OPEN: Satinalia

[faderifting]

WHO: Everyone
WHAT: SATINALIA
WHEN: Firstfall 1
WHERE: Kirkwall
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 is no party at the Gallows, but those who can be spared on Satinalia may be given the night off to join Kirkwall's celebration, which spans the entire city and will take several days to peter out. Hightown plays host to lavish balls—but you'll need an invitation, and the unlucky guards posted at the stairs leading into the nobles' district are especially on guard for mischief-makers. There's no such crackdown in Lowtown, where masked revelers spill out of taverns and into the streets, often bringing barrels of ale along with them. Even Darktown gets involved, in its own way: anyone who can afford a celebration goes to Lowtown, but some of the roving bands of thieves in the tunnels don animal masks for the occasion.

And near the docks, enterprising children draped in white cloth are selling admission to a "haunted" warehouse for one copper. Adorable—except that some of the partiers exiting seem genuinely terrified, with one unfortunate man even having wet himself. Taking the children up on their offer will reveal that they have a genuine haunting on their hands. Doors slam, objects fly, footsteps appear in the dirt floor. There's laughter at the edge of hearing and movement on the edge of vision, and brief snatches of a sea shanty sung in a monotone. Make a hasty exit, or try to find the source.

Comments

Korrin

[gatheringstorm]

Lowtown

Of course Korrin has to join in on the festivities and Lowtown is her kind of place. The unapologetically Vashoth woman starts at the Hanged Man, her favorite hangout and sometime workplace. However, she's not on duty tonight no matter how much the barman tries to bribe her. Instead, she's there for drinking, singing and dart or card games, with whoever she can rope into all that. The level of noise never seems to bother her, though it helps that whatever the volume, she can always manage to make her own voice heard.

Depending on the company and her mood, there's a chance at nudging her into a pub crawl, for a tour of Lowtown's other fine establishments. She doesn't inquire too deeply into the drinks, and trusts her drinking stone and tucked-away hangover remedies to save her if anything is suspiciously strong. Still, despite numerous attempts to get her to her limit, the Vashoth woman never seems to be more than pleasantly buzzed.

Docks

"...what the fuck." Okay, so Korrin had the copper and time to spare. She thought it worthwhile to encourage the kids, because why not? Money is money, and they need it for Satinalia treats...or simply survival. Checking out a 'haunted house' was just supposed to be a simple diversion.

Until it wasn't. Korrin's not the most spiritually aware of mages, but it doesn't take long for her to realize that something's amiss, something that would be exceedingly difficult for the children to fake. That sea shanty in particular causes the hairs at the back of her neck to raise up, but she doesn't leave. Instead, curiosity and concern have her deciding to investigate before anyone can get hurt.

[motherfucking_ghost]

"Okay," Church starts, leaning a little, and he probably shouldn't have too much more the way his voice is starting to take on an odd (read: southern) accent somewhere in there. "Okay okay okay. Listen, this usually isn't like a drinking night where 'm from? Like, 31st, okay, the kids dress up, go door t'door, get candy. Carve up pumpkins. Scary faces! Scary movies and stories and all. Pretty sure first's like a different country holiday? Yeah. An' later in the month, there's a food holiday. But so basically now, basically, basically this is like drinking Halloween, cuz, masks and shit."

Dear god, he barely stops talking while sober, it doesn't sound like drunk makes him any better. "Pranks! Pranks are big for it, too. We've gotta TP a house! We gotta TP all the bars we go to! Egg some cars--some wagons!"

Lowtown

[universal_charm]

Kirk remembered his first Satinalia celebration a year ago, back in the old HQ. He remembered the fun and the amusement of it, the crowning of fools, the pleasure he'd enjoyed with the people whom had become his lovers. One now gone. In some ways, this party felt like an act of mourning, of wishing the red haired force of nature a true farewell.

When he comes into the Hanged Man and sees Korrin, he makes a beeline for her, shouting above the celebrations to get her attention.

"Hey! Where the hell have you been, Korrin?"

Docks

[el_tybs]

'...what the fuck.' is a whole lot different then the recent screams and retreating footsteps he's been hearing for the past ten or so minutes. It's a lot calmer and the voice sounds familiar even if he couldn't hear it all that well. He heads towards the voice.

