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

[tender]

And here is a particular skill of Derrica's: following as she's lead, reading intention in Ellie's body and flowing after it. These are unfamiliar steps, but they echo after what Derrica already knows. It's easy to fall into after Ellie into this rhythm.

"On the deck of a ship."

Part of where she learned how to be flexible, to adapt herself to someone else's motion. She'd known none of the dances that the other sailors had favored, just like she hadn't known very much of how to sail.

"Where did you learn to do this?" she returns, a little teasing.

[notathreat]

Ellie leads with a fair amount of comfort; it's been a long time since Dina pulled her onto the floor, more vague memories of fancy parties (hated) and shared laughter (adored).

"Makes sense."

Ellie hums under her breath, closes her eyes for longer than a blink, and turns them. Derrica's an effortless partner, and how gracefully she follows makes Ellie feel better at this than she is.

"... another world," she says, thoughtfully, bittersweet, but more sweet than anything. She misses him and always will.

"My friend Gene taught ballroom dance. Whenever I visit him he'd badger the shit out of me until I danced a few songs with him. So I learned. Totally against my will."

[tender]

With Ellie, Derrica has the sense of some deep-set pain. Questions need to be posed carefully in the wake of it, so it is a pleasure to see Ellie answer without any obvious flinch to mark the recitation.

It's hard to know, what is and isn't too painful to speak of. Derrica understands that sort of pain, how sometimes it can be too overwhelming to get hands around. It's impossible to predict in herself, even all this time later. Ellie's pain seems like a raw, fresh thing.

But it at least seems to be held at bay tonight, leaving room enough to learn just a little bit.

"Do you like it?"

Maybe that's a question Derrica should have asked before trapping Ellie into a dance.

"Or is it alright, that I've badgered you?"

[notathreat]

Tonight is a charmed night, but something great is happening with Ellie in general -- even if the change is so slow she hasn't yet recognized it. She's quicker to smile than she was when she came, has grown to trust certain people to touch her, can laugh and joke and give answers without flinching.

Sometimes grief is too large to hold, but slowly, Ellie is making room for other things.

She curls her arm around Derrica's back, shrugging with a helpless smile, before making herself be direct. It comes out a touch awkward but wholly sincere.

"I'm the one who asked you," she points out, for all that Derrica rationalized it. Something in the back of her head trips a little, a realization about her friend, and she lightly squeezes her hand in reassurance.

"And yeah. I like it. With you, anyway. You've earned the right."

[tender]

This is a demonstration of trust, and Derrica knows it isn't bestowed lightly.

But still, she brightens at Ellie's explanation. She'd already been flushed from the night's activities, drink and dance and simple pleasure over the night's festivities, but the glow there brightens as Ellie's hands settle.

The urge to say Thank you is held in check. Instead, she turns the collar of Ellie's jacket, adjusting, and shakes her head a little. They're comfortably close. Ellie is smiling. It's all very good.

"Careful," Derrica teases. "Or I'll keep you here for the rest of the night."

The teasing perhaps a little easier than the weighted quality any gratitude might have. Derrica doesn't want to cast any shadow over this.

[notathreat]

The touch is intimate, caring, and Ellie still has that twinge of oh no, but it's well-muted in the warmth of the evening. The brightness of the music. For once she doesn't feel guilty about craving closeness.

The teasing is easier, and Ellie falls into it happily, turning them so they won't collide with another pair. She can take serious, but right now-

That's not what tonight calls for.

"Maybe that was my plan all along," she teases back, easily.