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]

"Oh?"

His chin tips to one side with fresher curiosity, displacing the heavy hang of gilded curls; that he leaves Ellie to lead this time is a conscious choice. Nothing to do with Andraste, only a measure of trust.

He wants to see how well she'll do on her own.

"And what's that, exactly. Think happy thoughts?"

[notathreat]

"Kinda the opposite."

It takes her half a second for her to realize that Astarion's relinquished the lead to her, but she doesn't miss a step, just changes her hold to put a hand in the small of his back, using the pressure of her palm and joined hands to lead, falling into the steps as she eases them into a clear place on the dance floor.

She's better at leading, nowadays, than following.

"The first god's the invisibility, right? The blue one. But the gold's the god of war, and beasts. So if I get pissed off, or really hurt, or even if I just want to win, then it turns on. And suddenly it's like everything and everyone else is a little slower."

Really, it's that she's faster.

"I take hits that should break bones, and instead I'm just bruised. When I aim now it's like... a notch in the air, I know exactly where to move and how much power to use. When I hit things I send them flying. It's crazy. I just wish I could get it to happen all the time."

[illithidnapped]

Invisibility. Time. Strength— or at least that’s as best as Astarion can comprehend the list she’s given him, having only seen the faintest flicker of one of those abilities so far, and it’d been quick enough that if he hadn’t known a thing about it, he might’ve doubted its existence entirely.

“I suppose that means a manifestation might be a little difficult to manage.” There’s something so casual about the atmosphere here, different in its cast than the last party they’d attended, but Astarion treats it no differently: he leans into her movements, likely pleased to find her taking to this so well.

But that might just be the way of adaptable creatures.

“How often do you practice it all?”

[notathreat]

"Why, do you want to practice it with me?"

Ellie raises her eyebrows, making it a playful question, but she does mean it. He's quick, and she's curious -- she's never actually managed to catch him in action. Sneaking up on her does speak volumes about his skills, but she has a hunch that he often hides just how adept he is, despite how he likes to show off.

"I've got the invisibility down, and the aiming thing. Mostly. It's that... other state that's tricky. And I get tired, after."

She's not sure why. The invisibility doesn't seem to tire her; but then, it has other limitations.

[illithidnapped]

“Do I look like the sort of person that enjoys rolling about in the courtyard getting sweaty for absolutely no good reason?”

Asked through the edges of his teeth before his expression shifts abruptly.

“—don’t answer that.”

In truth, though, there’s more leeway in play than he lets on: he’d hated sparring against Fenris (the man cheated, using those marks of his), dragged his heels over the idea of squaring off against Thranduil— but for Ellie, he’d make an exception all the same.

Not easily, though.

“Anyway I noticed the Fade tends to screw with us on arrival, to a certain extent. My former weaknesses, the Ascian’s immortality, certain biological features in others— maybe that’s why you can’t quite get the hang of it just yet. Or at least why you tire.”

[notathreat]

"Well-"

Ellie presses her lips together when he cuts her off, holding back a snicker only with a mighty effort. She can see that he's thinking, though, and her eyes sharpen at the suggestion, focusing on her thoughts. The way Glimmer's powers had twisted themselves, dimmed the shine of her hair, even muted the color so it would look like something found here.

"Shit, I wonder."

Ellie pauses, then glances down at her arm, feeling somewhat cold.

"... I wonder."

[illithidnapped]

He sees that shift. Hard to miss regardless, but observant as he is, even between strides his focus fits itself to searching out the edges of her expression.

Trying to translate it.

“...what is it?”

Low. As subdued as it is curious.

[notathreat]

"Might be wrong, but. I'm not sure if that'd fuck with my bite," she says, feeling vaguely stupid. "That might be what made it safe for you."

She pauses again, shrugging one shoulder.

"Then again, might've been safe anyway? Last world, somebody opened up my skull and nothing happened, so. It's probably okay."

Some part of her has always nursed the vague fear of the infection simply being delayed.

[illithidnapped]

Safe for you.

