OPEN | Bon anniversaire, nos vœux les plus sincères ♪

[coquettish_trees]

WHO: Evie, Lexie, their CR, and anyone else who feels like Partying Hearty on someone else's dime
WHAT: b u r s d a y
WHEN: 22nd of Justinian
WHERE: the De La Fontaine apartments in Hightown
NOTES: quality sisterhood, a lot of booze, a 100% chance of embarrassing parlor games in which one is required to kiss inanimate objects or try to bargain for ladies gloves or recite poetry or sing or do whatever other party trick you have that you've never gotten to showcase.

please threadjack each other atrociously (unless otherwise noted). ♥

Had a certain hot-house blossom hurricane of a sister not decided to join Geneviève in Kirkwall, the Chevalier would most likely have let the day pass— as she had before— without overmuch note. Alexandrie, however, takes after their Lady Mother when it comes to extravagant parties and will not be satisfied without a certain level of celebration on the occasion of their shared natal day. Given that the two women are currently sharing the Hightown apartments both rented and renovated by their architect father and that there will be a party happening there, it seems that this year Evie will be celebrating her birthday.

To this end, there is a not insignificant amount of alcohol and seemingly self-replenishing finger foods both sweet and savory. The household staff that came along with the twins to Kirkwall may be small, but all have been with the family for over a decade at the least and are prideful in their service both in representing the De La Fontaines and, in what has become an even more cosmopolitan city since the installation of the Inquisition, Orlais.

Those who need particular invitation have been particularly invited, and the rest of the Inquisition has been duly informed by crystal. Let's do this.


A Party in Several Parts:

I. Sister Sister (closed to Lexie and Evie): Look, Evie, if you don't let her get you fancy, what even is the point of Lexie coming to Kirkwall anyway. Should we bicker about dresses? We should bicker about dresses. Let Emile put your hair up for the Maker's sake, and please borrow her best set of pearls, she knows they look good on us. Honestly if you don't accessorize you'll be very sorry when she convinces everyone to play Le Créancier or a rousing and heartily impertinent game of strip Vingt-Et-Un and you don't have anything to take off but your shirt.

II. Blood, Bond, Besties, and Beaus (closed to fambly/CR): Those personally known by the twins have been informed of an earlier time to join them for what will be a slightly more intimate gathering. Gossip, catch up, bemoan the lack of society here, pregame the rest of the Inquisition appearing, listen to Lexie show off on harpsichord before she gets too tipsy for 64th notes, show off yourself, play cards, lounge. L o u n g e!

III. Party Time, Excellent (OTA!): The festivities are in full swing by this point, and throughout the night somehow there are still more of those little darling sandwiches, and there always seems to be another cask of something. It only happens once a year, right? Appreciate the apartments, let an inebriated Lexie dress you up, go find some secluded corner with someone you've had your eye on, play ridiculous parlor games. Speaking of whiiiich...

IV. Le Créancier (OTA! One thread for this one!): Eventually, Lexie is going to want to play a game. The rules, she explains, are simple: someone will be chosen to begin as the creditor, and they shall approach another player to collect the debt owed them. A number of kisses, perhaps, or a segment of verse, song, dance, show of acrobatic prowess, a piece of truth, a dare, anything else your terribly clever minds can concoct. The debtor must then argue with them, appeal to their better nature, or attempt to otherwise evade the collection. Hold fast, creditor! In the end, the debtor must either acquiesce or protest that they are entirely insolvent and offer some accessory or article of clothing— worry not, all shall be returned— to be accepted in its stead. The debtor then becomes the creditor and approaches another!

[OOC: Anyone who wants to play, drop me a line on plurk/discord/journal message me so I know who all is available to be picked. If you have something you'd particularly like your character to be asked to do (a talent they're shy about but that you'd like to see them get to show off), let me know! Start that ship! Surprise everyone with your character's virtuosity! I'll make sure everyone's coordinated. 8D Shine on, you crazy diamonds.]

Comments

ii

[hwaaaitsme]

Loki arrives early, insofar as the pre-gathering qualifies as being early, but fashionably late for the gathering itself. It is a fine line to walk, being late and early at once, but Loki is nothing if not the master of parties. He arrives dressed in a slightly less serious outfit than he usually sports, something with fewer layers and somewhat less decoration--it is not his party, after all--but looks no less wealthy or well groomed for the dressing down.