Holding his globe of light higher and rounding a corner, Sam blinks when he sees his friend. "... Korrin?" he says, approaching cautiously as he eyes the walls. It's clear that he was out for Satinalia festivities based on the mask on his head, but at the moment it was raised to sit on the top of his head so he could better concentrate. "I take it you weren't expecting an actual 'haunting' huh?"

Medicine Seller - Open

[meds4sale]

Lowtown

Thieves were not the only ones in animal masks. The Medicine Seller had donned a yellow fox face that other Rifters from Earth might recognize it as a mask for Noh and Kyogen plays. Despite being an exquisite and detailed piece of craftsmanship, the mask is nothing like the fennecs and foxes anyone would be familiar with. There were hungry wolves that looked less ferocious, with the fox's yellow teeth bared in a hungry snarl, and its eyes like red hot coals set in black pits.

The Medicine Seller had laid out his usual wares along the fringes of the celebration among the other merchants selling food and drink. However, among his packets, powders, pills, poultices and potions, there were also rows of little silk pouches.

"Omamori," he said to a prospective customer who'd picked one up curiously. "A charm to protect from misfortune. By all means, take one."


The Haunting

There had been a familiar rattling in his pack from the sword when he'd been heading back to the Gallows. He was well past his curfew and twice had slipped his chaperone to go stick his nose in some demon-y business earlier. Not that rules ever stopped him from doing his job. He was a medicine seller, after all.

By the time the person playing guard dog caught up, the Medicine Seller had already paid the children with a few silvers and a pouch of sweets, and was stepping over the threshold into the gloom of the dilapidated old building.

There was a crash as a flying pot smashed against the door, right where his head had been not half a second before.

"My, my. A noisy one."

[ragweed]

Enter the guard dog.

Jogging to catch up, Kit is actually a bit winded by the time he catches up to the Medicine Seller, waving off the kids with a couple of candies and a few coppers. He heads into the crumbling building--and then jolts with widening eyes as the pot hits the door right above his head.

"Sodding ancestors--" He crouches down to examine the pot guardedly, then shoots a look at the Medicine Seller. Any annoyance at him over trying to sneak away is gone. "We've got to find something else to do for fun one of these days."

[arlathvhen]

That fucking sword.

An Incredibly Mysterious Woman wearing a black wolf mask is a little further inside than he is, having just finished dodging the pot herself. She turns to glance over at the new occupant of the room, narrowing her eyes at the rattling. It's a tragedy that she has to resist saying something clever, like We need to stop meeting like this, or Flying pots are our thing now, huh.

Instead, she keeps all of her hilarious, witty commentary to herself, and bobs her head to him politely, while pressing herself against the wall. "And to think, we only paid a copper a piece for the privilege of getting brained by a demon. Those children are getting ripped off."

Maybe not all her hilarious, witty commentary.

Lowtown

[universal_charm]

"Well, considering how well your medicines work, this must have a similar guarantee," Kirk smiled at the masked Seller, recognizing the other's set up from back at the former Inquisition HQ. He still had some of the medicine the man had sold him then, though he was probably due for a refill of his stock.

"I think I've seen Sulu with one of these before," he mused, looking at the little silk pouch. He thought he had said his daughter had given them to him, as good luck out among the stars, but he could be remembering wrong.

Beleth Ashara | Open

[arlathvhen]

Lowtown

After having successfully endured the noble's party yesterday, Beleth is ready to cut loose. But there are still strings attached to her--both her responsibilities as the scoutmaster, and her own reluctance. It's time to take advantage of the holiday and be, for one night, someone entirely different. Someone who isn't held back, by their job and by themselves.

And so, her dress is something entirely different in both style and coloring than what she usually wears, something appropriate for an elf in Lowtown, with her hair covered and tied back by a matching red scarf. Her mask fully obscures her face--her vallaslin in particular, something that she'd been careful to see to. Only if you're lucky will you catch the glint of bright purple eyes in the dim light, peeking through the wolf's face.

Her bearing has changed, as well. She all but sashays through the crowd, laughing and shouting along with everyone else. Occasionally she's pulled into an impromptu dance, or grabs someone else, or grabs a drink, or gives a drink. But for all the noise she makes, she rarely speaks any actual words. After all, it's a lot harder to recognize a voice that's just yelling out in enjoyment of the evening.

Despite the efforts she's gone through, though, she finds that she is, actually, enjoying herself. It's nice, to not have to be weighed down by herself, for a night.

