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

[circleprodigy]

"A mabari mask? I suppose that would be acceptable, as no one from the empire would ever be caught dead wearing it." Griffons are lovely, to be sure, and they're her second favorite forever. But mabari, for personal reasons, will always be closest to her heart.

The relaxed pace is perfect, allowing her to move and converse without difficulty in either. Well, not except having to speak above passing partygoers here and there.

[in_death_sacrifice]

Kain is amused by that, since it's what he would have guessed, too. "You've provided me with quite the challenge, you now... finding a mask maker who would go for such an obvious Ferelden symbol. Still, for your sake, I'm more than willing to try. The good part is that you would have something fully unique."

It really is more comfortable at this point, dancing along together, the whole thing feeling natural... and better, so much better than some forced ballroom setting. He rather likes the contrast that this has to that.

[circleprodigy]

"If you succeed, you would be the stuff of legends." Nevermind being a Warden or anchor-bearer or dragon enthusiast, getting someone to make a mabari mask would be truly astonishing and worthy of note. She hums happily to the music, grateful for the chance to enjoy this before crowds become too intoxicated and rowdy.

[in_death_sacrifice]

"If I become legendary, will there be a song about that? But you know me, I can't resist a challenge." He's often thought what it would be like for them, how they'll be depicted in stories for future Wardens, with their ridiculously named griffons and all. But, yes, he'll have to take his time to shop around. After all, it may be hard to find one who can craft a well-made mabari for one thing, but for another, he still wants it to be of the highest quality. He has a couple of crafters who he favors, so he might start there.

It's definitely turned out to be relaxing, getting to dance like this, being outside of a more formal setting. He probably would have liked all of that dancing way back when a lot more, if it were outside of ballrooms and the like. There's less pressure this way.