Those words send an instinctive shiver up his spine. Have him glancing at his own peripheral surroundings as though the whole party might as well be staring at them.

He knows better. It stills a beat later, that impulse, ending in a gentle squeeze of her hand with a reassuring smirk. Cavalier.

He despises discussing his own monstrosity where locals might openly hear, but she’s been vague, and he knows she’d never carelessly twist the knife— let alone strike him in the back with it to begin with.

“Maybe,” Astarion concedes, head tilting thoughtfully to one side as he fights the urge to take hold of their rhythm-driven course. “But you really need to stop telling me things like ‘they opened up my skull’ and ‘I was forced to pander to a bunch of decrepit, spoiled cocks’, otherwise I’m never going to know what to do with all this useless indignance on your behalf.”

He doesn’t mean that, of course. Or— he does, but not in the sense of wanting her to stop. There’s just no other way to express it, the frustration of futility.

Of concern, useless as it is.

[notathreat]

Ellie says things, sometimes, that she realizes too late are horrific. She'll watch people flinch, or the color drain from their face, or their curious, earnest expressions turn to shock and pity and disgust.

It always sucks.

Astarion's good at hiding his reaction, but her hand's on the small of his back, leading him in the dance. She feels it when he shivers. Without thought, she tightens her hold, drawing him in closer, responding to his unease as if there's something she can physically guard him from.

Reflex.

But he squeezes her hand, and she eases up, realizing. She squeezes back, glancing away as she listens.

"Yeah, I get that. I feel the same way about a particular fuckface from your past."

It's not an apology, but. She gets it. She eases them into a spin, turning their faces away from anyone who may have been watching them, even if they have no real enemies here. They both guard.

[illithidnapped]

They accommodate each other, he realizes in that moment.

The one that sits somewhere between her hold and his response. The way she follows suit before they’re both entirely back to normal— before he’s oh so quick to snare her at the end of that spin, done playing a game of passivity, and instead simply wanting to play.

“Oh? Which one is that.” Asked as coyly as humanly elvishly possible.

“Speaking of, I noticed yours is decidedly absent this evening.”

[notathreat]

"You know," Ellie scowls right back, but the second he pulls on her she doesn't resist, and follows his lead, attuned. She'll steal it back when he's least expecting it, to be sure, but for now-

"... ugh," she mutters, pulling a face that quickly turns thoughtful.

"Is she in the infirmary or something?"

As far as she knew, Abby wasn't out on a mission. One would think she'd want to be on watch, just in case something else happened, and the party was the best place for that.

[illithidnapped]

He pauses in dancing (without pausing the dance itself) to reach high for one thoughtful moment, scuffing at an itch just behind his ear where long curls have been settled heavy against his scalp for a touch too long. They’re not in Hightown; they could choke on wine or fumble their performance and still, by virtue of dress and presence, leave an overwhelmingly positive presence amongst the rest of Riftwatch’s own.

“You know,” he starts, collecting her hand in his once more. “I hadn’t really thought of that. For all we know she might not’ve even made it out— though it seems unlikely, given the way Riftwatch tends to talk.”

But they don’t always talk, do they? After all...

“Then again, she is a rifter.”

[notathreat]

Ellie's face gives away, then, far more than she'd like it to. A troubled sort of frown, as her hand hovers in the air where Astarion left it. She's not focusing on him, just -- glancing into the middle distance past his wig, thinking.

"She's tougher than that."

A moment later, she realizes what she said, and scoffs under her breath.

"I should know."

[illithidnapped]

“You should.” He agrees, without much in the way of inflection.

Better to know one’s own enemy, beyond what anyone else possibly could. Better still in the case that they’ve become your ally. Your counterpart. Your shadow, in a sense.

All the space you don’t take up, personified.

His thumb scuffs light along the edge of her palm. Reassuring– and also a segue, meant to drag them both out of stormier conversation.

“But who knows? Maybe she caught wind of your excellent ensemble this evening and decided to save herself the embarrassment of being thoroughly overwhelmed.”

[notathreat]

Astarion, obliquely calling her out along with his reassurance. (Because yes, she... does care about that.)

