Truth or Dare: Side Party for Servants and Scoundrels

[faderifting]

WHO: Anyone!
WHAT: A party for people who might scare the nobility, are deathly afraid of chandeliers, or fled the soiree with cheeses hidden in their clothes and need to make a clean getaway.
WHEN: During (and after) the soiree.
WHERE: The valley beyond Skyhold.
NOTES: Drinking, revelry. People might make out or something. We're not responsible for your actions.

The soiree might be fun, if you're into that sort of thing, but that isn't what it's for. It's for impressing the powerful and opening their pockets—and, necessarily, some people aren't invited. In some cases that's personal. In others, it's just understood. When they're done helping to set up, most of the servants and workers who aren't needed to serve make themselves scarce. The usual trickle of refugees to and from the fortress slows. Some people used to sleeping in the stables may find their "beds" occupied by nobles' horses or the rooms they had been squatting in cleaned and prepared for someone else to stay in.

There's no resentment. (Or at least very little.) That's how these things go. And in the valley outside the fortress' walls, there are foot soldiers and refugees and a number of miscellaneous exiles who welcome the company with large fires, cheap but freely flowing alcohol, and whatever music can be wrung out of instruments exposed to such low temperatures. The crowd thins and dwindles as the night wears on, but even after the last person has left the Great Hall in Skyhold, there's still a sizable gathering near the river with no intention of going to sleep before sunrise.

No masks allowed.

Comments

[justice_is_blond]

He's not... exactly sure about being here. The threat of repercussions from the Wardens might not carry weight down here the way it does up in Skyhold, and he doesn't exactly feel a need to party. The last time he'd had a very lovely dance with someone who now, deservedly, hates him. It's not the best memory.

But Nate's convinced him that sitting in a camp that's otherwise mostly empty, alone except for the judgmental voice in his head isn't healthy, so he's here. Tense, certainly, a little on the outskirts rather than in the main mix, but he's present. And, perhaps surprisingly to those who didn't know him before Kirkwall, dressed up. And willing to dance and talk, though singing might take some persuasion and more than a single drink isn't likely to happen.

[pinprick]

Nathaniel is still in dress uniform from his brief appearance at the soirée. As a fiddler begins a tune, he reaches for Anders' hand to pull him into a dance.

[bookish_lioness]

Hermione had been enjoying herself since her rescue from the soiree, feeling much more confident in her clothes than she had been before. She'd had to add sleeves and extend the length of the dress, and even then, she couldn't help feeling judged there.

It's a different story here, and she's happy to dance with anyone who asks, not having to worry about the formality of it all. But she stops when she notices a familiar face, one that she's been wondering about for the past few days.

Wandering towards him, she looks at him curiously even as she wonders whether she should be afraid of him. But she's no more afraid now than she'd been when she'd first met him, and so she hesitates for only a few moments before asking, "What should I call you?"

[arachnophobe]

The immediate urge is to do the worst. It's the same feeling he felt with Kuttner, wanting nothing more than to wrap his hand around his throat and strangle him. There's a momentary feeling of being blind with anger.

But there is nothing he can do about it, and that helpless feeling sinks in. Alejandro hates it, but ultimately he is here to try to do something about the red lyrium and rift bullshit. Any contempt he has will have to be filed away.

"Takes a lot of balls to be out socializing," Alejandro says instead as he approaches, feeling more tired than furious. He doesn't know what he hopes to accomplish other than for Anders to know.

[kallian_endris]

Kallian's managed to slip away from the glittering Skyhold party with a little help from Jamie, hoping not to be missed as the revelry there dies down. She searches the valley for the face she most hopes to see, and it is Hope which guides her, leading her toward Justice.

"Detlef?" she asks softly as she approaches, smoothing the red silk of her dress.

[equanimiti]

After having his full of the mundane conversations and the general snootiness of those arrogant nobles, Alayre sought the outdoors. He needed a breath of fresh air and he would find none better than the crisp cool breeze of the Frostback Mountains. It should be a crime for the Templar to look so miserable while dressed so fancily in reds and golds. Alayre hadn't cracked a single smile all evening and his usual knack for pleasantries had vanished.

The Knight-Commander wore the same frown he had at the soiree here at this humble gathering. He honestly looked out of place here given his decorative attire but Alayre couldn't have cared less. The Templar much rather be here lingering among all the undesirables than in that nightmarish ball. Alayre had given his fellow Templars a curt farewell before leaving but other than that; he slipped away unnoticed. Now pining for a glass of ale over anything else, Alayre paused once he saw a familiar face.