He is accompanied by two servants (and these are servants) with large vases filled to the brim with wild and bright floral arrangements as well as his Valet who is currently in charge of the gifts. Alexandrie's gift is in a black package. It is nondescript, of a certain size, and has a sparkling green bow atop it, as though she could forget from whom it came. There is a second, more perfunctory gift for her sister, of whom he was only recently informed, in similar wrapping.

Upon entry into their apartments, he directs his servants to deposit the flowers somewhere near sunlight (else how will their colors truly shine). His Valet remains by his side, eyes politely unfixed and posture perfect, as they wait to be announced.

[thorndergod]

Thor does not fidget, exactly, as he waits to be announced. Fasionably late is a concept he's aware of, but he does not tend to use it. Usually he's early because that's the only way you really catch people off guard, so he's a little anxious to be walking the line of late and not. But Loki knows parties, and more importantly Loki knows their hosts, so he's following his brother's lead for once.

The two gifts he's brought are added to the piles, bottles wrapped in bright red cloth that can double as a scarf. They're twins. Maybe they like matching things. He would, if he had a twin.

Instead he has Loki.

Thor's outfit is wide-sleeved and loose, hair tied back with a deep blue ribbon that matches his pants, top a muted (for him) gold.

"I will never see how late can be fashionable," he mutters.

[coquettish_trees]

From the parlor there is the sound of someone playing a well-known Orlesian art song on the harpsichord and a bright soprano singing the very unpublished but very popular bawdy version of the lyrics that accompany it. Moments after Marceau raises his voice to announce the brothers Asgard in a suitably sonorous voice both are abruptly cut off in the middle of a run and are replaced by a delighted shriek that manages to studiously avoid being shrill.

"Do not hold them at the door so, Marceau!" Alexandrie calls with mock reproof from the other room, and then "My lord Loki, do you play?" There follows an ornamented chord to illustrate the subject of the question.

[hwaaaitsme]

"We are creating suspense, brother, so that people await our very presence," Loki informs him, quietly, and then turns a charming smile on as he ushers Thor forward with him, through the threshold into the next room.

The apartments are decorated in a way that, to Loki's mind, makes perfect sense. They are Orlesian in form and fashion and just fine enough to belong to a properly titled house without seeming too absurdly ostentatious. (He prefers the absurd but is well aware that he is in the minority, there.)

"Alexandrie, happy birthday," he greets genially and moves toward the harpsichord. It is a lovely instrument, though a bit off from his own.

"I do. Our mother adores music. If you have any other instruments, we might play something for you."

[summerfae]

ii.

It's nice to know that even in a weird, ye olde thyme world like Thedas, there were birthday parties. They aren't something that the fae usually throw (it's not like their parents are around to inform them of the day they were born), Resa has been living among humans, and seen enough human media, to have knowledge of it, and find it charming, in its own way (and who can blame the humans for celebrating their birthdays, when they have so few of them?).

She knows enough, at least, to make sure to bring a brightly gift-wrapped present. So when Resa sweeps into the house, she's quick to greet Lexie with an air kiss on the cheek, and then offer up the gift to her.

"Thank you so much for your invitation, my dear, I hope you like what I got you." Which, when Lexie unwraps it, will turn out to be a lovely, gauzey shawl, made of a light, white lace, with delicate gold floss embroidered into vines around the edges. It's probably more expensive than Resa should be able to afford, but don't question it.

iii

It should be no surprise that Resa is happy to embrace the sumptuous celebration, and indulge herself as much as propriety will allow--which, when everyone else is also indulging, appears to be a fairly significant amount. She drinks, she eats, she drunkenly titters at anyone willing to attempt conversation with her, and appears to have switched dresses once again every time someone sees her.

It's enough to stir up some surprising homesickness, of drunken revelry with her oldest, first friends, back in the days where she never regretted a single action committed, when she was truly young, and truly part of something.