Docks

Well, there's more yelling going on here, but this isn't in enjoyment. She dodges a vase flying at her, resisting the urge to go to her dagger tucked away in her sleeve. Flattening herself against the wall, holding her hand up to her mask, she's sure she looks as foolish as she feels, but she'll look even more foolish getting furniture upside the noggin.

"By the--By the Maker." She gasps out, taking quick steps to peek around the corner. That's a thing people say, right? She's pretty sure that's a thing people say. "Demons. Demons. Were the children demons? Are demons interested in money, now?" Demonic capitalists, that's really what Thedas needs.

Slowly, hampered by her mask, she takes a quick look around the corner, only to dodge back around as a chair goes flying past her. Sylaise grant her strength, what an embarrassing way to die.

Docks

[el_tybs]

The sound of furniture and anything not tied down flying into walls had become a constant while Sam was investigating the unusual activity, but the sound of someone praying softly had caught his attention. So far anyone who had entered had run out screaming near the beginning, so the fact that someone had gotten this far was a surprise; judging by what he could make of their words it sounded like perhaps they had gotten lost?

Looking down the hallway that he just saw a chair go flying through, Sam holds up a globe of light to better see down the corridor. "Hello? Is someone there?"

Cade

[onlyhymns]

Lowtown is the only place Cade can be found for these particular festivities, dressed modestly for this kind of party yet nicely enough for the area. Knowing so few people present, he hangs back, sitting where seating is available and nursing a cup of wine, which he's allowing himself to drink only because it's a holiday and only because he's just having one.
Hardly the mopey wallflower, Cade is more or less content to watch the revelry and be silently glad he's not in the thick of it. This is kind of pleasant, actually.

[limier]

She doesn’t affect a mask; being a wet blanket is its own costume.

But if plainclothes stand out a touch, they’re yet easily dismissed; workers will be joining the festivities from their posts late into the night. Wren hasn’t come looking for him: She doesn’t envy anyone who need search tonight’s revelry, and she’s other business about. But when that business vanishes upstairs in arm with a swan (complete with ample, feathered bodice) she’s left with two drinks in hand and no particular energy to pursue the matter.

For the best, upon sighting him.

"Cade," Her brows lift in faint surprise, but she doesn’t sound unhappy for it. Hadn’t quite expected him to be seen so nearly social. "Happy Satinalia."

The bruises have faded, sped along by magic — it wouldn't have done to show up to the Viscount's party black and blue —

James

[judgemewhole]

Lowtown

James Norrington is a man on a mission -- and that mission is so far, a total and complete failure. It was Satinalia, a night of fun and frolic, with masks and letting down some of your inhibitions and so ... he had decided to do that. By going to Beleth's rooms and finding her gone. Not in her office, or anywhere else in the Gallows.

So he thought, perhaps she was in Lowtown? In the Alienage? Travelled across the water, with Interceptor at his side, wandering through the various revels. Frustration clear on his hawkish features, and a touch of sadness. He glanced over at Interceptor, who whined softly at him.

He huffed, "It is not my fault she isn't anywhere obvious ... I am not acting cowardly. We are out here walking, aren't we?"

Interceptor barked, and trotted forward. Clearly stating that they were going to keep going until they did find her.

James sighed, gave his dog a wry look, and nodded, "And ...onward walking we go."

So off he went, wandering through Lowtown's ongoing party, no mask, no formal armor, just James Norrington. Wandering around other people's open glee, looking for someone who could not be found.

He would ignore the irony that this seemed to be the perfect metaphor for his life.

[arlathvhen]

Beleth doesn't appear among the revelry, but he seems to have caught the eye of a woman wearing a black fox mask. She stares at him thoughtfully as he moves, too long to just be chance. Finally, she makes her move, weaving her way through the crowd to approach him.

She's grateful for the mask, hiding just how anxious she is. But this is the purpose of Satinalia, isn't it? Be something other than yourself--be braver, be bolder. She can't do this--but maybe the woman she is tonight can.

"You look mighty lonely, serrah." She tilts her head, voice cheery as she reaches for his hands. "Come, dance with me. A fine young man such as yourself shouldn't be alone on a night like this." She sounds like an idiot. Creators. How do people do this normally? Is there some kind of secret to not sounding like you've never spoken to another person in your life?

