OPEN: this will be a better year

[faderifting]

WHO: Everyone
WHAT: First Day
WHEN: Wintermarch 1 (forward-dated)
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Scouts from both the Western Approach and Emprise du Lion are welcome (but not required) to have returned to Skyhold in time for this event.

There have been better First Day feasts, and less crowded ones, and cheerier ones. It isn't a good year for many to look back on, and this one isn't starting any better. Reports from both Eastern and Western Orlais are grim. Many in the Inquisition can't afford to take more than a few hours away from their work, if that.

But for those who can, the ambassador does her best. At lunchtime some tables, hot food, and finery are reserved for visiting nobility and wealthy pilgrims--cause for grumbling in some quarters, perhaps, but they're the people filling the Inquisition's coffers, and allowances must be made--but there's plenty of stew, bread, and ale for everyone, even with the soldiers and refugees who stay outside the fortress invited inside for the holiday. The recently repaired garden and its carefully tended plants aren't off limits, but anyone noisy and holding a drink will be stopped at the door; the battlements, with their potential for deadly falls, are blocked by Inquisition guards. But the courtyards brim with people, most of them happy despite the possibility that the world might end before another First Day arrives.

If the courtyards are too full of tipsy visitors for comfort, there's also the valley beyond the fortress, expansive, barren, and covered in snow. By the river the soldiers help the refugees make a bonfire larger than would ever be allowed inside Skyhold's walls, and some lend their shields to use as sleds down the embankments. A group of scouts start the most intense game of hide and seek Thedas has ever seen, with snowballs to the face for whoever is found first. In the camp, a refugee girl with her hand wrapped in a green scarf chases other children around the tents, shouting raaar, I'm from the rifts!

Comments

[eolasemah]

The individual responsible for stopping revelers at the door is one Sina Dahlasanor, who has parked herself on a blanket directly in front of the entryway from the main hall with a cup of tea in her hands and a few lyrium potions within reach. A thick barrier of roots and branches has miraculously grown up over the opening, a spell for which she recasts in perpetuity, though she graciously relaxes it for those who have business here or make a compelling case for wanting to escape the hubbub.

Anyone deemed too drunk who tries to argue their way in is met with a calm and silent shake of her head. She'll have none of it.

Before he's dragged to Socialize ...

[judgemewhole]

Norrington doesn't have a drink on him, and is as sober as a magistrate when he appears at the garden door. Which is, well, blocked by a giant tree. More of the Keeper magic Pel had told him about, and he looks at it in wonder, before he calls inside.

"Lady Pel? Are you within?" He called out through the tree roots. If he could get a quiet moment alone with her, he would not complain.

Zevran Arainai

[ombranera]

[ Courtyard ]

What is a fine meal without music? Zevran takes his turn eating and drinking before setting up off to one side, playing songs that are decidedly less bawdy and raunchy than his previous performance in the tavern a few days ago. He is bundled against the heat, wrapped in a cloak, pausing between songs to warm his hands on a mug of mulled wine or hot tea. The bribery of a coin or a kiss can have a favored song played, and for a smile? He may even sing.


[ Bonfire ]

Here, now, are the high spirited songs. Those of the more common folk, those that wish to laugh and dance and live without the burdens of a noble life. Here Zevran strums and drums and stamps, trying to bring as much cheer as possible to those circling the bonfire in the dark of the evening. Now and then he will sweep in himself, taking a willing (or unwilling) individual by the hand and pull them around for a dance. It is a new year, the dawning of a new chapter in all of their lives. It should be met with joy and abandon!

He can also be found high in a tree, hurling snowballs at the hidden scouts- or those seeking them- or any wandering by looking too dour for his mood.


[ Wildcard ]

[ hit me with whatever, I will roll with it! ]

Bonfire

[gatheringstorm]

Distracted by admiring the bonfire, Korrin doesn't notice Zevran's proximity at first. But she's definitely made aware of it when her hand is seized and she's pulled in close. This doesn't faze her at all and she just flashes him a grin.

"Why yes, Zevran, I would love a dance. Thank you so much for asking."

Off in a corner - Sherlock and Fenris

[seesobserves]

Sherlock has not always been the biggest fan of Wicked Grace. The way he and Mycroft used to play it, between all the cheating and misdirection and debates (especially that one time the Angel of Death was 'lost'), a single hand could go on interminably. In the years since, he's found that with a person or persons who are far less — enthusiastically competitive — it can be a welcome exercise. Something to do with his hands, to occupy the parts of his mind that would otherwise prevent him from focusing. This has led to more than one occasion of puzzling over a perplexing case in the middle of a gambling house. Tonight, it's more of an excuse to avoid the revelry.

There is a drink in front of him: once steaming, now lukewarm, looking much more like tea than anything alcoholic. It also smells dreadful, though only if one gets too close.

