Under the Second Moon

[coquettish_trees]

WHO: Everyone Ever. It's your party!
WHAT: S a t i n a l i a !
WHEN: 1st of Umbralis
WHERE: Kirkwall and the Gallows
NOTES: I volunteered as tribute but have no authority save what having like three free hours has granted me. :D

Once dedicated to the Old Goddess of Freedom, Zazikel—but now attributed more to the second moon, Satina—this holiday is accompanied by wild celebration, the wearing of masks, and naming the town fool as ruler for a day.

---

The Gallows

Even tamped down by both the imminence of Corypheus's assault on Ghislain and the doleful pleading eyes of the Seneschal the Inquisition means to do its due diligence to Satinalia, its members beginning to appear fairly early on in the afternoon in anything from simple mask to full and elaborate costume, largely eager to let off some of the pressure that has been building ever since the news of the unanticipated battlefield broke.

Along with handcrafted decorations made from cunningly re-purposed bits of scrap... everything... that liven the main areas of the fortress it seems like someone has gone absolutely ham on decorations of the webbed variety. The hours can nearly be told by the yells of disgust and shrieks of surprise—and the laughter of companions—that rise above other chatter to mark yet another victim of this particularly sticky prank of an adornment.

The courtyard is the site of much preparation during the daylight hours, and then well-lit and filled with a feast that is simple but plentiful at dusk. Also plentiful: wine. Some clever person acquired an immensity of cheap horrible wine, floated some bundles of equally cheap spices in it to make the poor quality slightly less obvious, and set it to heat in a large cauldron over one of the temporary fire pits that has been constructed. It's good there's a late start tomorrow. Music is largely provided by the members of the Inquisition that make practice of it, and as a result, dancing is less an organized affair and more something that just breaks out every so often.

It is also true to its name tonight, some intrepid souls having decided that the opposite sides of it were the best places to set up the rival “throne rooms” that are mostly benches dragged into configuration in front of stacked and blanketed bales of hay. It's not much, but not much is necessary: the true decorations of the impromptu Fools' Courts are the personalities of their respective rulers, each of whom seems to have already collected a small zealous following eager to accomplish whatever ridiculousness they are set to in an effort to depart the normalcy that contains a fight for the Inquisition that is no longer skirmish mission after skirmish mission but full battle, pitched and outright.

(Are half of them wearing... beribboned and otherwise decorated toilet seats of cloth, wood, or folded paper around their necks? Better choose your allegiance wisely, I guess!)

The island fortress has enough nooks and secluded spaces that some privacy can be found even in the midst of full-scale celebration. In seeking unoccupied places, however, every once in a while—around a corner, down a hall—shadows raise and move oddly at the corner of your vision, although a second harder look always seems to reveal only flickering torchlight.

It's a strange night.

The City of Kirkwall

While the threat of war looms here also, rather than dampen itself, the city outside the Inquisition's stronghold has turned that nervous energy outward in frenetic release.

The festival atmosphere persists all day: the markets are bright, packed with both shops and shoppers, filled with those intrepid celebrants who have already donned mask, costume, or both, and loud with the laughter of children running in wild packs to prank and pickpocket the unwary. Trickery is tolerated, if not openly encouraged and rewarded, especially if clever. Even so, the city guard is out in force, just in case someone gets a bit too excited.

Once the sun goes down, the city is lit in a way that almost recalls the events that earned Marian Hawke her title. Fires, large and small, blaze along the streets well past midnight, although it is torch and brazier rather than barricade and home, and while the streets are further lit by the bright light of both moons, one can imagine it is the second moon's light that better illuminates the revelries below.

And revelries there are, with abandon. Near every street has its ardent lovers, its merrymakers, its gleeful dancing and laughter. And, to go with them, its footpads, its drunkards, its whores and gamblers taking their games to the cobblestones. Satinalia's freedom is a little freer when what lurks on the horizon has come close enough that one can nearly catch the threatening glint of its red crystal in the darkness.

Moreso, when you live in a city that knows what it is to burn.

