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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Sonia responds with a twirling curtsy and a little laugh. Even in this small moment, the world feels just a little fuller with possibility, with hope. "We could strengthen our relationships with the connections we more or less inherited from the Chantry, on our own terms. We could..."

That's about as far as her enthusiastic drunken brainstorming gets her, but she looks genuinely cheered. She had felt so utterly helpless after the kidnapping, in the jungle, where all the social skills in the world hadn't done a thing to help her survive. She clasps Byerly's hands in hers, her eyes upturned.

"Thank you for giving me a chance," she says. "A real chance. I know the first time I came here, you wanted me to go right back home, but -- thank you, Byerly."

"Ah, well." He gives a small shrug, a half smile. A pang of guilt meets that comment; if he'd sent her back home, she wouldn't have been caught up in that, perhaps, would have been spared the misery and the fear...

No. No time for that now. It's a party. "Perhaps I underestimated you then."

"Oh, now I hope so. Maybe I'll surprise you." Her eyes flash bright as she grins, squeezing his hands, and then releases them. A little breather from dancing is nice, a moment of quiet in between the beats. She glances across the room, taking in the scene, the energy of the party, and she says, still smiling slightly, "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything at all," he says, pressing a hand to his heart. Though it is perhaps concerning - a touch - that she asks permission before inquiring. That's not usually her way.

There's only a brief lull while Sonia tries to find the right words, to ask most simply.

"I know we've always been friends," she says, and she clasps her hands behind her back, swaying slightly. "I don't want you to think that I doubt that, even for a moment. But do you...is part of the reason you dote on me the way you do because you miss Nadine?"

There's no anxiety on her face, no apprehension, only a clear, curious look, a simple wanting to know. It's been on her mind for a little while now, but there's room for her thoughts again now that they're home, and she remembers Byerly's naked terror at the idea of losing her.

His head snaps around. His eyes are wide when they meet hers, and his lips part and close, searching for words. He'd look less stunned if she'd struck him across the face. It came so utterly out of nowhere - no, not out of nowhere, she'd asked permission - but even with that permission granted, how could he have ever anticipated anything like that?

"That's..." He goes for his glass, tips it back, but it's empty; only a drop slides down to wet his dry mouth. "Why - What has made you ask that?"

His voice is stiff. He goes for the drinks table, to find a refill to coat his throat and to, hopefully, take care of some of this accursed sobriety.

Sonia realizes at once, too late, that she has made a mistake. Byerly is too sober for this line of questioning, and she is not sober enough. Her face falls slightly and she steps quickly alongside him, biting her lip.

"It's just that with everything going on, it was just...I don't know." She finds herself unable to put it into words, why she had wanted so badly to ask him that. "I'm sorry, Byerly, I didn't mean..." She breaks off, shaking her head, and puts out a hand. "I'm sorry."

He's too busy staring deeply at some whiskey to notice that hand. He tosses it back at a gulp, then pauses, considers, and then pours and tosses back another. It gives him time enough to collect himself, and the warmth of the alcohol soothes the soreness in his chest, and so when he turns back to Sonia it's with a little more calm.

"It's - fine," he says, his voice a little quieter. "I simply wasn't expecting that." Then, taking a breath, he deflects - "Do you think that's the case?"

Sonia bites her lips together, twisting a curl of hair between her fingers. Unfair, she accuses herself, unfair of her to fling that at him so suddenly. There's a reason they don't talk about it.

"I don't know," she says in genuine puzzlement. "That's why I asked. I don't assume those kinds of things about you." There has, after all, always been a part of Byerly that is opaque to her. She lets her gaze wander away from him, twisting her hair back and forth in her fingers.

"I think it's possible," she says hesitantly, and can't seem to find words to say more, not without overstepping too far. "I think I would understand if it were." She looks down at her hands, smiling faintly, and after a moment, in a smaller voice: "It's not as though I don't miss having a brother."

That makes him relent just a little. Sympathy for her pushes out a bit of the pity for himself. Plus those shots are doing the trick, quieting down some of the noise in his head.

So. He looks at her, now. He doesn't meet her eyes, not quite, but he comes close enough. "My relationship to you is my relationship to you," he says. "You're no one's replacement."

Sonia's eyes are intent on his face, and she wishes he would meet her gaze head-on, but she doesn't force it. Her lips come together in a wobbly smile, and she combs her fingers through her hair, absently trying to undo any matted curls. Perhaps she needs a drink too.

"I know," she says, two words of unshaken confidence in him. She looks down at her hands, then shakes them free of her hair. "I'm sorry for bringing it up. That was unfair of me."

He gives a small shake of his head. "No," he says. It doesn't sound entirely firm or convincing, but - "I am sorry. Twenty years should have been enough to make it less..."

Less what? Less painful? Less humiliating? Less nauseating? "I've been cursed by remembrances of that time, of late. The concentration of rift-magic has brought about some strange occurrences, and so more than once I've been cursed by seeing my father's fucking countenance. Hasn't happened for months, but - " A shrug. "Perhaps I'm rawer than I would normally be."

Sonia's brow creases and her mouth parts slightly at that, and she suppresses the immediate and ill-advised urge to pull him into a hug.

"Oh, Byerly," she sighs, and she almost says I didn't know, but of course she didn't. She can only know what he tells her. "I'm sorry," she says instead, plain and simple. "That's a nasty thing to have sprung on you. That would be a tender spot for anyone."

It is with large, dark eyes that she regards him then, almost thoughtful, almost shy. A trace of the younger, less confident Sonia that so few people besides Byerly have seen. "Maybe it wouldn't feel so raw if you talked about it from time to time. Maybe keeping it to yourself all this time has kept you from healing. And maybe I'm not the person you'd want to talk about it with, but you can always talk to me, Byerly." She smiles slightly, reaching to touch his cheek just briefly. "You have no judgment to fear from me."

[ open: all arise! ]

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