[ 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

[unshut]

Here in front of all these people? Messere, I don't believe it's that kind of party.

[But, with a quick glance over the top of the fan, she leans to him. Obscured by the folded paper, it would be easy to mistake this as her simply shifting closer so she might be heard more readily over the chatter and music and not a means by which to deliver him a kiss on the cheek.

Alas, the fan is snapped shut directly after and no further canoodling can continue behind it.]

You really do seem much improved. I would almost accuse you all of having walked around in a few extra circles to avoid coming back to work.

[bouchonne]

[ Ah, a pity indeed. If he'd moved a little quicker, he might have turned his head to catch her lips directly. But instead, he must be contented with this. ]

Do I strike you as a shirker?

[unshut]

[She taps his chest with the end of the folded fan.]

I couldn't say. We so rarely work together.

[bouchonne]

An evasive answer.

[unshut]

You've caught me.

[The fan is made neat with its little clasp and tucked away into some pocket hidden in the seam of her skirts.]

I suspect the Ambassador to be far more patient than he lets on when the matter in question is of some importance to him.

[bouchonne]

[ A small laugh. ]

I think that's true of everyone, no?

[unshut]

[Her grin is quick.]

I would elaborate, but I know how much you prefer I be cold.

[bouchonne]

No, please, I don't like it when you're cold in a way that keeps you from talking about me. Please talk about me.

[unshut]

Then I will cut you a deal. [She sets her elbow cheerfully at the chair arm between them, leaning there expectantly. The angle involved and aspirations of gravity may or may not do fascinating things with respect to the cut of her dress.] Tell me an interesting story about your time away, and I will see about satisfying your curiosity.

[bouchonne]

An interesting story.

[ He touches a finger to his lips thoughtfully. ]

Tell me what kind of story you want.

[unshut]

That would be cheating, Ambassador. I'm expecting you to know me well enough to guess.

[bouchonne]

[ A laugh. ]

Don't be absurd, madame. You know very well that I do not know you at all.

[unshut]

[That sends her eyebrows quirking quite high indeed.]

Do you not? Here I was under the impression that out of the two of us, I was the one who knew almost nothing at all.

[bouchonne]

Surely you jest.

[ A shake of his head. He does seem quite sincere. ]

I am an open book to you. You pry my soul apart. Yet to me, everything is opaque.

[unshut]

[She laughs. It's a short, barking thing - clearly baffled -, and then more full and rounded as she finds some humor in the absurdity.]

Opaque. Maker, Byerly. I think you're giving me more credit than I deserve.

[bouchonne]

I think I deserve a little more credit than you're giving me.

[ He shakes his head. ]

You deliberately make yourself opaque. Don't deny it. I can see the stories you're writing in your head, even as you write them.

[unshut]

My word, how ominous.

[Her laugh is still there in the corner of her smiling mouth, the fringe of her words. In her lap, her hands undo the clasp of the fan and absently unfold the thing again - a soft whisper of paper.]

But you have been the very definition of transparent, hm? No talking around the subjects of my curiosity, or dodging when I ask too direct a question?

[bouchonne]

I can't think of any time I've done that.

[unshut]

[Her mouth curves, smile widening by a degree. You're very amusing, Byerly Rutyer.]

And here I am, unable to think of when I've been difficult with you. What a pair we make.

[bouchonne]

Marvelous. And tell me, you truly claim that you do not know what I am thinking? With my cheek still itching from your kiss?

[unshut]

Oh, that. [She fixes him with a sidelong look, and it's funny isn't it? How with the slightest variation in the tip of her face how the the lines of her expression turn sly.] I could hazard a guess.

[bouchonne]

So therefore, you know me. No?

[unshut]

You must do better than that, my dear. However opaque you've found me to be, I believe we've established my opinion when it comes to stupid men.

[The fan has come completely unfolded now.]

But go on. Ask me whatever you like and I will do my best to be perfectly clear-- so long as it doesn't subvert my earlier conditions for that interesting story, mind.

[bouchonne]

[ He watches her a moment, a very faint smile on his lips, and then says - ]

Tell me what you were like as a girl.

[unshut]

[Something in that question makes her eyebrows rise again, has her mouth twitching. In the warmth of the room - slightly stuffy despite the open windows -, she absently begins to flick the fan again.]

Why, has Monsieur [a terrible pronunciation] Val Royeaux said something?