[Open] A Proper Party

[thorndergod]

WHO: The brothers Asgard and everyone else.
WHAT: Loki and Thor throw a party for everyone.
WHEN: Right after the quarantine is lifted.
WHERE: The Asgard Estate in Hightown.
NOTES: Loki gonna Loki, probably other things. Directly corresponds to this rookery post.

The new manor has come a far sight from where it had been, cleaned and updated significantly, but the aesthetics are still in keeping with Kirkwall standard...mostly. The exterior features a large iron scrollwork fence with matching gates, currently flung wide open, and a cheerful array of fresh floral decorations. Beyond the gates there are a number of hedges, bare but thick enough that once spring has properly taken over, they will likely be shaped into large living sculptures. There are a few torches scattered among the flora, but they lead toward the front of the manor.

The building's superstructure has not been overtly altered, but there are several exceedingly Tevene touches. The front doors, once made of hardwood, have been wholly replaced by a pair extremely detailed, solid, white marble doors. The fittings are all custom made, snake themed, and plated in gold.

The interior of the building is far more obviously Tevinter styled. The floors are the original wooden, polished to a mirror shine by the staff and bedecked in places by rugs with complex woven designs and thick piles. The foyer is well lit by a series of gold, wall-mounted sconces, and a large chandelier made of serault glass with a distinctly magical light-source in the center.

The staff, all elven in matching black uniforms, are waiting just inside the threshold and are ready to assist anyone who requires it. First and foremost they will offer to take any coats and curtsy with proper depth to anyone who passes by.

There is still some construction going on, deeper in the house, but it is up the grand staircase and beyond the realm of the party. Occasional hammer-falls resound from upstairs but they can only be heard if one is being very quiet.

Comments

Smoking Room

[hwaaaitsme]

This room is, thus far, the least changed by the new occupants of the manor. It still boasts rich wooden accents, polished wooden floors, and a fashionable hearth against the wall. There is a rather dramatic painting depicting the Magisterium above the roaring fire. The couches and seats are leather and fairly well kept but not nearly as bespoke as everything else seems to be. This room is in transition, thus nobody minds a few cigar burns. Speaking of which, there are cigars available on all of the tables alongside proper matches in long wooden boxes.

Garden

[hwaaaitsme]

Out the back there is a veranda that overlooks a rather dead and winter-worn garden. The garden is nothing to write home about, partly due to the time of year and partly due to the stored lumber and construction materials, but the view of Kirkwall is truly breathtaking. At night the lights in the city mirror the look of the stars over the ocean. There are a few scattered chairs and tables, but nothing official. Servants run back and forth, from the kitchens to the main hall, but it is otherwise a very peaceful location.

Main Hall

[hwaaaitsme]

This is the most heavily altered room apart from the foyer, it is easily mistakable for any given Tevinter estate. In the middle of the hall there is a large table piled high and very densely with various foods, largely local but some of the more dramatic dishes are clearly foreign. There are meats, cheeses, fish, and even an array of glittering sugary deserts, colorful chocolates, and an array of tiny decorative cakes. On a separate table near the wall there is a large construct of ice that contains several gallons of a dark ruby punch. Alongside that table there are several servants with trays of wine and champagne, ready to serve.

[elegiaque]

Attending more to see what they're about than out of social inclination, in black and bright embroidery, Gwenaëlle accepts wine when it's offered to her and regards the new decorating choices with an only slightly jaundiced eye. It'll be interesting, she thinks, to see who in the Inquisition might be willing, game enough or similarly inclined to keep the Asgards in view on the not insignificant chance one of them is up to something.

And getting the hell out of the Gallows for a bit doesn't hurt, either. She won't be lingering there much longer.

[rowancrowned]

His normal disinclination to stay away from a party like this, the impression it gives, the endorsement of his presence—all has been overwritten by his desire to be out of the Gallows. Restored, and with his secrets still his secrets, he is in good humor—even through the display of the elves (whom he lingers over with a careful eye, wondering if he’ll spot familial resemblances to another house’s staff) and especially once he has a glass of wine in his hand.

