[ 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.

[heorte]

I wouldn't recommend finishing that bottle all on your own.

[ Not that Ellis wants to assist him with it. But he does invite himself onto the seat beside Dick, leaning an elbow on the table. ]

But you're in fine company if you want to make a go of it.

[ Because Dick certainly isn't the only person bent on getting sloshed tonight, based on Ellis' observations so far. ]

makes it weird

[nonvenomous]

[ Tink.

Slouched long across two chairs, Richard docks bottle to glass with NASA-tier patience and precision, breathing slowed to hold it steady while he pours. ]

Hello, handsome.

[ This bottle has some mileage left on it, still heavy at the base when he plants it upright again. Dick could probably finish it, given enough time, effort, and encouragement, but he is already awfully low energy for defiance for defiance's sake. He squares the glass on the table next to him. ]

You don’t drink.

boy this escalated fast

[heorte]

[ That's not exactly the greeting Ellis was expecting, but to his credit he doesn't let the surprise slow his movements as he settles into place. ]

No. Never really got the taste for it.

[ Or it would have been too easy to get a taste for it. Either way, it costs him nothing to pass up any drinks offered his way. He does hook the bottle as Dick puts it down, drawing it a little closer in a mild attempt to discourage it being lifted again later on. ]

Have you been dancing?

[ What does it say about Ellis that he feels the natural progression of a party is: dancing, then getting hammered? ]

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

[nonvenomous]

[ The bottle withdraws at Ellis’ hand soon after leaving Richard’s. He follows it with his eyes, fingertips kept at an easy cage over the foot of his glass -- unspoken concession of the former in exchange for his keeping hold of the latter.

Affection (or something like it) crooks at the corner of his mouth, the fuzzy lines dug in around it only a little malicious. He sniffs it away, sobering without sobering. ]

Yes.

[ Dick is still wry when he finally looks up from the bottle, and lifts his glass. ]

Historically I have danced. [ He drinks by way of punctuation. ]

[heorte]

[ "Historically I have danced" feels like it's almost the answer to his question. Or it would be the answer if Ellis had worded his question slightly differently. Either way, his gaze moves briefly from Richard to the dancers.

It's notable that at any given moment people seem to be doing multiple types of dances that almost match. That's the theme of the evening, apparently. ]

Do you want to dance?

[ Where is this line of questioning going? Not even Ellis knows. ]

[nonvenomous]

[ Glass placed carefully back on its mark, Richard examines Ellis like a museum artifact from where he’s sat, his interest dry at arm’s (leg’s) length. ]

I don’t know, are you offering?

[ There’s no lilt to mark it as a question. Instead, he’s drawn a red line beneath the warden’s word choice -- one with the taste of a warning, too level to be especially bitter. This is a favor, free of charge, precluding a future disaster with someone more determined or less self-aware. ]

Are you worried about me, Ellis?

[ More genuine. He is more intent on seeing what the answer looks like, also. Dancing is just a periphery distraction. ]

[heorte]

I might be.

[ Not in any urgent way, but— ]

I feel like I should offer you a glass of water.

[ This is probably what people call being a buzzkill. ]

[nonvenomous]

I already have something to drink.

[ WINE.

Richard doesn’t immediately lift the glass again. Just saying the words is petty enough. Instead, he shifts and settles deeper still into his slouch, blending deeper into the foliage of this table setting.

He keeps the one hand anchored at the base of his glass, knuckles curled loose against the wood grain. ]

Fortunately I am incapable of feeling embarrassment.

[heorte]

What do you have to be embarrassed about?

[ If anything, Richard is one of the most self-possessed drunks Ellis has come across. He isn't singing, or fighting, or propositioning anyone. Comparatively, he has nothing to worry about. ]

I knew a man who lopped off two fingers playing knife games while drinking. That was embarrassing.

[ And inconvenient, for a Warden. But no need to mention that. ]

[nonvenomous]

[ Dick rolls his eyes and keeps them shut; he puffs his ribs wide against the flanks of his vest, sighs, and is quiet for a long moment. It is true that -- by human standards -- he’s barely budging needle on the scales of potential regret. ]

If you bring me a glass of water, [ he concedes, finally, ] I will drink it.

