[ 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

[apologist]

There's no danger. He only needs the crutch to correct the odd misstep, and here there's no stepping at all, because Valentine is closing the distance, like Jehan knew he could be counted on to do. When he's close Jehan lets go of it entirely and lets it clatter against the wall—which it does politely and quietly, like a well-behaved Orlesian crutch should.

"Val."

Less volume but roughly equal exuberance.

"A party? Why are you not weeping in your room, missing me?"

[degenere]

"I was, I was, buckets, Jeannot--"

He pulls away so he can behold his friend, but not so away that they are separated--just far enough that he can take him by the upper arms and hold him there, to be beamed at, the way someone else might beam at a favorite-- well, anything. A favorite. Jehan is a favorite, he deserves the beaming.

"I wept buckets. You may ask Freddie, Ah, we must find her--" When he removes his gaze, it is only so that he can do a sweep of the room, letting his eyes pass over all of the people that do not matter at all, seeking out the other person that matters. "--Though I think she may have left, if she was ever here at all--well, you may ask her later when you see her! She will be so annoyed that I saw you first. Unless you saw her first. You did not, did you? Say that I am first."