faderift | SATINALIA

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SATINALIA

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Okay. That's very high up, that crack in the wall Ellie just fucking bullseyed with a random rock she picked up off the ground. Like it was nothing.

"Um," Clarisse says again, trailing off as Ellie turns to look back at her, and her eyes...

"The fuck, Ellie," because what else is there to say, actually, when somebody's eyes do that? "Explain?"

She sounds a little hostile, but she's doing her best to tamp it down. It's fine.

Ellie blinks and it's gone. She doesn't look timid, but there's a set muscle in her jaw that says that she knows what she's about to say won't go over well.

"Thedas isn't the first universe I've been yanked into that wasn't mine," she explains. "And the last time, it was because someone found a sleeping god, and tried to steal their power. He ended up killing them instead. I'm probably never gonna be totally clear on what happened, but Blue's powers didn't just disappear. A shard of them hitched a ride on me when I fell through. On all of us."

Ellie pauses there, just barely, because there is no us anymore. Not really.

"Whatever happened to Blue woke up Gold. Family, I guess. And he was pissed. He started sending all these monsters and stuff after us, and anything that got in his way. Testing us. Long story, but we proved we weren't like the whackjob who started the whole thing. So... Gold decided to- I dunno, exactly. Share some of his power with us? Whatever it is, it's mine. It came through the rift with me."

She's been talking, just trying to get it all out. Because no matter how she says this, it feels like a shitty thing to say to Clarisse. She's half god by blood, and here's Ellie, touched by not one, but two gods. Never mind that she never asked for it or tried to hide it.

Though she doesn’t say anything, there’s no hiding the sudden set of Clarisse’s jaw in the firelight as she listens to the story. She stares at the bonfire ahead of her, feeling sort of like Ellie’s just hauled off and punched her in the stomach. She’s not mad, exactly. Not at Ellie, anyway. But there’s a sudden ache in her chest, like giant hands are squeezing her lungs, and she feels like punching a wall until the pain in her hand is the only thing she can focus on.

It’s the same old hurt she always feels when she thinks about stupid Jackson, and all the special favors he gets from Lord Poseidon, and how the Olympians offered him godhood and let him make them swear an oath on the river Styx. And meanwhile she’s somewhere in the background, working her ass off for whatever scraps Ares will throw at her. And the favors sound so fucking paltry, in the end. Right now in Thedas, the only powers she has are the ones she was born with, inherited from Ares, but not anything he gave to her willingly. Not his blessing, or even the limited ability to summon the dead.

The thought of not one but two gods giving bits of their power to a bunch of mortals makes her want to puke, honestly.

“Cool,” she says, in a voice that sounds a little dead inside, still not looking at Ellie. “So were you just… not going to tell me, or what.”

It's a weird fucking mix of emotions. Some part of her is a little pissed that Clarisse is pissed at her for not saying anything, when it's not like it's her fault.

Another part feels like she's some kind of bully, kicking her while she's down.

She's quiet for a second, working through those feelings, digging deeper for why. They haven't exactly known each other for that long, but it's definitely something she could have mentioned that night on the tower. Clarisse isn't stupid, and Ellie doesn't particularly want to lie to her either.

"It was kinda hard to find a way to say it that doesn't sound shitty?" she says as she sets down her mug by her feet. She drapes her arms around her legs, knees tucking up under her chin. Looks into the fire. They both know why.

"And I just... I dunno. There's more to me than that." The corner of her lips twitches back, hardens. "Stuff that's more important."

Finally Clarisse looks back at her. “Why would it sound shitty? Because you thought I’d be jealous or something?”

She’s not!!! At all!!! Obviously!!!

If Ellie’s for real, and she’s content with saying that other stuff about her is “more important,” then maybe Clarisse is jealous. The most important thing, the only important thing, about Clarisse is who her father is. Must be nice to have a solid identity outside of some god. She downs half of the rest of her wine in one big swallow and shudders at the taste of it going down.