[ Grooming was a clear first point of order for him upon his return to civilization. He’s tidily shorn and clipped and his jacket has been taken in. The wear and tear he’s suffered is all in his bones and his spirit -- long-suffering in the mean blue of his eyes when he slits them open again. ]

[heorte]

[ Ellis almost asks what tipped the scales, but thinks better of it. ]

Alright.

[ And if it takes him less time than it should to speed his way to the water pitcher and back, it's only because he's traveled with enough Wardens who have gotten into a fair amount of mischief when left alone in the past. ]

You're humoring me, but I appreciate it. [ is what he says upon return, passing the mug with the expectation of being traded the wine glass. ]

[nonvenomous]

[ As learned behaviors go, a sense of urgency in corralling a drunk might have been well-founded, in this case. Richard has shifted out of his recline, shoulders and elbows rolled forward over the tabletop, boots squared beneath it, his face tucked down into his folded arms. The angles of his seat and the adjacent chair have skewed also, trace evidence of an attempted escape aborted in its earliest stages.

At the sound of Ellis’ voice, the click of the mug, and the expectant pause that follows, he sits up and nudges his glass over in exchange. Cooperative, apart from some delay.

Another deep breath keeps him buoyed upright to receive the mug in exchange. He has to think about whether or not he has the stomach for drinking it. ]

Who am I to deprive you of your ethical obligation.

[ Taking it slowly feels wise. He tests it with a sip. ]

[heorte]

It's kind of you to humor me.

[ Because Ellis does assume he's being humored.

The attempted escape is not remarked upon. Ellis leans back in his own chair, tipping the relinquished cup back and forth to swirl the dregs within it. ]

I'm sorry I'm not better company.

[ Though he isn't sorry for confiscating the drink. ]

[nonvenomous]

[ Richard scoffs over his cup, the very picture of pleasant company, rubbed all the wrong way with resentment in his eyes and wine on his breath. Cats fresh pulled out of baths they desperately needed but didn’t want have the same look. ]

Please. Why aren’t you dancing?

[ Another sip, and he sucks at his teeth, bitter against the taste cloying in his mouth. ]

You’re -- strapping. [ A Compliment. ] Noble, [ he adds, with effort. ] Polite.

[heorte]

You're too kind.

[ None of that praise sits quite right with Ellis. It feels almost deceptive not to object more strongly, but. ]

I did dance. Two turns with Wysteria, before she found another partner.

[ The summation glosses over Ellis' own reactions to the dance, makes it sound as if it were some small thing. It should have been. ]

In my experience Wardens usually keep out of it.

[ Though clearly not all Wardens. Ellis' career trajectory had gone in a very specific direction, so how would he know what Wardens do and don't do at parties? ]

[nonvenomous]

I am not kind.

[ Muffled into the cup -- Dick drinks more deeply and sets it aside, a genuine sting of irritation in a glance for recurring gratitude over offerings so vapid as drinking water or making an observation. ] I am dehydrated, and I have eyes.

[ Pull yourself together, Warden.

More mildly (more kindly), after a beat spent staring Ellis down, he offers: ] Wysteria is lovely. I’m sorry I missed it.

[heorte]

[ Ellis' fingers tap lightly at the edge of the glass for a moment. He'd argue the point, but nothing comes of it. Protesting beyond the initial objection isn't good for anything. ]

She's a fine dancer.

[ As Ellis promised to offer, if asked. ]

You could ask her for a dance yourself still. I doubt she's left yet.

[ Because Ellis isn't all that certain what to do with Richard's assessment other than direct him towards the dance floor. ]

[nonvenomous]

Mm, yes, then all three of us could be uncomfortable.

[ In spite of this very good idea Ellis has had, Richard stays firmly rooted to his seat, where he has water, and is safe from gravity. ]

Are there any other wardens with Riftwatch?

