get ready everybody 'cause here we go

[dashing]

WHO: Saoirse, Herian & open.
WHAT: a combined birthday hangout.
WHEN: 30th Haring.
WHERE: The Hanged Man.
NOTES: Drink up now and turn up hungover to the Firstday feast. Open invitation over here, no need to reply to the network post or even have prior cr in order to attend. Please add any warnings to subject lines if they come up.

"Party" would be an extreme word for it; the more accurate word would be "casual gathering of people with liquor readily available." It is The Hanged Man, though, so who knows what shenanigans could unfold.

They've taken over a corner of the inn, and though there isn't much in the way of decorations - making sure the place could be easily accessed after all that snow was work enough - there are a couple of strings of bunting.

Don't get too wild; it'd be unfortunate if Herian had to interrupt her own (shared) birthday celebration in the sake of preserving the Inquisition's reputation. (Or do get wild, and simply shrug it off as The Hanged Man's influence. Whatever.)

Be sure of one thing, though - at least one round is one Herian. Maybe. If you're a close friend, or look particularly glum.

Comments

late enough in the evening that people are there, early enough that nobody's piss-wasted yet

[onlyhymns]

Part of Cade's effort to be more of an actual person is to occasionally leave his comfort zone, and, Maker forbid, sometimes even go out of his way to interact with someone, so he takes the opportunity to give himself a panic attack in order to simultaneously assuage some guilt about The Past. There's a lot going on.
Trying to avoid Herian entirely on account of her being Extremely Frightening, Cade hopes to find Saoirse in a state of approachability, at which point he thrusts a book (neatly tied around the covers with a ribbon) toward her and mumbles something that would sound like 'happy birthday' if he were at all audible in the sea of voices. He says it to the floor. But he's trying. Hey remember how I oversaw your Harrowing, congrats on still being alive years after?

[elegiaque]

Presumably, no one needs an explanation for why Gwenaëlle is not attending this get-together - but a pair of Vauquelin-liveried elven servants do arrive with a large gift box, setting them down at the birthday girls' table without much fanfare and excusing themselves swiftly. A note is attached:

You should have at least one drink that isn't swill. Open it when the bartender isn't looking.
GV.

herian; a dramatic birthday girl

[dashing]

(if you want a custom one let me know, but otherwise wildcards are welcome)


early;
Guess who has two thumbs, is reaching their twenty-ninth year, and looks kind of unexcited about it?

It's not that she looks glum so much as she looks very serious and preoccupied; it could be before other guests have arrived, she did get there early to make sure everything was in order, or maybe others are there and she's just gone off into her own world. In either case, it might take something to get her attention.


later in the night;
Herian does not get drunk. She drinks very sparingly, in fact, as a general rule. Temperance, control, focus, all those good things. A knight should not act in excess, and they should not act in any way that compromises their honour. The problem is that refusing drinks could also be rude, and causing needless offence is also something she does not care for.

The end result is that she has had a little more to drink than she normally might, and is a little more relaxed. While she's not in an excellent mood generally, these past weeks, at least her manner has eased a little, for now.

Later

[circleprodigy]

And one more non-refusable drink is coming her way. Inessa, with a bottle of spiced wine and a couple of glasses in her free hand, heads over while Garahel is busy getting belly rubs from happy drunks. A smile curves her lips as her eyes meet Herian's, and she sits down, pouring some for them both.

"I hear we have a birthday in common, Knight-Enchanter. That's reason enough to share this with you; I might have forgotten my own, otherwise." The first glass poured is offered to Herian.

[dashing]

It isn't the same night, because whatever hour she would be ready to depart the party would surely be an inappropriate hour to call upon any resident of Hightown, and because if by some bizarre odds she isn't hanging out with Cosima afterwards, she's probably going to be hauling at least one person who has imbibed too much liquor back to the Gallows.

So, instead it is a very respectable hour of the afternoon a couple of days later when she calls upon the Vauquelin Estate, waiting to see if the lady of the house is available. Being greeted by servants is always a strange experience for her, but such is life, it seems. It would have been so easy for her to be one of them, instead of standing with the title Knight Enchanter and visiting on nobles.

"Lady Vauquelin," she starts, when eventually they find themselves in the same area. "I hope the new year is treating you well."

May they both resist any mental breakdowns in this year.

[dashing]

"For true? Many happy returns, Warden, early as they may be."

She accepts the glass, and holds it up very slightly in accompaniment to her words, before taking a sip.

"Thank you. Will you be doing anything in particular to celebrate the day, now you have been reminded? I most like would not, had Enchanter Ceallach not been so insistent."

