[ 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

[cozen]

"Gone," Bastien says. "It is not as dear the cello. The cello was a gift, you know. The lute can be replaced with any other lute, once I make up for the money, which is also gone."

He turns his head to look at Darras. He doesn't look miserable, quite. It will be fine.

"I suppose it is comeuppance."

[staysail]

"Comeuppance for," he prompts, expectantly, not yet satisfied enough that he's going to lay his head back down again and give up on this story.

[cozen]

"A life of wretched sin," Bastien says, in a tone like what else. "It could be any part of it. Though I did once throw a rival's lute into le Miroir de la Mère. It was a good throw, too. A solid fling. It spun."

He spins a finger in the air, slowly traveling away from him, to provide a very necessary illustration.

"If it is comeuppance for any specific sin, that would likely be the one." He sighs and drops his hand, then looks at Darras sidelong. "You must be careful, mon ami, if fate is catching up to us now."

[staysail]

Darras follows the trail of that spin with interest, and punctuates its end with a solemn nod. He gets it.

"Very arresting image. That's why I never learnt the lute." He takes another mouthful of rum; taps a finger against his temple as he swallows. "Can't pay for a lute sin if you don't know it. Other sins, we'll see, but at least I'm free of that."

A thought comes to him suddenly.

"Did it make a sound, when it hit? Comic, sort of--crunchy musical, maybe?"

[cozen]

Bastien makes a wobbly kinda sorta hand gesture.

“It was far away, but have you ever—you must have hit the water with the flat of an oar at some time in your life.”

[staysail]

He slaps his palm against the sofa cushion. It makes a muffled thud. Not like the flat of an oar hitting the water, but, still.

"Disappointing. I wanted there to be a string broken. Funny twang noise, then the splash. That's how it ought've gone."