Detlef. That name brought a scowl to his lips. Try as he might to put aside that name, Alayre constantly had to correct himself whenever he spoke of Anders. While Alayre was indeed quite furious with this conniving murderer, he still couldn't convince himself to fully hate the mage. His anger was fueled by the lies told and the secrets hidden. One would argue that he's more hurt than angry but Alayre wouldn't even humor such a thought. Nevertheless, it's something of a miracle that Alayre hadn't approached the Wardens about Anders yet. Despite all the malice that lingers within him, Alayre couldn't bring himself to act upon them despite venting his frustrations to Norrington in private.

Uncertain what to say to Anders or even how to say it, Alayre turned away. Now isn't the time for arguing. He had enough of arguing since joining the Inquisition and he honestly doesn't have much fight in him now.

ruby | open

[eviscerates]

Ruby's never been big on the fancy parties.
She'd longed to see what they were like, Before, of course. Sort of like how she longed for adventure and magic and seeing the world, for thrills and adrenaline and escaping danger. Brushing shoulders with nobility had been part of that. Somehow or other she'd gotten all those things, and not a single one of them had ever really taken away that painful pang of guilt and disgust. Forgiving yourself wasn't easy. Sometimes it just kept going on and on, unravelling and occasionally getting all knotted up and tangled.

Honestly, she might not have been at this party, either, but she and Emma sleep in the barn, and suddenly the barn is a lot more occupied than it used to be. Nobles horses and their servants and... whatever, really, it's pretty much fine because she's here at a different party, and Emma's around somewhere, and for a little while she can maybe just be Ruby instead of being Red who was on a council to help govern a kingdom, and the Wolf who helped win battles.

She's wearing her standard fare, sans her cloak until its gets too cool to do without it. Odds are she'll accept any offers for a dance, serve up and offer drinks, and enjoy sitting by the fire for a while, here and there.

[easternseaqueen]

It took a bit to slip out of the main party, but Isabela was not about to miss the real fun. And this was definitely bound to be a better scene than what's happening in the hall.

The red cloak stood out, and Isabela couldn't help but wander over.

"You look entirely too pretty to be a wallflower, dear. Join me for a dance?"

[arachnophobe]

Alejandro never had any intent of attending the fancy-ass party they have going on in the main hall, but the little something-something they have for everyone else. It's kind of a nice distraction from the rest of the shit that's been going on, anyway. Plus, hey, he needed a little distraction from the designs he's trying to make for Zevran and his little crow-lings.

For now, the blacksmith is sitting and drinking, not wearing anything even remotely fancy. His prosthetic is still on, so he has that going for him.

[issala]

Who the hell wants to party with a bunch of stuck-up nobles when you can have parties like this? Kas is enjoying himself a bit more than the First Day party, drinking some ale and nibbling on the food provided. he might even have a cicil conversation with you if you're not antagonizing him!

While he isn't wearing the scout uniform for once, he's still rocking the green in a warm tunic and simple breeches with high boots.

At the end of the night he's rather drunk, which is probably not a good thing for his headache problem tomorrow. Still, he's having fun tonight, and his laughter is contagious.

[bookish_lioness]

Hermione had been rescued from the soiree at Skyhold, something she'll have to thank Malcolm for later. Right now, she's enjoying herself, having had a little wine earlier and feeling much more comfortable in her outfit. She'd had to have her dress altered, fitted with sleeves and hem extended until it had been uncomfortable to walk around in, and she might just undo all those alterations so she can be comfortable again, now that she's been reminded that there are people who don't care about such finery.

She's usually smarter than to drink from just any cup that's been offered to her, but since everyone seems to be drinking and no one is suffering any ill effects, she decides a sip or two can't hurt. At least, until she ends up bumping into someone when she turns, and she lets out a surprised cry as she reaches out to steady either him or herself.

"Oh! I'm so sorry; I didn't see you there. Can I blame it on this ale being strong?"

[gatheringstorm]

Spotting Kas as she appears about halfway through the night, Korrin grins as she spots one of her favorite people by the refreshments. She's obviously just come from the soiree, not bothering to change. Considering what those tailors charged, she might as well get her money's worth.

"Hey, Kas. Looking good!" She raises a mug of ale at him as soon as one's within reach. Ah, so much better than fruity Orlesian wines.

[dragoon_pride]

Well, that party was… a thing. Kain has only just left the clutches of a certain Baroness, and has decided after that whole little… moment… he definitely thinks he’s ready to be done with the ball for now. Not that it was such a bad thing, the Baroness is blonde and pretty and… very good at being forward about everything.

