faderift | Under the Second Moon

Under the Second Moon

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.

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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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It had taken him time to come to the fact that he was sorry for what happened. Yes he didn't change his views that he was following orders, but he knows now that not every situation is so clear cut. He could have made a better effort and perhaps not allowed himself to give in to the dark side so easily.

"I missed you." He lifts her mask and then his own out of the way, not caring if he's breaking the rules of the party, and leans in again to kiss her without the rough texture pressing uncomfortably between them.

Edited 2018-11-08 03:35 (UTC)

Rey lets out a soft laugh as he lifts their masks away, though it's smothered when he kisses her. Her arms slide up to drape around his neck and she pushes herself up onto her toes to reciprocate. She knows they still have their issues, but she feels like a weight has been lifted, like the veil that's been wrapped around her life these past few weeks has finally been pulled away.

"I missed you, too," she murmurs against his lips, before kissing him again. She'd never realized how much she would miss something as simple as kissing, but here they were.

"Mm." He hums against her lips, eyes closing while his arms wrap around her and he lifts her just enough so that he's not leaning in to kiss her as much. When he finally has to come up for air, he rests his forehead to hers again.

"I know that I'm not... perfect, that there's still some things I need to work on. I'm sorry I hurt you and that I did what I did. I'm sorry that I said all those things when you tried to leave." Specifically about the fact that she had no parents and couldn't possibly understand the struggles he had with his own. He sighs, pressing a kiss to her cheek and letting her down again.

"I want to explain myself - what happened, why I didn't stop what happened on the mission. Not here, though. Maybe later at home. I want to just enjoy tonight with you." He kisses her forehead before slipping her mask back in place over her eyes and does the same with his own.

She feels a little like she's dreaming, right now, like all of this is happening in her head rather than in person. She'd run things over in her head a thousand times, any time she found her mind wandering it had drifted to him, it's something she's been struggling with. His apology is better than she could have expected, and she nods her head, more open now to hearing what he has to say.

"I want to hear what you have to say. I know it's not fair of me to expect you to be the sole voice of reason, you weren't the only one there." She smiles as he replaces their masks, her fingers lifting to straighten his on his face.

"But I've been looking forward to this night with you for months. I'd like to enjoy it."

"I know." His brows crease together beneath the mask as he struggles for something better to say. She should expect better of him. He knew he was capable of good, and yet somehow it always felt easier and safer to give in to the power and the blood boiling feeling he got when he struck someone down. It reminded him he was alive, at times.

"Lets start with some food, unless you have other ideas." He smiles, taking one of her hands and rubbing the back of it with his thumb. He missed being able to touch her. Weeks had felt like centuries. He worried he'd never be able to feel this again. When he'd tried to drown it out with alcohol or his own darkness nothing seemed to work. He would always be able to feel her like a distant whisper in the back of his mind.

"You know I can never say no to food," she says with a smile. Even the simple act of him taking her hand in his she'd missed. She leans into him as he takes her hand, and she secures his arm against her side with her other hand, anchoring them together as they turn towards where the food is.

"What do you think of the decorations? I did most of them myself." She's had a lot of free time in recent weeks. She's maybe thrown herself into this relatively small event more than she needed to.

"They look nice." He smiles down at her as she moves in close to him and holds onto his arm. "I'm not much of a judge for that kind of thing, but you worked hard so of course it came out well."

He's actually a terrible judge of what looks nice and what doesn't which is probably why Rey did most of the little touches around their house. It had made it harder to be there without her, at first. It helped he tried to bury himself in work as much as he could to avoid it.

She grins as he makes his comment, looking up at him as they walk.

"I've missed your overwhelming bias towards everything I do," she replies warmly, leaning her cheek against his arm. She does work hard in everything, but it rarely gets noticed. He always seems to notice, even if he doesn't necessarily appreciate it like some others might. She wished he had a little more faith in himself, for all the faith he expends on her.

"It's not bias if there's physical evidence," he points out, "and you deserve to be recognized for it once in a while."

He felt warmth seep in where her body connected with his. He was caught by how beautiful she was in her gown. This should have been a night they had been able to celebrate together and he'd very nearly ruined it. He considered himself lucky that she had accepted him instead of avoiding him.

"Food." He reminds her, though it's so easy to get distracted and just find some quiet corner for just the two of them. Leading her to the vast arrays of food, he begins by grabbing plates for the two of them, spooning some vegetables into his plate and then moving on to meat and other foods.

In previous years she hadn't gotten so done up. The first year she hadn't dressed up at all, wearing nothing but her goggles as a mask and calling it good. Last year she'd worn a simple dress and mask, but this year, she'd wanted to look beautiful for Ben. She wanted to look how he made her feel every time they were together. Even when they weren't speaking, that desire hadn't gone away, and she'd finished her gown at Obi-Wan's.

