[ open: all arise! ]

[vorbratta]

WHO: you. yes, you there. you're invited
WHAT: Sonia is throwing a big party, because everyone needs an excuse to get good and drunk together right now. And dancing. There is always dancing.
WHEN: Justinian, shortly after the return of the jungle crew
WHERE: The suite at the top of the mage tower
NOTES: ♫ have some party jams ♫

The month in the jungle was a long one, made longer by the total lack of any alcohol to mitigate the experience. Utterly unthinkable. Sonia is addressing a public need by throwing a grand party -- a public service, even. Besides, it's what she does. When was the last time she got to plan a party, anyway? Granted, this is not a Denerim soiree for the young nobility, but the venue doesn't matter. Only the people and the drinks, and Sonia is assuredly rich in both. It is also a fantastic excuse not to think about any of the bad things that have happened since she was last in Kirkwall.

The decoration in the residential suite at the top of the mage tower would be best classified as improvisational -- one of those drapes tacked along the wall for ambience may be a bedsheet -- but it's the spirit of the thing that counts. One makes do with what one has. In one corner are a few tables laden with spirits, some provided by Sonia, others by generous partygoers. There are a few Barra vineyard vintages in the mix, highlights of her personal collection, a testament to the celebration she considers tonight to be. There's a small selection of food nearby, mostly for snacking to go with the drinks, though guests are free to bring whatever they like to share.

And there is, of course, music. Someone here has brought a fiddle or a flute or a bunch of pots masquerading as a drum set. Maybe you've brought your very own a capella choir. Whatever the accompaniment, there's something to dance to. Sonia makes sure there is dancing.

Tonight is not for licking wounds or swapping grisly stories of terror and survival. Tonight is for feeling alive, getting properly and delightfully drunk, and having a good god damn time.

Comments

wysteria, ota

[heirring]

a. dance card
[Wysteria is by no means a dancer of singular poise nor grace, but she is an enthusiastic one and is at the very least capable of avoiding trampling her partner's feet. Further, between Riftwatch's penchant for sending anyone with the slightest air of respectability to events where important things might be accomplished on or surrounding dance floors and the etiquette classes posed months ago, she has memorized enough of the patterns to not end up spinning the wrong way round or clipping pairs in passing.

One of two possibilities is nearly inevitable. Either at some point during the a dance where partners are swapped and traded ad infinitum, she will be swapped and laugh as she stumbles through the hand off, or she will be lingering at the fringe of the dance floor with the appearance of someone all too willing to accept virtually any invitation out onto it.]

b. witty repartee
It's a shame that a fine night of dancing so consistently requires some awful occurence as a partner. I realize we are a most serious outfit and that Riftwatch's budget is rather narrow, but I can hardly recall the last time a party was hosted in or near the Gallows which was not either preceded or followed by being brutalized at length.

[Sitting in one of the chairs dragged up and lined against the wall, Wysteria is slightly pink in every direction - flush from dancing, or from drinking, or simply emphasized by the rose color of her voluminous array of skirts]

What I mean to say is that I do hope no one is stabbed or conspires to fall off the ramparts or some other tragedy befalls us this evening. But given the givens - I personally shall endeavor to stay away from sharp objects and heights.

[Ha ha. We have fun here and she is quite obviously the epitome of cleverness.]

c. wildcard
[Here for a good time, not a long time - literally. Wysteria will probably bounce before the party's energy starts to wind down, but is absolutely have a delightful enough time to end up being induced to mischief elsewhere in the Gallows or end up sleeping in her party clothes.]

a

[windyvoice]

[ Jenny Lou has absolutely no idea what the fuck she's doing with the dance. Like it's super not the wild failings of ragers past and proooooobably grinding is out of the question. But she's kinda getting it, tipsy enough that she's not particularly self conscious when she twirls away from whoever she was handed off to and holds out her hand to Wysteria. ]

Come on.

[heirring]

[She is most ready to catch that offered hand, a flash of good cheer and enthusiasm writ briefly bold on her face. For someone who has made something of a reputation for herself as being a shrill sourpuss in other venues, in this one Wysteria is evidently perfectly ready to indulge in a good time. She fetches Jenny Lou's other hand as well and dives out onto the floor with her to join in. The dance is one of those lively, slightly trampling affairs which involves cantering down some center line. Wysteria hauls the younger girl along with gusto.]

