OPEN LOG: A beach party.

[bouchonne]

WHO: Everyone.
WHAT: A beach party.
WHEN: On a very hot day. At some point during the month.
WHERE: A beach just outside of Kirkwall.
NOTES: It is a beach party.

During a particularly hot and oppressive week in Kingsway, the Diplomacy division announces it will be diverting some of its funds to organize a party on a nearby beach. Kirkwallers are invited as well - a relationship-building sort of effort - but the party is mostly intended for morale boosting for Riftwatch itself.

The party features the following:

• Transportation to this lovely beach from the Gallows and from Kirkwall.


• Sunbathing and swimming in skimpy (or non-skimpy, if you're a fuckin square) bathing suits.


• Live music and dancing.


• Delectable grilled meats (and some vegetables, if you're a fuckin square).


• Rum drinks served in hollowed-out fruits.


• A sandcastle-building competition.


• A swim race.


• A few fun little sailboats bobbing around out on the water.

Does all that sound too wholesome? Great! There's also a cave system in the cliffs next to the beach. These little grottos are full of nooks and crannies and are perfect for a bit of sinful action after dark; in one cavern, there'll be some gambling games where some of Kirkwall's citizens are losing money; in another, you're likely to run into people making out.

Have fun! Soak up sun! Don't get in trouble! Or do, whatever, it's a beach party.

Comments

[altusimperius]

[A scoff and an eyeroll-- he's not taking the bait.]

I mean, not constantly trying to catch people out in everything they say. Misunderstanding them on purpose.

[Kind of like you're doing now, the unspoken subtext.]

[bouchonne]

Ah. Is that an evil thing to do, dear fellow?

[altusimperius]

Not evil, but not kind. You know it makes them feel small and stupid.

[He twists his lips and looks into his drink.]

...I know, I haven't had much room to talk.

[bouchonne]

Oh no? Have you been endeavoring to make people feel small and stupid?

[altusimperius]

Yes. Actually.

[bouchonne]

Oh dear.

[ A sip of his drink. ]

Do tell.

[altusimperius]

Not recently, I don't think-- I'm trying not to. But.

[He shrugs a shoulder, sipping thoughtfully from his drink.]

It's just how people talk to each other, where I come from; if you want to be taken seriously you have to win every conversation, be the cleverest person in the room, and tearing down everyone around you to get there is fair game.

[Resting his head back against the wall, he swirls his drink around.]

I didn't even realize how exhausting it was until... well, until I didn't have to do it anymore.

[bouchonne]

[ A shrug. ]

Not everyone finds it exhausting.

[altusimperius]

Not everyone loves it, either.

[He at least seems to be trying for sincerity in the moment, and not too large of a departure from their banter.]

If you're actually worried people see you in a negative light, it's worth considering.

[Both shoulders hunch and drop dismissively.]

If not, forget I said anything.

[bouchonne]

[ A snort. It's not entirely mean. ]

Dearest boy, are you trying to give me social advice? Andraste's blessings upon your sweet head.

I know full well how people perceive me, and I do not give a damn, my child. I have admirers and I have detractors, and I know which one a man is within five minutes of meeting him. And that gives me leverage over the fellow. [ A shake of his head - ] Riftwatch is certainly not an impressive organization, but give them a bit more credit than assuming they'd put a helpless blunderer in a position of diplomatic power.

[altusimperius]

You just--

[It's like walking facefirst into a glass door. Tipping his head back, Benedict closes his eyes and breathes a long, measured exhale through his nose.]

Never mind. Never mind.

[He holds up his hands in surrender.]

[bouchonne]

I just what?

[ A lifted eyebrow. His voice is mild. ]

What, was I supposed to simply listen? Take your advice on how to get people to like me? Do you know how astoundingly condescending that is?

[altusimperius]

No. [He sounds miserable.]

You said everyone treats you cruelly, like a villain, that you didn't like it.

[He rubs at his temple, avoiding eye contact.]

I thought maybe we were commiserating.

[bouchonne]

I was being sarcastic, dear boy.

[ A noise of annoyance from deep in his throat. ]

I don't give a shit what people think of me. And frankly, the fact that you do is utterly inexplicable.

[altusimperius]

Sorry.

[With his joking manner already replaced by a more serious one, both have now dropped into that personification of bottomless despair he exhibits sometimes, the image of a young man who has jumped naked into a deep well with no clue how to get back out.]

...I know.

[He tugs at a strand of his hair and looks into his drink.]

[bouchonne]

[ How obnoxious. ]

You ransomed your honor to do what you think is right. Isn't that true?

[altusimperius]

[Defeatedly,] yes.

[bouchonne]

So stop acting so ashamed. Sacrifice is an act of courage.

[altusimperius]

[He purses his lips in thought, tries to justify all of it.

It's not enough.]

What's wrong with caring what people think of you?

[bouchonne]

You end up like this.

[ He does a passable imitation of Benedict's dark-and-broody face. ]

[altusimperius]

[It's almost funny.]

Counterpoint, [said still seriously, but Trying,]

you end up like this by not caring.

[bouchonne]

Counterpoint: I'm the one who doesn't care, and I'm bloody jolly, dear boy, and have friends in every place I visit.

[ Well, friendly acquaintances, but - still counts. ]

[altusimperius]

I used to not care.

Or maybe, [he gets that Look on his face again, like he doesn't know which way is up.

He opens his mouth, closes it again, and shakes his head. He's embarrassed by the whole course of this conversation, and tries to cover it by taking another drink.]

[bouchonne]

Maybe...?

[altusimperius]

[Ugh.]

...maybe I cared too much, about the wrong person's opinion.

[How does small talk always end up like this?]