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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ An arched eyebrow - what the fuck is spring break - and then, in response: ]

My mother had some mining interests that she brought as part of her dowry. About as good a match as a creature as spiteful, penniless, and homely as my father could hope for.

[ Which is as much as he wants to say on that topic, drunk or no. ]

So how are you enjoying Thedas, dear Scotlander?

[ A sideways look at the jab at his father, curious and quiet. Not the kind of curiosity that means he wants to push it. Very happy to do the opposite, though he hesitates briefly on the new topic. He should stick to a polite and pointless answer. Should, but— ]

If someone told me we could wake up back home by offing ourselves here, I'd probably try it. [ A dry hypothetical, not enough evidence to make it a real debate. He gives Byerly a mildly apologetic look. ] No offense.

Really?

[ He frowns, mock-meditative. ]

I can't imagine that the process of dying is particularly pleasant. Are you certain you'd want to do it?

Depends on the method.

[ With an edge of sarcasm, ]

And it's not so bad if you wake up after, is it? Not even sure that counts.

Oh, don't you ever dream of dying? It's awful.

[ He did literally fall out of a rift inside of a body bag, so yes, but: ]

No. I mean, yeah, but— your imagination's always going to make it worse than it is, isn't it.

[ Nightmares about drowning, definitely more melodramatic than the real deal. Probably not the same for like, burning alive or a billion other ways to go. Instead of bringing that debate back, Fitz shoots Byerly a disconcerted look. ]

Do you dream about dying often?

[ Byerly's look is politely, if genuinely, puzzled. ]

Do you not?

[ Is he...... taking the piss........ ]

Well, yes. But I've got a lot inspiration, it's not just— [ He stops, visibly second-guessing. ] I was going to say it's not healthy if it's all the time, but we're in the bloody middle ages, so what do I know.

[ Lots of stress when you're fighting political collapse, archdemons and constant shortages of coffee and tea. It's understandable. ]

One does start thinking rather more about these sorts of things as one grows older, true.

[ Thirty-odd is definitely someone in their middle ages. Still - ]

What sorts of inspiration, precisely?

[ Fitz' brow furrows at the first response, taking a second to follow the completely logical misunderstanding. ]

That's— traumatic experiences.

[ A little exasperated. 'Inspiration' was a stupid word to use. Should he get another drink? He's not done with his first one, but— ]

Has Thedas invented therapy yet?

[ With a very slight frown - ]

Define therapy.

[ With an answering very slight frown, ]

You know. Therapy. Working out your psychological— your mental and emotional health. Talking with someone who spends all their time talking about other people's problems and either making them exponentially worse or helping them make sense. Which— sometimes that makes them worse anyway, actually, but—

[ That sounds worse than he means it to. A patient correction, ] It's useful, it's just a bit miserable.

[ What. ]

How does someone talking about other people's problems help with your - [ What. ] Emotional health? Dear fellow, I think you might be taking the expression heart-sick a little seriously. It is not actually a sickness. Believe me; I'm rather an expert on the subject.

I haven't just made it up. And they don't talk to you about other people's problems, they talk to you about yours. It's let's talk about your father and should statements and—

[ A little incredulously, ]

Really. What makes you such an expert, then?

[ Incredulously in return: ]

Madness runs in my family line.

[ Gosh, don't you know that. ]

We all go famously insane. What in the Maker's name is a shut-statement?

Yeah, okay— see, that's a perfect example. Your ancestors clearly could've used therapy. Maybe then you'd have had a few sane ones.

[ Said more in the tone of an insult than advice, so possibly not a great sell for therapy. ]

And it's should. Should statements. That part's complete nonsense, honestly. Sometimes it's just the right word for the sentence, isn't it.

[ His look is supremely dry. ]

Yes, like my three-times great aunt Irene, who said to herself, "I should maintain my youth," and so drained a hundred young girls of their blood to supply herself with rejuvenating baths.

Ah, [ Isn't said particularly slowly, but it does a pretty good job of translating his thoughts slowly grinding to a halt. ]

That's an extreme example, yes, but a therapist definitely would've told her that was a bad idea.

[ Would therapy actually have helped dear aunt Elizabeth Báthory? Who cares, because the more important thing is: he's not going to cede his point just because Byerly's family is very dramatic. Fitz takes a short drink, very casual, very obviously transitioning back into stubborn nonchalance. ]

Therapy's not the point, anyway, I'm just saying you've got to work through things. You can't just put them in a neat little box and pretend they don't exist, or next thing you know you'll be obsessively dreaming about death.

Fair enough. You seem like a model of sanity, so it most certainly makes sense to follow your every example.

[ You know the saying. If you can't think of anything nice to say (or a good comeback),

take a big drink of beer, come very close to saying something anyway while smiling passive aggressively, then accept defeat and wander off to find the snack table. ]

[ open: all arise! ]

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point 2 byerly