Comments

the Light But Very Silly Court

[the_cleric]

Every villain needs a hero. Every fool's court needs--well, foolishness.

Jester, somewhat self-appointed queen of the fools, looks very queenly, even with a toilet seat around her neck. It has been very beautifully decorated, painted a pale pink and festooned with chains of flowers and ribbons and all sorts of decorations.

Her court is dedicated to the hilarious. Courtiers are given their own toilet seat to wear around their necks, similarly decorated. And woe betide he who refuses to put one on! As well as the seat, good guy cortiers get flower chains to wear around their necks--and bladders that, when placed on a seat, produce a hilarious farting sound--and sticks of candy that make your tongue and your mouth change colors--and rats made of gummy candy--and fake vomit--and small firecrackers, some that you can light and run away from, some of the little beads that you can throw at the ground to make sparks.

All the Good are dressed in bright colors, a veritable rainbow riot, satin and silk and dyed cotton. And masks. Flashy, beautiful masks, handmade by the queen herself--though there is a station where you can make your own, if you want to try your hand at some crafts.

If you wander too close to The Light But Very Silly Court, you may be dragged into Jester's brand of absurdity.

There's a dunk tank--a big vat of water with a seat suspended over it. Anyone who looks like they are not having a good fun time might be pulled over to it and forced inside, and then passers-by can lob rubber balls at a target. Hit the target dead center, and the honored victim will be dunked right in that water.

You might end up getting hit with a perfume bomb: a concentrated bomb of perfume that, if you're not wary and watchful, might catch you right in the chest and explode across your front. What's the smell? Anything from fresh-baked cake to mowed grass to poop.

If you're not watching your ass, someone could pin a tail on you. Any variety of animal, from the mammalian to the reptilian to the avian. Trailing feathers, a long sweeping cow tail, a beautiful tiger's tail--and try as you might, this thing is stuck on tight. And while you're trying to get that off of your ass--oh no! Someone just added another flower garland to your neck!

You may end up being the Blesser: a holy elected official who wears a big crown of trailing ribbons and carries a giant shepherd's crook festooned with more ribbons. The Blesser is bestowed the chance to judge the court, in Jester's name. And anyone judged in need of a blessing will be grabbed by the hook-end of the crook, dragged before Queen Jester, and hit with the Wand of Smiles, to brighten up their day.

There's a pie-eating contest, of course: a long table with a multi-colored tablecloth, and dozens and dozens of pies standing by that you can stuff your face with. Of course, times are hard and war is on the horizon, so the pies are actually very very small, but that just means there's more to eat!

There's a milk-drinking contest. Which is more of a challenge, than a contest, really, and maybe sounds lame, except the actual challenge is to drink a glass of milk as quickly as possible, and as soon as everyone around you notices you're drinking milk, they have to tell you as many jokes as they can think of, and you have to avoid leaking milk from your nose. Pretty good, right?

There's the chance to graffiti a wall of the Gallows--an actual wall of the Gallows! And there's paint provided and everything, in brilliant colors. Write whatever you want. Queen Jester, to set the tone, has already drawn a giant pink dick with a smiley face, and a speech bubble that says HAPPY HAPPY!

You might also end up in the contest of good guy champions. This is a sparring ground, and all weapons are actually sticks wrapped in flowers and ribbons and little jingly bells. The twist is that points are not just given for martial skill: they're also given for playacting as a character. The more over-the-top your good guy performance, the better--and bonus points for issuing the most cutting over-the-top insults.

You can attend the Best Feast, which is a seemingly endless selection of cakes, and pastries, and cookies, and fudges, and petit-fours, and cream puffs, and strudels, and pies, and doughnuts, and bear claws, and cinnamon rolls, and puddings, and sweets, and cobblers, and chocolate croissants, and even some sweet dessert wine, as well as iced milks and creams and a milkshake-like concoction.

Finally, you may also be drafted into the war upon the Dark Court. This will, again, consist of as much over-the-top good guy acting as humanly (or tieflingly, qunarily, elfily, dwarfily) possible.

[gatheringstorm]

Well, of course the person who nominated Jester in the first place has to see what comes of her encouragement. There's just one problem, her own garb isn't eye-searingly bright and her own mask isn't nearly as ostentatious. She takes in the very colorful, very noisy gathering with an amused expression as she begins to make her way over to the Best Fest, only to be pelted in the chest with one of those perfume bombs. She coughs, staggering back.

"...fuck, that's a lot of cinnamon...."

[the_cleric]

"Yeah! And now you smell great!"

Jester jumps in front of Korrin, a second perfume bomb clutched in her hand. She's ready for a second volley, but she holds back for now. Instead--grinning, triumphantly--she strikes a pose, fists planted on her hips. The little bells on her horns jingle cheerfully.

"And if you think that's a lot of cinnamon, just wait until you try the bear claws!"

[gatheringstorm]

"I'll never smell anything else, swear to the Maker--" Korrin can't argue against the smell, though she does let out another wheeze while waving away some of the cloud. Not that it really helps, or that Jester won't just add to it in a moment. Oh, well. She didn't expect to emerge from this court gathering unscathed.

But she perks up a little at the latter part, because hell yes. "That's mighty generous of you, Your Majesty. I'll even bow, if you don't pelt me in the head with that."

[the_cleric]

Jester blows a raspberry, first, before she remembers herself. She's the queen. Drawing herself up to her full height, she sticks her nose in the air and holds out her right hand, which is the one not holding the perfume bomb. The little bells affixed to her wand jingle brightly at the motion.

"You can kiss my rings," she says, in a Fancy Lady Voice (though it starts to taper off toward the end of this pronouncement), "and then I will totally show you where the bear claws are. Because technically, you are a Lady of Favor!"

There really are rings on her fingers--silver, gold, some with gemstones.

[gatheringstorm]

Jester's Fancy Lady voice is the most adorable thing, in Korrin's opinion, and making her all the more certain that she's the right person for tonight's role. Fuck the other court, whatever they're doing. Chuckling, she leans in and plants a smooch on the rings and adds a wink, just because.

"Bear claws alone are worth undying loyalty, Your Majesty. So are giant pink dick drawings, I should add." She'll have to add to that wall before the night is over, once she's made up her mind about what should join it.

Jester || OTA

[the_cleric]

Jester, Queen of the Foolish Good, is dressed in head-to-toe pink. A tea-length pink dress, a pink cloak with a deep pink lining, light pink stockings, pink boots with gold buckles--the requisite toilet seat around her neck, of course, well-painted to resemble pink marble with delicate veins of deeper pink--flower chain after flower chain after flower chain, with more flower chains wound around her wrists. Her horns are festooned with ribbons and flowers and gold trinkets--chains, baubles, little bells that jingle, merrily, with her every step.

And a crown. A great big crown, gold-painted tin with shiny red gemstones affixed here and there, its base surrounded by a thick chain of pink roses, in place of the more traditional ermine.

Her scepter is actually her Wand of Smiles, decorated with more ribbons. The worst cases brought before her will get a taste of its power, and frowns are turned upside-down as gales of laughter overtake them.

She also carries a pouch of coins, to hand out to those that please her. Some of the coins are actually chocolate. Some are real. Some are tiny stink bombs that will detonate six hours after the festivities have concluded.

Fools, come greet your queen.

closed to Helena - the aftermath.

[the_cleric]

It's late, and the torches are burning low. The revelry is ongoing, and the boundaries between the Courts have grown permeable, with the good spilling over to the bad--and of course, the bad spilling over to the good in turn, to help themselves to pastries and glasses of milk.

And where is the queen?

Laying in the lawn with her belly distended from treats.

"Helena...." Blindly, she gropes in the grass to try and find Helena's hand. "Helena, are you still here? Are you still alive? Do you know what a food baby is?"

[strangel]

Not far away there lies an angel of the Court, her hair a pale golden halo against the grass.

Helena, in her incapacitated state, grabs Jester's hand. A gesture of friendship, solidarity, and commiseration over their poor choices. A quiet groan-wheeze as she tries to formulate words.

"I am here, Jester-tiefling. Though whether I am being alive..." That, she thinks, is for much debating. With a look down at her stomach, equally bloated and uncomfortable, Helena pats her belly. "I have no heard this saying before, but it is very good."

[the_cleric]

Jester grips Helena's hand in her own, firm and bracing despite her ailments. Solidarity.

"It is very good, isn't it? It is like, when you have had so much to eat, that you look like you are pregnant, and everyone is like, oh, is that a baby? and you are like, no, I just ate ten million pastries. Ahhh, Helena--" She sucks in a breath and lets it out again. "I ate ten million pastries. Why did no one stop us?"

[strangel]

"I too had the ten million." The words carry that faint strain of pain and discomfort. "But they were so good tasting, I would eat all ten million again."

Yes, that is definitely what she would do. Briefly, she considers sitting up— but no. That way lies only suffering.

And, "they probably did not stop us because you are beautiful lady who is in charge." And because Helena would have looked at anyone who tried to like she was going to take off their hand and eat that, too.

[zombra]

That is a lot of pink. Like an insane amount. It looks like Jester raided Barbie's Dreamhouse, but since she's pretty sure Jester won't get the reference, Tessa will refrain from making the joke. Instead she does an awkward little bow, wearing a mask with black fur to match the little black wolf she has on a leash. She's hoping the fur she purchased wasn't made from any of his relatives.

"So, uh, hi. Never met a Queen before. Not really sure what I'm supposed to say."

[the_cleric]

"Well, you start with hi," Jester says, diplomatically. "So, pretty good job. And then--"

Now she puts on her fancy lady voice. Higher in pitch, with more trills and flourishes for flavor. She holds out her right hand. Rings wink on her fingers--silver, gold, some studded with gemstones. Some of them might be real. Some of them might be cut glass. Who's to say, really?

"And then, you kiss my hand, and you say, it is good to see you, your excellency, and my, you are looking very very pretty today. Because I am. And so are you, except you definitely, definitely need more decorations. Like, definitely. And so does your dog, though he is very cute all on his own!"

[zombra]

"Dude, I had limited time!" Tessa scowls a little because she really does wish she'd had more time to put a whole outfit together. This celebration totally sounds like Halloween and Christmas rolled into one and you bet she used to go all out for Halloween.

But she comes up and takes Jester's hand to give it a kiss and exercise the proper platitudes.

"It's good to see you and you're looking so pretty today. Like your faves could never look as good as this." Her dog sniffs at Jester's ankles with interest. "Oh, and this is Maz. He's actually a wolf."

[the_cleric]

"Maz. Hey, Maz," and once Tessa has released her hand, Jester reaches into her skirt pocket to produce a crumbly doughnut, which she holds out toward the wolf. "Do you want this? Because it is really good, man, like really. Hey, how did you get a wolf to be your pet? And why aren't you wearing a wolf costume? Oh, my gosh--"

Inspiration strikes like lighting. Jester's eyes go round and wild with excitement.

"You have to wear a wolf costume!"

[coquettish_trees]

The Rifter, and tiefling, who looks like a Qunari, who is a morale officer for the Inquisition is the best Queen of Fools Alexandrie has ever seen. She's just giving herself a pat on the back for making sure the Inquisition took part in that particular bit of revelry when there appears the woman herself. She's starting a grand sweeping curtsey when her hands meet exactly no skirts to spread, remembers she's in armor, and delightedly takes a knee instead for perhaps the very first time, gesturing grandly with each title she bestows.

"Your most august majesty! Mistress of Mischief, Lady of Laughter, Princess of Pink, and Rightful Queen of all Fools, I glory in your presence."

[the_cleric]

"Oh, my goooosh--"

Jester has to take a minute, first, to glory in her own presence. Like, a lady-knight? Kneeling at her feet? What is this holiday except the totally best holiday that anyone ever celebrated? Wow, wow, wow wow wow.