Which is, then, enough to make her reach for another drink, and attempt to tell a terrible joke about dragonflies, that seems to make no sense to anyone but herself. The blank look on anyone's face who hears it only serves to amuse her further, for some reason.

ii

[coquettish_trees]

Lexie is delighted with everything involved: Resa has a perfect sweep, the air kiss is returned enthusiastically, and since the rifter came to present her with the gift directly rather than passing it off to one of the servants who is waiting near the door for such things, she opens it straightaway, letting Emile take the wrapping.

"C'est magnifique!" she exclaims, immediately draping the shawl across her shoulders (since it of course matches), and doing a little twirl. "How do I look?" It's a largely rhetorical question, she knows she looks beautiful, but that's the sort of thing you're meant to ask. There's only a very short space in between that query and her clapping her hands together as she has a sudden idea.

"Oh, yes! You swept in so gracefully but you simply must go back to the door and tell Marceau your name and title so that he may announce you properly." She leans in to whisper impishly: "If you have not a title, you ought to make one up for yourself. You come from another world, after all, no-one will know."

[judgemewhole]

II

He was only here for Evie. He swore to the Maker, if it hadn't been Evie he never would have shown up at all. Yet she was one of his dearest companions, someone who he held in his heart and would protect with his life.

He also, apparently, would come to her surprisingly frippery filled birthday party.

He ... had the feel that it was in fact Lexie who had the frippery part down. So he arrived for the earlier gathering, with some Very Good bottles of wine, and wrapped packages for both the sisters.

If nothing else, he knew Evie would need his moral support. Perhaps just not all his morals.

III

Oh, look at this delightful spot by the window where James is going to stand and drink wine and try to ignore how people keep losing clothing. Sigh. Some things are so Orlesian it is ridiculous.

Of course he is approached - he is one of the Champions of the Grand Tourney, his name emblazoned on the Trophy. He tips his head in acknowledgement, chats with the older, retired Chevaliers about his methods and practices.

Come a little closer to the window though, if you want to talk to him about the war. He won't ruin the party with such dark tidings.

III

[altusimperius]

It's not an interaction so much as a glance; Benedict stops in his tracks midway across the room, catching his wine before it sloshes onto the floor, and looks as though someone just poured cold water down his back.
What is he doing here?
Looking at Norrington just long enough to be horrified, Bene then turns quickly away and disappears into a cluster of partygoers. Well, that's tonight ruined.

Re: III

[judgemewhole]

James caught that glance, his own hand stilling around his wine goblet. He narrows his eyes at Bene, looking at him suspiciously. What in the world is he doing here? He is almost tempted to follow, but that will mean he'll make a scene and -

Well.

He would never do that to Evie.

get jacked!

[coquettish_trees]

It is at this point that Alexandrie glides by with her armful of flowers. "Why, Knight-Commander!" she exclaims while reaching up to place one behind his ear (it takes three tries— and a stern look at the uncooperative blossom— to get it to stay correctly, and the Look evaporates immediately into a winning smile as soon as it's situated properly), "what a fierce look you have!"

[keenly]

ii: Closed to Lexie

Colin is here because he was told he was catering. So he brought the food--classy, high-quality Orlesian food because he is branching out these days. Tiny cakes, ratatouille made with fresh ingredients, bouillabaisse, and a great many other dishes. Then, once everything was set up, a glass of white wine was put in his hand and he was ushered into the party itself. When trying to return to work, he was told in no uncertain terms that everything was handled and he should just go enjoy himself with the other guests.

The other guests.

Dammit, Milady.

So in the pre-party party, he sits quietly, holding his glass of white wine, wearing the one fancy tunic he has (hunter green with embroidery), and looking entirely out of place nonetheless. Beyond just being naturally shy, he is also from a poor family, and most of the guests here are...not. At all. There really must have been some mistake, right?