[circleprodigy]

"You're quite welcome. Indeed, I'll be twenty-two." And then Inessa pauses and shrugs, a little sheepish. "Outside whatever Ciri will inevitably spring upon me, I doubt it. Events have kept me from making headway with my project this past month, but now I want to push forward once more. Besides, the day after First Day is usually one for nursing hangovers, is it not?" A wry smile surfaces. That's the 'trouble' of having a birthday directly afterward, when the larger holiday is over and most are in recovery-mode. She doesn't seem excessively bothered by that fact, though; a quiet birthday suits her just fine.

later

[crowncitizen]

"Having fun?" Prompto asks as he slides into a seat next to her. He's been an extroverted social butterfly, talking up a lot of people, but especially the (slightly older) birthday girl. But he hasn't gotten to talk to Herian quite as much tonight, and now he's here to remedy that.

[dashing]

She takes a moment to consider, though it is not really necessary, more a matter of habit and carefulness. “I am.” There is a moment where she lets the silence hang in the air before elaborating, “I am not generally much for such social affairs. Saoirse is, I fear, far better qualified in this realm than I - and you as well, I think.”

Social butterflies, man.

[dashing]

Twenty-two.

When Herian was twenty-two she was still in the White Spire, eagerly trying to prove herself. Her life had been an obsession with becoming the best Knight Enchanter that she could become for long before then, as well. And now she was a Knight Enchanter, but what had it done for the world, or the Chantry, or the Circles? That she would ever be the personal guard to the Divine seemed dubious at best, when they had gone so long without a Divine elected in the wake of the conclave. A life of dedication sometimes seeming eclipsed, when apostates could make claim to something that was years of work without any consideration of duty.

She takes another sip of wine.

“I am reaching nine-and-twenty. I must confess this is not where I imagined myself being now, when I was your age.”

saoirse; a less dramatic birthday girl

[sulena]

( shoot me a pm or hit me up on plurk if you'd like something custom. otherwise, wildcards are totes welcome. )

— early.

Unlike a certain someone Saoirse is just a little more excited for her most recent birthday and the current party taking place today.

Perhaps it's because it has been so very long since she had actually celebrated it. Time in the Circles, especially when she lived in the Gallows, left little time for celebration or any sort of enjoyment in those later years especially. It is why she arrives early in the day with Herian to make sure everything is in place and there are no complications to be found with their location. It's nothing grand, sure but Saoirse is enjoying the work and can constantly be found throughout the day with a bright smile on her face.

— later.

But on the other hand, much like her birthday friend, Saoirse is not the sort to get drunk although she does enjoy the sweeter drinks offered by the tavern keep. Perhaps it helps that she keeps passing him food and what else, or perhaps because he thinks she cannot handle much more than the sweet wines and mead. Though there is probably some truth to the thought especially as the night wears on and she drinks a bit more than she might usually.

She tries to greet everyone that arrives, especially the unfamiliar friends of Herian and might take someone by the hand at one point to dance. She sings too, songs from Starkhaven for her and Herian but leaves it to the tavern bard tonight for the most part.

[crowncitizen]

"Yeah, she seems like she's in her element. With her personality, though, it's not really a surprise." He smiles as he glances in Saoirse's direction, his fondness clear. He turns back to Herian, adding, "They're not for everyone, though. Social situations, I mean. But as long as you're still having fun, that's what matters." Especially since they're celebrating her birthday. She and Saoirse deserve to have a fun night out.

later

[crowncitizen]

Prompto wouldn't have missed this for the world. Of course he'd greeted both birthday girls when he came in, but he hadn't wanted to monopolize their time from the get go. Which is why he's waited until now to hand out gifts.

Saoirse's were small enough that he was able to smuggle them in unseen, hidden under the layers he'd worn to get here. With a grin, he walks up to Saoirse when she's in between talking to people and hands the two small gifts to her. "So... I might have gotten a little heads up a few days ago that your birthday was today."

Yep, Herian blabbed, thus Prompto had a bit of time to gift hunt.

early, because he wants to gift her in private

[tar_minyatur]

"Milady Herian?"

Elros sticks his head in the room to look around for her. He has a small parcel in one hand - no fancy paper, but neatly wrapped. He even managed to locate a ribbon. From. Somewhere.

[circleprodigy]

"Before the fall of my Circle, I was so certain that I would be an Enchanter by now. One more step on my way to perhaps becoming First Enchanter somewhere, someday."

At the very least, she would have joined the Aequitarians formally, instead of merely sympathizing with them. It had all been planned out, her future seemingly secure...only for the rug to be pulled out from beneath her feet. Suddenly, one path was cut off from her while endless other possibilities arose. Suddenly, she could follow in the footsteps of her childhood heroes...but that that had not quite turned out as she had thought it would, either.

