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

[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."