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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He laughs.

"No? That is surprising. You strike me as a woman of spirit. Who is it that does the deciding, then? Do you take orders from them?"

"Aren't you dear! And that is the trouble of it, you see!" She huffs, "There's no central leadership! So what is one to do if one's orders contradict? It's most vexing." She taps her chin, "I have been courting my dearest Byerly, but darling Captain Flint has made such an excellent impression of late."

His nose wrinkles, just slightly. Blessedly, no one here is armed enough with knowledge enough to tell him how very much he resembles his mother when he wears that expression, and Val himself is entirely unaware. A general and mildly disdainful air, unimpressed: behold, the face of it.

"I suppose of those offered, you might do worse. You are sensible to choose these. The way that Riftwatch is run, one must wait for the collective opinion of its heads and see what it is that they collectively advise, without picking apart the individual opinions. This is one of the flaws of an institution, of course. It leaves so little room for individuality, for circumstances in which one must think for one's self."

She laughs at his expression and his words, a sweet, silver bell giggle. Clever people are always like this, entierly mysterious and charming all at once.

"Oh, that's hardly anything to do with me," she says, guilelessly cheerful, "My tutor always told me I was like champagne. I never did ask what she meant by that, but I suppose champagne doesn't have very much need for making its opinion heard or worrying over much about things like individuality. It sounds very difficult for you, though."

Playing into it, he heaves a sigh thick with theatricality.

"Tremendously, mademoiselle. I am glad that you are here to see the struggle. Even its acknowledgement is a comfort to me, and I so require comforting. But it is not fair, that you should be given no chance for opinion! I adore champagne, so I should like to hear its thoughts."

"How very dear you are! I shall be more than happy to offer you whatever comfort you crave, darling!" She tilts her head thoughtfully, "As to my opinion, well... I suppose it would be more correct to say that I am aware of the limited application of my preferences. It would be most embarrassing to go about killing people willy nilly to discover that was not the best course of action."

That slight dissonance to their otherwise very normal conversation breaks through the wall of Val's placid half-listening. Oh, he thinks. So that's how it is, and how she is. Well.

"Your pardon. But your preference is war, and not orgies? You began this conversation very wrongly if that is the case."

"Oh no, you misunderstand," she says, as if there were nothing odd about the conversation at all, "I very much like both. But one is more of a hobby, you know. I would say the other is more my occupation. So my opinion in a situation where an opinion is called for tends to be very weighted in that particular direction." She tapped her chin thoughtfully, "Do you suppose if I was of the opinion that we ought to have an orgy, we would?"

"I will refer again to the start of this conversation," Val says, not at fussed by how normally she is treating this. After all, one is surrounded by all manner of strangeness in Riftwatch, to say nothing of all of the curious people he has met in his adventures and travel prior to Riftwatch--and with such a breadth of experience, one will naturally have met with combative types, who do not shy away from brutalities.

Which is to say that she remains a curious specimen, but that does not prevent conversation.

"If you were of the opinion, you would hear from many who would confess to sharing the opinion. When the day came, they would turn away. They would suddenly find their schedules too busy. I do not call them cowards, precisely, but--" He wavers his hand. "If you were of the opinion that we should have an orgy, as it is a hobby of yours, you would find many of our number to be lacking in that sense of adventure that would be required to share your opinion."

"That is most vexing," she says, sighing. Riftwatch is indeed full of strangeness, as is the rest of Thedas, as far as she can tell. But she had naturally had the benefit of being raised among people who understood that and likewise made it clear what the world lacked. A clear structure and a unifying truth found in the blood of the Elders. What a comfort to look across to her handsome companion and know exactly where he would slot in, even if he was a heathen.

Still that didn't mean she disliked the chaos of this filthy world. Instead she leans forwards and asks with sweet earnestness, "Dear Val du Fonce, you're an incredibly clever person, aren't you? Why is that?"

Oh, well. Val's expression of mild disdain clears into a smile as he looks around at her. There is nothing quite like appealing to his ego. He is, after all, his own favorite person. And he is an incredibly clever person besides.

"You are observant. Of course I had an excellent education at the University. And I have made a great deal of study on my own time, outside of my formal schooling. But in the end, does not cleverness come down to a sort of fortune of birth? Nothing to do with one's parents. More a sort of luck, one might say, if one believed in such a thing. Do you believe in luck, mademoiselle?"

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