[open] beach episode volume 2: gallows edition

[altusimperius]

WHO: everybody who wants
WHAT: (lukewarm) BEACH PARTY (on rubble, in harbor)
WHEN: late Justinian
WHERE: the Gallows, amidst its newly-acquired sea view
NOTES: he's trying

I. Prep

He didn't ask for help overtly, but Benedict is clearly working hard setting up the space he's designated for the company to have their beach staycation: drapings taken from his own stash and salvaged from the Gallows' erstwhile guest rooms are drawn across glyphed-in-place poles to create shade. He's hauled out a table, onto which he proceeds to place a variety of whatever canapés he could afford to procure with his own wages-- it's not a feast, all right-- and beside which he rolls two barrels of decent-ish wine.

From the baths come a stack of towels piled high in his arms, hindering his vision to such a degree that he may crash into someone not paying attention; pillows and the like come next, in armloads that take multiple trips, by the end of which he's visibly out of breath.

Lastly, it's his very own water pipe making an appearance, which he arranges amidst comfortable ground seating mimics how his room used to look: in fact, most of the accoutrements here are his personal belongings.
As such, he knows just how to set everything to create an attractive, if minimalist, space for an afternoon's leisure.


II. Party?

It may not be an all-out bash like their excursion to the sandier shores of the Waking Sea some years ago, but this, if nothing else, is an opportunity for work on the Gallows to pause in palatable increments. One can be clearing rubble or cataloguing property for the morning, then pop over for an hour of sunbathing and a glass of wine; they're all within calling out distance of the courtyard, and the party likely bleeds into the day's work in a manner somewhat more comfortable than if it were sequestered.

That said: the early summer sea water is cold, the sun is out but meek behind occasional cloud cover, and the festivities are on clean-swept stone rather than sand. The view across the water is of mainland Kirkwall, and all that that entails.
But it's none of it so bad, for anyone looking to take a break. A few musicians even show up a bit later in the afternoon, and Benedict provides a bonfire in the center of the party space as the sun goes down.

Anything brought to share is met with effusive thanks from Benedict, who ensures its appropriate placement and distribution. He doesn't spend much time relaxing himself, instead making the rounds with the air of a fussy host, where he's quick to offer refills or alternatives in libations, or diversions for unsatisfactory activities.

[make your own starters, do your thing, go hog wild-- if you have logistical questions feel free to ask on plurk or discord]

Comments

possible wrap? while i go bother her inbox

[brennvin]

How do you fix that sorta situation or make it better? There’s no real answer for it besides get rid of the brother, and that’s not really Astrid’s go-to solution in this scenario. Annoyingly, you can’t even offer to punch him, because at the end of the day it is the parents’ fault —

“At least you’re here instead now,” she offers, weakly, although she knows it’s feeble consolation. Riftwatch isn’t a magisterdom. Magistership? Whichever.

yes good *places dusty little bow*

[succise]

"Yes," Vega grumbles, dropping her eyes to her cup. She wants to say something scathing in response to that but some sharp reply curdles instantly on her tongue; the akvavit tasted better.

That's because, for all intents and purposes, Astrid is right. She would very much rather be here instead of in Tevinter under the current circumstances, just that she can't bring herself to admit to that even while tipsy. She sniffs instead and slowly pushes herself upright. The world hangs in place for a moment and she has to take a small step first before really moving, adjusting her weight with care (if she stumbled in front of Astrid she will have to throw herself into the fire).

"I'm going to get water," she states, important and too-loud. "For us both. Stay here."

And then she's gone, holding her skirts carefully in one hand to keep from stepping on them.