Good wine.

He makes eye contact with Gwenaëlle for the briefest of moments, noting her presence as he notes all the others, then continues to drift through the crowd.

[hwaaaitsme]

It takes Loki barely any time to spot Gwenaelle in the crowd. She has turned him down, tricked him into a quarantine, and now lingers in the fringes of his house warming party. She clashes with positively everything in the room in that gown and, frankly, Loki would have it no other way. He strides over to her, passing the rifter elf Thranduil on the way, and offers up a dramatic bow.

"Welcome, welcome, so glad to actually have you here. I promise I shall not slam the doors shut in your wake."

[thorndergod]

"Welcome!" His voice is loud and boisterous, but his outfit isn't for once. Thor is in mostly black with accents of red, pants instead of robes, and no staff or hammer in sight. This is a social event, and supposedly there are fewer assassination attempts at these sorts of parties in the south.

"I'm glad to see my brother has not yet managed to chase you off entirely." He's not really surprised. Someone who didn't want Loki's attentions wouldn't have sent him a gift like that.

"How do you like the place?"

[elegiaque]

"It's very much as I expected to find it," she says, mustering up a smile that's a solid halfway toward friendly; Loki is more or less something that resembles a friend, even if neither of them are entirely sure what that looks like when she tells him no, and she has nothing particularly against either of them on principle.

The suspicion is as much habit as anything else.

"Most of all it's 'not the Gallows', which currently serves as a very high recommendation for a place."

get your own drink

[untiltheyarent]

One such servant can be found here and there, attending silently to guests and scurrying after the brothers Asgard with this or that refreshment, helping to keep the party moving with as little drama as possible.

Though of no particular status over the other servants, Fifi can most often be found near the brothers and directly attending the guests around them.

[hwaaaitsme]

Loki, dressed in some of his more presentable finery, is swanning about the hall with a cup of carved in one hand and the other gesturing to and fro as he greets people and speaks. Unfortunately, since this is his and Thor's party, he has taken to ordering his drinks in the fashion to which he is accustomed. Shattering the first few glasses had made the staff jump, but now it was old hat.

The only real courtesy he offered the staff was that the ice cups were enchanted to evaporate immediately upon being shattered. It was, after all, too cold here to depend on the water to clear itself away before it damaged the floor.

"You there, another," Loki demands idly and holds his hand out for the glass. He does not otherwise interrupt his current conversation with one of their neighbors.

[untiltheyarent]

Idiots both, but at least the blond one is more pleasant about stomping all over everyone. The greasy one is... well, the one who comes to mind when picturing someone from Tevinter.

Heaving a small sigh through her nose, Fifi takes the literal two steps it requires to get to the drink table, picks up a full glass, and takes two steps back to place it in Loki's hand.

[thorndergod]

Thor absent-mindedly pats the elf on her shoulder as he steps past her to get a drink. The servants are here for their guests right now, he feels.

"You have worked parties before," he says. "The training shows."

It's more than he'd expected from servants here. They're not as good as if they'd been raised from children to do this, but he's pleased enough.

"Would you like me to set aside one of the small cakes for you?" A good servant should get a treat for good work.

Re: Main Hall

[fineriftercrafts]

Barnabas is lounging by the punchbowl, sipping the dark punch and looking around the hall. Lot of people here, that means lots of potential sales. Time to make a splash. Reaching into a pocket and pulling out a oddly knobbed cylinder of metal, he takes it and puts one end into the cup of punch and pushes a button. The device lets out a high pitched wheedling sound, and around the probe, the juice starts to first freeze and then whir around the cup. A few seconds pass by and Barnabas pulls out the probe and takes a taste of the new frozen and whipped punch.

"Ahh...Much better." After flagging down one of the servants and getting a spoon, it's much easier to eat as well. A solid advertisement, now to wait for someone to comment.