She's glad they can put things aside enough to enjoy the night together. It's with reluctance that she separates from him to take her plate from him, picking from the simple spread. Given the war effort she hadn't been able to order in expensive pastries from Orlais, but they had some talented chefs locally, so everything is pretty decent.

"I've missed your cooking. I'm still not great at seasoning things. Poor Obi-Wan has been suffering in silence."

Simple or complex - the food was barely a thought now that Rey was beside him. Part of him still worried that his apologies wouldn't be enough, that he was somehow making all of this up in his head, but he knew how much they had missed one another. It hadn't been hard to miss, when they could feel each other from within the Force.

"Should I make him something to make up for the weeks he's had to endure?" he teases, scooping some pieces of meat into his plate and adding sauce to give it flavor. With the Inquisition's budget their food wasn't exactly of the highest quality but it was still food. He'd eaten worse things.

Once they both have their fill of food, Kylo motions for her to follow him to an empty pair of seats, off in their own little secluded corner. He has his plate balanced in one hand and his arm hooked through hers. It was almost like eating together at home, except the setting was a little more decorative and lively with the chatter of other people sharing their meals together.

Rey's plate ends up stacked up a little higher with sweets than Ben's, but she's got other food, too. She enjoys everything she's eaten, has yet to dislike something, really. But sweets are definitely her favorite thing.

She lets him lead her to a quiet corner, putting her plate down on the table before carefully moving her skirts around so she can sit as close to Ben as possible, now that they're together again not really wanting to lose contact from him longer than possible.

"That might be nice. He's doing okay with only one hand but... I've been helping him." Speaking of one hand, Ben's going to have to eat using one hand, because once they settle Rey takes one, threading her fingers through his.

"I saw the injury. When did that happen?" How was a better question. Everything he knew about Obi-wan - and probably idealized - made him worry about what he'd been up against if he was able to lose a hand like that. "It doesn't seem to slow him down, but still... even Luke had a prosthetic."

He isn't the least bit concerned when she holds one of his hands hostage. This was just how their day was going. If it hadn't been her it would have been him. The fact that it is her, just as eager to hold onto him for as long as possible, makes his heart swell in his chest. He missed her.

"Will he be alright with you coming back home? If you've been helping him, I don't want him to just be alone." He frowns, trying to turn over their options. The last thing he wanted was to insult Obi-wan's pride by making him feel like he was some sort of invalid. It was a conundrum.

"That mission he went on... was more complicated than it was supposed to be," Rey replies with a grimace as she picks over her food. "I wish we had the means to build him a robotic prosthetic here, but we just don't have sophisticated enough equipment." He manages well enough with his left hand, she just feels frustrated that something that would be such an easy fix in their own world is all but impossible here.

She smiles a little as he worries for Obi-Wan, and she lifts his hand to kiss his knuckles.

"He'll be fine. Anyway, even if I come home with you I'll still check in with him. I don't plan to just leave him to his own devices."

"Mm. I guess you're right. There isn't much we can do but try to help him where we can." He sighs, feeling frustrated by his own limitations. It was instantly soothed by the small gesture of her kissing his knuckles. It was a small thing but still put him at ease.

He picks at his own food, managing a few bites with ease while still holding onto her hand. He looks to her plate, smiling a bit at the sight of the sweets on it. He wasn't as big a fan of them as her, but he can't help but tease her a little by snatching one up. It was some kind of a tart or something, small enough for him to pop into his mouth.

She hadn't realized how dependent she'd become on his physical affection until she was no longer receiving it. Throughout their days thousands of little touches between them conveyed their feelings for one another and reaffirmed them. Without all those things, her days had seemed a little less filled with light. Touching him again feels like finally being able to breathe after being underwater too long.

Of course when he steals her tart she drops her jaw in shock, looking over at him with mock horror.

"Hey! If you wanted one of those you should have got your own!" She moves her plate a little further away from his, though she's unable to guard it like she might if she were willing to let go of his hand.

She should realize by now that he wasn't going to be deterred. He grins from ear to ear as another tart comes to his hands, floating through the air quickly and making the journey to his mouth not long after. At this point he was doing it purely just to pick on her.

"Why would I do that when I can just have yours?" He leans in, still smiling.

Rey watches the second tart go with a look of mixed amusement, trying her best to scowl at him despite the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth when he leans in.

"If we were on Jakku and you were trying to steal my food I'd lay you out cold, you know," she replies, trying to keep the laughter out of her voice and not entirely managing. After fixing him with a half-hearted glare for another moment she closes the distance between them, pressing her mouth to his. At least she can get a little of the taste of the tarts he stole.