Ellie's scowl deepens, but she doesn't go quite so far as rolling her eyes. Instead she takes the lead back from him as the music slows, and props her chin on his shoulder. His curls tickle her cheek, but she ignores it.

"Danced with anyone interesting yet?" she asks -- best they don't stay on the subject of Abigail Anderson.

[illithidnapped]

“The ghost of Devour Martyr Gideon, actually.” Astarion purrs, more than happy to support her weight against him, basking in the nicety of stolen warmth. Pleasant music. “I think we made a fitting pair— blasphemy aside.”

But enough about his glory:

“What about you?”

Glittering like starlight, Astarion has trouble believing she hasn't been chased at least in the most nominal capacity, let alone rapaciously.

[notathreat]

"Like the blasphemy wasn't the point," Ellie teases.

Her shoulders have relaxed by degrees, and shooting the shit with Astarion has soothed some of her nerves. She hadn't thought she was so sensitive to the thought of danger, but this long behind walls makes her feel dulled to it, like she's lost her edge.

If it comes home again, she'll be ready.

"A few."

Ellie doesn't hide her smile. "The usual suspects, and all, but Glimmer asked me to dance before she even realized it was me. This outfit is really something."

makes typo in my last tag, becomes the embodiment of I pretend I do not see it

[illithidnapped]

That accusation earns a (performative) scandalized scoff. Him? Engaging in purposeful irreverence?

Perish the thought.

Still, a few moments later, as they slip into the simplicity of casual conversation, Astarion’s cheek falls to rest ever so gently against the side of her head. The laxness of a cat draping on a sill, in essence, and not uncommon for him.

Not when it comes to the ones he trusts.

“Oh.”

Feather light, as flattered as if he’d been the one complimented, rather than Ellie herself for being unrecognizable in her glory.

“Maybe you should start wearing it all the time, then, if royalty’s so keen to seek you out now.”

i literally did not see it, so

[notathreat]

The music's calmed enough to allow for the closeness, and Ellie sighs, letting herself settle for a few moments. Touch comes more and more easily these days, the both of them starved and seemingly bottomless.

Ellie lets him have the compliment; he's the one who dressed her, after all. And it helps, seeing him practically preening over it. After such a terrible night, it's wonderful to be able to give him something nice.

"Hate to disappoint, but Glimmer and I have known each other since New Amsterdam. I threw a dart through her hand and we've been friends ever since."

Maybe that makes it even more impressive; Glimmer actually knows her, but still didn't recognize her.

[illithidnapped]

“Leave it to you to make friends via visceral injury.” He scoffs, not unproudly.

But that at least puts a curious thought in his head. One he can’t shake, until:

“—did those so-called gods grant her powers as well?”

Did she keep them, like Ellie herself.

[notathreat]

"I didn't try to stab her, not like Joel," she says with a laugh under her breath, then rolls her head to one side, thinking of how to explain.

"Yeah, but first, it took away the ones she did have. Coming through the Rift flipped it back, from what she's said. And from what I've seen, she's probably one of the more powerful mages here."

Ellie pauses, considering.

"She's not a queen for nothing."

[illithidnapped]

“Oh, accidental then. Even more charming.” Spoken sarcastically, though again, it’s all mouthing fondness. Mild teasing.

“I suppose that explains the...energy you two shared in office the other day.”

That shuffling exchange over paperwork and offerings of tea, where Ellie looked inclined to melt into the woodwork beneath her hands rather than continue on.

[notathreat]

"You're such a dick," Ellie mutters, closing her eyes with a groan -- but then, it's Astarion. It's completely without heat. She expects this of him.

"When are you gonna stop trying to set me up?"

But that doesn't address how he came to that conclusion-

"-especially with royals?"

[illithidnapped]

"High praise." He croons, practically preening as they move to a more subtle timing.

“Anyway, I’ll get off your back when you decide to start having a little fun while you’re here.”

Says the man that threw himself into an utter fit only a few days prior, but that’s neither here nor there.