So, hair a bit disheveled, along with his clothes, he heads off, ending up meandering toward the valley. He’s just glancing around for the drinks and food when a loud voice calls out from above: “Taarsidath-an halsaam!!!!!” Then sure enough, the parrot flies down toward him. Kain casts an apologetic glance toward the Qunari standing nearby. "My apologies."

Wait, wait, wait, he’s like Korrin, so he may have understood that... Great.

emma swan ❀ open!

[dreamcatcher]

Emma isn't sure she really belongs at a dance right now. Red was insistent, though, and maybe a distraction will be good for her. Good for both of them, and Emma's pretty sure if she sat it out Ruby would sit it out with her, and she doesn't want her friend to be trapped in the barn just for her sake. So she's begrudingly at the dance for those not quite cut out for the soiree, and... Okay, she's enjoying it more than she thought she would.

She's dressed simply — new from what she usually wears yet far from fancy. Still, it fits her quite well and she's allowed a little bit of finery in the braids she tied her long hair up in. It's messy because she doesn't have all the product she's used to, yet the flowers studded through blonde give it a festive touch, thanks to the blossoms Red had supplied her with.

Emma spends time at the bar, and enjoying the food. It's nice to not worry too much about a meal for once. And, though she does not make an enormous point of wanting to dance, anyone brave enough to ask her? She's better at dancing than one might expect.

[aintwejust]

The music's kicked up to something he knows pretty well- something that needs someone roughly his own height (so no little ones standing on his boots) and skill (so no one what's too drunk even if he's a bit loose and easy his own self). Blonde woman near one side had seemed to know what she was about so Mal didn't blink at swinging over, swooping into a deep, fanciful bow in mockery of the bullshit go'n on up in the Keep, and a smirk. "Mind tak'n a turn 'round the way wit me?"

[aintwejust]

Business with those up on the hill, foods and a few bottles tucked into his pockets and secreted back down the hill, Mal settles in for the real fun. He'd tweaked a few noses, sure. Made a small fuss over small things that needed fuss'n- danced a bit. Down here? These are his folk. Honest folk what do honest work and don't much need fancy clothes or wine or food to have a good time. The music's good, the ale's watery but that's ale, and the dancing?

He knows all the steps, don't have to worry about offending nobody. When he's not talk'n? He's drink'n. When he's not drink'n? He's danc'n. Man, woman, child, dwarf, elf, Vashoth- don't much care who he's good for a reel or five.

[eviscerates]

"I didn't," she starts, but she's already been handed two giant steins of ale and she's not about to let it be wasted. Ruby just shrugs, murmurs a quiet okay, sure and turns to the person directly behind her.

Which means she also has to look up, holding out the ale in offering. "Drink? I'm mostly sure it's not going to kill us."

[doneisdone]

Despite having put together a few of the outfits for the soiree, Teren doubts she's invited, and is of the mind that the lower party will have far more intrigue anyway. Benevenuta's up in the Keep, doing what she does, and now she has eyes on the ground.

That said, Teren has wine. It's unclear how she acquired it, but she has it, and it is in a great big cask that is for all to use. Being the person in charge of inventories for the Wardens, it may be possible that one or two barrels got switched around. She surely has no idea what to make of that.

She doesn't stay beside the cask, but does hover in its general vicinity, slowly drinking a cup of it herself and chatting idly with any who come by: asking after their jobs in the keep, who they're serving, what are their thoughts on the Inquisition. As she'd hoped, the more drink the partygoers imbibe, the looser their tongues become. It's a goldmine right here in her lap.

1.
Come drunkenly talk to Teren about what you do for the Inquisition. Be sure to include all the details, especially whom you like and dislike, and why. She is very interested and sympathetic, a perfect sounding board. A sounding board with knowledge of how to get more booze.

2.
Wildcard! Be warned, she's a little scary.

3. (closed to Rafael and Scipio)
Having met Scipio earlier, Teren is keeping a close eye on him. It's not that he isn't a grown man who makes his own choices, she's just mildly concerned he's going to do something idiotic. She doesn't even know what that idiotic thing might be, just call it intuition.
She's also taken notice of another man around his same age, whom she wonders is the befamed Rafael. He at least looks like he's got a decent head on his shoulders, though one can never be too sure.
If either of them look her way, she gives a small wave and a wry smirk.

[bunko]

"Her."

An Antivan conman (former, reinstated for the evening), speaking to a Nevarran conman (former, reinstated for the evening), among Orlesians and Fereldans, has certain advantages. A simple advantage: to speak in Antivan can be a kind of code. To speak in an undertone, in Antivan, as you step past your partner, is an even better code, and this is what Scipio does once he has caught sight of Teren.