[universal_charm]

Thedas seemed rather good and presenting such situations to people, didn't it? Like its creators had this incredible sense of irony, or perhaps cruelty? If you believed in that sort of thing of course.

Kirk didn't don a mask himself, mostly because he hadn't been able to find one by the time he went out, and he found them restrictive anyways. Seems he and James were alike in that way too. It made it all the easier to spot the man, that was for sure. Kirk's face broke into a wide smile at seeing his friend, calling out through the crowd and making his way to him, a bag across his shoulders already laden with Satinalia treats he intended to take back to Sam and Cyril.

"James! It's been forever!"

[el_tybs]

It's probably because James is not wandering around in his armor that Sam notices Interceptor first and the man second, but when finally notices he makes his way through the crowd.

"James!" he calls out, raising an arm over the crowd to grab his attention.

The half mask he has on does little to actually hide who he is and doesn't really go with his clothes, though it seems Sam has it more for the spirit of things rather then actually being part of the festivities. "Hey-" he starts, his smile dropping away at the downtrodden expression on his friend's face. "Something wrong?"

Lowtown

[gottakeeponejumpahead]

In the alienage, the party is going well and strong. Wine and ale, homebrewed, is being passed out to one and all. The elves are wearing homemade masks of paper and wood, and while they lack the finery of the ones of in Hightown, they are more than enough for the good cheer and festive feel around the vhendal.

Adasse is here with his people, laughing, drinking, wearing his simple mask of a fox. He cannot sing and they beg him not to - but they all want him to dance. And dance he can, and does, with wild and almost fevered abandon. All the dances the elves call their own, the twirls and swirls of the country dances, and what they have taken from Hightown ballrooms. He is a master of all, and you can hear his 'Hah!' echoing out into the streets as he pounds his feet into the table.

After a few dances, he'll stop to rest, leaning against a wall, sweaty and happy. He had gone around, invited friends to come, but even if they don't? He'll be having a good time.

[gatheringstorm]

One person who joins on the alienage fun isn't an elf at all, but at least she isn't a shem either. Korrin, having wandered over after the pub crawl, lingers at the edge to enjoy the festive atmosphere and prop herself up somewhere after all that drink. When a small, curious elf child approaches, she crouches down and offers a shoulder ride. So it is that she ends up with a happy, giggly wee thing holding onto her horns like they're handles. Every dragon needs a rider, right?

Spotting the very limber elf, she whistles and claps with the rest of them. Anyone who has that amount of skill has full rights to show off, as far as she's concerned.

[universal_charm]

Kirk had wandered to the alienage on the hope he might find Cyril there. He couldn't say for sure if he had come this way, but it had seemed a logical place to look for him if he wasn't with Sam. He smiled at the celebration, the warmth of it and from the people there. It was his sort of place - the simple things made fine and wonderful through their enjoyment. He would be bored to tears up in Hightown, not that he would have been welcome anyways.

Through the crowd he spots Adasse. Not quite whom he was looking for, but a welcome sight nonetheless. He lets out a wolf whistle or two as he dances and claps with the others as he finishes. If he receives glares for his presence, he ignores them for now as he works his way over to the elf.

"Quick fingers and quick feet. You're quite the talented one, Adasse."

Kain

[in_death_sacrifice]

Lowtown

Although he probably should and could have gone to Hightown, given his family status and everything, Kain isn't in the mood for that sort of thing. As if he ever had been to begin with. But he makes his way to Lowtown, because... well... why not. It's tradition and it's not like he has anything better to do. He's not great at mingling, but he'll put up with it for the night.

He's also all for the mask aspect of this holiday. He's donned one of his favorite Orlesian dragon masks, one of many from his collection. His outfit has colors to match, as well, and even some dragon-scale patterns, so overall he looks pretty impressive.

For the most part, he heads into a tavern and takes a seat and a drink, also partaking of any food that's available. After a few drinks, he could maybe even be nudged into doing something more, but don't completely count on it.

Docks

After hearing the rumors about something creepy happening at the docks, of course Kain has to go check it out. He approaches warily, watching the frightened visitors flocking out. Well. This has... potential. He's just getting some coin out, and preparing to head in. He glances over at whoever is also approaching, figuring that he just has to rope them into this too.

"Care to join in?"

