With money you squeezed from the peasants (open)

[toujoursdroit]

WHO: Open to all Riftwatch agents who care to attend. Plus-ones allowed within reason.
WHAT: The duke de Coucy is throwing a celebration to mark his eldest grandson’s 18th birthday, which he would do anyway and which is definitely not a blatant attempt to keep said grandson from running off toward the nearest opportunity for combat.
WHEN: Mid-Kingsway
WHERE: The de Coucy property in Hightown. (The servants are spying in case you break anything.)
NOTES: If you’d like your character to come but think some maneuvering would be required to make it happen, hit me oocly and we’ll figure it out. Similarly, if you need or want a starter with Romain or an NPC, just let me know.

The engraved invitations only go to a select few: the division heads and project leaders, Alexandrie d'Asgard, Petrana de Cedoux and (after some deliberation) Hugo and Jehan Mercier d'Annecy. Others, without a specific addressee, are posted in common areas in the Gallows including both dining halls, the herb garden and the game room:



Those at ease enough or bold enough to take him up on the invitation arrive to find the duke’s Hightown residence lit with a mixture of opulent scones, torches and enchantments. Once admitted through the outer gates—the servants at the door have a list on which one’s name must appear, seemingly including every member of Riftwatch—guests will be ushered a short walk back from the street to the house proper. The foyer boasts more servants, ready to take any outwear (the weather does not dictate it, but fashion may), as well as any gifts for the marquis.

Guests are then shown through to the ballroom. While it is generally used these days as a training area, it has been converted back to its intended use for the evening. The space is brightly lit and features a small but talented collection of musicians. The center of the room is clearly intended for dancing, but chairs and railings along the edge of the room provide a place for those who need a breath or who simply prefer conversation to dancing. Staff circulates with wine and hors d'oeuvres (mainly local shellfish and assorted pastries from Romain’s imported Orlesian patissier). In addition to their fellow Riftwatch agents, guests may run into carefully selected individuals from Hightown society, gratified to varying degrees at having been included.



Those who find even the edges of the ballroom too much may discover that the lower level of the two-level library is open, though servants pass through with enough regularity that it is not truly private. (Assuming one thinks servants count, of course.) The upper level is roped off. Anyone attempting to make their way up will be gently but firmly redirected by the staff. The lower level, however, does offer a few tables and various comfortable chairs and chaises, good for quiet conversation or simply a break from the crush of society.

About two hours after sunset, dinner is announced. All present guests are shown into the dining room. Those few in attendance who have seen the duke’s estate in Orlais, or even his home in Val Royeaux, would know this room is smaller than either. Everyone is seated comfortably, but in addition to the long, rectangular table at the room’s center, a few smaller circular tables hold the overflow. The seating has been chosen carefully for status, affiliation and balance of conversation. The duke heads the long table, and his grandson Thomas sits opposite. Thomas, like his grandfather and younger brother, is masked, but those who chat with him will easily be able to determine his buoyant mood from his voice and manner. The food is excellent, if less varied and exotic than it would have been had supply lines not been so constrained. (Romain thought to bring a few things back from his most recent trip to Orlais and finds himself glad of it now.)



After dinner, guests may resume dancing and gossiping in the ballroom, or engaging in quieter conversation in the library. Or they can make their way out to the courtyard in the rear of the property. While Hightown’s constraints mean the outdoor space is not extensive, it is walled to offer privacy from the nearest neighbors and boasts a water feature, impressively lit in honor of the occasion.

The duke circulates throughout the party for the evening, seemingly doing absolutely nothing other than chatting with his guests. Yet somehow after he passes through, any guests with empty glasses find someone offering to fill them, any low-burning torches are promptly replaced, and any guests causing a scene are discreetly spoken to or, if necessary, shown into a carriage that will take them home. In addition to Romain, guests may have a chance to speak to the guest of honor, Thomas, or to his younger brother, 15-year-old Raoul, who has been given a special dispensation to stay at the party as long as he likes and is seemingly determined to make the most of it. The festivities will drag on until dawn, for those most committed to a bit of merriment in the face of invasion, or at least most committed to eating the duke’s refreshments and drinking his wine until they’re cut off.

Comments

[molineux]

"You look like you need it," Margaery says kindly, although there's a glint of (possible?) recognition in her eyes at the sound of his voice, and the soft hesitance that comes with it. "You look absolutely dashing. It's more than enough to make me believe that you truly belong in a setting like this, but your hands, they tell a different story." Indeed, if he fidgeted any more, she might have forgone the wine entirely and headed straight into a dance in hopes of easing his tension and helping him release some of the pent-up energy.

"Your expression, too." She makes it a point to say everything gently; simple, teasing observations meant to lighten the mood. "But your presence makes me consider that you do want to be here, despite all your misgivings."

She gently clinks her glass against his, grinning up at him with far more familiarity than probably appropriate. "Alumin, I presume? Your sweet voice gives you away. I'm Margaery."