"Shards of raw red lyrium, jutting out of the ground," he muses as he sets down a card. He's been retelling the rescue of the mining captives in the Emprise. "No wonder the miners were going mad."

[aggregiopavali]

Fenris enjoyed a game of Wicked Grace, there was no denying it, but it was as much the companionship of playing it with people as it was the relieving people of their money that he enjoyed...

... not that he didn't enjoy winning competitive games- he truly did, but sometimes it was just nice to relax, and play a gentle hand. Especially when he had a good chance of winning.

He nursed his drink, a terrible ale, but it generally had the desired effect over the course of an evening. But the talk of red lyrium - well, that had him shuddering. The tales that were told of it... what could it do to his lyrium brands? "I never thought I would say this, but I am glad that I went to the Western Approach." No shards of red lyrium to deal with.

Korrin Ataash

[gatheringstorm]

[Courtyard]

Relieved to have made it back in time, Korrin is all about socializing now that she's had hours upon hours of much-needed rest. She'll search about for familiar faces, eager to catch up while spreading around ale or spiced wine. For her part, the Vashoth mage is pacing herself and isn't interested in ingesting enough to be inebriated just yet. There's a celebration to enjoy, after all.

[Bonfire]

Upon hearing about the creation of a bonfire, Korrin's eager to help with its creation. After setting it alight, she'll turn her attention to those gathering and join in on festivities. As it happens, she knows how to dance and isn't shy about nudging friends to join her, because why not? The same thing is liable to happen with sledding, as doing so alone just isn't as much fun. If friendly faces don't get to her about it first, it's a fair bet she'll drag them into it. Unfamiliar faces who also seem interested will be made an offer to join in as she spots them.

Amidst all that, she's keeping an eye out for a certain rifter woman with gorgeous curls and a hearstopping smile. Araceli has been in her thoughts ever since leaving Skyhold, so it's no surprise that she'll be seeking her out. Though given Korrin's height and horns, it's more likely she'll be spotted first. Still, that doesn't stop her from trying.

[Wildcard]

Place her anywhere!

[wontforgetyou]

"Sledding? Whatever do you want to go sledding for?"

Alright, so there's snow, and plenty of it, to be sure, but Jamie's not at all sure that going sliding through it is something that he particularly he wants to be doing. But then again, it's not as though he hasn't been talked into doing so plenty of times before. It seems no matter how often he decides he doesn't want to do something, he winds up getting dragged into it one way or another - and even though the people who normally do that sort of thing aren't here, he has a sneaky suspicion that part of things aren't going to change.

Still, he decides he's going to have a go at talking his way out of it. After all, what's the fun of giving in if he doesn't at least get to make a couple of token protests first?

"Look, aren't you sure you'd rather stay here and have some spiced wine or something? One of the cooks came up with a batch of the stuff that's actually quite good."

Adelaide LeBlanc

[fleurdesel]

[ Bonfire ]

The courtyards a bit full for her peace of mind, Adelaide has herded her students down to the bonfire after their meal to relax, dance, and socialize. This many people from so many different places has given them an opportunity to simply be people rather than mages, huddled and afraid. Now and then one settles at her side where she's spread out a blanket somewhere dry and is sipping wine, but for the most part they carry on. Adelaide drinks mulled wine, hums along with the music, and can be coaxed or dragged into dancing easily enough. Her excuse for being so near the bonfire is to mind that no one becomes injured- but the warmth and the company is enough to settle her after a stressful month.


[ Valley ]

Here, though, in the clear and the cold she permits herself to do something frivolous with her magic. Hide and seek, snow ball fights, sledding- and the addition of a few scattered forts of snow and ice sculpted by her careful hand and the precise application of magic- one towering with a slide that led into a soft drift, one with high walls with spaces to stand and throw snow at one another, and a pair connected by a sturdy bridge. Strong enough to hold a grown man, safe enough for children to climb and slide and jump from if they so wished. It isn't healing, it isn't fighting- it's creating purely for the joy of doing so; well worth the effort and whatever attention it might bring her way. If asked she might even be compelled to create a few sculptures or smaller figurines of ice either for coin or simply for an excuse to continue working her magic.


[ Wildcard ]

[ choose your own adventure! ]

[gatheringstorm]

The forts don't go unnoticed, and a wide-eyed Korrin pauses as she stares up at one in particular. Of course she has to approach, unable to pass it by without investigating thoroughly. Adelaide's form is spotted in the corner of her eye and an impressed smile quickly forms as she turns to look.

"You did all this? It's incredible, Adelaide."

[perseverances]

[Courtyard]

Even the Commander can make a bit of time to come mingle with everyone. He apologizes to many for his absence as of late, citing Inquisition business for his lack of public appearance. It's been a variety of things, but now is not the time to dwell on them. It is the beginning of the new year, and a beginning for many things for the Inquisition. It is a time for old friends and new ones, a time to gather and be merry.