I believe we're meant to do a kind of circle at the end of this.

[windyvoice]

[ Jenny Lou is more than happy to give up the lead to Wysteria, since she obviously knows what she's doing and is also insanely pretty and this is stupid fun. And on and on and on. She laughs as she's hauled along. ]

Yeah? Wait, which end, the top or the bottom? [ Yeah, she has no idea what she's doing. Still fun though. ]

[heirring]

This one, [is Wysteria's prompt, cheerful reply just as they reach the end of the column. With a sweep of the hands, she whirls Jenny Lou about in a tight circle, and then they're off again, hurrying out of the way of the couple barreling along in their wake.]

Monsieur Bastien should host another one of his etiquette classes. It was perfectly instructive. Though if you would like to learn the dances from a true master, I will pass along a most secret bit of intelligence.

[windyvoice]

Woo! [ She's just gonna let herself be swept along by all of this with a whoop. Which is probably not part of this whole like dancy thing, but whatever, it feels right. ]

Absolutely. I mean I suck at etiquette, but I totally want top secret dance instruction.

b

[overharrowed]

Oh come now. Sometimes the brutalizing comes first, and then we celebrate surviving. That said... maybe don't say the stabbing thing too loudly. Let's not give anyone ideas.

[Julius is at ease at this sort of party; he knows everyone and no diplomatic mission rests on his shoulders. Even so, the wine glass in his hand seems to have done very little to damage his calm, and he's still quite neat in tunic and trousers, even a few hours in.]

[heirring]

Enchanter, please. The two of us may be the picture of discretion.

[At this point in the evening, she has swept her way through enough dances, conversations (however one sided), and a glass of wine or two that making such a light joke to the likes of Julius - who, were someone to ask, she might describe as pleasant if somewhat too serious - comes easily.]

So I will say this next part very quietly. [She lowers her voice.] I might avoid the regal blonde woman to be certain of avoiding all accidents. Which I say aloud only as I'm certain she would agree.

[No offense, Poesia.]

[overharrowed]

Ah, I see.

[His tone might be described as serious; then again, it might be described as deadpan.]

Accidental stabbing, accidental pushing off a rampart, or both?

[heirring]

I see no reason to place such limitations on a woman, save perhaps with respect to the 'accidental' aspect.

[This said over the lip of her glass, and punctuated with a sip of wine.]

[overharrowed]

[His smile, perhaps, indicates he's had more than the one glass; it's a bit franker than usual.]

Not to be pedantic, but you said accidents. I'm fairly certain I haven't done anything meriting a deliberate stabbing lately, regardless.

a.

[heorte]

[ Yes, Ellis owes her a dance. He is aware of this, but instead of invitation, the first thing out of his mouth is— ]

Is this song one of your favorites?

[ Bastien is doing a fine job with it, from what Ellis can tell. And it's suited to dancing. The beat of it is familiar, reminds him of the loose, exuberant dances he'd been well-versed in when he was younger. He can feel some dull twinge of pain at the idea of replicating them now, regardless of promises.

It would be easier if this were a stiff, courtly affair, where it mattered that they impressed some stuffy lords, rather than something that was solely for their own pleasure.

But still. He'd promised. ]

[heirring]

Oh, Mr. Ellis! [Too late; with a swirl of skirts, she's turned round and captured him most most effectively with a hand at his arm.]

I didn't think to see you here! It is a fine song, but I wouldn't call it my favorite. Have you heard 'Raven and Songbird?' You must. You can sometimes hear one of our neighbors' ['our neighbors', as if the house in Hightown is very much a shared possession] maids singing it in the morning and I confess that I've developed quite the fondness. But [gasp] this is a much better tune for dancing. I would take one hundred songs like this one over any dreadful funeral dirge where couples are expected to hardly touch hands and barely so much as look at one another.

[heorte]

So you'd prefer to dance to a song like this, I take it?

[ Without any attempt to break her grip.

