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

[arlathvhen]

Oh, son of a bitch.

She had it coming, she supposes, as she tries in vain to spot dab the stains on her dress, red like blood against pale green. She doesn't speak to Wren while she focuses on her dress, biting her lip. What kind of example is this going to set? What would Petrana say if she saw Beleth carrying on with stains on her dress?

"Perhaps I could send to the Gallows for a new dress. The nobles will think it's very fashionable to show off multiple dresses." She mutters, already calculating who would be best to fetch--plenty of the scouting division hadn't made the cut for the party.

"You're rather jumpy," Beleth finally addresses Wren, and looks up to lock eyes with her, for what is measured out to be exactly too long to be polite. Then it's over, and she's back to worrying over her dress. "I hope you're not expecting trouble here, Ser Coupe."

daredevil's on his way 2 this thread

[limier]

"The last party the Inquisition attended was lively."

An understatement of an explanation. From what she's gathered, the girl was present.

But Maker's sake, she really is fretting at it... or appearing to, and she'd guess artifice had Ashara not seemed so uncertain of herself atimes. A sensation near enough to guilt slinks brief and unwelcome about her heels. It’s cut off as abruptly as it came by that stare. Wren meets it, expression neutral.

(Wine cannot be unspilled; should this pose the smallest of the night's incidents, they'll have been blessed by Justinia's bloody ghost.)

"Blot it so they see I was the one to do it. Then to the foyer," A suggestion, not an order, but she doesn't go to any pains over the language. "I will collect Shivana; his sash will compliment your silk."

Grace was always a lost cause tonight: The Viscount has already fielded problems of their presence — particularly from the Dalish. To handle them ably sends its own message.

someone called??

[faithlikeaseed]

"--Thank you, ser."

He'd be as grateful if she snatched him away from ghasts--or more, for ghasts at least are licit targets.

It says much that he doesn't speak further as she leads the way out, silent and--contemplative is too kind a word for it, brooding more apt. (This is a trial to be overcome, nothing more. He's survived worse--but not in this same vein.) Only when they're in the foyer--when they've stopped, when he's sure he's not liable to be overheard--does he voice a question: "Has it all been going well, then?" Is this worth it, he means, with an undertone of, why am I here?

[arlathvhen]

Beleth had been there, at the Winter Palace. And she knows just how dicey it had been--if it hadn't been for a CERTAIN NERDLORD CULTIST, she might not have made it out. Still, this isn't Orlais, there's no civil war about, and it's unlikely a group of Freemen are going to roam in to a Hightown estate without anyone noticing.

She doesn't say any of this to Wren. She doubts it would calm her any. And then Wren is gone, and Beleth sees no reason not to take her advice, sweeping off to the foyer to wait.

When Myr appears, Beleth visibly brightens--almost giddily, in what is probably entirely inappropriate for a division leader. There's a second where she self-consciously tries to cross her arms over the spill on her dress, and then realizes just how useless that would be, and instead steps over and proceeds to greet the mage. "Oh, Myr! I'm so glad to see you. Has everything been going well for you? No one's been giving you any trouble, have they? They're our guests, but if they're bothering you, I'll handle it, alright?"

The spill is, momentarily, forgotten, in light of more pressing concerns.

[limier]

"No armed incursions, so call it —"

She’s her mouth halfway open to answer when Beleth sights them, and then there’s little point in troubling. Maker’s sake. One would think the Dalish clans had never seen a dick before the Inquisition.

"Serah Shivana," Time to try and steer this back in line, "Is an admirable conversationalist. I regret to keep either of you from the floor long."

If he wishes to speak of the incident above, let that decision fall to him. No point to assuming for the boy; her part in those concerns has come and gone.

"Would you mind terribly were the Scoutmaster to borrow your sash? For the her dress, before she need speak with the Viscount."