Happy is something Cullen will be all about right now. He's taken his fill of food, and when he was done trying to mingle with some of the more nobler of guests to insure everything was going quite well with the Inquisition's forces, he'll spend a great deal of time conversing with everyone.

[Bonfire]

Later that evening, Cullen is found by the bonfire, not by the rest of the adults, but by the refugee children who have dragged him into a snowball fight. He's knelt down by a little boy and girl, showing them how to pack their snowballs with care as so they won't break apart when they toss them at their friends.

As the children run off, he turns to throw the first one, and instead gets pummeled by the lot of them throwing their piles of snowballs at him. They're rewarded with laughter from Cullen, who is desperately trying to save himself from the onslaught. Looks like the Commander went into a battle he couldn't face on his own.

[Wildcard]

Wildcard > Dance?

[fleurdesel]

"Commander." She'd set her wine aside earlier in favor of finding someone she should hope to keep up with the high spirit of the music; whether or not Cullen is such a person she can't say- but it does seem as though he ought to dance. "Might I borrow you for a song?"

Church

[motherfucking_ghost]

Courtyard

These people know how to party. Sure, it's a medieval party, but still a party. And parties have food, drink, and music. And all that other great shit. He's got some gloves on finally, for once, because, look, he's tired of having freezing fingers. It just makes it harder to identify him as a Rifter. And maybe that's a good thing! Don't mind him reveling in the food. And the drink. And actually trying to have a good time.

Bonfire

But this is where the action is. Which, y'know, is weird, because the action should be indoors, with warmth and people and safe, but apparently fuck those guys. Out here is also warm with the massive bonfire. Warmed by food and drink helps, too. Does he sled? Hell yeah he sleds with the others. He'll take a running start and jump on a shield. He's a little bit drunk but he doesn't care, because-- oof, he gets beaned in the face by cold, icy, stingy snow. He's dazed for a moment. But...but when the shock and the shittiness wear off, one of the scouts, cheeks ablaze, apologizes to him. And he realizes he's never had this chance before. To have a snowball fight.

Or build snowmen, or sled, or do anything with his own hands and skin. He scoops up a handful of snow and flings it at the scout who shrieks with laughter, ducking away back into another hiding spot. The kids, though, they start to join in.

Bonfire

[fleurdesel]

"You are going to catch your death of cold, you idiot." Said warmly, fondly, as Adelaide hauls him out of a snowdrift he'd fallen into from sledding and tries to herd him back to the fire. "Breaks for warming up so you do not lose your fingers is something of a requirement."

Alayre Sauveterre

[equanimiti]

[Bonfire]

A quiet chuckle escapes Alayre as he watches the children play. The courtyard is a little too busy for his liking, so he decides to venture elsewhere for the time being. The Templar finds himself away from the hustle and bustle of the Hold and lingering amongst the others with a mug of warm cider within his leather gloved hands.

Like everyone else, he's hopeful that the coming of the new year will bring more good than ill. Perhaps a brighter tomorrow awaits for them all now that a new dawn comes. With the Herald's death behind them and all the chaos that brewed, Alayre sincerely hopes that is true.

In attempt to put the New Order behind him for a day, Alayre forgoes his usual armor for something more low-key much like a rogue or scout. His dark blue cloak stands out a bit amongst the partygoers as he lingers by the sizable bonfire for warmth.


Wildcard
Come up with your own adventures!

Bonfire

[salvatore_underfoot]

Sal spies a Templar in a cloak. He draws his own - plain and red and bit threadbare - more tightly about himself as he comes up behind Alayre as quietly as he can manage. Stepping up beside him, Sal asks, "Did you miss me?"

[onlyhymns]

Cade remains always at a distance, remaining on the battlements or somewhere else equally out of the way for the duration of the evening. He watches the festivities with an air of solemnity and at times mild bewilderment, no doubt feeling himself unwelcome despite the openness of the event. He speaks to no one unless first spoken to, and for the most part seems to prefer that no one notice him at all.

[quietblade]

This was one of the few times a soldier could relax and take it easy, which was why Taashath was moving over to Cade with a tankard of ale and a smile. "You look like shit. Have a drink."

Holding the ale out to the templar, the huge qunari tries to measure up just how the man would react. He looked jumpy, and that was never a good thing. He'd seen enough jumpy soldiers in his day.

Rachette

[sistertohermen]

Rachette has had a long, long journey to the Western Approach and back again. While it's a shame to be back in the cold mountains again, she's glad to see warmth and food and festivities and food. Never enough food, to be honest. People might want to watch unattended plates. Or maybe anyone well-to-do should watch any silverware around. Things might go missing. Small things! But...missing. To eat or to sell or trade off later.

This is also a good time, while people are distracted, to see about any interestiiiiing...chests. Or doors. Or things that look like they might be filled with expensive things. Anything with locks for her to pick on. Hey, she might even be helpful to any drunken sods who are having trouble getting into their rooms and things!

