faderift | 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

Well well well- somebody lingering on the edges of the dance to watch is simply waiting for an opportunity to come and join in, is he not? Gela, spotting him, waits for a break in the music before she comes over to offer her hand to him. He may have to find a place to put his drink!

"Hello! Do you dance?"

Uselessly awkward as he is, he notably does not find a place for his drink. Nor does he even take her hand for a long moment, looking at it with something that might be terror at the edges of his eyes. Then, finally, her actually having said words seems to sink through to his brain.

"Oh," he says, and shakes his head. "No. I don't know this one."

"That's okay," Gela soothes, leaning closer conspiratorially, "Neither do I, I've just been makin' it up the entire time."

He looks horrified by the prospect of dancing. She briefly considers bullying him into it by asking if he'd be so bold as to refuse a lady offering her hand. It seems a little cruel.

"If you're not goin' to dance you have to tell me somethin' about yourself instead," is much fairer.

He looks just as bewildered by this suggestion as the possibility of dancing, and there follows another moment of silent blankness as he seems to struggle with how to respond.

"I'm from Antiva?" He lands on, finally, as if this wasn't already incredibly obvious from his very thick accent. "Sorry," He adds.

"Are you now." Interesting, interesting.

Gela adopts a sympathetic look, her brows drawing together. "An' do they not talk to women much in Antiva, then?"

Poor thing.

It's a perfect barb for his behaviour, his utter lack of ability to even respond to her conversational skills - of which she seems well accomplished, Josias thinks. A shame they're so wasted on his persona that he cannot even tell he is being prodded.

"Why would we not?"

Gela's expression twists into amused incredulity.

"I don't know." And for a moment she really can't tell if he's doing this on purpose just to mess around with her or not. It almost edges into rudeness, whether accidental or deliberate she has no hope of knowing either. "I'm guessin' based on how well this is goin'."

Not well, Josias.

Realisation dawns slowly and almost cataclysmically in his expression, his confusion and bewilderment from before turning to something near outright horror. He has committed a grievous offence. He is being rude.

"Sorry, I-- please accept my apologies." There's half a frantic bow to it, only cut from being a full one due to him needing to skip to the possibilities of remedying this. "I introduce myself, Josias di Jaconissa. Would you want to dance, or a drink?"

Of all the things that could have come out his mouth in this moment–

"di Jaconissa," she repeats, startled, and instantly regretting her impatience with him. How to reel that back exactly, "Not- of the Antivan trading family? What on earth are you doin' here?"

Yeah, sure, that's a good start.

Recognition. A double-edged sword, always, his family name - his father's name. It could open doors, pockets, mouths, but it came with a weight. One Josias hadn't realised he'd been feeling lifted slightly, until now.

There is even a visible reaction for it on his face. Something perhaps a little panicked around the eyes, but different than before. As if the stakes of this conversation have suddenly increased tenfold.

"Yes," is simple confirmation. Easy enough. For the second question, all he can seem to think to do is lift his right hand, displaying the sliver of green glowing in the centre. "I was, ah- wrong place."

Sheepish, but something wary in waiting for her reaction. As if getting hit by a piece of the Fade were something that might reflect poorly on his name.

Oh, but this is a very curious reaction, and one that Gela recognises intimately. For the first few months of her banishment she wore that exact face whenever anybody asked her where she was from, and she had to stand there and figure out what she would say to them in return. It betrayed her back then, too.

Feeling abruptly sympathetic, she relents.

"My condolences, messere. That can't have been easy for you." In explanation, "My family merchants out of Nevarra."

And so she recognised the name.

"Oh!" Surprise tempered by something like relief, as if merchants weren't exactly what he had always had to navigate as his father's son. Maybe it was the sympathy, quickly given and easily accepted, that has him relax again.

But of course, being relaxed doesn't make his manner any less awkward. "Then what are you doing here?"

Fair, if not incredibly blunt.

Gela makes a face, thinking. Eventually, she says, "Well, I don't live in Nevarra any more, and so I thought I'd come here to throw in with people makin' a difference."

A stock answer is all he really deserves. She adds, "I'm also here to find somebody to dance with."

Imagine that.

The latter part would, of course, be prompt for her conversational partner to offer a hand. To sweep her onto the dance floor and into the celebrations.

Josias, however, has already established that he doesn't dance. Therefore there's no need to respond to that part of her statement. Besides, he's busy being particularly confused by the phrase that came before it.

"I don't know this "making a difference"? Who is doing this?"

SATINALIA

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject