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

[heirring]

The hand at gger waist seems to be perfectly fine, as is the introduction. Wysteria's smile flashes wide under the band of her green mask - a broad hat ribbon reinforced with some other cloth backing with holes carefully cut and hemmed for her eyes, by the looks of it and the large bow with is winnowing tails where it's tied at the back of her head.

"I think this is the very best way we should meet, Kenna. I'm Wysteria." None of this Miss Poppell nonsense. She's had maybe just slightly too much wine for that much formality. Shouting cheerfully back over the music, her gloved right hand firmly guiding the shorter woman through the rollicking step she's set: "Have you been with the Inquisition long?"

[gritted]

"Only a few weeks!" That was too loud, in retrospect. She's also been drinking, but she'll pretend it's the music's fault. Another beat of silence as she keeps up with the brisk pace, resisting the urge to look down at her feet.

"What about you?" And shortly after, this one with timing to imply it's not entirely smooth. It's just important that it's said, thank you. "I like your mask."

[heirring]

She's all ready to answer, but forgets the question entirely in favor of-- "Do you really?!" That might be too loud as well, but Kenna will have to forgive her enthusiasm. "Then the terrible sacrifice was worth it! I stripped the ribbon from my favorite hat for it. My only hat now, technically. But I've always been rather keen on it."

Here, the music begins to shift - elongating and slowing by just enough that there can be no pretending at keeping up the trotting pace. Ah well; it was a delight as it lasted. And this way at least they can carry on a conversation without shouting over their own tromping footfalls.

"I'm a fortnight plus, I think. So not much longer, really. I'll spin you now in three, two, and--" She guides Kenna about by the hand, then back, swapping directions and squawking as she narrowly misses trampling one of Kenna's feet. "Ha! Sorry. No harm done."

[gritted]

"Can you still wear your hat without the ribbon?" Is that a dumb question? Maybe. She's sure the hat is still technically wearable, but maybe it's completely pointless without the decoration. Kenna's grateful for the slowed pace, though Wysteria manages to keep it unpredictable with the sudden offer of a spin.

"Oh, I don't—" The weak protest doesn't translate to her not spinning, though she stumbles a little on the landing, inspired in part by the squawking. And, once she's regained her rhythm again, "Do you do a lot of dancing?"

Honest question, no shade.

[heirring]

"Here and there. It depends on the season, and I've been out of parties for the last year. Ralston-- ah, my educator, wasn't very found of them and wrangling an invitation to any society with him in tow was something of a trial but nothing compared to the utter impossibility of going attending without. I'm afraid I'm out of practice." Not that it matters much.The steps to these dances are all different. "Though really, I can't say I've ever been a particularly good dancer. I only hope to make up for it with enthusiasm and a good temper."

Now there's a motto to live by.

"Yourself? --Oh and yes, the hat's just fine. I'll have to find something to tie it with if I want to keep it on my head in any kind of weather, but I've been partial to the green and I'm not sure a replacement will be easy to come by."