[ 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

[galvanising]

Nell tilts her head, too slow until it abruptly sags toward her shoulder, and then rolls up toward the ceiling, at which she squints. After a long moment she shrugs, letting the high push of her shoulder bump her head upright again.

"I think I'd know her if I saw her but I'm less sure than I'd like to be."

[exequy]

“I’m not sure I would, either.”

A maudlin confession, but he doesn’t sound maudlin about it. He’d have a better chance of recognizing her than most mages would have of recognizing their parents. His memories of her face from a decade and a half ago are fuzzy at best, but he knows she looks like Marisol, and—

And he looks sidelong at Nell. He thinks he’s still angry with her, but mostly he’s tired. Or drunk. Both.

“If you do ever fuck my mother, I will not rest until I’ve found yours.”

[galvanising]

Nell squints again for a moment as if confused by something, then shrugs to herself and rolls her head back toward Kostos again, this time her squint being of the focusing variety. She considers this promise for a moment, and then nods, solemnly. "That seems fair."

She tilts her head, squinting at him in yet another slightly different way. "I bet your mother is hot. Or-- what do they call it when it's a woman over forty. Handsome. Striking."

[exequy]

Kostos nods—it’s probably true, all evidence indicates it would be—and says, contemplatively, “I bet yours looks like a dead tree.”

[galvanising]

Nell barks a laugh. "Ass. I bet you're right. Thank the Maker I'll never get to that stage."

[exequy]

Kostos smiles a little—as much as he ever does, really, when things are anything less than completely perfect and funny, e.g. when someone is mean to Ilias—and slumps against the sofa in a way that brings him an inch or two closer.

"You miss me," he says.

He sounds far too smug about that for someone who's shown multiple signs of the affliction himself.

[galvanising]

Neither the scoffing nor the retort "You miss me!" is actually a denial.

[exequy]

Kostos hums, sort of. It's a little closer to a cat's growl. But it's a hum in spirit, thoughtful and considering, before he decides, "Maybe. But you are—"

He gestures. The gesture is meant to convey: Fun. Friendly. A relatively pleasant person to know.

"You missing me is much more interesting."

[galvanising]

Nell snorts, skeptical and dismissive. "You seem to have more friends here than I do. Haven't you noticed?"

[exequy]

His eyes narrow, and he looks at the room for a moment, with a distinct air of that can't be right. The result of whatever mental equations he drunkenly attempts is:

"Fuck them." He looks back at her. "Are you still avoiding the bartenders at the Blue Dragon?"

The ones she slept with, like, three years ago.

[galvanising]

Nell rolls her eyes, expression instantly rearranging into exaggerated disgust. "I went back a couple months ago figuring it was probably fine by now. You think they would've forgotten me, maybe they didn't even still work there anymore. But no. I walk in and they're there and they're in the middle of a shouting match that'd clearly been going on a while because the place has half cleared out already. So they had a nice clear view of me as soon as I walked in the door, they both turn and start screaming at me instead of each other--" she throws up a hand and sighs.

"I think the Blue Dragon's done for good. Why?"

[exequy]

The story makes him almost laugh—one of those silent snorts, a little twitch of a smile—but why makes his face go flat and impatient. Don't make him say it.

[galvanising]

It takes Nell a minute—she's drunk and it's been a year—and then she smiles, but quickly squints up at the ceiling like she didn't and shrugs, casually. Super casually.

"Have you been to the new place west of there, the Half-Slaughtered Goat?"

[exequy]

Kostos doesn't smile, but some of the tension does bleed out of his shoulders and jaw. Not all of it, obviously. He'd be unrecognizable. But enough to qualify as friendly, for him, while he folds his hands on his stomach and contemplates the middle distance and the concept of half-slaughtered.

"Do they serve goat?"

[galvanising]

"Of course, they've got a whole one spinning on a spit in the hearth. But it's just up there all day for show til it's gone, so if you order too early it's raw and too late it's like it's been mummified for months."

[exequy]

"That's disgusting."

His pause is not actually for comedic timing. It's because his brain is a little sludgy, and because this feels very close to apologizing to someone, which he tries to avoid.

"Let's go tomorrow."