Now there's no way to say anything without it sounding shittier, really. She's not blind; this bothers Clarisse. And she's not sure whether pointing that out will hurt her feelings more than pretending she doesn't notice.

Ellie's not sure why she chose to forget that she hasn't exactly had the greatest track record with relationships, but this is starting to remind her that she's never been good at this stuff.

So instead she sets her jaw and looks at the fire.

"I would be," Ellie says, blunt but soft. From everything Clarisse has told her, but mostly the things she hasn't.

Yeah. She would be.

At least Ellie's honest. It makes Clarisse snort humorlessly.

"Good for you."

She finishes the last of her wine, and sits with her shoulders hunched, like she can sink inside her coat until there's nothing of her left. For what feels like a long time, there's nothing but the popping of the firewood and the music playing from nearby.

"It doesn't matter," she says finally, dully. "It's cool you can do what you do."

The silence is long but not empty, and they sit together, the rolling smoke billowing up to the stars, making them shimmer. The world around them keeps moving without pause.

Ellie shifts when Clarisse finally speaks, a twitch of a smile at the edge of her mouth as she puts her chin on her knee to properly look at her.

"You said it," she says softly, with the smallest hint of a smile. "You think I'm cool."

"The fuck I did," Clarisse counters instantly, turning to give Ellie the most offended look she can muster. "I said your abilities are cool. I never said you were."

Get your facts straight, Ellie.

"No takebacks," Ellie says matter-of-factly, waving a finger at her, looking as smug as she can possibly manage.

"You've given it to me. I'm owning it. It's mine."

"'No takebacks'? What are you, five?"

But she's trying (unsuccessfully) to hide a little smirk. Then, giving in, she rolls her eyes and punches Ellie's arm. "Whatever. Guess I'll have to call you cool girl instead of mortal girl now."

"I'll allow it," Ellie says airily, smugly, but it breaks into a smile as Clarisse punches her. Ellie reaches out to shove her right back, snickering.

The last of that tension falls away, and Ellie just smiles at her.

"I do wanna see if you can block an arrow though."

“I can try,” Clarisse says, sounding a bit doubtful. She’s great with weapons, but that seems… not like something she can guarantee.

“What are you gonna do if I can’t?”

"Well..."

Long pause here.

"I've got a lot of practice doing stitches?"

Because that's so reassuring.

She snorts. "Got it. I'll make sure I bring some nectar along just in case."

Worst case scenario, she ends up with a new scar to show off.

"... okay, back up. Nectar? Like the stuff that bees drink?"

Shit, that's how bees work, right? She slept through a lot of sixth grade science.

"No. Well, yeah, but—" Clarisse waves a hand dismissively.

"Not the same stuff. Nectar like ambrosia and nectar, food and drink of the gods? Demigods can use it to heal up after we get injured. It's useful as hell, and I have a little bit."

So obviously she'd waste it on this dumb shit.

Ellie gives her an aghast look, then reaches out and gives her a real push.

"It's just a matter of time before we go into actual battle. If it can do that, save it."

Clarisse sucks her bottom lip, thinking it over.

“Then you better give me some damn good stitches,” she says after a moment, and grins.

"I will give you fantastic stitches," Ellie promises, grandiosely, and immediately hopes she hasn't jinxed them. Shit.

"That's not an invitation to do something to make you need stitches, by the way."

“Like what, ask someone to shoot at me with an arrow?” Clarisse nudges Ellie with her shoulder. “That wouldn’t be any fun.”

"Block the arrow then!"

Ellie pokes her in her side, but she's grinning. Because that's an easy ask.

"Don't worry, we can work up to it. I won't shoot at your face or anything."

"Oh," Clarisse says. "I see. We'll 'work up' to shooting arrows at my face."

But she's just fucking with her. Please, shoot arrows at her. She'll think it's fun, even if she gets hit.

"I was thinking I'll just shoot somewhere less vital," she says with a mock-scowl, and reaches out to poke her in the upper arm.

"Like here."

And her thigh.

"Or here."

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