[ 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

ii

[unshut]

"He has a very fine voice, I must say. It's a shame about the cello." Keeping score is, as it turns out, something of a specialty for Fitcher. Remarking on it is even more so, and she is most happy to do it as she slides down onto the divan beside Yseult.

It's clear from the particular cut of her dress that Fitcher has made some deliberate choices with respect to her wardrobe for the evening, but the ease with which she arranges herself there on the divan is so similar to her loose hold on a glass of wine that one might be forgiven for thinking otherwise. She hooks one elbow along the back of the sofa, fetches one leg over the other, and with a slight shift in the line of her shoulders it's as if Fitcher's been there forever.

"What is Riftwatch's approach when it comes to thievery? Do we cut fingers off?"

[hassaran]

Yseult twitches the hem of her skirt clear of Fitcher's downward path, and reaches up to pat a loose wisp of hair back toward her loose chignon, and when she has finished the angle of her shoulders has reversed, weight shifted, the easier to tip her head back into a conversational angle.

She begins with a scoff. "And leave half the company short-handed? No, I've something far crueler in mind." The glass she's raised pauses in midair, dangling from fingertips. "I think perhaps I will force them to teach."

[unshut]

Which warrants a sharp look of dismay and a frankly mortified rise of both eyebrows.

"Andraste preserve them. If you leveled that threat by crystal, we'd be rid of the scoundrels by daybreak."

[hassaran]

"Someone ought to tell the Chantry," Yseult replies mildly, after that delayed sip of what looks like wine, "We've found the secret to disbanding Riftwatch at will."

[unshut]

"I believe I've an old friend in Antiva with connections. I'll write to him directly with the good news," might almost be quite serious indeed were it not punctuated with a little laugh and the following faux sotto voce confession: "Between the two of us, I doubt they'd have much trouble if they really cared to see Riftwatch finished. Divine Beatrix must see some value in our existence. That, or the Viscount is so desperate to keep the Gallows occupied that he's secretly been making the case for us himself these many months."

[hassaran]

"A week's work at most," Yseult agrees, maybe exaggerating. Maybe not. "We do serve some purpose, if only as a nursemaid for those with anchors and a convenient scapegoat should one be needed."

[unshut]

"You have such a way of inspiring a woman to consider alternative sources of occupation. Do you suppose the Viscount needs another clerk? And might I trust you for a letter of recommendation?"

Her smile slants briefly across the edge of her glass, but rather than wait for an answer she slides smoothly to: "I suspect there are a few among our number who might welcome the excuse of being so ruthlessly victimized."

[hassaran]

"Oh?" Yseult lifts a brow, "Do point them out. I noted you weren't among them yourself when the opportunity last arose."

[unshut]

"No need to remind the goats you're a sheep when we're all bound for the same butchers block," is a pleasantly light assessment, punctuated by a drink from her glass.

"I doubt I know anything you don't. Merely an observation that we are in possession of a number of people who seem unaware that they're being kept on a long leash rather than no tether at all. But that's grim conversation for a party, isn't it?"