[ 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

[forwardmomentum]

Miles lets out a bright laugh. "If that's the case, then I suppose I've lucked out by landing myself here," he says, though it's with cheer that rings hollow in his head. No, he's still very...very homesick.

"Antiva," he repeats with a nod and one last waft of the empty glass. The Seleny Song. Yes, he's going to commit that one to memory. "Is the Lady Sonia from Antiva as well, then? Gifting us with the bounties of her homeland? She does seem the generous sort."

[cozen]

"Very generous," Bastien agrees, "but Fereldan. Nous devons lui pardonner." And because Miles is a recently-arrived rifter, he does him the favor of dropping the joking magnanimous tone and clarifying, "We must forgive her."

Regret isn't one of Bastien's defining features, but he will maybe potentially possibly regret this later, in particular because it's a miscalculation, not an entirely accidental and ignorant misstep. He listens. He's heard their bickering stream out of the crystals. He's curious.

"She is the Ambassador's cousin, actually," he says, like an idle afterthought, and pauses for a drink before adding, "I know you are familiar with his accent."

[forwardmomentum]

It is an effectively attention-grabbing miscalculation; there is an immediate tightness in Miles's smile, but rather one of irony and not of irritation.

"Yes, quite familiar," he agrees, keeping his voice mild, although his smile shows teeth. It doesn't come as a surprise that his general disagreement with Byerly has gotten around, so to speak. It's infuriating, the way the man gets under MIles's skin; that's his bit, dammit. But it's followed by a blink of unmasked puzzlement, because he distinctly recalls Byerly's wife saying she had no knowledge of any other relatives in Riftwawtch.

"Really now?" The surprise is genuine as he briefly glances Sonia's way again. "I wasn't aware he had relatives in Riftwatch. I was under the impression that he's not on very good terms with the rest of the clan."

Yes, Sidony had been pretty specific on that point. Why claim ignorance of a relative, anyway? God knows the Vorrutyers of Barrayar are prone to the most flamboyant of scandals, and judging by Byerly's flamboyance alone, that doesn't seem like a stretch. Miles tries to keep his tone neutral, light even, but he's curious.

"Are we about to be at ground zero for some explosive drama, then? Ought we move out of the splash zone?"

[cozen]

"I imagine there is always a chance," Bastien says first, as a disclaimer, "but as far as I know, they get along well. She seems so charming, it is hard for me to imagine the sort of person who could manage to provoke her into, ah, explosive drama."

[forwardmomentum]

Miles's eyebrows climb steadily up his forehead. All the stranger now that SIdony had lied obliquely to him on the subject, and perhaps it's his bias against Byerly (it absolutely is) but he has a hard time imagining just what kind of oh so charming person would get along that well with the Ambassador. 

"Really?" he says again, and he doesn't mean to sound as surprised as he does, but, uh, well. He stumbles mentally for a few moments as he tries to think of a diplomatic way to ask does she share his vile sense of humor, fails, and settles for the considerably lamer, "What would you say is her charm? Something like her cousin's, or are they not quite so close?"

[cozen]

Bastien hums and dips his head to one side. “In my experience, she is less, ah,” what’s a good word, “provocative.”

[forwardmomentum]

Miles's eyebrows climb just a bit and he fails at quashing a smirk. Yes, provocative is a word one could use. Too nice of a word for Byerly.

"Given my admittedly limited experiences with Byerly Rutyer, that doesn't seem like much of a bar to step over. I'm Miles, by the way," he adds belatedly, realizing he's been low key badgering this man for information without so much as asking the fellow's name, and that it probably makes him look, uhh, not great? "I've seen you around the Gallows, but I don't think we've formally met."

[cozen]

“Bastien,” he supplies, unbothered and certainly not offended. “You are from the rifts, no? How are you finding Thedas? Monsieur l'Ambassadeur aside.”