faderift | 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"It would seem that history decided that for me by looking upon my accomplishments. Also I do believe the number is four. A Pharaoh is a King as well." He laughed at the reaction, decidedly pleased with it. "But I do not jest. I speak the truth to you this night."

"... You are absolutely pulling my leg. Unless you're the Maker's be Damned Emperor of your world there's no way they would let you be king of four different countries." He thought about that, "In fact, how in the name of the Maker do you keep order at all?"

"Rather well considering the fact that I am well known for thriving lands that are rich in culture. With museums dedicated to knowledge and vast sums of money for every land in my name." Really he was not so sure why it was that surprising. He had said he was a conqueror didn't he?

"That doesn't mean you can rule all of them at the same time! Do you have ah, er privy council or something like it?" Because he's fairly certain that you are impossible, Alexander. In all ways.

"If you are asking if I left someone in charge then yes. The ruling families of the lands that I conquered were left to govern their lands in my name." No really. He was being completely serious about that.

"... so you're telling me you conquered them, and then, just left their own people in charge, and they did not rebel against you?" Because it sounds like they should have rebelled against him. Immediately.

"Of course. Doing otherwise would have been a disrespect to their culture and would have also humiliated them. Neither of these things should be done to a people." It seemed so obvious to him anyway.

"Well. No. That is ... not a good thing to do." James states, because yes, he is still staring, "How precisely did you keep them from rising up and murdering you after you left?"

"Why would they do that? It is foolish to wage a battle after one has already lost. Their leaders and myself would have no desire for such unnecessary loss of life." It was just such a waste.

"Well, because they want their lands back and they don't wish to be under the control of an Emperor -- even a benevolent one?" James had to suggest this, as his entire country was based on ... well, rebelling. Against everything.

All right, city-states and not an actual country.

"Sacrificing the lives of many just because you desire your land back is not the sign of a leader. That is not someone who thinks about their people and what is best for them. I have no desire to take those lives and they have no desire to give them to me. Besides, I provide them with much and let them continue to rule. I worked closely with them to find out their needs so they might flourish. Rebellion takes place when there are times of misfortune or displeasure. When neither of these are to be found what reason is there to leave what they have? I was greatly loved by my people. Enough so that many chose to follow me on further quests," he informed him, showing intense displeasure that one would be cruel enough to sacrifice their people just to reclaim something already lost.

"All right, just let me see if I understand this. You came in, you took over their countries and destroyed their armies, killing probably hundred to thousands of their people, so you could help them ... prosper. You left their leaders, the ones you just defeated, In Charge, with your orders on how their lives should now be focused and beyond that ... you gave them gold to do this?" Alexander was going to be permanantly imprinted on James's scowl facial memory, because ... what?!

"Why didn't you just leave them alone in the first place!?"

"I did not destroy their armies nor will I say that I am a savior of any kind. I also did not tell them how their lives should be run but instead found out what their cultures were like so I could become part of their nations. The men of their armies were invited to join mine or to remain behind. But it was not just gold that I gave them. Trade increased and so did a rise in the sciences and the arts. I may have conquered them but I did not destroy the nations. I have no wish to destroy, my friend."

The last question caused a brow to lift though and he tilted his head a bit. "Leave them alone? You speak as if not many a nation was created by a conqueror. As if borders are not shifted or created by conquerors. A conqueror may be one of great avarice and enough arrogance to follow through on their desires but simply leaving people alone in the first place? As a King I expanded my nation and befriended my people as I went. I respected these people and even changed my attire and name to be part of the last nation I conquered."

He shook his head. "I will not ask for forgiveness nor less judgement. It is your place and it should be yours to have. However, I will not apologize for what I have done either nor have shame for it. Shame would dishonor the many who so loyally joined me on my quest to follow my dream. The many who still follow me now even these many years later. These people are my greatest treasure and I have pride in what I did and what I did for them."

James is silent for a long, long moment, before he says the only thing that you can say in a situation like this.

"You're not a real person, are you? I'm having some sort of drunken hallucination."

"If you are then everyone else is too since they did vote for me and crown me as the Fool of this festival."

That would be quite the mass delusion. A jolly, muscular man who was a Rifter King of Conquerors? That would be quite the imagination for all to have.

"....Perhaps I am just really, really drunk." He shook his head a little, before he took another drink. "Which I should drink again."

"I think you'll find all of this will be the same when we spar together." He really wasn't sure why any of this was so baffling but very well. He shrugged then smiled as he went to make sure he had more to drink himself. Best to drink with companions! "To wine!"

The best toast, right?

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

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