open | your baddest behavior

[cozen]

WHO: Alexandrie, Bastien, Byerly, and their captive audience
WHAT: Mandatory etiquette and dance lessons
WHEN: Justinian 15, 9:45
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: See the OOC post and IC announcement for more information! If you didn't sign up, you can still participate in Parts A and D, and just handwave the other two, without needing to sign up or get an assignment. If you want to do B and C, you can find your own dance partner/seating group OOC, or you can sign up now and we'll dole out new assignments if we get enough latecomers to do so. If you signed up and are missing from the lists when you shouldn't be, I'm sorry and please tell me!

disclaimer: event less fancy than pictured

Seating Assignments
— Table One: Gwenaëlle, Iorveth, Matthias, Athessa
— Table Two: Flint, Ilias, Darras, Med Seller, Yngvi
— Table Three: Julius, Thranduil, Anders, Brienne
— Table Four: Benedict, Colin, Valentine, Six, Derrica
— Table Five: Teren, Salvio, Bartimaeus, Osana
— Table Six: Freddie, Petrana, Kain, Merrill, Silver
— Table Seven: Yseult, Cosima, Steve, Inessa
— Table Eight: Sidony, Fifi, Nell, Fingon
— Table Nine: Thor, Nathaniel H., Solas, Skadi

Dance Partners
— Cosima & Nathaniel H.
— Athessa & Anders
— Teren & Flint
— Freddie & Bartimaeus
— Yseult & Darras
— Nell & Julius
— Merrill & Colin
— Skadi & Benedict
— Gwenaëlle & Solas
— Petrana & Salvio
— Osana & the Medicine Seller
— Sidony & Matthias
— Six & Thranduil
— Brienne & Valentine
— Fifi & Steve
— Thor & Fingon
— Ilias & Iorveth

Comments

[katabasis]

"You buff it with an oil." Flint, who is currently shaking out the intricately folded napkin to lay out across his knee, seems untroubled by the potential chaos to be sewn with put oil on your bone. Is it uncouth in Orlais to drink from your glass before the first course arrives? "Something mild if you mean to be eating off it after. Is that right?"

This, to their resident necromancer. You're welcome, Ilias.

[libratus]

Their resident necromancer is, for his part, neatly pressed and tightly buttoned, in an elegant if severe variation on his usual Mortalitasi's robes -- black with embroidered accents so minimal one might imagine it was designed specifically to compensate for the Rivani. He has the sort of posture that comes from childhood lessons with a literal yardstick set to one's spine, and the table manners to match -- which do not, as it happens, involve particular adeptness for navigating his way out of conversations involving polishing anyone's bones.

Instead, uncouth or no, he's got his face half hidden in his cup in distant hope of discovering an invisibility draught there, or perhaps a poison, when Flint pointedly neglects to overlook his presence.

"We do not typically make utensils out of people," is what he manages, lowering his goblet in resignation. Fish aren't his area of expertise, after all. "But yes, I would suggest anything you intend to put in your mouth be inoffensive to the senses."