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.

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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.

Comments

[swordproof]

Six is content to wait patiently while her friend gathers her drink; she cannot fault Inessa for the desire, though she thinks she might have to excuse herself if it seems to be getting too much. She knows her own limits and, for now, she is comfortable, even as her eyes deliberately avoid anyone with ale or heavy goblets of wine in hand.

"I would be glad to share the stories with a willing audience," Six admits quietly. "It has been difficult to adjust to the lack of her presence, but I have learned. Thedas is not so dissimilar from my own world, so I have learned to try and make a place for myself here, even without her at my side. I will pray all the same, in case she might hear me through a Rift." There's no promise that it'll ever happen, of course, but Six has to believe. There is nothing that could happen here that might have her turn her back on her God.

Nodding, Six considers for a moment.

"It is much the same where I am from. Gods are given different names by different people and confusion develops. Perhaps the same could be said for the Maker."

[circleprodigy]

"Perhaps she does hear, even if she can't tell you so. It can't hurt to try and reach her regardless." Inessa listens with a sympathetic nod, a little hesitant about possibly prodding at sensitive topics...and yet, hopefully voicing her support will help somewhat? That's all she'll do, offer hers and then leave it up to Six (or whoever) to bring it up again. It's better to leave the ball in their court about such matters, or at least so she's come to conclude.

"...and it's certainly possible. Actually, this reminds me I have been wanting to ask rifters at large about the faiths they bring with them. The only reason I've held back is because I don't quite know how to ask over the crystal without it seeming or becoming controversial somehow." It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world for natives to learn about non-Andrastian faiths, in her opinion, but any subjects to do with people from beyond the Veil can be explosive even without malicious intent. It's a little frustrating.

Finally, it's her turn. Waiting patiently another moment, Inessa is rewarded with her own fragrant cup of hot spicy cider. She has enough manners to step aside for the next person before inhaling the scent and taking a sip, careful not to burn her tongue. That little bit is enough to provoke a contented sigh afterward. "Now this is better...."

[swordproof]

"It is why I do not stop. I see no reason to abandon her just because she might be a distance from me. It would be unjust and unworthy of me to even consider it." The truth is, of course, that the thought had never even crossed her mind. Six would never dream of abandoning Sarenrae - the very idea is almost nightmarish to her, a panicked feeling that she shoves aside and ignores in favour of focussing on her work.

"If that is something you are curious about then I would join you." Religion has interested her since she met Adrian, so learning more of others would be no hardship. "It may be soothing for you to have a Rifter to offer confidence that your interest is not to belittle or harm them." A smile, then, something that flickers over her face before she relaxes and breathes out.

The smell of cider is strong, but not as strong as the fruits. It could be worse.

"Where to next?"

[circleprodigy]

Six's steadfast faith provokes a warm smile from Inessa, who can admire her devotion even as she envies it a little. Faith is a lot more complicated in a land the Maker has abandoned, even more so for an elf. That will probably never change, but at least there's hope for something different elsewhere.

"I would appreciate that support, thank you. The last thing I want is to cause anyone to feel as though they are targets for ridicule."

She takes another savoring sip, then glances around. Lively fiddle music and rhythmic clapping reach her ear, and she gestures in its direction. "If you like the music, we can venture closer."