Of course, she's also there to enjoy herself however she can. She'll drop off reports and maps other people have made tomorrow, give her own verbal recounting as well, but today is for merriment for a new year, apparently (has it been another year already?), and also blessed sleep when it comes.

[quietblade]

He's pleasantly tipsy by the time he wanders off from the lovely buffet, which had taken more than a few tankards of ale. Walking down one of the halls to see if he could dig up the last of the maraas-lok that Korrin had left him or the fancy wine he'd gotten from Alayre from his stash, he spots the dwarf by a door.

"Pretty sure that's locked for a reason," he says easily, eyeing her with slight amusement.

[rathercommon]

Courtyard
Kitty is cheerful as she serves up mulled wine to the refugees and the soldiers. It's shit wine, make no mistake, but it's hot and sweet and spiced and quite heavenly in the cold. She pours it generously into any goblets held out to her, singing out cheerily as she does -

"Drink deep! Start the new year right. If you get good and cheerful today, that'll set the pattern for the rest of the year to come."

Bonfire
In contrast to her earlier outgoing cheer in the courtyard, Kitty has set herself a bit apart from the others at the bonfire, and she's quiet and pensive. She's close enough to the fire to absorb some of the heat, but she's sitting still, her head tipped back to stare at the stars. The sky is a little less terrifyingly huge at night, she finds - the disconcerting blueness a more familiar black, the stars a bit like glinting rock embedded in a cavern's roof. It's so blastedly cold, though - she might potentially move a little closer to someone who's a little bit larger, trying to use them as a windbreak so that she can deal with the chill better.

bonfire.

[apostasia]

At a height of roughly six foot four and shoulders broad enough to bear the weight of full plate armor, Martel makes an excellent windbreaker; the fact he can hardly be said to court a great deal of company is unlikely to hurt, when Kitty has set herself otherwise apart at this hour of the evening. There aren't many people who go out of their way to spend time with Martel, or who would cross the chilly evening to do so -

Arguably, that list doesn't exist; his expression is slightly bemused when he glances down at his new companion.

"Hiding from someone?"

Samwise Gamgee

[harthad_uluithiad]

Courtyard

To the surprise of no one, Sam can be found with either a bowl of stew or a mug of ale (if not both) in hand at nearly any time throughout the festivities. He'd been one of the many gazing longingly at the fragrant delicacies and wines reserved for the rich and noble, but he hadn't dared grumble; such things are reserved for his betters, and Sam knows his place.

It isn't a bad place, all told, sitting on a bench with his legs dangling and feet not quite touching the ground, eating or drinking as the mood strikes and growing ever warmer and more contented with each mug of ale he downs. For the moment, he's satisfied just watching the proceedings, though he does keep an eye out for any familiar faces that may pass by. The sheer size of the gathering reminds him of nothing so much as Mr. Bilbo's party, so long ago; yet this party is more somber and muted than that had been, and for as much as he enjoys hearty stew and fresh-baked bread, the food isn't nearly as varied nor as good. Still and all, it's a party, and no hobbit has ever been known to turn their nose up at a chance to celebrate, even if the reasons for celebrating are thin on the ground.

Bonfire

He'd thought he'd had enough of snow to last a lifetime, after Caradhras; yet the flames of the bonfire rise so high that even Sam is drawn to them at last. He watches those sledding down the slopes with interest, but without any intention of joining in, content instead to huddle close to the fire, warming his toes and nursing his drink. It's a cheerier campfire than most he's seen lit over the past months, and he closes his eyes, savoring the feel of the heat on one side of his face and limbs before shifting over to warm the other side.

Wildcard

Gardens or elsewhere/something else!

Courtyard

[issala]

Eating the last of his bread, Kas suddenly notices someone really small in the crowd. Smaller than a dwarf, even. At first, he figures it's a kid - but at a closer look, he can see that it isn't.

It had to be the guy Sam told him about. The other Sam. The Rifter guy.

Not sure what to make of that, the small qunari ends up staring at the hobbit as if he's suspecting the man to either start shooting fire balls or singing. (He's not sure what would be worse, to be honest.)

Finally, he swallows his last bite and then moves a bit closer, still a little nervous. "Um... you're Sam?"

Samouel Gareth

[el_tybs]

[Courtyard]

Food and drink are the main reasons that Sam braves the crowds in the courtyard, having missed a good warm, hearty meal during the time that him and the others had been in Emprise du Lion. After the trying month it is good to see Skyhold so cheerful and he is eager to find familiar faces to catch up on things.

[Valley/Bonfire]

Down in the valley Sam has become a source of entertainment. The children under LeBlanc's care are quick to drag him into games, most of which end up with him chasing after them in the snow. At some point he becomes a perpetual target for snowballs. At first he had become an obstacle when a snowball fight had broken out, with kids climbing on him at times, and eventually led to all of them ganging up on him.

