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

[indissection]

"Is that who I am?" Her eyes widen a little, some colour coming to her cheeks, but she tries not to show how flustered she actually is.

Sidony hadn't realised that she had a reputation, nor did she imagine this gentleman and Adrasteia might be friends. Perhaps she ought to have expected it, considering how kind and charming the woman actually is.

Breathing out a little, she keeps her smile in place.

"It's not as though I was hiding, darling."

[illithidnapped]

“Not intentionally I’m sure, but that doesn’t change the fact that we likely operate in different circles.”

Or including the fact that Astarion fucking hates the Gallows.

When he leans in nearer to her for the most affectionate squeeze of her snared arm with gloved hands, it comes with an added sidelong tap of sorts— his temple pressed gently against her own, as though the man were an overgrown cat in search of attention in its most basic form.

“Anyway, delighted to make your acquaintance at last, my dear. Astarion, at your devoted service.”

[indissection]

"Understandably so, given my nature."

Not meant as an insult to him, but to herself; she spends all her time in the middle of the healer's rooms, burying herself in stitching and surgery and whatever else might need to be done. That's simply her nature now - to do her work and listen rather than be a little more active.

She does raise her eyebrow at the gentle touch to her temple, but makes no other comment on it. If that is how he is to be affectionate with her, well, she's certainly had worse.

"The pleasure is mine and mine alone, I am sure," she laughs softly. "What luck, to find such a delightful arm to learn me to my doom."

[illithidnapped]

“Oh please. Our darling little dove would never forgive me if I left you to the wolves.”

He only pulls away by degrees, there, amusement laced throughout. Though they’ve crossed the threshold now, Astarion clearly isn’t keen on letting her slip from his grasp.

The ‘gift’ he’d brought is— in passing— unceremoniously deposited on the table as they stroll by. Quick, nimble fingertips poised to snatch up something else in trade—

Before he realizes one of the servants is watching, and simply smiles.

“Tell me, how are you doing, though? Clearly you’re enamored, but has she won you over yet?”

[indissection]

"A dove?" Sidony's eyebrow raises. "I'd never have considered the term for her before."

It doesn't seem as though Sidony minds; she has always been one to enjoy a bit of the game, to allow herself to laugh and play along - at least with those she wishes to engage with. Others would see a far cooler side of her nature.

She offers a glowing smile at the people around them as they pass by before she hums, lifting her head a little and smiling.

"Is it a battle to be won?" Her skirt dances around her legs. "I fear I am the one who must try hard. She is a remarkable woman."

[illithidnapped]

"Everything in life’s a battle. Waking up every morning is a battle. Trying to survive in the middle of a consumptive war is a battle." He scoffs through the edges of a subtle grin as he rattles it off, one hand idly drifting through the air as punctuation for his commentary.

"Love might very well be the most worthwhile ordeal of the bunch— provided that’s what either of you are entertaining."

The subject itself, while wholly innocuous in its framing, might very well be an unspoken question: is it what either of them are entertaining?