After a time, he decides there absolutely must have been a mistake and tiptoes off to oversee the catering.

ii: Open

Once the lady Alexandrie has made it clear he is to be a guest, not an employee, Colin feels a little better. And the more wine he has, the less difference he sees between these rich folks and himself. Wine makes equals of everyone, he decides. Everyone loves food, drink, and good company. And while he still does not speak often, he loosens up. When someone says something funny, he laughs. When there is music, he listens. It all starts to become...fun, actually. He is comfortable with letting other people do the talking, just like in a normal party. And it is sort of glamorous, being among these beautiful people wearing fancy clothes. And as long as he sits quietly and smiles, no one seems to know he doesn't belong here. And he is very happy to sit quietly and smile.

iii: Open

The downside of partying with the rich is that the servants tend to top off your wine glass whether you ask for it or not. So by the time the party is open to the normal folk, Colin is a bit sloshed. And he gets more sloshed as the night goes on. It can be hard to tell, as quiet and demure as he is, until he stands up to grab a bite to eat or stretch his legs. After a time, he is chiefly laughing at peoples' stories or grinning stupidly to himself. Join him, will you?

ii for meeeeee

[coquettish_trees]

Involved as she is in entertaining, it takes a goodly amount of time for Alexandrie to notice that Colin is one: here— as he did quite a good job of coming in quietly, nearly hiding, and then sneaking off to the kitchen again— and two: in the kitchens instead of out in the parlor with everyone else.

In fact, since the household staff is traveling in and out of the kitchen Emile has to come and rat him out to her. At which point she excuses herself briefly to sweep gracefully into the room in a swirl of skirts, the few artfully loose curls dangling from her upswept hair bouncing, and brace her fists on her hips.

"Colin. Emile was to purchase your wares, not your service, and as she is very good at her work I cannot imagine a mistake was made. You are a guest, and you shall both make the staff worried and give me nerves as a birthday present if you insist on staying back here any longer," she scolds. It is light and mostly in jest, but a scold nevertheless. She softens it with a bright smile soon after. "Come and talk to Freddie about the ancient history of Antivan cuisine or somesuch. Ask her interesting questions about anything, she enjoys expounding. Or you may tell me, and drink enough wine while doing so until such time as speaking with a Baroness no longer makes you wish to defenestrate yourself."

III - Silly Interlude, everyone enjoy your new flowers

[coquettish_trees]

At some point well into the evening (and Alexandrie well into her cups), it will perhaps be noticed that she has disappeared.

The mystery will be solved not too long afterwards, when she appears again having changed into a multi-layered diaphanous gown that looks rather like it belongs on the stage rather than about in society, her hair half a riot of bright flowers, and the rest of the arrangement cradled in her arms, the which she traipses about with like a wine-silly Bellitanus, putting blooms into everyone's hair; or behind their ears, if the configuration of their hair does not allow for the former. She's surprisingly graceful for her state— save one or two giggling stumbles into guests and once needing to be caught and righted— but leaves a bit of a trail of flower and greenery behind her all the same.

There is a brief pause in Alexandrie's journey for an exclaimed "Joyeux anniversaire, Evie!" for her twin, a kiss on the cheek, and the transfer of one of her hair-flowers (as she already knows that particular one looks good on them), before she continues wending her way around the room to eventually end up in Loki's lap, wherever he is, altogether unconcerned with whether or not she is interrupting conversation.

"A most agreeable present, my lord," she says brightly, tucking the last remaining blossom behind his ear. "Ah! Comme c'est beau!"

[hwaaaitsme]

Alexandrie does interrupt a conversation, dropping down right in the middle of a terribly droll story and cutting it short in a fairly spectacular fashion. Loki, to his credit, is not startled at all by her sudden presence and manages to adjust his arm around her waist without spilling even a drop of his fancy drink.

His smile is smooth and bemused and just this side of drunk. It has an oddly besotted edge to it, but he clamps that down rather quickly. He does not adjust the flower in his hair.

"I am glad you approve, but that was not your present," he informs her and gestures, very slightly, to the elf standing along the periphery of the room. True to form, his valet has been hardly noticeable all evening and has continued politely holding her actual gift.

[coquettish_trees]

"Oh?" Alexandrie asks, looking over at the indicated fellow and waving her fingers at him with a wide smile. She takes the opportunity of her turning back to re-adjust herself more snugly against Loki and resting her head at his shoulder. She giggles, her expression light and cheeky as she looks up at him. "You got me an elf? You terrible man," she chides facetiously, "that's hardly how things are done in the South."

[hwaaaitsme]

"If you'd like one, that can be arranged," Loki tells her without missing a beat and shrugs his free shoulder.

"But no, something a little more interesting." Loki considers her and then the man he was speaking to. The gentleman, already uncomfortable with the tableau before him, takes to his feet and wanders off. At that point, Loki gestures his valet over.