Moment over, she draws herself up to stand, tall, and queenly, and works to compose her face. She holds out her wand with great authority, and taps the lady-knight on her shoulder--once on the left, once on the right, once on the left--and then, very gently, on the top of her pretty head.

"Arise, Lady Knight, Champion of the Queen of All Good Fools! And let me see your outfit, oh my gosh, you are sooooo well-dressed--"

[coquettish_trees]

Alexandrie adopts a deeply solemn look for the occasion—after all, it's not every day one is knighted and dubbed a Queen's Champion, even if it is with a beribboned wand during Satinalia. She stands when bid, presses a gauntleted fist to her heart in acceptance of this deepest of honors, and then breaks into a wide smile and does a pivoting turn so she can show off what she'd had made for the occasion.

"I am ever so glad to hear so! I have been waiting ever so long for the opportunity to portray my gallant sister. But your horns! The little bells! The clever court you have created!" She sighs happily, pressing her hands to her cheeks, "Ah, cherie, you were born to be Queen."

[eruit]

Hanzo looks tragically uncomfortable.

He had come mostly because he had not wanted to be trapped in his room and because there was the promise of alcohol, which is often more than enough to encourage him to wander around. He did not expect the roses and the flowers and his nose wrinkles a little, lifting his hand to cover it from the smells and the intensity of it all. It's been a long time since he was at a party - the dinner party didn't count - and he feels a touch claustrophobic.

More than a handful of people have told him that he must greet the queen and he does so with a frown on his face, as severe as ever. His arm is on full display and he tilts his head, watching her, eyes flicking up and down before he breathes out.

"Greetings."

[the_cleric]

Jester gasps, when she sees who is speaking to her. She sticks her wand in her armpit and holds it pinched to her side, so she can reach out both hands to Hanzo for him to take.

"You're here!"

Like she's been expecting him, counting on him, to be here. If he doesn't take her hands right away, she'll snap her fingers, repeatedly, to get his attention.

"But where is your costume? Your mask and all your decorations and stuff?"

[eruit]

There's a long moment where Hanzo can't do much more than stare at her hands - what is this Qunari's obsession with hand holding, especially towards someone so clearly from Tevinter? - but he does eventually reach out and take her fingers into his own, albeit with a touch of a furrow in his brow.

"I... Am."

Hanzo seems utterly bemused to say the least, his attention dropping to her fingers before he tilts his head up to look at her again. He's not sure what to do about it either, other than try and respond to her questions in a timely fashion.

"I did not think that it was a necessity."

A Tail Pinned

[sincerelyours]

It's difficult to prevent the pinning when there is so much bulk to the stranger, and they find that their arms don't quite reach all the way around to their back. A groan of dismay escapes them as a garland is draped over their head, one massive hand pawing faintly at it and then giving up.
This is their life now: garlanded, be-tailed.

[the_cleric]

"Oh, don't be such a baby," Jester scolds, as she stands back to admire her handiwork. "You look great."

The garland of flowers provides a nice pop of red color against the thick fabric of the cloak, or robe, or whatever you would call that. And the tail--striped, like a stick of candy, red and bright green and yellow and blue--makes them look like a multicolored tiger.

Pleased with herself, Jester brandishes the Wand of Smiles. "Okay, now say thank you, my queen!"

[sincerelyours]

The stranger hesitates, then says something that sounds more like a garbled growl than words, but is approximately the correct length and inflection to be the requested phrase.

[the_cleric]

Jester beams at the figure, proud and pleased. "Very good! Oh-kay--"

She spins on her heel, starting off in a new direction. The bells strung between her horns jingle cheerfully. "So, what do you want to eat? There is so much good stuff. And now that you are dressed up, you are allowed to have some. Oh--!" Inspired, she looks back at her new courtier. "Do you want doughnuts? You totally look like a doughnut guy. We-ell, not like a guy made out of doughnuts, that is not what I mean--but that would be pretty cool, man!"