[ 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

[unshut]

Dosing the poor things with a paralytic seems to be the popular theory. But I'm hardly an expert.

[Deeply entrenched to a gambler, maybe; is it possible she's racked up enough of a debt in Kirkwall's proper gambling houses to resort to underground goat racing? Who can say.]

As to how the gentleman in question was discovered - why, it was by his benefactor of course. Dear Todd thought he might short change the man, the gentleman in question discovered the accounting error, and saw to it a series of sabotaged goats were swapped with lookalikes. Which naturally wreaked havoc on the betting odds, which drew attention to Lucky Todd himself who came up woefully short. Hence the destruction of the tavern by the hands of vindictive layabouts who didn't get paid out once they discovered the nobleman at the top had skipped town.

[She pauses, a thoughtful look overcoming her. After a moment, Fitcher sighs and confesses to him with an air of extreme disappointment:]

There's a joke in there about outfoxing, but I haven't found my way to it yet. [A wave of the hand. No matter.] And then there is the usual gossip from abroad. Queen Anora looking for a husband, bickering out of Nevarra, some business about trade on the Waking Sea.