SATINALIA

[incaenstrix]

WHO: Everybody!!
WHAT: SATINALIA!!
WHEN: Backdated to the first day of Firstfall
WHERE: Gallows courtyard
NOTES: Drunkenness and shenanigans. HALLOWEENMAS!!

This Satinalia is, perhaps, less grand than in years past. Blockades are still limiting access to luxury goods, after all, so the fine liquors and dainty foods that have been featured before are nowhere to be found. And Tertia, the temporary Morale Officer, doesn't have the connections or deft touch of organizers past, so things are rougher than they've been before - the musicians are less polished, the ale a little more watered-down, the decorations somewhat haphazard.

But you know what? It's still Satinalia. Nothing can really screw up Satinalia. Especially because there are some rather lovely touches, the best of which might well be the ice skating rink. A section of the Gallows Courtyard has been roped off and frozen over with magic, leaving a (largely) smooth sheet of ice covering it. Skates are available to borrow if you don't have a pair. Of course, some injuries are definitely going to result (if you skate off the edge, you're smacking into stone instead of a soft snowbank, which can be disastrous), but hey, it's fun.

Other perks are the bonfires, with mulled wine and cider being served out of cauldrons around them, where people might sit and reflect while watching the flame. There's also dancing, of course, with the musicians basically being any band that's been recommended by members of Riftwatch - so there are lots of half-competent cousins-of-friends playing here. What they lack in skill they make up for in enthusiasm; this is the first gig for a lot of them, and they're thrilled to be here.

One thing that's missing is the Satinalia fool being named ruler. Tertia wasn't familiar with this tradition and didn't arrange it - so there's a last-minute campaign being held, in which people can either nominate others or self-nominate to be named Riftwatch's greatest fool to be celebrated.

Enjoy yourself. Exchange presents. Get drunk. Have a blast. Don't lose any teeth.

Comments

Ellie | OTA

[notathreat]

It's been more than a year, so Ellie can hopefully get away with wearing the same fancy clothes twice, with her hair falling loose around her face for once. Unfortunately she is also in those fancy clothes while she laces on borrowed ice skates. On the first few passes she wobbles unsteadily around the rink, obviously familiar with the concept but without much practice, and could probably use a bit of instruction, or maybe literal support to keep from falling on her ass more than a half-dozen times.

Either she skates up to someone's side, or catches herself on the stone at the sidelines with a loud oof as the air's forced out of her.

"... do you know how to stop without running into something?"

Later, happily bruised and with her pants somewhat crusted in ice fragments, Ellie finds her way over to the dance floor. Perhaps surprisingly, she knows how to dance passably well in a ballroom style, but more importantly, both how to lead and how to follow.

"If you want, I can teach you?" she offers to anyone looking apprehensively at the dance floor (who might reasonably want to join), especially new people. "Don't worry, I'm wearing boots."

If it's a friend she's danced with at any point before, she'll grin as soon as they lock eyes and hold out a hand. "Lead or follow?"

Later, when the performers begin to flag and get tired, when everyone's started to get boozy, Ellie briefly disappears and comes back with a dulcimer. (And she will give her jam band buddies a glance or two to silently invite them to join her, if they'd like. No pressure.)

Regardless of whether anybody joins, she'll play a few softer, slower songs to round out the evening. Good for slow-dancing to or just to play in the background of a conversation. If someone wanders over to talk to her between songs, she'll ask:

"Any requests? Can't promise it'll be perfect."

[Or wildcard me, baby.]

fine twist his arm.

[propulsion]

She is finishing up a tune on her dulcimer when a presence invites himself to sit adjacent, the thrum of lute strings heralding Tony's arrival. His jacket, by the by, is a bright red crush velvet with golden trim, and his sunglasses are probably unnecessary as the hour slips later, but it's all about affect.

He is also wearing a dope hat.

"You know," he says, strumming something in a customarily idle fashion, "no one's really given a lot of thought to what happens if we start introducing anti-bacterial and anti-viral technologies to the world. I mean, we've circled it. Because what if we bring about a superbug that wipes out the whole world. Not that you'd know anything about that."

Small joke, and whether it's in poor taste is something Tony clips right by as he continues with, "But you know what infecting influences rifters might have that we've thought about even less, implications-wise? Christmas music."

twists harder

[notathreat]

"Sick hat," Ellie says immediately when Tony takes a seat next to her, lifting both of her eyebrows, looking both suitably impressed and like she's about to laugh. It could be both. It is.

At his poor-taste joke, snorts and Ellie aims a booted foot at his shin to bark him with it, but her grin gives her away.