Re: Main Hall

[thorndergod]

The noise pulls him over promptly. It's something he can't place and therefore a potential threat. The Dwarf doing whatever it is happens to be Loki's friend... which tells Thor nothing. It could absolutely still be an attack until Barnabas eats some of what he's made.

Only then does Thor come over to join him.

"What is that? What manner of magic have you used?"

Beleth + Prisoner Arm Candy

[arlathvhen]

Desperately needing some kind of distraction, wanting to poke around the house of the strange new Tevinter guests, and wanting to obnoxiously show up and be high class and Dalish here, all form a potent mix of reasons why Beleth has chosen to attend the party. Another, lesser one is that someone needed to escort Benedict, and Beleth had elected to accept the duty for this night.

And so they arrive, and if nothing else can be said of the two--clashing backgrounds, personalities, and just about everything else aside--is that they make a very attractive pair, Beleth wearing an opulent green dress, and Benedict also wearing a fancy outfit. Courtesy of Beleth, of course, because she's not going to let him look like something the cat dragged in when she's the one dragging him. And while he does his best to ditch her, she determinedly wrangles him when she needs someone on her arm. She's happy to mingle with anyone else as well, taking the opportunity to refresh herself with the list of nobles that she'd met at the last party she threw.

It might be surprising for someone who doesn't know her, just how well she knows the nobles, and how easily she moves amongst them, as if she were born into this position. She's full of polite, empty smiles and polite, empty praise, as she moves, chatters, and occasionally herds her wayward plus one.

At one point in the night, she disappears, leaving Benedict to his own devices, as she goes about her own.

Prisoner Arm Candy

[altusimperius]

The suit Beleth chose for him is downright vulgar, but Benedict reasons he couldn't have expected much from a savage, no matter how highly she ranks in the Inquisition. He's worn worse, incidentally only since arriving here in Kirkwall, but the real injury is that he has to look like this in front of Thor and Loki and all their guests.

At every opportunity, he casts his eyes about the room for any familiar faces, only to be met with pithy anonymous Free Marcher nobility about whose estimation he couldn't care less. Refusing to enjoy himself as long as he's surgically grafted to Beleth, he spends most of the evening with a glass of wine in hand and an expression of dull regret on his face.

When she finally, finally frees him, he goes in search of their hosts.

Perks of Being a Kirkwallflower

[didifuckingstutter]

Avleine tugged at the hem on her dresse's sleeve uncomfortably as she stood in the main hall alone. Hawke had convinced her ages ago to buy the dress, and although she thought it was very finely made, she knew she did not posses the femininity to pull it off. It was a deep green color, which she did find she liked very much. She felt over exposed though without her armor. She still had a dagger hidden in her boot, and if worse came she was pretty confident she could match almost anyone bare knuckles if it came down- No- no fighting. She came here to mingle. She was an ambassador now, and ambassadors go to fancy parties in fancy clothes, and definitely don't start brawls at said fancy parties. So, she resigned herself to a glass of astonishingly good wine, and watched.

People all around her were partaking in the revelry, but she was more interested in finding out exactly who the hosts were exactly. Something seemed a bit off, and she trusted her gut enough to look around a little while she was here.

[thorndergod]

Thor catches sight of the woman tugging at her sleeve and watches her over his cup for several minutes as she walks around and attempts to mingle. There's something delightfully out of place about her. Eventually he grabs a refill and a second glass and comes over, smiling.

"Welcome to my estate. Mine and my brother's, actually, but I'm the eldest and we know how that goes." He holds out the second cup. "Thor, of House Asgard. Who do I have the pleasure of meeting?"

Music Room

[hwaaaitsme]

This room is the smallest of the available rooms, but the ceilings reach a height not matched by any of them. It boasts windows along the whole of the wall, all of them lined with heavy, green, velvet curtains. In the center of the room there are a series of fine instruments, detailed and polished to the degree that they might be artwork in and of themselves--there is a viol, a lute, and a harpsichord. The room has few sconces to speak of and is generally very dark at night, but against the wall that leads back into the foyer, there is a small fireplace that has been stoked and lights the room, now.

