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

[girlinthebox]

"Some days I feel the sun. Feel the sky stretching high, feel the breeze on my skin. Things are louder, brighter then, but they're not too loud." Her head tips slightly, her untidy hair slipping over her shoulders. "Some days it gets closer. The walls are gray and glass and I can't push through, just wait for it to pass. It's quieter, but not better."

It makes her wonder what would 'cure' her in truth. How much of herself would need to be cut away to excise the sickness?

"Simon is trying other things," she continues, her tone slightly hopeful. "And the stars are bright, tonight. People are bright, shining, glimmering in the dark."

[justice_is_blond]

"Hold the sun and the sky, and I hope they do not become too loud. And if I can be of help to you or your brother, let me know."

Doubtlessly Simon has exhausted every regular avenue, but he has familiarity with creating things on his own, mixing them, finding new ways to mend and cure. If they've found a happy medium them good, but if there's a way to help Anders will be there. She deserves a chance to live.