Smoothly, she's switched to play accompaniment with him. Then she drops off to start playing in rounds, letting the notes overlap each other, before she switches to what sounds like a bastardized and half-remembered version of Jingle Bell Rock.

"Maybe we should try testing it. That won't be irresponsible at all."

skate or die

[sprent]

"Ellie!!"

She is hardly bigger than Ellie, but Gela still attempts to save her as she comes wobbling within range, arms pinwheeling. She grabs her underneath an arm, and while she can't right her, she can at least lower her slowly to the ice so that she doesn't fall down, and she's cackling the whole time despite the struggle to ease her down. Gela's knees drop to the ice beside her, and she's breathless, bright with laughter. "You're lucky I was there!"

immediate death

[notathreat]

The two of them spill onto the ice, Ellie full-chest laughing as they both skid a little, and Ellie goes down, flopping onto her back. her cheeks are bright red, but fuck it.

"Oh come on, I'd probably only have lost like. One tooth. Maybe two, if the wall got lucky."

[sprent]

"You don't want to lose teeth," Gela insists, still giggling. She pulls Ellie up, into a sitting position. "Let me show you how to stop. You can't go that fast without knowin', or I'll worry."

[notathreat]

"I'll try," she reassures her, in the sort of tone that says she's a killjoy, but she's grinning. She lets Gela help her up and thankfully does not trip them both again.

"Okay, okay. Show me how."

[sprent]

"Look."

She leaves Ellie for a moment, and generates a little speed. Then, leaning most of her weight to one side, she brings the other leg behind her, dragging the blade flat against the ice to stop. She calls, "You make a T." And then she does the shape with both of her hands. "Try it!"

[notathreat]

"You're fucking kidding me."

Ellie gets to her feet though, and tries it. Her rendition is a little more wobbly than Gela's but the second and third time she finds what makes the motion work, leans into it more confidently, and doesn't end up on her ass.

"Where'd you learn to do this?"

music!

[indissection]

Sidony has been enjoying the event, enjoying the freedom to celebrate and dance, to find some solace after their adventures over the last few weeks. It has been exhausting, to say the least, and the chance to let some of the weight fall from her shoulders has been a welcome one.

Another welcome thing is Ellie's face sitting playing music, and Sidony allows herself a moment to simply listen and enjoy the peace of it before she steps over - careful in her gown - to perch beside her, a gentle smile settling on her features.

"I'm not sure I know any songs that you'd recognise."

[notathreat]

It's been some time since last Satinalia, when Ellie had worked up the courage to ask the pretty stranger in a gorgeous dress to dance with her, purely in the spirit of things. Now, Ellie's face softens and Sidony takes a seat near her. She still plays out her song, but her shoulders are relaxed, settled.

It's probably hard for Sidony to be here, given her recent loss. It makes Ellie happy that she's decided to come anyway.

"You might be surprised," Ellie says, propping her arm on the wood of her instrument, giving her a sideways glance.

"I've been listening to my share of singers since I got here."

[indissection]

It's nice, to simply... Relax. To settle down. There are some people that are aware of her losses - be they human or upon her hand, given their latest venture as an organised group - but she is well practiced in holding her head high and pretending as though there is nothing wrong with her. She can mourn, and she will, but it will be an intensely private affair.

Perhaps Byerly or Bastien may witness it, but they are uniquely positioned to offer her a support that no one else might.

Offering Ellie a small smile, her lip curving just so - on the edge of flirtatious, a touch coy - she shakes her head, warming herself with good company.

"Then why not play the one you've enjoyed the most since you have been here?"

[notathreat]

Ellie's never been a creature of subtlety, so she discounts it, doubts it, and sets it smoothly aside. Her smile back is thoughtful as she taps her fingertips on the polished wood.

"Okay, I've got one."

It proves to be a tavern song, a funny one about a nug who becomes a hero in various battles by tripping various foes. He becomes a knight, a captain, a warden, and finally dinner when he trips up a viscount.

(He is, of course, delicious.)

[indissection]

It's not a song Sidony knows particularly - she does not spend much time in taverns, no more than she does anywhere that might have drunkards save her marital rooms - but the tune is a nice enough one, and the words work for their purpose, and so she smiles and nods along.

It's a nice way of allowing herself a moment to enjoy a simple pleasure, and that is remarkable in itself.

"I enjoyed that," she nods, expression brighter than it had been before. "I've never learned to play an instrument, so you may consider me suitably impressed by your skills. Have you played for a long time?"

[notathreat]

"If you wanted to learn I bet you could," Ellie answers, but she's smiling again, feels confident again. It took her a while with the dulcimer, but it's become a good friend.