Gymnasium

[hwaaaitsme]

This room is a transition room, between the kitchens and the main hall but is, somehow, not being traversed at all by any wait staff. The floors remain hardwood and their polish is no less for the contents of the room. A rack of weights, heavy and made of various metals pressed into discs, takes up the span of one wall. A large, Qunari shaped dummy occupies the center of the room (it has a drawn on frowning face), and the other walls are taken up by a large, ornately framed mirror, and heavy, glass fronted cases, respectively. Within the cases, there are an impressive array of staves, both battle-ready and weighted for practice.

[laurenande]

Galadriel has done all she can to escape the Gallows and this bit of revelry is, if nothing else, an escape. To where, she is uncertain, as the house is a jumble of mortal fashions all piled atop one another. It is not quite Orlesian, the excess here, but it is not wholly removed from it, either.

She strolls the house and the adjoining rooms in the downstairs for a time. Eventually she discovers what is either an armory or a training room near the kitchens. It is a strange combination, of heavy equipment and marked excess, but it has an impressive collection of staves in easy reach. She had not yet seen any mage who simply...kept them in such a fashion.

The sight is, admittedly, fascinating.

[thorndergod]

He loves crowds and celebrations, but sometimes even he has to step away from socializing for a short moment to recharge. Finding someone else here is initially disappointing, and then he recognizes her - the large elf who kept up with him when working out.

"You are recovered, then? It is good to see." The large elves are odd, but he finds her interesting and it shows in his smile.

Upstairs Where You Assholes Shouldn't Be

[hwaaaitsme]

If one has managed to trick or evade the staff guarding the grand staircase and made their way upstairs, they will find a series of rooms that range from habitable but old-fashioned to completely destroyed. The house was not in good condition when acquired and these rooms showcase that with a staggering clarity.

The house itself seems evenly divided between the two brothers. The north side is bedecked in colors that Thor appreciates and the rooms are gradually catering to his belongings and aesthetic sensibilty. The south already boasts a vast number of fabric covered paintings and crates heavy with books as Loki stocks both his library and room to his tastes. In both wings several doors are locked, though not exceptionally well, though what lies beyond those is a mystery.

an asshole where she shouldn't be

[arlathvhen]

She's already stationed an agent amongst the servants, but surely she can't ask Fifi to do anything that she wouldn't be willing to. And that includes sneaking around and attempting to do her own investigating. With said agent on staff, it's easy enough for her to finagle her way upstairs. She's not the scoutmaster just because of her dashing good looks, after all.

She's careful about inspecting the rooms, favoring Loki's as a starting point. Twisted Fate had told her that he was the one up to mischief, after all. She glances through the rooms, only stopping when she locates one with a lock on it. Well, if that didn't spell something interesting.

She glances around surreptitiously, before pulling her lockpick tools from...somewhere, and beginning work, still looking up every few moments. This is probably stupid, dangerous, and how she's going to die. At least it'll be while inconveniencing magisters and their family.

[hwaaaitsme]

The first few rooms are banal, just covered furniture with spare opened crates lingering about. There's piles of equipment, scaffolding, and areas where the walls have been torn out and are in the process of being replaced. The door before Beleth is in the midst of the renovation, second only to Loki's bedroom (down the hall) for the speed with which is is being rendered truly habitable.

The door opens with a low click as the lock opens. It swings open silently, well oiled even though it is going to be replaced, and reveals a room with a low lamp burning--well, not burning, it appears to be bespelled. The flame in the lamp has no fuel but gutters on, regardless.

The room is passable, nicer perhaps than some of the rooms in the Gallows, with a reasonably sized, post style bed with a curtain that can be drawn. There is a chest of drawers on the far side of the room, a heavy trunk at the foot of the bed, and a small desk with a locking lid near the window. By the door to the bathroom there are a series of boxes with Tevene script emblazoned on them.

It is hard to say whether the lack of personal affects is because of the newness of the house, the renovation, or because there is little to display. This room is being used, but by whom and to what end, it is hard to say.