[ 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

[hassaran]

"I certainly did not say that," Yseult protests with a roll of her eyes, but she's on her feet without delay all the same, her own less-empty glass set aside to free her hand to set in his. "But I do like this one."

As they cross the room she walks close enough for shoulders to bump together and tips her head nearer to admit in an undertone, "I've been trying to remember when I last went to a party without an agenda."

[staysail]

"I think if you can't remember, it's officially been too long."

It's a lively tune, but the steps invite fewer opportunities to hand off a partner, which suits Darras fine. He takes light hold of Yseult's hand as they step out onto the floor together, his other hand at her waist.

"We could give this one an agenda, if it'll ease the pain of it. Unless you're enjoying yourself, then I think we just keep up with that."

[hassaran]

"It depends whether we count the time we went dancing with Bastien last fall. Before that I think last was when we accidentally attended the baker's daughter's wedding. And I'm enjoying myself now," Yseult smiles, setting her arm around his shoulder, "But if you have an agenda in mind I'll consider it."

[staysail]

"I'll propose an agenda if I come up with something worth spoiling this for."

The pace stays lively, but not so quick that it would put anyone out of breath, or prevent conversation. Yseult is a good dancer, because of course she is. This isn't new information to Darras, but he notes it anyways, pleased and proud over something that has nothing to do with him. Just another thing he loves about her.

"D'you ever wish we'd have had a wedding? A bigger one, I mean, not just us in the Chantry. Would have been a small guest list, I s'ppose, so maybe impossible even as a discussion."

[hassaran]

They're well-matched, moving smoothly about the floor with easy grace through even the more moderately complicated passages. Yseult follows his lead, letting him spin her out and back before she shakes her head.

"No. I've always thought it was perfect." After a beat she adds, "Ridiculously foolish and hard to believe I really did it, in hindsight. But perfect."

[staysail]

"Young love," he offers, as a counter. "And we ought to be grateful that was all we did for it. People have done things far more foolish over love. We were positively restrained by comparison. A wild marriage is hardly so scandalous."

[hassaran]

"Maybe not scandalous," Yseult allows, "But I'm struggling to think of anything more foolish."

[staysail]

He laughs, and lets her go a moment, a graceful twirl that brings her right back to him again. "What's foolish about marriage?"

[hassaran]

She settles her arm once more around his shoulder as her brows take on familiar, incredulous angles. "About tying yourself forever to someone you've known less than a month?"

[staysail]

"I wasn't handsome enough to marry after a month? I thought you were taken with me."

[hassaran]

"I was, and you were. Obviously. But that doesn't mean it wasn't a deeply foolish thing to do. We could have ended up sick of each other a month later, and then what would we have done? I would've had to kill you."

[staysail]

He deliberately slows their dance so he can tip a look her way.

"This face? You'd have killed this face? C'mon."

[hassaran]

"A loss for the world," Yseult replies, lifting her hand from his shoulder to pat his cheek as she breaks into another grin. "We're very lucky, that's all I'm saying."

[staysail]

"I already knew that." Stupid, sentimental, Darras leans into her hand as he returns her grin. "C'mere and kiss me now. For more luck."

[hassaran]

Yseult holds his jaw a moment even as she tilts her own back out of reach. "In front of all these people? No, for now you'll have to content yourself that I'm dancing."

[staysail]

He sighs, dejected--but before she can pull her hand away as well, he twists his head, pulls away just slightly so he can press a kiss against her palm.

"I'll content myself. For now. I do appreciate the dancing."

[hassaran]

She follows up his kiss with a little shove of his cheek, a fond push away, though she keeps hold of him otherwise, keeps dancing.

"We should do it more often," she says, "Though that may be the wine talking. The jungle has done serious damage to my tolerance."