( closed ) Immortal Aphrodite, on your intricately brocaded throne,

[champions]

WHO: Marisol and the circus of dreams: Janzik, Jester, Julian, Mal, Petra, Resa & Sarah
WHAT: Party in Privantium - a mission to schmooze and entertain some nobility
WHEN: Bloomingtide (prior to the rifter phylactery discussions)
WHERE: Privantium, Tevinter Imperium
NOTES: Party style it up & have fun! If you have any questions, please feel free to grab me. I’ll be NPCing here and there as best I can.

The Mission.

Go dazzle. The Laseca family—matriarch Didia, patriarch Lar, and an assortment of five young adult and teenage children—have transitioned from the Soporati into the Laetan class within the last decade due to three of their children developing magic. They have money and some power, love attention, and have no interest in the current Tevinter social order.

Lar is throwing a lavish—bordering on garish—party for Didia, and seeking the aforementioned attention, has invited the Inquisition to send representatives. Mindful of appearances, the Inquisition isn't openly accepting this invitation on paper, but it will nonetheless send Marisol and a few others to put on a show and try to see what information or favor there is to be won in the bargain.

The Lasecas will look favorably on flashy magic demonstrations, rifters (how novel!), and drama that will leave their guests talking, as long as it isn't at their expense. They'll look less favorably on any outrage over their use of slaves or open attempts to talk politics or secure promises outright.

Be warned; if Marisol’s assignment should be undermined in any way by a member of the travelling party, the Laseca family and the authorities at the Inquisition will be the very last of their concerns. Have fun. 😊🗡️

I. Travel Recovery & Party Preparation ( A Fancy Bathhouse Adventure. )

The trip from Kirkwall to the Laseca estate is a drawn out and possibly exhausting one - a ship to Cumberland and travelling along the Imperial Highway is, at least, less wearing than journeying over the Vimmark Mountains might have been. Crossing Nevarra becomes more oppressive and warm as they meet the desert of the Silent Plains, and eventually cross east to Privantium. Thankfully, the Lasecas make for excellent hosts, and their first welcoming gestures to the Inquisition are to guide them to their rooms, stable their horses and carriages, and escort the entire party to the estate’s bathhouse.

First there is the room for doing away with their clothes, taken by servants to be washed and placed in their rooms, and gaining towels to proceed with. Next there is the cold room, with a pool of cold water to shock and refresh the body, then the warm room, and the hot room, where the mind and skin can be cleared with steam. The hot room is heated with braziers, and has basins of cool water to splash their faces with. Then there is the opportunity to rub down with oil and exfoliate, and then to return to the warm room to cleanse once more in the baths.
Once they emerge there is the chance to enjoy a message, but guests will all be offered luxurious white and slate grey robes to wear as they return to their rooms and prepare for the party.

Don’t worry if you don’t have anything to wear; rifters can attend in their traditional garb of their home worlds (newly cleaned or refreshed, if necessary) or they have the option of being provided with something rather more formal, ornate, and classically Tevene. Servants are available to make sure everyone is attired and coiffed appropriately.

II. Feasting & Festivities ( A Party of Distinction. )

Ah, the party. What a party it is. Live music, dancing, names being announced, and entertainment abounds. The entire estate is wound into the celebration, and there are servants ready to attend with drinks and food whether one is in the gardens, or the balconies, or in the populated dancehall of the main house.

For entertainment there are contact jugglers rolling glowing glass balls over their skin, there are others who are silent and painted gold, with black and white snakes coiling and slithering over their bodies and arms, and then some dressed only in flowers, gifting crowns of blooms to many guests. Through the evening other entertainments are present, although with that said, any mages and rifters visiting from the Inquisition would be welcome and encouraged to offer their own flair and performances throughout the evening.