He has mentioned her to Rafael, because of course he has. They tell each other everything. And while they have made a great show of keeping fairly separate from one another during this ball, working opposite ends of the room, targeting the same targets but approaching from different angles--all of this work has been sly, and secretive. It would take someone watching them to note their cooperation.

Unfortunately, Teren is someone watching. So Scipio ducks past Rafa, gives the clue, under his breath--and then strolls right up to Teren. Two glasses of wine. One must meet one's problems head-on, yes?

"A drink or a dance," he proposes, and holds out one of the goblets to her. He can guess which she is more likely to choose. It isn't a difficult guess. And this may or may not be a distraction, so Rafa can keep on working. All the same, Scipio smiles blithely. "You must choose one, my friend."

[sistertohermen]

Rachette is not the sort of person that would generally be allowed at something fancy. She may be a guest of the Inquisition, and dwarves do need their representation, but an outsider casteless duster? That would not make the best impression. She isn't about to go grubbing for their money and making nice, not all that worthless nobility.

She is, however, about to sneak in while a guard isn't paying full attention, to slip around in the shadowed corners, under tables, even up rafters. She doesn't stay long. Enough to fill one bag with pilfered foods. And enough to pick at just a few pockets. Perhaps a loosened gem from a bracelet or a dress. Mostly enough to get in and get out without anyone violently throwing her out.

Look, she's been doing and been around this sort of thing for a long time. She might be young, but she knows a thing or two about swiping from the unsuspecting. The food comes with her to the real party, where people are supposed to have fun.

"What a perfectly dull party," she says with a put on airs sort of voice. "Really my dear why prattle on about what duke is humping who when you can be where the people are?"

[eviscerates]

That sentence with that put on accent gets a snort of laughter from Red, though she is making a slightly pained face at the same time.

"There are certain people who should... just not use the word 'humping,'" she comments, still laughing a little. People who she cannot imagine saying humping? Regina, mostly, although she wouldn't past Regina saying it to make someone really uncomfortable.

"But," and she has airs of her own this time, standing up too straight, so that she's almost leaning backwards, "whyever would you suggest something so uncouth?" It's too rich with self-mockery to pass for a very scathing impression, and she knows it. "No, I can't. Too common for impersonation."

Jane Shepard

[whathumansdo]

Shepard knows better than to trust herself at the fancy party. Nobles make her teeth itch. That said, she wasn't one to just turn down an excuse to celebrate. She was a firm believer that people needed to take whatever excuses they had available to relax and unwind.

When she shows up she doesn't have on a fancy dress, but at least the shirt and pants she's wearing are very feminine in cut and show off her body. She is a woman, after all, and she usually hides that behind armor and a giant sword. Now's an excuse for her to let her hair down.

She just plans on avoiding any dancing until she's well and drunk.

[middle_of_calibrating]

Even without the sword and armor it had been relatively easy for Garris to locate Shepard, the red hair a dead give away. He of course hadn't expected her to be one to dress up, but the outfit she has on is no less pleasing. Which he makes known with a low whistle as he gets closer.

"Niiice outfit," he says appreciatively with a grin. There's a mug in his hand that is no where near full, and judging by the faint flush to his cheeks he's already been enjoying the festivities.

[girlinthebox]

There's a girl on the fringes of the party, slipping in and out of sight in an iridescent gown that seems far less pinned in than a lot of the other formal wear. Beautiful, certainly, but everything about the girl screams impropriety, from the loose drape of her clothes to her wild and untended hair, to her notably bare feet as she makes her way around the fires.

This party better suits her. The nobles look at her like she's a wrong thing, like a smell that just crept in under their noses. Their smiles are hollow and their hearts are full of lies, and she does not care for them.

Here, she can be. Just be. Steal some food out from under someone's nose and sip at the mead while no one is looking. And of course, anyone with a mind to dance has a willing, if wild, partner waiting in the wings.

[aintwejust]

"Now what did I say 'bout shoes and snow?" Mal sidles around till he catches her sneak'n a little something tasty, offering the usual handful of dried fruit he kept on himself for her no matter the day. She pops up in odd places, no reason to assume he won't see her eventually. Tonight it's dried apricots, all candied with honey and sticky sweet in their paper bag.

Good, honest snacking food, better than all that lacy mess on the hill.

