[ 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

[sulahnan]

[ Oops. Well. ]

Tell that to uh...what's-his-name of someplace.

[ The handsome Lieutenant she danced with in Val Royeaux when Bastien's old flame got executed for treason. That guy. ]

[bouchonne]

Oh, yes, what's his name of someplace.

[sulahnan]

Yeah. Lieutenant what's-his-name of someplace. Orlesian. Tall. Good dancer.

[ Conspiratorial, because she's not gonna try and double-down on the lie when directly called out. ]

He couldn't tell the difference.

[bouchonne]

[ An easy shrug. ]

Well done. You fooled one person.

[sulahnan]

Better than none person...s. Persons.

[ She points at him as she decides on that plurality. ]

None persons.

[ But also it was many persons thankyouverymuch and one of them was even a real-ass Bard! She straightens, and holds out her hands. ]

Wanna dance for real?

[bouchonne]

[ A little quirk of his lip, and then - almost like magic - every bit of him relaxes. His posture changes utterly, even the muscles of his face readjusting to make him look just a bit absent, a bit dazed. When he says - ]

I'd be pleased to.

[ It's probably pretty familiar, because it's exactly like what he sounds like at every single party. It is a very convincing fake-drunk, because ninety-five percent of the time when he seems drunk, he's faking. Which, yes, maybe it's not the best idea to hint at that to Athessa, but it pains him to see a less-than-perfect job of it. ]

[sulahnan]

[ She picks up on the hint, but all it gets is a squint and a smile. ]

Then I hope you know the steps, 'cos I sure don't.

[bouchonne]

Of course I do.

[ The illusion of intoxication is maintained, his manner just a little more self-conscious than before. ]

I know every dance. Come on.

[sulahnan]

You come on. [ But she does come on, and her own illusion has more subtlety this time around. Some of it copied from Byerly, the rest informed by her own past drunkenness.

She really doesn't know this dance, though, so she keeps glancing down at their feet to try and mirror Byerly. ]

You play really good, by the way.

[bouchonne]

I know.

[ No false modesty here. ]

What about you? Any elven pan-pipes or something of the like in your repertoire?

[sulahnan]

Naaah. Just singing. Instruments are too hard.

[bouchonne]

You'll never make a proper Bard like that.

[sulahnan]

Improper suits me fine.

[ Not like she wants to be a Real Bard ™ ]

Anyway, being a bard isn't the point.

[bouchonne]

Is it not?

[ He twirls her. ]

[sulahnan]

[ She twirls and wavers slightly to get balanced after. Woo. ]

Newp. The point is to not be such a fuck-up.

[ Sardonic. But light-hearted! ]

[bouchonne]

Oh? A circuitous path to a straightforward goal.

[sulahnan]

Is it?

[bouchonne]

Quite so. There are many areas in which one can not-fuck-up. This is a very difficult one to master.

[sulahnan]

Guess I've got my work cut out for me, then.

[bouchonne]

Why this path, though?

[sulahnan]

[ She shrugs. ]

It's what Yseult decided.

[bouchonne]

Really?

[ An arched brow. ]

[sulahnan]

Really.

[ It's the truth, even if she doesn't give voice to her suspicion that Bastien might've had some say in the matter. ]

So you'll have to get the reasoning from her, I'm just trying to do a good job.

[bouchonne]

Hmm.

[ No comment on that directly. Instead - ]

So what happens after the war?

[sulahnan]

Guess that depends on how it ends. But I dunno. More mercenary work I guess.