"Is that so?" His free hand tucks a stray hair behind her ear, barely contained mirth lightening his features. "I think I could beat the odds. I'm sure I could have taken you."

He didn't say it as a put down, of course. He admired her resilience. It was that resilience and cunning that allowed her to escape Starkiller Base back when they had first truly met. She was even stronger than back then.

When she kisses him, he makes a pleased sound against her lips. It was hard to believe that several hours ago he'd been questioning whether he should even go to this celebration. He was glad now that he hadn't missed it.

She's always struggled to prove herself. On Jakku, she would have taken that as a challenge. But knowing Ben the way she does, she knows it isn't, and she doesn't bristle at the words, rather lets them wash over her. He could take her, but ultimately neither one comes out on top. Things are better when they're in harmony with one-another. Side by side, back to back.

Smiling against his lips she kisses him again briefly before pulling away, her free hand rising up to adjust his mask, letting out a little sigh as she does.

"Next year we'll arrive together," she says, partly in response to his thoughts. She's glad he hadn't tried to skip out on the party, it saved her having to decide if she wanted to hunt him down.

"Yes." His answer is immediate. If there was to be a next year, he'd want it to be with her. He smiles fondly, his fingertips tracing her jaw before he drops his hand again to his lap. The party was full of people, yet it felt as if they were the only ones in the room.

"I'm sure you would have been a sight, coming in through the gates and up the steps to the front door. If you'd tried to find me, I would have been home." It was either come here or stay home and let his depression drive him into a corner again. He hadn't drank heavily since those first few days after she'd gone to Obi-Wan's. He was glad it didn't last.

Rey lets out a soft laugh, biting her bottom lip and looking down at her dress, running her fingers over the fabric of her skirt.

"I would have. I wore this for you," she looks back up at him, her eyes seeking his. "I don't care if anyone else sees me in it, I only wanted you to." She had picked the outfit with him in mind, what they were to each other. The light and the darkness, together as one.

He sighs, giving her hand a gentle squeeze, and he drops his gaze to her fingers tracing the fabric of her skirt. Part of him wished that she didn't keep giving him chances. He'd certainly not done a thing to deserve them. He'd done so much worse than the fate he'd bestowed on those elves. He'd massacred planets upon planets of people without a second thought. He didn't deserve chances.

"You have far too much faith in me." Instead of meeting her eyes, he studies their joined hands, his thumb brushing over her skin. He already knows she'll try to deny his assertions, but can't seem to stop his own doubts. They were together, yes, but that didn't magically erase what he'd done. An apology didn't erase murder.

"I'm glad I was able to apologize to you. I think I spent hours trying to write that note for you. I couldn't get the words right." Yet somehow her words - his own, thrown back at him - had been perfect. It had been a reminder. He wished that it could be true. He felt like no matter what he did he kept slinking back to the dark where he felt safe, where he knew his purpose. He didn't feel so awkward and unsure of himself when he was giving in to those base urges to feed on anger and hate. With Rey, and to a lesser extent Obi-wan, he felt so unsure of his place. The Light left him reeling and on unsteady footing.

She knows that he doesn't feel like he deserves the faith she places on him. That really just makes her all the more determined to never give up on him. He should know that about her, by now.

"It was a good apology. You did fine with the words," she smiles again, her free hand reaching to touch her fingers to the underside of his chin, lifting his face to try to get him to look at her.

"We're connected, you know that. Nothing will ever change how I feel about you, even when things upset me. Remember how we met? I've already seen the worst parts of you. But I also see the best." She furrows her brow, barely visible behind her mask. "Who you are is so much more than the light and the darkness. I love you exactly as you are, and I can say with absolute certainty that that will never change."

Many things in her life have been uncertain, but the way she feels for him, she knows that is real. She is certain of her love for him, and their life together.

He looks at her when coaxed, his lips pressed into a thin line as he just drinks in his fill of her. The dress, the mask, even the way she had done her hair - he didn't want to lose the image. Just as it would be on any normal day he clung to the sight of her. He had come to rely on her by his side. Losing that even for several days had felt like having all the air leave his lungs.

"I remember." But... He wants to believe her. He wants to believe that he's worth the sentiment. "That person - who I was - hasn't gone away. You know I did terrible things before I met you and I want to say that I won't still do terrible things now. I don't know what the future holds."

He couldn't say that he could entirely push out the darkness that he gave into so easily. There was still that capacity with in him to do great evil. There was truth in the knowledge that it was what he chose to act on that mattered but the darkness still felt as inescapable as a black chasm that threatened to swallow him whole. Snoke had sunk his claws so deep that even in death his greatest creation still struggled between the light and darkness.

Under the Second Moon

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