[heorte]

[ Is talking about other Wardens more or less fraught than talking about dancing? There seems to be less danger of Richard mentioning Ellis' perceived virtues, so maybe it's safer territory overall.

He leans forward, elbows on the table, then shrugs a little. ]

A few others. Not very many. The bulk of our forces are in the Anderfels, and last I heard, there's a smaller group in Orlais. And some others, probably, traveling on their own to recruit and assist where we're needed.

[ But his information is out of date. He knows that. ]

That's what I was doing, before I came here.

[nonvenomous]

Would I know any of these ‘other Wardens?’

[ Dick Dickerson is drunk; there is nothing slick about the way he narrows one eye, pressing Ellis to dish at a 45 degree angle. Why does he want to know? No reason.

He tracks down the cup Ellis brought for him with his open hand, but doesn’t yet drink, securing it closer to his elbow. ]

Did you recruit anyone?

[heorte]

[ One of these questions is more weighted than the other. Ellis takes his time about answering, finally tipping the dregs out of Richard's confiscated cup onto the floor and setting it down on the table in front of him. ]

You'd know if you met Teren.

[ She leaves an Impression. ]

Are you thinking about joining, or are you just curious?

[nonvenomous]

[ Richard registers the cup being tipped out onto the floor while the spill is in progress, and fixes on it at a wary remove. His jaw is slack, left open on the cusp of an unfinished thought, his hand paused where it’d been in the process of reaching deft behind his lapel for the block of his crystal. In the absence of any context, it looks like it could just be judgment for Ellis making a mess.

Slowly, he leans back again, and kicks up his boots one after the other to cross them over the adjacent chair. What were they talking about? ]

Do they welcome Rifters into their ranks?

[ He doubts it.

But they don’t have to call Teren right now. He drops his crystal (thonk) onto the table, and tries to sober himself with a deep drink of water instead. ]

[heorte]

[ Ellis almost asks what before Richard presses on to more complicated territory than whether or not he's having an outsized reaction to Ellis emptying a bit of liquor onto the floor.

Whether Richard is interested or not, Ellis gives it due consideration. Would they? He doubts a Rifter would be turned away. Ellis would have given a Rifter the rite, though he's hardly equipped for it now. ]

I don't know, but I can't imagine they wouldn't.

[ The Wardens are almost as mismatched an assortment of an organization as Riftwatch, now that Ellis considers it. His fingers tap the wrist of his right hand, remembering. ]

Our enemy outnumbers us, thousands upon thousands. If a Rifter wanted to serve...

[ A shrug. His hand settles on the table. ]

But I do not make those decisions. Maybe it is being debated in the Anderfels at this moment.

[ Ha. ]

[nonvenomous]

Surely the risk involved in inducting, training and outfitting an outsider who might disappear inexplicably from the battlefield at any time would deter them from trying.

[ Dick scuffs water out of his beard with his sleeve, sets the cup aside, and leans back far enough to dip a casual look under the table. Just checking. ]

But that sounds like a ‘them’ problem. [ If Ellis doesn’t make those decisions.

Back to eye level, Richard reaches up to unfasten his collar, dumb in the fingertips. But he gets it done, loosening up a little more room for him to sigh in. The trace flicker of a tiny tongue follows his thumb out of the mix, the owner camouflaged around the back of his neck, or coiled in some unseen pocket. ]

So you’ve recruited myself and who else?

[heorte]

[ The reappearance of the snake goes unremarked upon, for the moment. The implication of Richard's question takes precedence. Ellis' expression is bright with some kind of amusement, even if he doesn't understand exactly what Richard is trying to get at. ]

Are you expecting to meet them?

[ Which leads to the slightly grim question of how many are still alive.

Ellis certainly doesn't know. He can only assume much has happened since he's been avoiding all contact with the world. Who knows how many of the Wardens he'd known who survived the ritual were still in the Anderfels, or in Orlais? They could very easily have died some other way. Wardens aren't known for their long lives, and the darkspawn hadn't ceased to be a threat just because of the state of the world. ]