[ 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

[heirring]

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

[So there, Byerly.]

[bouchonne]

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

[heirring]

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.)]

[bouchonne]

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.

[heirring]

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

How kind of you to say.

[bouchonne]

[ If there's a line coming, some bit of nastiness, it takes a while to arrive - and, indeed, doesn't come before the song ends. He steps back and bows to her. ]

Miss Poppell.

[heirring]

[The twitch of her rose colored skirts and the deferential tip of her head is almost like a curtsy; certainly it's the closest she's gotten to one in months.]

Ambassador Rutyer. Thank you for the fine turn; I hope the rest of your evening is perfectly well.

[See. It isn't so difficult to be agreeable so long as their associations spans no longer than five minutes at a time.]