"I started when I was about fifteen. I learned to play on a guitar, it's like a lute but a little bigger. My um- my mentor, I guess? He taught me."

dancing

[altusimperius]

"Going to teach me some backwards Rifter jig?" Benedict quips, positioning his hands to take Ellie's in the standard manner of leading, his smile just as smarmy as ever (he's had a few). "Or I can show you how it's done in Minrathous."

[notathreat]

Ellie sticks out her tongue at him, but raises her hands to put one in his, the other on his shoulder, and let him lead. She can always step on his foot if he gets feisty.

"Show me something, then," she challenges him with a grin, her eyes bright. She's obviously having a good time.

[altusimperius]

Feisty is the name of the game, especially when it comes to dancing. "Just follow," Benedict instructs, prim and cheerful, as he spins her into a step rather unlike anything else currently happening on the floor.
Despite any new thing being confusing at first, he leads with the confidence of an aristocrat, one who no doubt had private lessons and ample opportunities to practice at this or that society ball.

[notathreat]

Ellie sticks out her tongue at him, but follows readily enough. It's something she knows how to do better than leading, thanks to Gene. There'll be no fancy footwork from her, but even at dance she doesn't know, she's not going to make a fool of herself.

By the second turn she's grinning, getting into it.

[altusimperius]

"You're not so bad," Benedict remarks, quietly pleased that she's doing so well-- it's been a while since he got to dance properly, and everyone around these parts only knows their Orlesian frippery or provincial country dances.

"You don't strike me as the ballroom type."

tunez.

[tender]

"No, I like what you're playing," Derrica says, settling onto the low bench beside her.

She has positioned herself so as to see both Ellie and the skating rink at the same time. Yes, it's getting late and most people are deserting the ice, but Derrica isn't taking chance. Better to keep an eye than to look up a moment too late and see some broken bones rounding out the night.

"You look nice," follows after, gently. "I remember that coat."

It's been some time since Derrica saw her in it. Thinking back, it's been a year without much occasion for finery. With the exception of the Conclave, no one's had much cause to be handsomely dressed.

And Ellie looks more at ease in the outfit now. Derrica isn't certain whether it's due of the passing of time or to all the rest of the ways Ellie has changed since she last donned this jacket, that blouse. Maybe it isn't so important, other than it marks some shift past the hurt Derrica remembers used to lay so close beneath the surface with Ellie.

[notathreat]

Ellie drops the fancier parts of what she's playing, instead just working on a few chords over and over, improvising what she likes between a few of them, enabling her to hold a conversation without thinking about the music too much.

"Yeah, and I remember how patient you were with me when we went to get it," Ellie says with a soft huff of a laugh, falling back into the notes again.

It seems like a lifetime ago. So many things have happened. Have changed. She's changed. A year ago she never could have imagined playing an instrument again, let alone feeling all right with playing in semi-public. There's a weight on her shoulders that's eased, a wariness that hasn't quite left her eyes, but it's receded enough for the other things to shine through more easily.

Ellie herself looks the same, but she holds herself differently.

[tender]

"You were easier than Holden was," Derrica tells her.

It has been nearly a year. His name still cuts, knife-sharp. She misses him, and it is painful, yes, but that makes it all the more important to keep his memory close.

"Will you dance?" is followed by a second observation, "If you can be spared from playing."

Yes, yes, the musicians aren't Bastien. Does that make Ellie's playing all the more valuable? Maybe.

[notathreat]

"Holden's difficult about anything nice for himself," Ellie says with a tiny scoff. It still hurts for her too, and her eyes look a touch shinier at the mention of his name, but she smiles anyway.

Loss is like that. Sometimes it hurts more, sometimes less. The waves come farther apart and aren't as high.

Ellie thinks for a second, and yeah, while there's a small sting at the thought of dancing with Derrica, it rapidly fades. She almost feels guilty for it, but she's coming to realize that allowing herself to heal doesn't mean it meant less.

"I can make an exception for you," she teases, putting down her dulcimer.

[tender]

There is, of course, the temptation to remind her: You don't have to.

But they are trying not to do that. Derrica is trying not to do that.

So she reaches out for Ellie's hands instead.

Yes, the music is not as good as it might have been if it were Bastien and his people. But it will do. Derrica laces her fingers through Ellie's, as they find a place among the remaining, meandering pairs on what passes as a dance floor tonight.

"I wanted to thank you again," is what she says instead. "For your help with the painting. No one else could have done it right."

And she thinks Marcus liked it. Has a suspicion it was well-received, which is reassuring. Derrica had spent so much time fretting over the rest of what she'd put together for Marcus and his partners, it was nice to know there was something that would simply be appreciated without caveats.