[voidtransport]

"oh - " His cheeks redden at not just one but two compliments peppered between the compassion and astute teasing, and he nods as he tries to find even the simplest of words. "Yes, you caught me," he says, meaning that on multiple levels: identity, reading him like a book, knowing just what to do... He feels a bit of admiration at her for it, actually.

"It's nice to meet you in person at last. You look," there's a pause as he is overwhelmed with what to say, then finally, "wonderful."

And then he feels bad for having paused so long, so -

"That's sincere, by the way - please don't mistake my hesitance for not being able to think of anything good to say! A-actually the opposite, I was overcome with so many different things I could say, whether to keep it simple or be more specific - ah, sorry, I should stop before I ramble on too much." He takes a very restrained drink of his wine, otherwise he'd be one-hundred percent of a mind to down it like a shot because of his nerves.

[molineux]

Her eyes widen momentarily at his offered explanation, although it's quick to disappear under the weight of an endeared smile. There's something about his spirit that reminds her of Sansa Stark; she never said much, but she had much of the same nervous energy, a desire to be good and to do good, even if she was uncertain how. Whatever becomes of his memory, Margaery sincerely hopes that it will only strengthen his resolve, and his sweet demeanor.

"Please don't worry. I take it as a compliment that your mind was overwhelmed with my presence." She winks as she takes a sip of her own wine as well, hoping that her mimicry will set him further at ease. But she doesn't mean to overwhelm. As it was with Sansa, Margaery cannot help but feel protective about Allumin - and genuinely hopes to see him have a good time.

"What happy image were you envisioning at the very moment you decided to come?"

[voidtransport]

The wink gains a bashful little laugh in response as he sort-of-but-not-really hides behind his wine glass.

"That's good, then. I'm relieved," he says with a smile despite a bit of nervousness still lingering in his brow. And indeed, he does begin to relax little by little, shoulders easing and really the whole of his body language opening up more from where it had been threatening to retract inward with each anxious thought. There's a look of mild bafflement and awe as he considers her question - it's not the kind of question he's been asked so far, but he doesn't mind that it's different. It also makes sense she'd ask, considering what he had said before.

"Hope? That I might actually have fun if I tried?" He pauses. "That's not really an image though, is it? Honestly, I also just missed being able to dress up this nicely, which is a vain and selfish reason but it's true. There's not really a lot of call for it with what I do at the Gallows, plus I can't really afford to have a wardrobe like the one I had back home to wear everyday."

He likes looking nice, it was a powerful motivator really.

[molineux]

His answer gets encouragement in the form of Margaery's eyes widening and her nodding along fervently. "I know exactly what you mean. And I haven't expressed my sentiments very much because I wouldn't want anyone to assume I'm a soft noble and nothing else."

(Which, to be fair, is essentially what she's always been, but she's been excellently taught in how to market herself as many other things.)

But now that they've found common ground, she allows herself to draw into her curiosity, gently tugging at one of his sleeves with an impressed smile. "Is this the sort of thing Allumin from back home would wear every day, then? Were you even able to accomplish any of your tasks when you must've had a horde of admirers following you around?"

[voidtransport]

Allumin is delighted to have found a kindred spirit in Margaery, at least in this regard. His face mirrors hers with enthusiasm and nods of his own, clear in that he absolutely understands that feeling entirely. All lingering nervousness seems to melt away at this point, much to even his own surprise but it's not an unwelcome one.

At the latter question, his cheeks redden a touch.

"I prefer blue usually, but yes -," he says, cheeks reddening even further as he continues, "a-and I will have you know that everyone was perfectly respectable and focused during the work day at least." The ones he remembers, anyway. In any case, the implications that the nights were rowdy, on the other hand, are very present in the way he sips at his wine with a brief glance aside.

[molineux]

She does not miss that implication, picking up on it as soon as he finishes speaking. "So you do not deny your fun during the nights!" she exclaims gleefully, face breaking out into a wide smile. "Just wait until we are more comfortable together, Allumin, I will want to hear every sordid detail."

There's something ridiculously fun about harmless gossip in an atmosphere like this as well, where it's every bit as expected as their fine clothes.

"I won't pressure you, but please know I had to play a virginal sweetheart in my own world in order to survive, so any way I can live vicariously through you would be like a soothing balm on my soul."

[voidtransport]

"Every detail? Oh my, I shall have to pen things down into an entertaining narration then, won't I?" There is a bit of bashfulness in the laugh that accompanies the question, but not the kind of nervous insecurity that would imply that he isn't comfortable with the thought of it. He hasn't really had the sort of acquaintance, or friend with the implication of being comfortable together, to share such sort of risque conversation so casually with in recent memory but it is a fun an exciting concept.

An emphasis on sexual purity was never a particularly strong thing culturally in his home, but he can at least think of one person he knows that radiated that sort of essence, and to imagine a world where everyone might have that mindset is... tiring, to say the least.

"Well, I'm no cleric, but I certainly should have enough tales to bring you a measure of peace," he says, attempting a joke in return to her specific words. Still acclimating to the fact that certain concepts are likely unique to his own world and that some jokes may not make sense.