The food and drink are lavish and in excess, as one mightexpect. Honeyed wines, elaborate fruit concoctions (no ale, though, that's too utterly Fereldan.) Multiple tables and multiple trays being carried around hold more offerings than cab be listed; various small wildlife roasted and dipped in honey and poppyseed, a vessel of melted cheese, more varieties of olives than could possibly be necessary, candied nuts, entire roast pigs (with signature apple), snails cooked with garlic and parsley, small hot peppers stuffed with cheeses, ostrich stuffed with peacock and dove and marinated in wine, oysters (baked or natural), caviar... And then there's dessert, trifles, many tiered cakes and a chocolate fountain with all manner of things to dip in it. If there's something desired then it's probably here, unless it's not fancy and frivolous enough, and then why ever would you want it?

The gardens are as as ornate as everything else. The scent of jasmine fills the air, but there are countless varieties of flowers, beautiful maintained. Marble statues stand amongst elaborately styled greenery and sculpted hedges. There are fountains big enough to stand in - to dance in, if you really wanted. Be careful, though, not to upset any of the golden pheasants that populate the gardens. They are very beautiful, and very precious.

( ooc: I’m going to do some NPCing of the Lasecas and maybe some guests, if you’d rather no GMing please make a note in your subject line and I’ll make sure to avoid! You’re welcome to include interactions with other guests, as well. )

III. Wildcards for Wildcards.

Have random scenarios you want to do? Maybe some shopping in Privantium? Checking the horses in the stables? Travel to and from? Go for it.

… Just don’t make Marisol keep anyone in line.

Comments

[ipseite]

ｇｏｉｎｇ

( satinalia last, thranduil had gifted petrana with gold silk and champagne lace; recommended a talented seamstress. the dress that now waits in her room—she will need the assistance of a servant with that—is the product of that gift, sentimental in its recreation of a design given to her in her youth and diplomatically useful, besides.

she is easy enough, in giving herself over to the arrangements of the bathhouse. she is, it becomes quickly apparent, one perfectly accustomed to being served; she is not rude or peremptory, but assumes the role of one who is waited upon like a skin, gracious but assured of her place. )

ｄａｚｚｌｉｎｇ

( years ago, newly engaged to a knightly princeling, petrana had attended a costume party held by her lover's imperial uncle. marius had been the moon, and she the golden sun—she cannot command royal jewels, any longer, but she had sat patiently beneath the hands of a (slave, she must not shy from the word or forget it later) as jewels had been wound into the elaborate curls of her hair, and they had seemed firm enough. they would hold long enough.

(veda had loved this trick. marius had never seemed to tire of showing her.)

so when madame petrana de cedoux is announced, she steps forward onto her mark, and she smiles. the gown is lovely, cinching her waist tight to its smallest circumference, the skirt full and the bodice and tight sleeves baring her shoulders. at her back, a heavy train flows from just above where her corset laces, its underlay thranduil's champagne lace, the detailing of gold braid tying it all consistently together. she pauses for the completion of her introduction, and before she steps forward—closes her eyes, raises her hands, and whispers.

the jewels rise and unwind all of that artful work curl by curl, letting her hair tumble loose down her back, and swirl to form a halo. when they orbit her perfectly, her fingers clench into fists and one by one, each jewel explodes into flame in the air, and spills gold dust down, into her hair, onto her bare skin, the fabric of her gown.

she will have a headache the rest of the night, she expects, but the play of light upon her will draw most every eye she passes, too. doubtless there will be volunteers enough to fetch her wine. )

Julian

[insatiably]

{ i: bath house adventures }
The accommodations are lavish, but nothing so foreign to the merchant prince that he's in any way overwhelmed by the treatment. He takes it all in stride, expecting things to be a certain way and when they are, he's not surprised. Fellow travelers can find him face down on a massage table, groaning as the masseuse works out any kinks.

"Careful with that shoulder. I took an arrow to it, you know." Of course, that happened while he was helping the Inquisition bust up a slaver ring, so he's already come up with a cover story to tell at the party. Because why wouldn't he speak of his gallantry when given the opportunity?

Turning his head to one side, he spies a fellow guest and gives a languid smile. "Fancy a massage too? It really is the best thing after a long journey."


