faderift | [ open: all arise! ]

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.

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[There is a slight pinch in the line of her mouth, though her step doesn't falter and if there is a bat eye it is swift enough so at to hardly warrant merit.]

Well, of course you would know best.

[ He's offended her, it seems. He debates falling silent and leaving her to stew in her offense. But instead, he unbends just a little. ]

You're not of Thedas, so you do not know. But my family name has a certain...infamy in the south. Which has been well earned.

[There is a question - Is that why you went to Val Royeaux? -, but she selects not to ask it. That way frustration lies.]

I see. I'm sorry to hear it.

[ The look he shoots her is a little incredulous (sorry seems a damned odd response) but he has grace enough not to call her on it. Instead: ]

As have the Avvar, the Chasind, assorted bandits, scads of Darkspawn, and most notably the Orlesians been throughout history. And various freemen, too, of course. The attic of my childhood home had leather made from what had to have been, at minimum, three Chevaliers, assuming no waste of skin, and assuming they were decently fat.

How shocking. [She doesn't sound particularly shocked. In fact, she sounds very much like dancing with a good partner (irritating as it would be to admit) feels: skimming idly along the surface.] I can only assume they weren't for study.

I suppose some of your old friends are of a similar cut. To your family, not to the skin.

[ He's somewhat gratified by her mild interest. ]

Just so. Every once in a while, a lump of excrement - pardon my language, good lady - will bring about the growth of a wild strawberry. [ He nods to Bastien, and to Alexandrie beyond him. ] But more often it simply attracts stinging midges.

[This time, the low noise she makes is skeptical. But what she says is,]

I'm most certain they would be flattered to hear it.

To hear that they're like midges?

I was referring to Monsieur Bastien and Lady Alexandrie.

Oh.

[ Just a slight frown for a slight moment, that crosses his face and then is gone. ]

Well, they know already. That I think so.

Then I only wonder if they would give your very colorful description of their mutual friend any credit.

[And:]

—We're meant to change direction here, Mr. Rutyer.

So we are.

[ And with a small nod of thanks, he changes direction. ]

You're quite a fine dancer yourself. - And these are not their friends that I describe as midges, but only my own. I had separate circles from them, at times.

Thank you. Riftwatch has seen to it that I get some practice in, [is plain, maybe even flippant as they get going in their new direction.]

And I said their mutual friend. Not yours.

Ah, of course.

[ He has no idea what she's talking about, and just continues with the dance. Because asking questions makes you look stupid. ]

[Which, after a beat or two of music in which she expects some protest to be tacked on, finally succeeds in bringing her face back around to look at him.]

You are their mutual friend, Mr. Rutyer.

[ He purses his lips very slightly, plainly a bit confused. ]

I don't recall describing myself.

[She opens her mouth, starts to say something, colors rather furiously as she realizes exactly what conclusion she's leapt to, and then shuts it again.

And then changes her mind, leaping with such ferocity after her next sentence that she may as well mean to strangle the life out of it:]

Irregardless, I am delighted you have such true old friends here in Riftwatch with you. There is a certain satisfaction is beginning one's life all over again from scratch, of course - in fact, I cannot recommend it highly enough -, but to be sure there is some creature comfort in the familiar. For example, I have an assortment of little things I brought with me that I would be loathe to part with.

That is all I meant by any of it.

[ She'd been right, actually, in her interpretation; he'd been calling himself a piece of shit. It just was so unremarkable that he'd forgotten at once. ]

My condolences that you don't have more than that, Miss Poppell.

[ He doesn't seem to be mocking. ]

[Then it is a shame that all her attention is fixated on the eagerness with which she means to paper over her indiscretion.]

It is most considerate of you to say but entirely unnecessary, I assure you Mr. Rutyer. I daresay that given the opportunity to do it all over again - of my own volition, mind -, I would do so at once. As I said; it is quite freeing to be in possession of no obligations whatsoever save to one's own impulses and particular fascinations.

[ Sure, Wysteria. ]

Yes, I've had that experience before.

Then how happy a coincidence that for once we seem to be on the same page entirely.

[So there, Byerly.]

Are we? I did not say that it was freeing, or enjoyable.

You disagree?

[–is past her teeth before she can clamp down around it, sounded short regardless of how she adopts a large eyed, sunny look in the aftermath to cover for it.

(Surely, she thinks, this song cannot last so much longer; she need only veer around an argument for a few moments more.)]

Even in a new land, I was still myself.

[ It's maybe rueful and it's maybe bitter. His shrug afterwards absolves her of having to comment upon it. ]

But as you are very tolerable company, I suspect that has much to do with your joy.

[Her looks narrows just slightly, a reflexive instant of suspicion as they make their way round.]

How kind of you to say.

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bouchonne - 2020-07-03 00:06 (UTC) - Expand

heirring - 2020-07-03 00:42 (UTC) - Expand