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

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."