[ 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

[degenere]

"Who says I have not compiled such notes? After all, it would be the natural choice for someone of my interests to pursue. And in such a place that none have been. I would be the envy of so many. Alas," this with a cheerful smile, and a slight raise of his glass, "I will need to take more wine before I begin to tell my secrets. You might be a rival scholar in disguise. A very serious disguise."

[okayimin]

"Your future achievements are safe from me," she agrees, dry as dust, "I've read some of your work and it's fine research, but the application in my field is too limited to be worth much." She takes a drink from her own glass and adds, "Rivalries in medical scholarship is nugshit anyhow."

[degenere]

Val gasps, pleased and surprise, and turns a fresh look on her.

"You have read some of my work? But this is wonderful! What a compliment! Tell me, what was the topic? I have thought to supplement our sad little library by requesting copies of certain publications--my own work would be among them, naturally--but there would be others as well."

Well, and, wait. His nose wrinkles a bit, as a puzzled smile comes over his face.

"And what 'rivalries' might the medics and healers have among their ranks? Whose bandage technique is better?"

[okayimin]

"I've read a few of your papers on Rivani and Antivan fauna. They were well done." She won't begrudge him the compliment, even if he's a pain in the ass. "The Seneshcal has been very accommodating about finding publications, but we'd benefit from more, of course." His question earns him a raised brow and a snort.

"More who can disprove the other's treatment course to be modern nonsense or who's secretly a heretic cutting up dead bodies for dark purposes." She shakes her head, "Political trash half the time."

[degenere]

"Well, of course there must be some purpose to a body that is cut into. We have long treated beasts in such fashions, to learn more of their physiology and understand their inner workings. But a human--a dwarf," he adds, magnanimously, with a little gesture toward her, "is different than a beast. To begin with, he is less likable."

[okayimin]

"Spoken like a man who's never had to deal with a deepstalker," she says, "I'd take the pissiest Carta Duster over dealing with one of those any day."

[degenere]

Val arches his eyebrows at her, ready to challenge. "Ah, but what of an Orlesian duke? Would he be worse than a deepstalker? Would it change, based upon his title?"

[okayimin]

She raises her eyebrows right back at him, "Depends on which one of us is more drunk and whether or not one of the Mothers was watching."

[degenere]

He laughs.

"I feel that I should be offended out of loyalty, that the choice is so dependent on these conditions. But I do not like any Orlesian dukes enough. Or deepstalkers. Ah, but I must tell you, I have seen deepstalkers. My very dear friend, the Baroness Haut-Brion, has an interest in architecture and artifacts found in thaigs. Once we mounted an expedition to seek out Kal-Sharok by only our own wits. We became distracted somewhat through and it remains unfinished, so say nothing if you know of the great thaig, we will one day remount it--but in this work, I did have the opportunity to observe deepstalkers. Of course, that is not dissection. Even so."

[okayimin]

"Have you now." She considers him for a long minute. Kal-Sharok doesn't mean much in Dust Town, other than another place the Carta'd like to get their claws in. But more importantly: "Lotsa Darkspawn between Ozammar and Kal-Sharok," Sawbones says, frowning, "You'd need more'n your own wits."

But she waves that off, too. de Fonce and his kin wouldn't be the first surfacers to die in the Deep Roads and they certainly wouldn't be the last. "Anyway. Surprised you had time to observe a deepstalker without having to kill one. Mean little fuckers, even if they are useful." She indicates her jaw and throat, "They've got this acid sack that runs down into their stomachs. Useful corrosive in a pinch."

[degenere]

Val's eyes light up with interest. He had been half-turned still, an eye on the room and the party. Now she is his sole focus. This sounds promising, and fascinating.

"But surely they need not be killed to extract the acid."

[okayimin]

Somehow she's not surprised.

"You can milk them for it. Some of the Carta boys who like their poisons do that to the big broody females- they're the ones who got the venom. But it mixes with their saliva and turns it rancid, while the sack is about as pure as anything gets in the Deep Roads."