"I do hope you like odd gifts, it was the best I could do on such short notice."

III

[altusimperius]

A fancy party with the Who's Who of Kirkwall's Inquisition? Benedict would be a fool to miss it, but he'd be a rube if he showed up on time. He arrives fashionably late (as his family is known to do), swanning into the room wearing his best from Minrathous, the trunk of which finally, finally arrived along with his best scents, jewels, and hair oils. At last he appears the lordling he is, and he acts the part as he struts from one end of the party room to another.

Ah, there's the wine.

Smiling winningly at Evie or Lexie-- who cares which-- he raises his glass to both or neither, and takes a sip.

[coquettish_trees]

It was Geneviève, as it happens. A rustle at his ear, followed by a light weight settling above it will herald the other one, however, with her bright puckish smile (the edges of her lipstick still somehow sharp enough to cut glass) and her arms filled with the entirety of a not inconsequential flower arrangement.

"Ah! Lord Artemaeus," Alexandrie says delightedly, "a true pleasure to finally have your name."

[altusimperius]

"Naturally," he replies, looking Lexie over and vaguely recalling her from the tourney-- now that he looks more closely, it's obvious which is which, not that he'd ever make the effort to point it out.

"A true pleasure to grace you with it at last." Holding his wine glass aside, he extends a hand for hers, bending to kiss it primly if she lets him.

[coquettish_trees]

Which Alexandrie of course will.

"When me met at the Tournament I would not have guessed at a person of your bearing being a part of the Inquisition," she says brightly. "How delighted I am to find myself incorrect! You must come and dance with me later on, I would consider it a gift."

[thorndergod]

Benedict apparently is at last dressed as he ought to be. The mages of Tevinter have a reputation to maintain, and Thor is afraid they're doing a poor job of it for the most part... but at least now they all look the part.

"It is an impressive party, for the south." There's a distinct lack of slaves circulating to make sure everyone's needs are met, but it's decent enough aside from that.

[altusimperius]

Maybe some of them are doing a poor job of it, Benedict would argue, but he is certainly doing his best.

He's staring off at something with a perplexed, vaguely disgusted expression when Thor approaches, and it takes him somewhat by surprise, turning abruptly to blink at the larger man and eventually register that he should smile. "For the south," he agrees, and raises his glass to gently clink with Thor's.

Geneviève De La Fontaine

[bouclier]

i (for Lexie)

Evie doesn't entirely mind the dressing up. She's done it several times perfectly fine on her own without Lexie's help since coming to the Inquisition. She's a Chevalier, she knows how to show up.

That being said, there's some mild complaining from her about the ostentatiousness of the attire for a party celebrating their birthday (not even a milestone!) in her apartment. She doesn't dress up to sit around and drink!

She wrinkles her nose at the third pair of earrings she's had thrust upon her, shaking her head.

"These weigh twenty pounds an ear, do you want me to have earlobes hanging down to my feet? Is that your true reason for being here, to stretch my earlobes so I trip on them and fall to my death?"

ii

Evie is comfortable in sitting in her favorite chair, with her third glass of good wine, watching the people milling about her apartment. It's strange to see other people occupying a space which she has so comfortably settled on "her own."

She's cordial enough to people that she doesn't know who have shown up for Lexie's benefit, and she's a little more jovial towards those she does know, but overall this is pretty obviously not her idea.

i

[coquettish_trees]

Who on earth doesn't dress up to sit around and drink?

"Twenty pounds!" Lexie exclaims in response, "How strong I am to wave them about so!" Which she does, in an elaborate dance, on her way to replace them with a fourth prospective pair. "But yes," she calls back over her shoulder, "you have caught me at my game. While you were gone, I became a Bard, and alas, I have been paid a very handsome sum to murder you— my own dear sister— through the most insidious and dastardly means possible: fashionable accessories." Here the new pair is held up by Evie's ears for her inspection. They're certainly smaller than the previous, but still more to Lexie's taste.

II

[judgemewhole]

He appeared at her elbow somewhere in the middle of the private gathering, and passed her a glass of wine, along with a whisper. "I have been ordered to dance with you, as your sister attempts a matchmaking scheme worthy of any of the high balls in Orlais. How are you, dear Evie?"