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

[icasm]

He can't read all of her body language with the masks between them but he's perceptive enough to sort out that she has... an opinion, of Asterion, and that it perhaps is not an entirely pleasant one. For his part, Loki has not really minded Asterion's behavior on the crystals off and on and has no idea of his clashes with Gwenaëlle.

So. He shrugs, a little, lifting a hand in a weighing gesture.

"He's dangerous I'm sure, and likely the sort of dangerous that is difficult to predict because it is based in his own sense of amusement." Which. Pot, kettle. He's aware of the similarities there. "I haven't paid as much attention to him, honestly, but I know he made a fool of Allumin on the crystals for little more than a lark and I know we are both creatures that have lived long lives."

[coquettish_trees]

She looks like she wants to say something, then decides not to. Thinks again, wants again, decides not to again. Finally, with a light humour likely aimed at herself—

"How much shall I worry, if I wish you to believe I trust in your skill and judgment and I wish to please you by fussing over your well-being?"

[icasm]

"As much as you like, min hvite sommerfugl." Loki smiles, a warm thing that turns sharp at the edges. "You were jealous, I think, when you felt hurt. No one has been jealous over me before. Well. That I know of."

He might invite any number of feelings in others, but he rarely knows which for certain until they're being hurled at him. "I know you trust my skill and judgment.

What will you do with your days, with both of your gentlemen gone to Wycome?"

[coquettish_trees]

"Read very silly books all day," is her prompt and decisive reply, "without removing my dressing gown for a single moment. Paint, play the pianoforte very loudly, drink a bottle of wine without sharing, and practice trusting the both of you by not being a single bit jealous.

"Which I was," she continues matter-of-factly without a jot of shame for it. "Terribly. Were anyone to have been jealous over you before, I eclipsed a thousand years of it in a single afternoon.

"There are places in me that only you have touched, and if there are like places in you that are mine I will bite off any fingers that reach for them." With that, Alexandrie raises her fork with a prim delicacy that might seem comically incongruous to those unused to her savage dualities. She moves it towards her plate, then pauses and looks back at him without a shred of affect, with eyes that are solemn and sincere. "You are not all mine, and I know you shall not be. But what is I will not share."

[icasm]

Loki smiles again, clearly pleased with both himself and the way this conversation is shaking out. He'd had many fears when he'd sat down about whether or not Alexandrie would tell him what was going on, or if it even would be something he could do anything about; this is all better than his mind had decided would be the end result.

He loves her. She loves him. She's jealous of other partners because she loves him so much, and isn't that just fascinating?

Once they spoke of emotions that only felt real if there was pain attached. There's very little pain in her jealousy, now that he knows where he misstepped to cause her suffering and how, but it also feels more real for existing.

"There are those places; gravity wells within my heart, bent and shaped by your presence above and beyond any others." And she knows, now, what he means by that, the image of a gravity well pulling all of time and space into itself. "I may not be all yours, but I am yours, nonetheless." He takes a bite of his appetizer and grins at her from beneath his horned mask.

[coquettish_trees]

There had always been a measure of delight in watching her husband be pleased with himself. She is similarly delighted now, watching Loki, and further charmed by the almost innocent buoyancy in it; a kind of earnestness her husband had, to her knowledge, never shown to anyone but her, and only then in private. He had been pleased, yes. Smug, often. Displaying any stitch of joy... almost never. It feels light and free and she is thankful for whatever in his life had opened that door.

She watches for a little while with bright eyes and a slowly spreading smile, long enough for him to know she is watching him rather than simply facing him to speak.

"You," she says, "are beautiful." And she takes her own bite.

[icasm]

There's a shift at her words in what can be seen of Loki's expression, from joyous to more outright smugness, but perhaps that's to be expected; she's just paid him quite the compliment, and in front of all and sundry assembled here for dinner.

"To be called such by one as gorgeous as you are is rather an excellent accolade, truly." He smiles, inclining his head. "Perhaps you could say it again, and a little louder, in case anyone assembled missed it." Teasing, mostly.

Mostly.

[coquettish_trees]

Alexandrie could certainly oblige him in the manner he'd all but asked after.

Or she could instead continue to watch him intently and, once finished with the bite she'd taken as punctuation, resettle herself neatly in her chair so she is turned to him not just in the angle of her upper body but in her entirety— which effectively ends the polite pretention of equity betwixt her dinner companions (Sorry Julius)— with the sort of slow intentional movement that tends to draw every bit of attention a raised voice might, and produce her closed fan to settle the tip under his chin to 'pull' him towards her— assuming he is willing to be so guided— before closing whatever distance remains with her own lean to bring her lips near his ear.

"You," she repeats at a volume so low that only Loki is like to hear it, "are beautiful."

Which at this particular party is saying it again much louder.

[icasm]

Of course, he is more than willing to be so guided, easily moving towards Alexandrie as she pulls him forward with her closed fan before whispering in his ear. His expression is nothing but extraordinarily pleased with both of them, honestly; his eyes twinkle as he grins at her, leaning back into his chair. "You're very kind to say so," Loki murmurs, tilting his head in her direction.

When she pulls back he takes her hand and lifts it to his lips. "Jeg elsker deg, my darling." He'd much rather kiss her on the lips, but... masks. And also party etiquette.

[coquettish_trees]

Perhaps later she will illustrate how very possible it is to negotiate kisses around masks; for now her eyes are sparkling, and she spares not one bit of attention for anyone else in the room as he lifts her hand and tells her he loves her in a language that in this world only they know.

"Dance with me later."

It's not a question.

[icasm]

"But of course."

All he's ever wanted (for this evening, anyway) is to dance with her in front of a large number of people and to become the center of attention alongside Alexandrie while doing so.

Loki raises his glass to her.