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

[dreamcatcher]

It's kind of hilarious that Emma isn't the one that managed to hurt herself dancing. Despite the last name, Emma is not known for her gracefulness. "Whoa," she says sympathetically, reaching out to try and consolidate the worst of the damage by giving Ruby something to hold onto. Doesn't seem to help too much.

"Okay, dancing queen. Maybe we should sit down." Emma pulls Red's arm over her shoulder, and her expression does not offer any flexibility. She'll be helping you to your chair now, Red!

[eviscerates]

"It looks like my ballet career is over," she laments as Emma steers her, thowing her friend a look that is most definitely along the lines of "poor me :(."

She hops as Emma leads her to a bench, letting herself be supported a bit and her eyebrows raising with exaggerated woe as she looks at her ankle, which has approximately zero swelling or bruising, and is making her feeling like kind of a wimp. "What do you think? Will I make it?"