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

[armd]

This information would have stopped Abby in her tracks if she knew how to stop. "You have fifteen siblings?"

This is something an apocalypse baby cannot begin to wrap her head around. "And you met them for the first time at summer camp?"

[laruetheday]

"I have fifteen demigod siblings," Clarisse says. "There are more, but they're immortal. Ares' kids with Aphrodite mostly."

There's a pause, and then she says, "And yeah, we met at summer camp." It's no big deal, okay?

[armd]

It's not, Abby's just trying to imagine what it would be like to go to summer camp for the first time and immediately find out you have fifteen demigod siblings. Seems like that would maybe, like, ruin your summer a little.

But what does she know.

"Back home, most people my age are mistake babies," she says. The thought doesn't appear to bother her. "But these days most settlements are established enough that it's kinda possible to start a family if you really want."

[laruetheday]

Hm. A thing she's never considered before: how fucking inconvenient it would be to lug a screaming baby around some zombie-infested town. Gross.

"Huh. Well, if the gods exist in your world, I'm sure they're still having mistake kids, too." It's meant to be commiserating, honest.

[armd]

"I don't think gods exist in our world," she says sarcastically, "Otherwise they'd fucking do something about it."

Right? Aren't gods supposed to... make the world a better place. Die for people's sins. Shit like that.

[laruetheday]

Clarisse just snorts.

"Yeah," she says, just as sarcastic, "sure they would."

Because no they fucking wouldn't. Not the gods she knows. But that's a nice thought.