When getting pelted with snow had became too much Sam finds himself at the bonfire, relaxing and enjoying a warm drink, trying to warm up and dry off. He seems happy and content for the most part, glad that he is back, but at times when he thinks no one is looking, a sad expression crosses his face as he stares at the fire.

[Wildcard]

[Got something else in mind? Garden, etc.? Go for it.]

Bonfire

[gatheringstorm]

That saddened expression doesn't go unnoticed, and Korrin wonders if his mind is constantly drifting back to Emprise du Lion as is her own fate. She's doing her best to enjoy the celebration, but some part of her is still back there, hoping that they'll be able to take it on soon.

Sitting down beside him, Korrin offers a refill to that drink with a gentle nudge. "You're doing it again, Sam."

[the_effect_she_has]

Courtyard

Katniss is not precisely eating, even though she seems to be ... by the tables a great deal. In fact, one might see her for a moment, just a moment, by the fancier noble tables. Then she's gone again, a slip and a shadow.

Most of the nobles might not notice, but those who pay attention will see that that table might be lighter a few plates of cookies, and definitely more than one cake.

A few bottles of wine might be the lesser, but really, nobles can get drunk faster on the good brandy anyways, right?

Want to catch her? Better be fast.

Bonfire

Not long after Katniss's, ah, appearance at the courtyard, the refugees down by the bonfire suddenly find themselves with a literal wealth of sweets and other goodies, carefully distributed throughout the tents. Katniss herself melds in with her fellow scouts and the refugees, and she's alight here. Warm, ruddy cheeks, bright grey eyes and brilliant smiles - ones that draw some of the refugees to take out their simple instruments and call to her, "Sing, Katniss! Give us something to dance to!"

Katniss pursues her lips, before smiling and leaning in to the man playing the drum. He strikes a fast beat, and the other musicians take note, as Katniss begins to sing, weaving between the crowd to draw them into dancing the old fashioned country jigs and reels.

"I've got my ticket for the long way 'round
Two bottle whiskey for the way
And I sure would like some sweet company
And I'm leaving tomorrow. What d'you say?

When I'm gone, when I'm gone
You're gonna miss me when I'm gone
You're gonna miss me by my hair
You're gonna miss me everywhere, oh
You're gonna miss me when I'm gone

When I'm gone, when I'm gone
You're gonna miss me when I'm gone
You're gonna miss me by my walk
You're gonna miss me by my talk, oh
You're gonna miss me when I'm gone

I've got my ticket for the long way 'round
The one with the prettiest of views
It's got mountains, it's got rivers
It's got sights to give you shivers
But it sure would be prettier with you

When I'm gone, when I'm gone
You're gonna miss me when I'm gone
You're gonna miss me by my walk
You're gonna miss me by my talk, oh
You're gonna miss me when I'm gone

When I'm gone, when I'm gone
You're gonna miss me when I'm gone
You're gonna miss me by my hair
You're gonna miss me everywhere, oh
You're sure gonna miss me when I'm gone..."

[ungovernable]

Benevenuta is a study in contrasts, this evening - her gown of finest Nevarran make, gathered in a fist and then pinned without ceremony to keep her feet free and her skirts from beneath anyone else's. The pins in her hair decorative and pretty, but the majority of it spilling loose to her waist in curls prone to tangle when she flies among the other dancers, no wine needed this evening to prompt her. Her studied courtesies; her casual willingness to dance with whoever crosses her path.

Or whose path she crosses, purposefully, catching Katniss by the elbow to draw her into what she's begun.

"Can you not sing and dance? Come--!"

[kallian_endris]

Kallian comes to the party, but she is not one of the revelers. Although she partakes of the food, even tucking away some of the bread into one of her pockets to save for later, she drinks very little aside from plain water. She can be found drifting about the edges of the gathering, wandering from one area to the next, keeping off to herself along the walls and the shadows, listening and watching, but not really participating. Her one concession to the gaiety is the feathers she has braided into her hair, but otherwise, she does not seem to be even remotely relaxed.

Still, any she finds who have overindulged in the celebration receive her help with drinks of water and bits of bread to eat, guided to safe places where they can rest and be watched over. Then she blends back into anonymity and drifts onward.

[fleurdesel]

Something bright and familiar sings past the din- the ringing that is as familiar to Adelaide as the song of her own spirit companion. Finding the person that holds a similar pact is difficult enough in Skyhold- when it is so crowded? Adelaide weaves and wanders, peering about until she thinks she's found them. Pale and slim and quiet; Adelaide approaches quietly, carefully. "Excuse me-"

It is not often she's able to find someone quite like her, she cannot help the hope in her eyes. "Forgive me if this is presumptuous but- are you a healer?"

It is as good a place as any to start.

Garris Vakrie

[middle_of_calibrating]

[Courtyard]

While he tolerated crowds well enough when he had to, Garris preferred having a bit of elbow room, so his time in the courtyard was minimal to gathering food and drink. If someone started up a friendly chat at the food table, or caught him moving through the crowd, he wouldn't mind sticking around to converse.