Docks

[circleprodigy]

Inessa comes along because why not? She has little interest in parties of nobles and wouldn't be invited anyway, nor is she especially partial to drinking in a tavern at this time. But the Gallows is near-empty, with everyone else out and about for Satinalia. She might as well do the same. Garahel joins them, of course, rather pleased to show off his dragon costume to anyone and everyone. If he doesn't burst from all the treats given tonight, something is off.

So she reaches into her pocket to take out enough coin for herself and their four-legged companion, if he's charged. "Of course. A dragon is fearless. Right, Garahel?"

Garahel barks and nods, his tail wagging.

Fenris

[lyriumcarved]

Hightown...ish

Fenris' mansion is right in the middle of Hightown, right where all the noble revelers are mingling and wandering to and fro from their various balls. There's no such party happening in his manor, naturally, and with most of the lights off, the building looks rather dark and foreboding in comparison to the lit up houses where the affluent celebrations are happening.

There's also a note posted to the front door, written in the hand of someone who isn't completely proficient:

"To thos who must endur the nobls and need a braek. You are welcom heer. Pleas nock. Evryon els, go away."

Lowtown: Hanged Man

Eventually, Fenris does head out, though he's among those pesky sorts who doesn't even bother with a mask, or with any sort of dressing up whatsoever. He's just very aware that the drinks will be flowing tonight, they'll be cheap and plentiful so who's he to turn that down? Besides, some part of him almost hopes that some long absent friends might return, just for the festivities. He knows better than to hope too much, but it's worth a shot.

He's also very much a creature of habit, so he makes his way straight for the Hanged Man, taking a seat at the bar once he's there, and placing his order. They're doing some kind of two for one special, which is all the better. He'll take what he can get. He's a lot more withdrawn than the enthused partygoers surrounding him, but he's actually not having too bad of a time right now.

Lowtown

[gatheringstorm]

"Fenris! Come join me!" Korrin raises her tankard to him as he enters, her voice booming from across the room. No one really pays attention to that, though, since they're busy making their own noise. She has one table claimed or semi-claimed; there's a passed-out revel-goer in one of the seats that she hasn't bothered to move away, but the rest aren't taken at the moment.

Fingon

[utulien_aure]

Lowtown

Fingon acquires a bird mask sometime during the celebrations, but throughout the festival it's his new harp that he takes wherever he goes. At first it's just to learn, to hear the songs of Thedas and begin to pick them up, but soon he's improvising on his own and sure enough in his repertoire to busk in Lowtown's crowded streets.

But late into the nights, when many of the revelers have sought their beds and the rest are too hungover to care, the songs he turns to are the ones he knows best. He fills those last hours with the music of Arda, and of Elvenhome in the West, and for a few moments lets himself miss home.

late evening

[aforethought]

"Play that one again,"

Croaked from the corner, by a figure slumped between building and stoop. Melys holds place with the dull, stubborn resolve of drunks everywhere.

Cheap paper curls about the edges of her eyes, peels up from her nose: Her mask bent at a strange angle to free the mouth (the pipe, the smoke) beneath. Once, it must have been something with teeth — difficult now to say, crumpled as it is; eaten by water, by wind, by incautious hands.

"Don't know that one none," A mumble, thickly-accented. "Sounds a storm."

What she means by this isn't any clearer than the rest.

Samouel Gareth - Open

[el_tybs]

Lowtown

Even if he had been reminded numerous times, Sam still feels that Satinalia had snuck up on him; had it already been a year already? Again? It's because of this that he finds himself rushing to get all his gifts together to hand out.

During the day he mostly spends his time at the infirmary, checking on patients to make sure they were well enough to go out for the celebration, and if they were not then made sure they at least had some treats - the children of course got a bit more and some toys to play with.

The evening is for himself though. He doesn't dress up, his attire simple, but he does don a mask to be in the spirit of things - it does little to conceal who he actually is, an old half mask from a previous party, but he felt it needed some use. Sam mostly keeps to the streets - a little wary still of the taverns - enjoying foods and beverage being offered at the stalls.

[universal_charm]

If there was a person to recognize who Sam was, half-mask, full mask, or no, it was Jim Kirk. He could spot his lover a mile away, and he had been looking forward to a fun evening with him. They had each been at their respective jobs during the day. Even with a celebration going on, there was still coin to be made, especially if he planned to get some treats that night at the party itself.

"Why good evening good serah" Kirk chuckled, low and warm, to Samouel's side as he came up alongside him. "Might I trouble you for some company this evening?"