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

[luaithre]

"I see."

More evident than it might normally be, there's an undercurrent of amusement, a brief half-smile, that Derrica is taking it upon herself to be useful and positioning herself accordingly, when likely everyone would suggest she simply enjoy herself, that this is as good an opportunity to learn as any.

But there are more pertinent conversations to have, and there's a pause where Marcus is considering his approach even as he makes micro-adjustments on his stance so as not to slip in place.

"Your gift to me," he says, finally, "how did you come by it?"

[tender]

"Ellie Williams," Derrica tells him. "As a favor to me."

A flicker of self-consciousness crosses her expression.

"I hope you don't mind. I thought you'd like to have the likeness."

[luaithre]

He'd given her gloves, you know, in contrast to commissioned artwork. Nice ones, and with a particular purpose, but Marcus still might be inclined to feel some way of the unevenness of apparent levels of apparent sentiment. As it happens, both Petrana and Julius had presented heartfelt gifts that morning, and in turn Marcus' gift-giving aim had apparently been to dress them as well.

So that helps, in perspective.

A shake of his head dismisses that he in any way minds. "Thank you," he says, quicker, but not quickly. "I wouldn't have thought to do it myself. It's very good."

He pauses, and adds, "I stole him from a stable nearly eight years ago. If he'd prefer I hadn't, he hasn't said." Whimsy is balanced with serious affect, quiet beneath the nearby sounds of skates scraping on ice and shouts.

[tender]

"I'll tell her, but I think she'd like to hear it from you," is her first response, quick to give credit where it was due.

The only reason Derrica had been able to accomplish any of this was because Ellie had agreed to help her. Derrica wasn't skilled with a pen. She couldn't have rendered Kevin as well as Ellie had.

Though she is thinking now of that measure of time. Eight years ago. Eight years ago, Dairsmuid had fallen. Marcus had already escaped his circle, perhaps.

"He has been with you through all of it," Derrica surmises, before saying, "I can tell you've taken good care of him. Even when it may not have been so easy to do so as it is here."

[luaithre]

Marcus nods to that, a promise that he will probably be slow to keep, but it'll be eventually kept.

There's nothing in his demeanor right now that is stern or tense or angled towards his careful brand of outward stoicism, but there's still a further gentling as the conversation veers this way, and he nods again. Through all of it about covers it, this animal who knows so little but an odd kind of loyalty, an odd kind of bravery.

It doesn't sound like a pivot, when he asks, "Do you like riding?"

[tender]

"I do. I didn't very much, at the beginning, but I've gotten better."

Had it come from that dream, where she had her own horse? Remembered the beast as a source of comfort in a terrible circumstance?

Or is it down to Holden, and the horse he'd left her? She'd been required to sharpen her skills enough to exercise the mare. Holden would have been so disappointed by any neglect.

"Why?" is a little questioning. Assuming it isn't an idle question.

[luaithre]

Marcus nods his satisfaction for that answer. Well enough.

(A moment's thought, of methodically helping her equip her own horse for riding in the stables, knowing that he was never going to let her leave.)

"I take Kevin out amongst the foothills or the shore, weather and duties permitting," he says, anyway, over the top of it. "If you'd like to practice when it isn't only necessary."

put a bow on this y?

[tender]

"I'd like that."

Easy. Of course she would go riding with him.

Marcus had taught her much already. Has been generous with his time. And there is generosity in this too, taking her into his company and sharing a skill that has no magic to it at all.

She reaches out to grip his hand, briefly but very tightly, underlining her offering of, "It would be very kind of you."

christmas is saved

[luaithre]

His hand is taken, and his other joins it to return the gesture. It's generous of her in kind, to open up for him these small but important avenues for affection, the intimacy of it, when there might have been every cause to maintain her distance. His hands are gloved and still a little chilly, and they squeeze hers.

"I'd like the company," Marcus says, in case she imagines him only doing her a favour. He looks about them, back to the sound of metal scraping across eyes, laughter and shouts and the murmur of conversation.

Lets her go, then, pushing off and away. He could remind her to have fun at some stage, this day, but Satinalia will more than likely take care of itself on its own.