she's studying the trends of the Court and the Grand Game, she has to amuse herself so she doesn't fall asleep, face planted in a book.)

The pipes are louder than she's expecting them to be so she jumps at first, fingers skidding across the strings of the lute as she stares because how does that sort of sound come out of an instrument like that? But then she listens, tapping her foot to find the beat before she finds a few tentative chords. And she will ignore anyone watching right now, because she's smiling once she starts to find more confidence in her playing, complementing Jamie's notes rather than just plucking out a background accompaniment.

It's not as easy for him to hide his music away, something that's maybe more evident once he actually starts to play. Short of just keeping to a practice chanter or opting to go with a completely different instrument, there's really no way for him to not be heard. Rather than worry about that, though, he just owns it, also ignoring any looks sent their way. He's had his share of those before, and doesn't mind them - especially since it's easy enough to get caught up in the music and not pay attention to that sort of thing.

What he does wind up paying attention to is Araceli, grinning a bit around the mouthpiece of his blowpipe when he sees her jump. He'd bet she wasn't expecting that - but luckily for everyone he can't make a comment on it without stopping what he's playing. He has no intention of doing that, and in fact, once Araceli sees comfortable with the song, he changes up the tempo of the piece to something that's faster. It may not be the same wild music that he'd played earlier, but there's hints of it there, an indicator that he could very well go back to that if he wants to.

For now, though, he's content to keep going and see where the song winds up going on its own without forcing anything. He's enjoying playing either way, and that's evident in the way he holds himself and the little smile that's still lingering on his lips, even after he's done grinning. However else the evening goes, this makes it worth it.

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open | the drunk horn's so violent, all spinning out sound

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