{ ii: a party of distinction }
He's hardly that exotic to the Tevinter crowd, and seeing how he's not a mage, he's held in less favor than others present. It's a stark change to his everyday life, but he's taking it in his stride. It doesn't take him long to read the room and see where their fancies lie. A few conversations talking up the Inquisitions' mages and how he admires their skill and he's won the Vints over, for as far as that goes. He's not naive enough to believe they think well of him once he turns his back. No magic in his family at all? He's worthless to them. But that's fine because he's here as a wingman and babysitter. He'll make sure to praise who needs praised and make sure the rifters don't commit a social faux pas.

He can be found around mid-evening standing beside the chocolate fountain in his beautiful brocade jacket and Antivan leather pants, dipping a strawberry on a skewer into the chocolate. He glances at his companion with an easy smile.

"Enjoying yourself?"

He's here to make sure you do. Or at least look like you do.

[mal_adjusted]

Recovering from the Recovery

[Mal had remained quiet and withdrawn for a good bit of the trek there, mostly while they were traveling through Nevarra. There was something in her gaze, that lingered here and there, as if she was trying to drink in as much of her homeland as she possibly could. She had been back briefly, during the War, but beyond that ... she hadn't stepped foot here since she was a child.

Still, her interest is engaged while they travel through Tevinter. She doesn't think much of the Magisters, but what they've done for magical research is second to none, and she'll be glad to share some history knowledge to anyone who wants to hear her drawl.

The bathing house though, is where Mal is trying to keep the attendants from touching her. She seems to be fine with being waited upon - part of the noble upbringing - but all this? Fussing and primping? No thank you. She firmly but politely says she'll un-dress and bathe herself, thank you so much.

Her quarters remind her longingly of Ostwick, or her home in Nevarra City, but she shakes that off. Her door is open while she haphazardly unpacks clothes but neatly stacks books and painting supplies on the desk.]

Light Tricks

[The gown was something Carolus has firmly insist that she buy for the trip. She aired it out, and with the help from the ... sigh, slaves, had it tightened into place. Purple, black, with under-currents of a shimmery green gave her the appearance of some sort of dark princess. Her long purple locks, falling down her shoulders and back, were twisted into curls that completed the image.

She stands, in this ridiculous calling line, until she hears her name and steps forward. Right, time to pay the piper, so to speak. Her name is said - she can see some of the guests raise their eyebrows in interest - and she brings her hands together in a clap. Lightening, charged around her, dances out in sparks and flares around her and her gown, making it seem as if she was one with the storm itself. Her fingers curled outwards, and the lightening arched over her. Then she dropped her hands down, and the lightening died down with it.

She curtsied, and proceeded to make her way into the ballroom proper, small chin lifted high, green eyes sparking, and a quiet little smile resting on her purple lips.]

[the_cleric]

i- bathhouse.

[Jester loves baths--which is exactly what she says to anyone who will listen to her.]

Ohhh, man. I love baths.

[Her commentary is delivered while in the bath, so for the modest, it might be a little less welcome. Seven feet tall, she has to sink pretty low into the tub to keep herself under water. Not as difficult as it might seem: she's not afraid to take up space, and she's not afraid to hog the bath to keep herself submerged right up to her chin, with her legs splayed out in front of her.

She likes being pretty, so letting servants make her pretty wasn't super difficult. Her horns are nice and polished, her hair is washed and will look pretty when it is styled, and her skin--all grey and weird to her still--already feels super soft.

In this bath, there are flower petals floating on the surface of the water, and a few whole flowers. Jester cups her hand beneath one and scoops it out. Carefully, she tucks it behind her ear, before she fishes out a second flower for her fellow guest.]

Do you love baths? They are soooooo great. Especially after we were traveling for all that time.

ii- party.

[There's nothing quite like being way taller than almost everyone else to command a room. Jester, dressed like she belongs, clearly does not belong. And she is having a great time.

