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

[charmoffensive]

"Alright."

Like the small kisses exchanged on the landings, Loxley sneaks one more in against the corner of her mouth before releasing them both from their tangle. Shrugs out of his coat now that they're separated, laying it over a chair back before he opts to take a seat on the edge of her bed.

As she finds a place for the scarf and the bottle of perfume, who goes about unbuckling his boots, bolstered by explicit invitation to stay the night to make himself more comfortable. The little glints of jewelry that decorate his horns, the gold cap wedged onto each curling point and the thread of chain that links one cuff to his earring, will likewise need to be disentangled and removed.

No rush, on his part, watching her out the corner of his eye.

"I might have given them to you earlier if I'd encountered anything better in Kirkwall, you know, for the occasion, but there's never anything better in Kirkwall. Especially lately."

[tender]

"I know."

Because she had gone through some trouble herself, finding a gift that felt right for him. There is a whole separate train of thought, worry about the flow of trade and it's stops and starts, but that isn't what she wants to talk about tonight.

The trunk thuds closed. She rises to her feet, joins him on the bed. They make a mirror of last year's Satinalia. Loxley had been in this room then too. The reminder of it glints from the loose drape of his tunic.

Derrica puts the parcel into his lap, draws one leg up to her chest as he lifts it.

The parcel itself is wrapped in soft paper, bound in gold-colored twine. Derrica had taken some care with the contents, arranging the items so nothing clinked or jangled when shaken.

Contained within is a fine linen tunic of emerald green. Meant to fall to the knee, with high slits running from hem to hip and polished buttons of dark stone sewn from collar to sternum and long, loose sleeves. The fabric is light, intended for easy movement. Nestled in the folds are pieces of jewelry: a gleaming copper armband to fit his bicep, a pair of gold caps for his horns embossed with delicate, intricate designs, a heavy gold cuff for his ear. A small collection, built up over the passing months.

A prickle of nerves gathers at the nape of her neck, but she doesn't prompt for a reaction. Just waits, watches him manage the process of unwrapping without hurrying him along through it.

it's still christmas

[charmoffensive]

He undoes and unwraps with care, levels of inebriation not so high that he isn't reflexively deft with fiddly things. Moves, when he gets the sense there is more than one item within, but not far, just a slight pivot so that he can start going through the bundle on the bed between them.

"I stand corrected,"

on the subject of Kirkwall being unable to provide.

The tunic unfolded, admired, smile brightening when he spies the gleam of copper and gold. He likes that they decorate each other. He'd been deliberate in refraining from getting her even more jewelry, spending his budget on something more specific, but this seems like permission to continue anyway.

He holds up one of the horn caps, studying its patterns. Oblivious to how nervous she might be. "I never found anything like this in Tassia," he says, presently. "Hardly a market for it, I suppose." Looks up again, maybe catching, then, her anticipation.

Smile doesn't dim, exactly, just gentles to a different setting. "Should I try them on?"

it's *almost* christmas

[tender]

"Would it be alright if I put them on for you?"

It eases some of her worries, watching his expression as he examines her offerings. Loosens her posture, draws her in closer to him as Loxley spreads out the gifts across his lap. And as he speaks, it sparks up some quiet sadness a that idea he might have gone without.

Maybe it's Rivaini in her, wanting to dress him in gold. But he should have these things. He is more than worthy of them. How could it be that he had nothing like it at home?

hell yea

[charmoffensive]

Loxley likes gold. And Rivain. And her hands on him. These are the sorts of thoughts that skim the surface of his mind, pleasantly drunk without being too far gone.

"Yes please," he says, transferring the lapful of trinkets to the bed between them with a soft jingle of chains and rings. "They're beautiful."

He will watch her pick through them, move where needed. He picks up the band that's designed to go around his arm as if puzzling over its intention, but rather than ask right away, he says, "Do you think I could get away with wearing them whenever I like, or just for special occasions?"

[tender]

Derrica puts herself into his lap, straddling over his thighs so she might have better access to his ears and horns. Touches his cheek lightly before turning her attention down to the spread of trinkets on the bed.

"Whenever you like," is followed by, "I picked a good jeweler. These are sturdy enough to last."

He should be draped in fine ornament every day, she thinks. This is Rivaini custom, yes, but it is also what she feels is due to him. Loxley is handsome, but he is brave and kind, all good things. He deserves lovely pieces of jewelry. He deserves some elevation of status.

[charmoffensive]

His hands find her waist, an innocent place to rest as he leans back a little to accommodate the comfortably warm weight of her, giving her space to work.

"Then I shall wear them every day," Loxley says. Facetious without lacking sincerity, somehow. "Unless I'm attempting to be sneaky, then they would be counterproductive. To that."

A gentle squeeze of his hands follows, smoothing his palms lower to her hips, his gaze breaking from hers as she focuses on her task. He can instead lazily appreciate how she, too, looks in the low warmth of her room.

[tender]

"I would like that," she tells him. "I like all of these pieces on you."

Even the ones that hadn't come from her, that he must have been given by others.

She puts her fingers into his hair, thumbs at his temples. Just for the pleasure of touching him, scraping her nails lightly along his scalp, before stretching upwards to affix the jewelry to his horns, slip the cuff onto his ear. Smile a little over the entire process

"Even if you'll have to take them off soon to go to bed."

Though it invites repetition of the process in the morning.

[charmoffensive]

"I'll simply stay up a little longer," has zero subtlety to it, but languidly delivered. There is a lovely sort of meditative quality to staying still while Derrica brushes her fingers through his hair, adorns him in these fine bits and pieces, tipping his head a little bit here and there as his means of assistance.

His hand smooths up the side of her thigh, finding a resting place there, thumb stroking circles and fingertips barely indenting fabric and skin.

With his other hand, Loxley lifts the remaining circular piece for the offering.

[tender]

"You are so lovely this way," Derrica tells him, indulgent, as her fingers stray back through his hair once more. Her palm cups his cheek, thumb briefly at the corner of his mouth. He's so pleasantly biddable, and the jewelry looks well on him, fits where placed without any effort at all.

Her thumb runs softly along his lower lip before she shifts, taking up the last piece before catching him by the wrist.

"Here, it'll go—"

Coaxing the circlet down, both hands sliding it over knuckles and wrist, over the bend of his elbow, until it settles into place around his bicep. She fusses lightly one-handed with his tunic sleeve, smiles.

"You can save it for the summer."