Like so many of their conversations, there's already a foregone conclusion. But Ellis can tease her a little. They are celebrating, after all. ]

[heirring]

Well, yes. Very much so. [It is so very serious an answer that for a split second it is quite clear she has no conception whatsoever of the implication - little memory, perhaps, of what he'd sworn her in that coat closet so many months ago, or at the very least a memory so thoroughly tagged with 'Next Satinalia' that to consider it in any present capacity was momentarily unthinkable.

And then she brightens into a veritable ray of pleasure.]

Now, Mr. Ellis?

[heorte]

Aye, now.

[ His own discomfort recedes at the instant brilliance of Wysteria's reaction. ]

Come on, before the band plays something disagreeable.

[ At which point he takes her hand from where she's latched onto his arm and leads her towards what's passing as the dance floor. The dull pain in his chest is set aside, momentarily stifled as he recalls the dance steps. It's been a long time. He'd never thought he'd have to bother with anything remotely like this again in his life. ]

a

[bouchonne]

[ Byerly is - not put out at Wysteria at the moment, that would give the girl far too much credit, but - a bit irritated by her lip, no question of that. So on the first turn, he ignores her look of eagerness; and on the second turn, he ignores her look of eagerness; but on the third turn, he leaves his current partner and approaches the girl with a bow. It's a foolish quality of his, but it is hard to see a girl eagerly watching a dance and simply leave her to dangle. ]

May I have this dance?

[heirring]

[Byerly bows and above his head, Wysteria turns to look first in one direction and then the other for a victim she might throw to the wolf in her stead. Honorable? Hardly. And yet were such a lady ready to hand, she might manage to avoid this very question:]

Why?

[bouchonne]

[ ...Delightful. He keeps his head lowered as he responds - ]

Because it looked as though you wished to dance, Miss Poppell.

[heirring]

I see.

[Blinking in rapid succession past him, she takes a split second to study the dance floor - the turning couples, the pleasant tempo of the music, - and so to assess how well she knows the particular steps to this particular dance. She decides all at once that she would rather suffer the indignity of refusing him than to take his hand and allow herself to be led into a dance she might be expected to do little more than blunder through.

But, fine. She recognizes, she thinks, that pattern from a party in Ostwick. So.]

Very well then.

[She offers her hand, only a little like she is putting it out to be bitten.]

[bouchonne]

[ But his hand, taking hers, is warm and gracious. His fingers curl confidently around hers as he straightens up; his step out onto the dance floor is quick and even, leading her to a place in the pattern at the precise moment where the music slows, so they can join in without so much as a disruption to the dancers. And when they start to dance, he knows the steps perfectly, so well that any time she perhaps hesitates or falters he is able to improvise within the bounds of the dance so that it appears to be a variation instead of a mistake.

He is, in short, a most excellent and gentlemanly dancer, and one who will not disturb her with chatter unless she seeks it out. ]

b.

[mereandrastianism]

How dreadful!

[ Betrys has hardly gotten to know the majority of her colleagues thus far, but one hardly needs to know people in order to dance with them. She's taking a much-needed break as well, having had one of her dancing slippers trod upon by someone whose enthusiasm outstripped his skill. ]

Is tragedy really so common within Riftwatch?

[heirring]

Why, I would suggest that it is practically required from each of its members. I myself have been kidnapped by Venatori no less than two times.

[Which, according to the faintly rapturous quality of the claim, is something of a badge of honor.]

I believe it is the nature of the organization - were anyone in it a more usual sort, they would have found a more rational position to occupy themselves with elsewhere. But here we all are.

[mereandrastianism]

You're rather fortunate to be alive.

[ The whole experience sounds more horrid than anything, but the look on the woman's face says that pure sympathy for her plight might not be the ideal response. ]

Surely some must be a little more usual. I can't imagine Riftwatch would have survived so long otherwise.

[heirring]

[Wysteria places a hand quite delicately over her collarbone, a most gracious tip of the head in respect for the fact that she hasn't been murdered by enemy forces yet. That is, however, all the acknowledgement the subject really seems to warrant as she is quite pleased to chatter on with respect to their colleagues in its stead.]

I believe you will find that even the scullery maids are quite extraordinary for one reason or another. There are much less interesting places where one might find work in Kirkwall, I am quite certain of it.

[And then that hand has fallen away, and her attention has sharpened more specifically on her conversational partner.]

Are you quite new to the Gallows? I don't believe we've been introduced.