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

skating again.

[exequy]

[ As it happens, Kostos having a good time is about on par with Kostos in a fury, in terms of how much he thinks before he does things.

In this case: on his own loop around the ice, cold air rushing past his face and through the threads of his clothing while he attains speeds that one imagines might be the most excitement he'll have (on the ground) in his life unless someone invents a motorcycle, he sees Marcus' hands begin to move and moves his own, donating a hefty amount of the magical energy he isn't using to the spell, which—

Maybe it's fine. Maybe it's extra cold ice, which is still just ice, still left flat and smooth. That's what he would expect, if he took the time first to expect anything at all.

Still, it's the kind of thing it'd be polite to warn a mage about first. ]

[luaithre]

[ It had been in Marcus' interest to get a basic grasp of all corners of elemental magic, a token gesture towards being able to harness and wield the stuff of storm and ice compared to more favourable manifestations. Imperfect, though, and so when he draws power from another dimension in order to help maintain a festive ice skating rink and this is given an unexpected boost—

No disasters, but light ripples out wider than expected, and frost flakes up from the surface in a sudden gust as moisture in the air turns to crystal. Startled, Marcus swerves aside as he cuts off the spell with a jerk up of his hand.

A glance in search of the source, and also to see if anyone saw that. ]

[exequy]

[ The source, who also saw, skids to a neat stop nearby. ]

Boring.

[ This is, to reiterate, exactly what Kostos would have expected to happen, if he'd thought about it at all. But he didn't. And in the absence of any grounded thought, what he'd hoped would happen was—

Something. Undefined, but interesting.

The word sounds like an accusation. ]

[luaithre]

[ Marcus doesn't scrape to a stop, managing a circle around where Kostos has halted with a trace of a wobble as his feet have different ideas for just a moment before snapping back to alignment. Connecting what just occurred with who's fault it was in the same moment of his reaction being critiqued—

A scoff, then his hands move again. Quicker.

This time, the summoning of cold is more directed, a sharp icy spray of it directed down at Kostos' feet. A snowy gathering of frost paints across the tops of his skates, but the hope is that at least for a moment, his blades will stick fast in the ice. ]

Better? [ as Marcus circles back around, with the intent to rejoin the traffic. ]