A Very Official Party

[arlathvhen]

WHO: Division leaders and everyone who signed up
WHAT: The leaders + the viscount are throwing a very fancy party to introduce Inquisition people to Hightown nobles and prove that they aren't demons
WHEN: 29th of Harvestmere (day before Satinalia)
WHERE: Some mansion in hightown
NOTES: OOC post!

The mansion of the hightown noble tasked with hosting the party is tastefully decorated for the event.
There's a few references to the approaching Satinalia here and there, but it is clearly not a costume
party, and none of the nobles are wearing masks. Tomorrow they may done their costumes, but for now,
it's important for the Inquisition for faces to be be seen.

There's plenty of food to be had, either on a table off to a side, or via one of the servants carrying
around trays, filled will little snacks and glasses of wine. Inquisition guests will be forewarned
that while they are not prohibited from drinking--It would, after all, look super sketchy if the
entire Inquisition abstained from drinks--they are under no circumstances to become intoxicated.

The other guests are the nobles, who look like an indecisive mixture of excited, gleeful, and
terrified. There's an air about them as they chatter amongst themselves that they are currently
engaged in something quite thrilling, if dangerous. Talking to the rifters! Possible demons, right
before their eyes! They clump into their own groups for the most part, but as the party starts in
earnest, braver souls will begin to peel off from the others to go inspect the guests and speak to
them. As the party winds on, the groups will slowly begin to disperse and mix with the Inquisition
freely.

Inquisition guests are, naturally, encouraged to approach these groups or individuals directly.

Closer to the end of the night, the division leaders will break off from the rest of the party, and
along with the Viscount, make their way off to a private room to converse on how the affair has gone.

Try to behave while they're gone (and in general) or you might find yourself facing a list of the
worst jobs Petra could concoct the next morning.

Comments

[misdirection_hex]

He never had picked up on the courtesy Petra had extended to him on their first meeting, drinking from her teacup first before he had even raised his from the table. Even now, these subtle precautions are lost on him, never a part of his upbringing and still unexplained. For all his vehemence in insisting that the Circle has left him no less prepared for this line of work than anyone else, the mind of a suspicious Hightown shem remains utterly inscrutable to him. Perhaps it's a universally human experience--or perhaps Araceli has simply been here long enough to know the ropes. He'd rather assign that explanation to the matter.

"I never realized quite how fragile they all are," he deadpans, raising his glass to sip as if he'd been just about to get around to it all along. "Is that why they all do the heir-and-a-spare thing? Just in case the first in line succumbs to a terminal case of mild discomfort?"

[foxsays]

Common girls pick up what they have to when they learn how to get into noble estates, fancy parties, to look like they belong. Before the queensguard etiquette taught her the reasons why, polished it up so no one might find fault there was enough to pass. To look as if she belonged there as much as possible so the eyes would slide over her if she needed them to. Maybe it's why Araceli's parents taught her some lessons before she was too young to realise it was more than just a fun game to play at her father's knee, at her mother's dresser.

"Sometimes it's an heir, a spare, and someone for marrying off." Araceli smiles, leans closer as if they're telling a joke though tonight who knows, it might just make the rumour worse. (Is that even possible at this stage?) "One is the guarantee, the other one is waiting in the wings. If you're lucky the spare might be the interesting one if they've got something good waiting for them, but some? They're even worse than the one ahead of them." Think middle child then just go ahead and toss it into the sun, then you'll get some of the spares.

[misdirection_hex]

"And here's me trying to give the spares the benefit of the doubt and assume that self-sufficiency would make them the worthwhile ones as a rule." His easy smile could be a response to that imaginary joke--doesn't reach his eyes, but that's not seen so easily from a distance. What would he know about self-sufficiency? He's only spent two years out of his entire life having to provide for himself in any way at all, and they were a disaster he never wants to revisit.

It wouldn't matter to anyone here who isn't wearing the badge of the Inquisition. The nobles here could all intuit at a glance that Vandelin hasn't seen the inside of an alienage since early childhood, but they'll dismiss him in that same glance as a knife-ear nonetheless.

"You sound like you speak from experience."

[foxsays]

"What do they know about that? They go to the parties where the wineglass never runs dry and the food comes on a platter. They haven't stood in a line to buy bread with the rent money." Or they haven't done it the other way, lying awake with a growling stomach staring at just how little roof all that coin paid for. She's being uncharitable but what have these people done to earn it tonight? Talking to Vandelin means she isn't having to politely smile, make jokes, feel her jaw crack so until someone drifts too close she'll allow herself the sharpness.

It serves as a reminder of how little either of them know one another too. Educated guesses, reputation, asking around, all easily done but Araceli's honest about a fair few things. It works best for all if he knows what to expect.

"Someone in the habit of visiting their estates in the small hours when they were safely in bed had to make certain the gossip was good," she says around a little smirk. "Noble girls like a bit of rough if she's good with a rapier, and can climb in and out her window."

Usually that's how she met siblings. Cousins. Fiancés. A whole terrible lot.