First, she follows around the guys with the snakes, trying to catch the eye of the snakes and ignoring the guys. She spends almost ten minutes compliment the flower-people, and collects two flower crowns for herself, which she wears doubled up on top of her head. They have to be sort of bent to fit between her horns, and at one point during the party, Jester sits down on the floor and starts picking apart the joined place of each crown, so she can weave them together instead and make herself a bigger crown. This one actually does fit around her horns, and that's how she wears it for the rest of the night, shedding petals here and there.

Anachronistically, Jester is carrying her fantastic haversack with her, bright pink on her back. She has zero shame in stopping off at the dessert table to stuff it full of whatever pastries or cookies catch her eye. Even after it's full, she revisits the table for new pastries, at least twice every hour, and eager offers bites of whatever she's found to anyone standing nearby.

But it's the dancehall that Jester really kicks it into gear. She dances with whoever asks her to dance, with coy looks and giggles, a demure attitude that she sheds the instant the music kicks in. Then she's dancing with a frantic joy. If there's music playing and no one has asked her to dance, then she dances alone. She's neither good nor bad, but her utter lack of self-consciousness has a kind of grace to it.

At some point, she decides to show off. That's what they're supposed to do, right? So she casts Invoke Duplicity, and now there's two Jesters, dancing together, in perfect time. The second Jester is a tiny bit faded, a little less vibrant than the true Jester--but under the dancehall's flickering light, who can really tell? The crowd moves to give them space, with murmurs of excitement.

Once she's tired herself out, Jester retires to the gardens. It's beautiful out there. She picks some of the flowers to make herself a bouquet, then goes to throw some coins into one of the fountains and makes some wishes. When she's tired of that, she settles in on the ground to look at the stars. Only then one of those pheasants catches her eye. That's how she can be found at the end of the party, determinedly crumbling a pastry into the grass and trying to make eye contact with the pheasant.]

Heeeere, pretty bird, bird, bird... please, look at me... hello... I just want to say hi to you, pretty bird....

[summerfae]

I: Baths

Resa takes to being pampered as naturally as though it were her true birthright, and here she is, finally claiming what she is owed. And after that harrowing trip up here, she certainly feels that she is owed plenty. If there are any reservations about all this pampering being done by slaves, she doesn’t show it. She simply relaxes through it all, allowing them full control to making her presentable. They surely know what constitutes it more than her, after all.

There’s little worry about wearing only a towel, either. Like a content and particularly lazy cat in a patch of sun, she lounges in the chairs as staff pour oil onto her skin. "What do you think I’d have to do to have this be my life? Because, l gotta say, I’m really feeling this. And I’m not feeling the trip back home. Maybe I could just stay here forever." It’d even be worth living as an exotic creature, only here for the spectacle of it all.

II: Party

Resa had accepted the offer of borrowing a dress suited to the party, and thus arrives in a distinctly Tevinter ensemble, with as much jewelry as she was allowed. Black is usually a color she avoids, but for the sake of the matter at hand, sacrifices must be made. The black also serves to emphasis her shockingly pink hair, which has been sprinkled with a generous amount of glitter (oddly enough, the servants had advised her once it was put in to avoid open flames at all costs).

As in the baths, Resa takes to the party proper as if this were something she did all the time. Or at least—her manners, dancing, and whatnot aren’t quite up to snuff, but she readily makes up for it with how incredibly charming she is. Anyone that gets within five feet of her seems unable to resist being taken in by her. For the most part, Resa tolerates their inquisitiveness and total lack of personal boundaries, even allowing them to touch her hair and the fade shard. She regales them with shocking stories from her world, and possesses a knack for feeling out the mood of the crowd that quite nearly borders on uncanny.

Which is because...well, it is. They’d been encouraged to use their powers here, and wasn’t that exactly what she was doing?

Whenever she gets a break—which seems to be whenever she decides, and the crowd suddenly loses interest in her—she makes a break for the nearest alcoholic beverage. Thank God for cocktails. Food is usually taken as well, to ensure she doesn’t get embarrassingly toasted before the night is out. Maybe afterwards.