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]

She has come to adore Jim as a brother figure, (only experiencing the smallest of heartbreaks every time she thinks about how her own brother might've taken to this paragon of earnestness) and as such her affection constantly walks hand in hand with undying loyalty and desire to torment. But, Margaery also has eyes, and she assumes that if she were in Lady Elethea's shoes, she'd also be gunning for someone who looks like Holden; a gentleman in the streets, and a (hopefully) passionate lad in the sheets.

"You wouldn't like to have a dalliance or two with a noble woman? They would surely come with large quantities of coffee." she teases, although she is privately very relieved that he's not the type who would actually do so. Mentioning a tragic lack of prospects not once, but three times in one polite conversation is far too indicative of disaster. "Although now that I think about it, you seem to remain suspiciously above such things as entanglement."

Her tone is still light-hearted - it's an open invitation to keep their conversation so if he wishes to avoid a more serious route.

"Am I to believe that no one has caught your eye?"

[acreage]

"The coffee is tempting," he jokes back easily, and not entirely without seriousness. He's been burning through his coffee stores faster than usual, and trade shortages means he hasn't had much luck stocking back up.

But he's not desperate enough to start sleeping with local nobility to fix that, probably.

Probably.

"I guess I have," he says, more seriously, on the topic of remaining above entanglements, and when he continues, it's gently. "There was somebody. Back home, and here for a little while. She's been gone longer than you've been here."

Which is another way of saying, You wouldn't recognize her name.

[molineux]

Back home would have been easy enough to understand, and empathize with. But it's the here that makes Margaery falter, ever so slightly, only noticeable where her eyes widen and her lips tremble. It's cruel enough to think that love is something torn from a rifter's grasp when they leave someone behind, but to have hope, for a while, only to be separated again is unimaginable.

She's never regarded Holden as particularly strong, but there's a renewed sense of respect in her eyes as she murmurs, "I'm truly sorry." And she tries not to think about how distraught she would be if it was her grandmother, or her brother, or her father-

"Would it be painful for you to speak of her, if I asked you questions?"

[acreage]

It had been a very different thing,

before and after Naomi's short stay in Thedas. He'd been so sure, before, of finding a way home. Impossible and never been done sound very much the same. He hadn't put thought to what life would look like after months, years, here. He hadn't had reason to.

And then he did, for one bright moment. She'd painted an image of a future together, no matter where they were. And then it was gone.

"You can ask," he says, which isn't a yes or a no.

[molineux]

She falters - the first time since she's donned this dress - but recovers smoothly, using the natural sway of their dancing to help her relax.

"What did you love about her?"

Truthfully, it's not exactly the question she'd meant to ask first, but Margaery supposes she can always blame the more romantic atmosphere they're in now for her oversight.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," she adds gently, "We can just discuss my incredibly awful romantic history."

[acreage]

His smile is gentle, though, and warm. He gives one of her hands a squeeze, a quiet reassurance that she hasn't stepped anywhere she wasn't meant to, hasn't hurt any feelings. Few things James Holden likes more, truthfully, than talking up the people he loves.

"I love everything about her," he muses, and it's simple, like, the sky is blue. "You'd like her. Tough, compassionate, smart as hell, and always ready to do what she thinks is right."

Naomi might struggle a little with Margaery at the outset, he considers but doesn't say. A particular brand of privileged Earther that none of them has had much contact with, but especially not Belters, the very image of the kind of people who live in ease while they struggle to make ends meet in the void. But he can't imagine she wouldn't give Margaery a chance, respect her efforts and enjoy her sense of humor.

"But," he'll add after a beat, not without humor, "I wouldn't say no to hearing about your awful love life."

[molineux]

She hears his love the way he does most everything else: quietly, but with great, unshakeable devotion. And that type of love is not something she's completely familiar with, which makes her feel as though she's observing him distantly, almost. There's a prick of longing to understand how he feels, but it is an old ache that she's grown to ignore easily.

"She sounds exactly like someone you'd love." she says, warm affection softening the teasing way her brow raises - it's almost accusingly. And after an underarm twirl, she pretends to contemplate: "I only have three marriages to choose from, but I suppose I can give you the choice of who to hear of first? My first husband was gentle and sweet, and he preferred the company of men. My second was-" time to skim over the details a bit, if only to ensure Holden doesn't actually get angry, "a cruel young man who was also an unbearable coward, and the third - was his younger brother. Far more gentle, and kind, but incredibly naive. Too naive, for a king."