SATINALIA 2: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO.

[deuselfmachina]

WHO: All
WHAT: A second crack at celebrating Satinalia, because we deserve nice things.
WHEN: Mid-Firstfall
WHERE: The Gallows, in the gardens.
NOTES: n/a

It's twilight when Second Satinalia is in its fullest swing. The weather is unseasonably warm, and so they've made use of the gardens as the site for partying. Carefully placed lanterns shine through the odd tree or hover over bushes that have since lost their flowers.

However, decoration makes up for the lack of springtime flora. The space is decorated in shining garlands of gold and silver ribbons, paper flowers, and hanging ornamentations that flip between moons and suns. (If they look a little used, it's because these are second-hand decorations from slightly more affluent Satinalia parties been and gone, borrowed or donated.) There is also a firepit, providing a source of warmth and light.

In the invitations that went out, everyone was encouraged to come in costume as they'd intended to, but noted that for those whom their costumes were ruined or they would simply like to wear something different, there will be masks available, along with some costume pieces—fake jewelry, big hats, faux-velvet and harlequin coats, and so on, though they must be given back, s'il vous plaît. Florent will also offer his abilities in face painting and makeup prior to the party beginning, and will talk you into going spooky in case more skeletons come and they need to blend in to throw them off. (He can be found with his own stylish paintwork, a skeletal design in silver and white and grey.)

Everyone has also been invited to bring along some food and drink if they have it, as their budget is run a bit thin, but there will definitely be enough wine to go around, and some fruits and sweet pastries purchased from the market that day all offered on a table.

There is some music, a few local musicians (who have been promised, variously, tickets to shows, or work opportunities with certain prominent Orlesian playhouses, which may or may not be legitimate) set up with a fiddle, some percussion instruments, something that resembles a very elaborate xylophone, all playing a diverse array of up tempo tunes that allow for a bit of dancing in the more open area of the garden, but otherwise suffuses the shadows and fractured conversations with pleasant noise.

Drink, be merry, don't kill anyone.

Comments

[illithidnapped]

“You’re already impossible,” Astarion snorts with an upwards glance towards that arm braced against the doorframe, as if underscoring Dante’s own point.

But family? Astarion knows nothing about that. Less than nothing, now. Thankfully years of practice amongst the living have made feigning comprehension a much easier affair.

He presses on, returning to pulling his fingertips along the front of Dante's coat.

“I assume he never got what he wanted, then. Aside from you, that is.”

[rebellionyell]

Dante's self-aware enough to know that he's impossible and he has the good grace to smile about it, knowing that's the case.

As for family, it's always been complicated where Dante's was concerned. Love, resentment, rivalry, protectiveness, and keeping close those that he could allowing himself to eke out his own family. It was important to him and difficult at the same time, damn slippery life.

Probably why he found himself at ease with Astarion and why he didn't mind his hands on approach. He lowered his gaze as curious fingers coasted over the front of his coat, one thing could be said about Dante and that was, if anything, he did splurge on leather.

"The opposite actually. He got everything, he spent years after defecting from Mundus as a feudal lord on Fortuna Island, amassed a shit-ton of wealth, fell in love with a mortal woman, relocated to another city where they would live in a colossal manor together, had two sons he taught to fight. He had everything," Dante fixed his eyes on the ceiling his breathing measured, this was all a very long time ago, but it lingered, "then he disappeared because duty calls and at some point, he died. I don't really know the details, but I can hazard some guesses...he wasn't as strong as he used to be. After sealing the underworld away, he knew that his own power was radically out of control and sealed his demonic power along with it. He then further divided his power between his two sons and when he left...I think he wasn't strong enough to deal with...whatever it was that he had to deal with on top of choosing a mortal life. I guess it can be dangerous to get exactly what you want."

[illithidnapped]

"Mm." It's a fragile thing, that story. Easily broken. Misshandled or discarded, it could splinter the whole of their relationship— but for Astarion, incapable of empathy beyond the bounds of his own pain or the shadows of something like it, it's too delicate a thing for his hands to hold.

"Truer words, darling."

Want, in Astarion's experience, never pans out well. Not in Faerûn. Not in Thedas.

So if nothing else, it isn't a lie.

"But if we stand here all night discussing the finer points of our own nebulous pasts, we'll never make it downstairs before the party ends."

[rebellionyell]

"It was a long time ago and I'm still here, right?" Old memories might be haunting from time to time, but the fact that it doesn't wound him to talk about any of it is years and year of building up emotional callouses. He's not necessarily looking for empathy or understanding and while he respected his father, he was also passive where he was concerned.

If there was a niggling of anything there it always came back to his mother.

When Astarion turned it back around to the party the patented Dante grin slid back into place as well as the full force of his personality. Less personal, more instigating.

"So that's why you're here. It all makes sense now, can't go to a party alone you needed a date. So, you asked yourself," wait for it as Dante does his disturbingly best to capture the inflection of Astarion's voice with as much haughtiness as he could possibly muster, "who's the best-looking bastard I know?"

Dante's grin only broadens as he continues, "well, you've come to the right bastard."

[illithidnapped]

That impression earns the stupidest possible laugh. Well done.

“A good guess, but no. I asked myself what I might find lurking in Riftwatch’s tower chambers whilst everyone else is getting drunk on second-rate wine.” And knowing Astarion, he might actually be telling the truth despite all his present, very-much-not-built-for-stealth raiment.

“Officially, though?”

He holds out his own arm, hand extended as though waiting for Dante to offer his elbow— his own substantial silhouette— as a show of acquiescence.

“I couldn’t think of anyone else I’d rather bring along for the evening. Particularly if trouble shows up.”

[rebellionyell]

Fortunately, humility is not something Dante experiences in massive doses, he's not at all afraid of putting himself out there for laughs or a good time.

"Bodyguard, date, it's the same thing really," he grabbed his Devil Arms from the corner, the bound mass was large and unwieldly in its coverings, but he kept it hidden as to not cause children to run away screaming and women fainting in the streets.

Still, if there were to be any trouble, he'd rather have it on him than not and while he could use his fists proficiently enough, he found the intimidation of a weapon on hand was often a good deterrent.

"If trouble doesn't show up..." Dante began offering an elbow to Astarion, knowing how a well-heeled gentleman is supposed to act, "...you'll be able to brag that you nabbed yourself one hell of a dancing partner."

He punctuated that sentence buy closing the door behind him and locking it for good measure. He didn't have much, but what he did have he'd like to keep and he'd hate to have to kick someone's ass over theft.