[Bonfire]

For the most part Garris sticks to sitting around the bonfire, enjoying the dance and music from where he's at. He's more interested in snuggling under the surplus of blankets he's gathered - don't ask how he got them - and drinking, as well as chatting. Kind of a wall flower when it comes to dancing, but if pressed enough and convinced he'd be willing to leave his cocoon for perhaps a dance.

[Wildcard]

[Got something else in mind?]

[Bonfire]

[gatheringstorm]

Done with dancing for a while, a tired Korrin seeks a good spot to rest her feet until she's recovered enough to do it all over again. That spot happens to be next to Garris, and though she doesn't recognize the man, her lips twitch as she notices the multitude of blankets he's buried himself under. "That looks comfortable."

Malcolm Reynolds

[aintwejust]

[ Courtyard ]

Honestly? Mal spends most of his time try'n to keep Jayne away from the food than he does gett'n his grub on. Sure he snags a bite here and there, manages a pint of ale before chas'n the dog away from all the very fine food and very fine people; but he can only handle that so much before frustration gets the better of him and rubbing elbows with the fleet and fine folk gets under his skin. They head out in something of a huff with a minor argument between a noble what got his meal swiped by the dog on the way out (what's he expect, leaving his turkey leg at biting height?), leaving Malcolm trying to untangle this little social knot so he can leave, thank you very much.

[ Valley ]

After some yelling, or none, or a swung fist, depends on how the argument went, Mal winds his way down to where his folk are enjoying the night. Fire, music, dancing- he's happy sitting and drinking where it's warm- tossing a stick and letting Jayne chase after it. What's better is rigging an old shield on some straps of leather and having him run around dragging kids behind him. Keeps 'em happy and he can charge two bits or little shiny things the kids have they deem valuable for 'em.

[ungovernable]

"Captain Reynolds!"

--a voice he perhaps did not expect to hear again, and certainly not here, in the heart of the south, when the Thevenets are such that she probably aligns due north in her sleep. She sounds very merry, of course, but if he doesn't find that so comforting...

...then he was paying attention when he met her mother.

"Captain Reynolds," she repeats, looking up, beaming, from where she has cornered Jayne away from the food tables and bribed him outrageously with some smuggled meat and a great many ear-scratches. "I have your mabari!"

[judgemewhole]

Not There Except There - Courtyard

For the first few hours of the festivities, Norrington's people can be seen freely mingling, eating and having a very good time.

There is only one thing missing, and that is a gaping Norrington-sized hole. Until of course, Burns and Gilette disappear and then reappear with their Commander in tow. Looking decidedly grumpy and trying to put himself in an anti-social corner.

He really hates parties.

Valley

Escape, sweet, sweet escape. Norrington has managed to make it away from both the courtyard and the bonfire finally and now ... the sweep of the valley lies before him. He breaths in deeply, loving the burn of cold air through his lungs, as he pulls his cloak a little closer. Behind him, the party is still going strong, so no one will miss him if he goes for a walk, yes?

Absolutely yes. And if he finds anyone else out here -- well, they can avoid one another if they wish to.

courtyard.

[ungovernable]

Like a cat with a gift for winding itself around the ankles of someone allergic, Benevenuta - who is enjoying the party, a great deal - makes a beeline for the Knight-Commander upon catching sight of his arrival. The dancing has not yet begun; her gown still touches the ground, her loose hair has not yet hit anyone in the face.

That will come later. For now--

"We have not yet become acquainted," she says, pleasant, her Nevarran accent marking her for probably one of the infamous Northern mages if her manner of dress hadn't yet given it away. "You are recently arrived, I think? Of the Templars? I am Councilor Benevenuta Thevenet."

And she offers him her hand without hesitating.

Merrick "I'll kick your ass for a thousand dollars" Ashara

[dalishious]

[ The Courtyard ]

If one is looking to find the Inquisition's resident Dalish hellion, they probably won't have much luck unless they care to look over the heads of the small gathering of men in the corner of the Courtyard. Merrick appears to have commandeered a small table and is holding something of an impromptu arm-wrestling tournament.

At least, it would be a tournament if he didn't keep winning. He seems to be emerging from every match the victor, to the point where bystanders have gathered to witness this strange phenomenon in action.

"I'm telling you, the knife-ear's a cheater," one soldier grumbles to his counterpart, and he isn't exactly wrong.

Merrick is using a multitude of martial arts techniques to beat even the biggest and strongest of opponents, and it probably isn't going to be long before he gets caught. But really, it isn't an party for him unless he's made a few enemies.

[ Bonfire ]

It's nice to be away from the cold, especially since returning from the Emprise. The bonfire is plenty warm, and he's well into his cups when he arrives, even still taking sips from his ever-present flask of hooch.

