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Entry tags:
- alexandrie d'asgard,
- bastien,
- byerly rutyer,
- derrica,
- ellis,
- julius,
- kostos averesch,
- nell voss,
- wysteria de foncé,
- yseult,
- { athessa },
- { fitcher },
- { ket perrino },
- { miles vorkosigan },
- { poesia },
- { richard dickerson },
- { sidony veranas },
- { sister sara sawbones },
- { sonia barra },
- { vanadi de vadarta }
[ open: all arise! ]
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 ♫
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.
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Athessa plops herself down on the nearest bit of furniture with room enough for two and lifts her hand to pat the spot beside her, then changes her mind and pats her lap. Ya know. As a joke.
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"That was quick. The song hasn't even changed yet."
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When they were choosing seats, Nikos had been overlooked. All the better, in this case. It is an understandable oversight: he's slumped very low in a chair, his legs straight and a bottle tucked in the crook of his arm, held against his side, while his elbows on the arms of the chair are his best hope at staying upright.. There's a demonic edge to his grin. This is what Kostos would look like, if he was a smug drunk.
"Secret shame. Don't press on it."
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"Fuck off."
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“No,” he says, to Athessa first, then again to Nikos: “No. Tell us about your dance lessons. Was it private instruction? Did you use the ballroom?”
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"Natural talent," he answers, coolly, "you fuckface. He really won't be dancing. Sorry if that's disappointing," to Athessa. Who he does not insult, less because she's not done anything and more because he has to save his energy for Kostos.
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"If anyone'd know disappointment it'd be you," she says, a wry twist to her mouth. "Anyway, I'm pretty sure only mages have any natural talent. Everything else takes work."
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But, also, wait. What.
He looks at Athessa, who he's rarely seen be so unpleasant to anyone, then at Nikos.
"What did you do to her?"
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"Oh, he just kissed me," she says lightly. "Back at that stupid party where we had to kiss whoever was closest when that song played. It was terrible."
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Someone who, you know, was insecure and not in a committed relationship with a man who would easily take the Best Beard category in a Riftwatch superlative competition. Nikos slumps a little lower in his chair, boneless. It's nice to have moved away from dancing tutors.
"In honesty, I forgot all about it. So if you want to shut up and get back to your cuddle, feel free."
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"Sure wish I could forget it," she mutters, looking over the back of the chaise just to look anywhere other than an Averesch twin. Should she be mad at both of them? That was a kind of unfortunate way to find out that Kostos had a brother.
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“If we have to look alike, the least you can do is learn to fucking kiss,” he says, because it’s the best he can come up with, and drapes an arm over Athessa’s legs, which is not cuddling. They just aren’t going anywhere.
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Mostly it gets spoken into the heel of her hand.
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Still not over that one, even though it was several jabs ago. No one should speculate on what he's good at behind closed doors but if they are going to speculate, he should get the credit he's due.
"If it's any consolation, I never tell anyone about him. Save your hurt feelings. Then again, my friends wouldn't overlook the glaring differences between us. I think that means you two deserve each other."
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And in a display of self-control, he drowns any asshole follow-up to that point by taking another huge sip of wine.
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