[unbrokenoath]

Kaisa appears about a quarter of the way through the evening, dressed fancy enough that it doesn't take too much thought to figure out that she'd just come from the soiree. She looks, however, as if she had just returned from the privy after Oghren had used it, and makes a beeline for the alcohol. No one else is acknowledged as she chugs down a glass, and then takes her dress and ties the skirt up around her thighs, revealing a pair of thin pants and boots. The dress now served as a makeshift tunic, and Kaisa, feeling and looking far more comfortable than she had before, is eager to mingle with the crowd.

She reenacts her brief conversations with the Orlesian nobles for anyone interested, often with terrible, exaggerated accents. Few are the people who would be refused a dance if they ask for it, and Kaisa goes up to several people to ask for a dance herself. Other than that, she can be spotted flirting, drinking, telling bawdy jokes, and occasionally, attempting all three at the same time.

But at least the crooked smile on her face is genuine.

[sandsofhell]

It wasn't so much as he wasn't wanted at the more formal gathering, and more of the fact that such a gathering wasn't for him. He had already made an appearance there. Not with such a large crowd of nameless, and faceless, people. Not with the remnants of the burns covering his skin, or the impassive ways that he would stare at the large throngs of people.

Most certainly not when a body, struggling and hanging by the neck; beaten and bloodied. Images of large crowds of nameless strangers jeering and throwing rocks and whatever they could get a hold, or the sounds of gunfire like a drum, screaming and stampeding of feet.

No...he can't do crowded areas. Instead Walker would stay in his seat, nodding to whoever decided to glance his way and gulping down his beer. It was cheap, didn't taste all that great, but still kept his mind empty and intoxicated.

[dalishious]

Now this is where Merrick belongs. Bonfires, drinks, music and good people.

Once he ditches the ball and heads outside to where the real party's at, he relaxes considerably. Sobriety had left him long ago, and he joins in the music and dance, getting his hands on a guitar more than once to play and sing. His voice soars over the crackling of the fire, soulful and bright.

When he's not singing he's relaxing by the fire, wrapped up in a thick cloak, passing a pipe around to whoever's nearby.

[arlathvhen]

Beleth will spend most of her night at the soiree, but she pops down to the other party as a breather, and to visit without obnoxious nobles breathing down her neck. Merrick is one of the people she wants to spend time with, and to give him something she's been working on for a while. And so she sits and listens while he sings, a soft, fond smile on her face.

Once he finishes a song, she flashes him a proud grin, and even gives him a quiet round of applause. Then Beleth holds up a finger, reaching for her lute. The melody she plays is not particularly complex, and Merrick can probably recognize the influence of several Dalish songs. There's no denying that Beleth's practice paid off, however. It may be simple, but she plays it well.

And then she starts singing.

"Oh, fiercest fighter..." The subject of the song is never named, but it shouldn't be too hard to figure out. And, of course, as soon as Beleth is finished, her eyes dart up to Merrick, apprehensively waiting to see his reaction.

[failedfirst]

Velanna likely would not have bothered with the party, if it weren't practically on her front doorstep. As it is she doesn't make an appearance until later, when the revelry and music finally make it so impossible for her to focus on her own work that she gives up and joins the party. She even changes, though the green dress she wears isn't anything terribly special, something she got because she liked the color more than anything. The main thing that makes her appearance differ from usual is she's taken her hair out of the tight bun she typically wears, letting it fall it's natural path down her back.

Despite her more feminine dress she doesn't strike out chatting up anyone who doesn't approach her first, rather she sticks to where the food is, or sitting and watching the others move around. She's a wallflower, and always has been.

[dwarfing]

After spending four hours with nobles passing them while walking towards the main keep while making delicate gasps or swoons as they saw the golem, Shale had quite enough and just walked off before they smacked someone.

At first they had just decided to wander into the woods for a while, but instead Shale was drawn to the music and the laughter of the other party. It should be annoying them more, but it was better than just staring at snow for the rest of the night.

The golem was restless, after all.

While not about to dance anytime this age or the next, Shale does get close enough to watch the people making fools of themselves. It was at least somewhat entertaining.

...as long as nobody pissed or puked on them.

[justice_is_blond]

He's spent enough time on the dance floor, following the steps, having a few partners, and Anders is a little tired. Really, at this point, he's mostly just waiting for Nate to give in to the pain from his injuries and need to head back.

While he waits, there's an entirely convenient rock to lean against. It's a little glowy, but he blames that on the light from the fires and the one drink he's had. Another glance at the thing he's leaning on tells him it's been roughly carved, and there's a...

Anders jerks back to his feet. There's a face. Maybe it's the fire? Except he's seen extremely similar looks in the Deep Roads and maybe he shouldn't assume.

"Hello?" And if it's just a rock, at least no one is close enough to laugh at him.