Pausing, she takes a sip of her own wine, savoring the flavor. "And what life did you imagine for yourself, as a Knight-Enchanter?"

Early

[dashing]

The set up, such as it was, is done— but a final touch is required. Herian walks up behind Saoirse, and gently touched her shoulder.

“Sinn-seanmhair,” yes, she just called her great grandmother, what of it? “Have you a moment to spare?”

In the none-shoulder dwelling hand there is a parcel, only loosely wrapped in simple, coarse paper. Nothing fine, unfortunately.

[dashing]

“She has been capable of capturing a room since we were very small.”

There is not any indication of envy, there, only fondness. Saoirse could inspire the best of things in people. Herian might wish she could do that, but her methods were the knight’s code, duty, honour; she lacks Saoirse’s bright wit and smiles.

A moment of pause. I will not interfere, she had promised, or at least that she would not press matters, and she has no intention of breaking that promise. “That she thinks so well of you is praise indeed, Serah Argentum.”

Simple observation, that she would have made regardless of knowing Saoirse’s fondness. No promise broken.

[dashing]

“Good evening.” It is always something of a surprise when people seek her out. She has just finished putting up a string of bunting, and takes a step down from the chair she’s standing on to consider it. It is lopsided? She eyes it critically. Decorations are not her area of expertise. Most things, truthfully, are not; she is a creature of specific talents.

“It is very kind of you to attend. Can I offer you a drink?” She spies the gift - it’s not like he’s hiding it - and isn’t sure what to do about it. How do friendship, how to things.

[tar_minyatur]

He smiles and offers her the gift with a bow.

"It isn't much - but I thought, seeing as we recently went dragon-hunting together, that it would be terribly rude if I didn't attend! I would love a drink, but only if I don't inconvenience you too greatly."

PHEW sorry for the delay, just got home from work

[dashing]

That coaxes a smile from her, faint as it might be. That's just her way, really, faint smiles and control. "It is no inconvenience, I promise you. I would be very glad to become better acquainted, when you did the Inquisition so great a service."

Sure, they did great things to curry favour with King Markhus, only for the battle in the Necropolis to tear the Inquisition's reputation down to nothing again, but— they would do better. They must do better, if Thedas is to have any hope.

"You honour me, thank you." And, after a moment of looking slightly perplexed, "is it better manners in the custom of your people to open a gift immediately, or wait until a later time?"

[dashing]

“Ambitious.” Impressive, to strive so far, though ambitious mages were not always looked on kindly.

She sips the wine again, enjoying the warmth of the spices on her tongue. Clove, she remembered, her uncle would keep for spiced wine, while her mother desperately tried to keep them for numbing sore mouths.

It is strange, abrupt association, but she sets the glass down gently. "I hoped to serve the Chantry and the people through it. I long believed knights had the opportunity of bettering the lands they were to protect, and I wished to play my part in that. Educating more Knight Enchanters, serving the will of the Divine."

A moment of pause; “I was considered unusually driven to make Enchanter when I did. Did you have a particular desire to teach your fellow mages?”

No worries am slow myself!

[tar_minyatur]

"Up to you, I think?" Elros considered.

"When I grew up we didn't have much in terms of birthdays! And what gifts we had were usually not wrapped!"

[dashing]

She wonders, having learned a little more of his people, if that is because they live so long, that birthdays might become meaningless. On the other hand, asking something so forthright seems... impolite or intrusive.

"I confess myself curious," she admits, but first catches the barkeep's attention, even as she carefully starts to undo the ribbon. As she does so she asks, "do you prefer wine, ale?" Or those... other drinks... perhaps it is evident that she isn't much of a drinker, herself. "Spirits?"

[elegiaque]

“Tolerable,” she says, droll. “You've caught us in motion-” with a gesture to the house at large, which seems a-bustle with activity for also being fucking cold. In the private sitting room on the top floor that Herian has been shown up to, there's a roaring fire (Hardie, her hound, has taken up residence in front of it and will not be moved), and Gwenaëlle has arranged blankets and bearskins appropriately - but much of the rest of the house is chilled and cold, and in the process of being shut up.

“It wasn't built for this winter,” a bit more critically, regarding the home she's become grudgingly sort of fond of, “and I'm a bit concerned my birds are going to die in the night, so we'll be decamping to the Gallows by the end of the week. How did the Hanged Man treat you?”

[tar_minyatur]

Actually it's mostly because they were on the run and somewhat poor, also swords don't tend to lend themselves to being wrapped

"Then far be it from me to tell you not to open it!" He grins at her. "Ale, I think, but I'm not fussy."

It really isn't anything special - but he's managed to buy or perhaps even carve a little dragon out of a piece of driftwood.

"Will you share a drink with me?"