He watches for a while, smoking a pipe with an unreadable expression-- until he gets his hands on a guitar, at which point he plays and sings an impassioned song with a great deal of heart he hasn't shown much to the people of Skyhold.

Everything and everyone lately just seems dead, dead inside, withering away. He isn't exempt from this, full of his own personal turmoil as well-- But they can all have this, can't they? This moment of warmth.

Even if he'd had to get hideously drunk to do so.

Re: Merrick "I'll kick your ass for a thousand dollars" Ashara

[the_effect_she_has]

Katniss heard the song before she found who was singing it, and she poured herself another glass of cider. Then she pulled up a stump, and sat next to Merrick, grey eyes thoughtful on his face as he played. This was, inside of him, something of complete and total beauty.

She wondered if Gavin had ever seen it.

When he was done, she stamped her foot with approval, before asking quietly, "Please, Merrick, won't you play us another one? That was beautiful."

[dragoon_pride]

[Bonfire]

Kain spends a grand total of thirty seconds in the courtyard before he hurries out of there. it's far too crowded with far too many people and it reminds him too much of royal balls back in Baron Castle. He'd do whatever he could to get out of those, and it's the same here. He's no good at small talk and mingling.

So off he goes, out to the valley. The dark shadows around a crackling fire are much more his style. He stays by the bonfire for a while, arms folded as he stands apart for most of the time he's there. He'll take an occasional drink though. And of course, he won't be a total antisocial loner, and will talk to anyone who might approach.

[Valley]

With enough drinks in Kain, he's a little more loosened up and there are a couple activities to catch him involved in. He somehow gets talked into the sledding, taking off especially fast and having more than a few spectacular crashes. He's also bound to get into any ongoing snowball fights... which he takes way too seriously, acting like it's a life or death war situation.

[gatheringstorm]

After one of those spectacular crashes, Korrin approaches with a healing potion. "Don't say you don't need it; I saw the whole thing. And I know you're going to try it again, so sled with me this time. I want to try something."

Salvatore

[salvatore_underfoot]

It’s good to be back. He didn’t miss the cold, but the bite of it is invigorating after the long journey home. He doesn’t sleep well on the road, and could do with a good solid night’s worth, but there's no force on this earth that will drag him away from a party.

[Courtyard]

Drink in hand, and another when that is gone, and sometimes a bit of food if he remembers, Salvatore is glad to get lost in a crowd, to mingle and bump around with people after so long with only a few for company. He takes in the music. He finds new faces and old and tries to catch up on what he’s missed.

[Bonfire]

Later, when conversation isn’t enough, he makes his way to the bonfire and joins in a game of hide and seek, though with a red robe, he loses fairly quickly. He resorts to lobbing snowballs at others.

[Wildcard]

Or something else!

Courtyard

[judgemewhole]

Norrington is trying to find a way to escape - honestly how can there be so many people here in Skyhold? Had he been ignoring the sheer numbers of noble people here? And how many of them wanted to pinch his bottom?

He turns, nearly running into a young man, and then puts his hand up to stop himself from knocking the man down. "My apologies, it's a little close in here - ah!"

He leans back, surprised, "You!"

Kas

[issala]

Kas is doing his very best to stay cool and collected like the adult he wants to be, but shield sledding and other games are so very tempting. It had been a long time since he'd done anything just for fun, after all.

Courtyard

There's food, though, and food isn't socially age-restricted at all. He was getting up into a more normal weight during the months he'd spent in Skyhold, but that didn't mean he couldn't indulge. The stew smelled delicious, after all.

Picking out a small bowl for himself and then grabbing some bread and other goodies, the small qunari makes his way through the crowd to find a less busy place to eat.

Sorry if he bumps into you!

Bonfire

It was a really impressive bonfire, he had to admit that. It was nice and warm, too, which helped a bit for his cold hands and nose. Staring up into the fires, he felt nice and relaxed for a moment, just enjoying the sounds of the people around him being happy.

Then the girl with the scarf bumped into him, waving it at him with a grin.

"If you're a Rifter, then I'm the Arishok," Kas quips at her, but he's trying to hold back a smile. Big, strong adult, remember?

His sarcasm is not met with pouting however, and suddenly there are more kids advancing on him, grabbing snowballs and proclaiming that they're the Champion of Kirkwall and her friends and he's going down.

...and that was how Kas ended up in a huge snowball fight and finally letting himself be a kid.

Bonfire

[gatheringstorm]

That snowball fight has a spectator, as Korrin sips at her drink with a grin. She won't barge in, wanting to let Kas be a kid on his own, with other kids. Still, when they're all tired and soaked, she'll wave him over with a steaming cup to offer him.

"Here, warm up. Then I want a sledding partner. One of those soldiers has an enormous greatshield, and I think it'd be perfect for people our size."

Taashath

[quietblade]

Courtyard

Taas doesn't do roaring drunk, but he does pleasantly tipsy which ends up in louder, boisterous laughter and friendliness. The big guy that he is, he towers over most people in the courtyard as he walks around to talk to people and say hello to friends.

It's a little bit too reserved for a celebration in his opinion, but he understands it as well. Too many stressful moments lately, and it would take a little bit longer for morale to get up to a party level. It was desperately needed, though. No army was better than their soldiers, and no soldiers would fight if fear and stress was all they knew.

So he does his best to help people loosen up, be it with some stories or flirting or even a little game or two.

Bonfire

Taas finds a good place to sit by the bonfire, watching the other people around it. All the refugee kids seem to be having fun, at least, even if it seemed that he was a bit too intimidating to them to play with. Nothing new, there.

Instead he focused on just relaxing for a moment. Without his hearing, he couldn't enjoy the music played, but the smile on other people's faces was soothing, too.

Bonfire

[girlinthebox]

River's been enjoying the music thoroughly. Even in the clunky boots her brother has insisted on to keep her feet from the mountain air chill, she still spins and dances with ease, weaving between the dancers and grinning from ear to ear.

Now and then she seems to move far too close to the flames to be safe, but always darts just out of reach, unsinged. Well. That seems about the long and short of it with her, doesn't it?

When she finally seems out of breath she spins to a stop, hair a mess but smile too wide for it to matter. Her eyes fall on the Tal-Vashoth she met briefly before now. He can't hear the music but it beats in all of them, the vibration more than just sound in their ears. Surely he feels something?

Maybe she can help.

morrigan;

[arcaneadvisor]

courtyard;
Such a gathering would hardly be permitted within the Imperial Court but as ever, she watches from the outskirts, or she does later. With Kieran around and wanting to look at everything, to listen to songs and stories she often finds herself in the press of the crowd, unless she can steer them both somewhere quiet to eat and drink in peace.

Only one or two people can comment on her dress whilst still keeping their life but feel free to try your luck.

bonfire;
Bonfires make her think of not exactly happier times but somehow less fraught and more innocent, even if it was during a Blight and gone is her long Orlesian gown as she warms her hands by the fire. Somewhere the Chasind still do this, dancing and singing and swapping tales, somewhere far from here there is likely a Warden prattling on to his mabari.

Here and now though there is Morrigan weaving a story for a few brave enough to ask for one, re-telling an old legend with a voice so faraway she could truly be from another world, another time.

wildcard;
[If you'd rather find her elsewhere or set up something different.]

courtyard

[fleurdesel]

"Pardon me-" Adelaide murmurs, stepping around Kieran with a faint smile. Her question is half spoken to him and half to his mother- she hasn't heard much of the woman other than Henri and Sebastien saying that she's magic, or murmuring that she's a dragon. Or a Queen. Or a dragon queen. Foolish as the idea is, she can't find either of them at the moment. "Have either of you seen a Henri? He said he was coming to speak with his friend and has since wandered off."

Likely to find a way to sneak sweets; not that she's overly worried. For the moment, they are safe. Mostly. Relatively.

araceli bonaventura;

[foxsays]

courtyard;
Picking at her stew and staring at the wine more than drinking it, Araceli keeps to the corners of the gathering, tucked in back with Lux long gone after almost having his tail trodden on one too many times. She misses the company, truth be told, because parties like this and at home she would be the life and soul of the party as her job, probably dancing or talking seriously with someone of higher birth than herself, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. It's not that it's a bad party it's just that one year here is drawing to a close already, she still has more questions that satisfying answers--

But really, who thinks of a party for anyone and serves them stew?

bonfire;
Of course, because she's not really much better than a big kid herself, Araceli has been roped into games with a few of the more daring children more often than not. Curls blown everywhere, she's armed with a stick that is obviously a sword as the little refugee girl hits at it with her own, both of them laughing. But when she's not doing that or staring wistfully, she's just as likely to be telling tales of home that sound more fantastic than they were just because it's another world, of course it's almost unbelievable.

wildcard;
[Want her somewhere else? Stealing her away? Pick a card my friend.]

Courtyard

[flamen_turbulentum]

Vergil, on the other hand, has eschewed stew entirely in favor of the wine, which, while far from the finest stuff, certainly gets the job done in sufficient amounts. He's not so far gone that he's swaying on his feet, but there is a languid ease to his motions that suggests he's at the very least having a good time.

He cannot be sure of the same, however, for the young woman he spots in the corner of the courtyard, investigating her stew with understandable skepticism. Such a lovely, lively looking thing should indeed be swept up in the festivities. As it is, she looks out of place. Astray, even. Vergil peels away from the greater mass of revelers, approaching Araceli in a manner that is bold if not quite impetuous.

"You-" he says, with a hint of accusation, though his smile is wide, "look entirely too ruminative for a gathering like this. Something ought to be done about that." His eyes dart to her nearly-untouched wine. "For one, you really must drink more. The year is in its final throes. This is no time to hold back."