after all these years, you don't want to see me poppin' outta da cake?!

[wickedchase]

WHO: Twisted Fate & OPEN
WHAT: Everything is super serious and elves are in baby jail, so it's a good time to have your birthday party and have it be as loud as possible.
WHEN: 4th of Cloudreach
WHERE: Herald's Rest
NOTES: There might be nudity. Heinous!

♠ EARLY AFTERNOON.

So bees aside.

Yes, there was a bit of a bee problem a few days ago in the room that Twisted Fate had acquired while Sera was gone. As he said, all was fair among fellow thieves, and he really doesn't need the room, but it's such a good location he thought he'd... borrow it awhile, at least until it stopped being funny. He isn't even sure he managed to get all of the bees out, but he does need to eventually plan a little strike back to her.

Post-birthday, anyway.

For now, there are drinks, there is cake -- red velvet, thank you -- and little paper hats for you!

Socialize, be merry. Twisted Fate is around somewhere, no doubt.


♠ EARLY EVENING.

At this point, there are games to be had, as one might expect.

Wicked Grace and Diamondback are the popular choices, though Twisted Fate might encourage a few drinking games as well. Alternatively, perhaps you come up with your own game.

After all, he's never opposed to try something new.


♠ LATE, LATE, LATE.

Plenty of people, perhaps even yourself, has probably taken in so much drink by this point that nothing is quite even and thinking is hard. But it's all in good fun.

How are you feeling? Or is the party over?


♠ WILDCARD.

Choose your own adventure!

Comments

[justice_is_blond]

Burned them alive. He hears the screaming as he snaps back into control, and fear floods his mind. What had he done? What had Justice done? It had just been a fight, that's all, and he scrambles to his knees, away, anywhere, to see... no fire. No flames. Nerva is alive.

There are no bodies, and he doesn't know if the shaking is from relief or panic or adrenaline or all of the above. No one died this time. They could have, though, they could have, the formerly full tavern is right there and he could have set the entire thing ablaze.

The fact that she's still yelling and trying to reach for him is distant. He looks up wordlessly at Fate before looking away. He should have... Maker. He should have stopped after returning the punch. He'd gotten his hit in, he could have walked away and shut up and not ruined the elf's party. Maybe he should have even just walked away from the start for once in his life.

Anders one-handedly fishes for his staff in the muck, mutely staring at nothing in particular as he finally finds it and shakily gets to his feet. He could have killed people today, and he feels beyond sick.

[wickedchase]

Frankly, he's annoyed with both of them, but he's stepped in the middle of a mess of personal issues coming to the surface for both of them. An ex-Templar and an ex-Circle mage with both having issues with the other -- really, what's to expect.

Twisted Fate moves in smoothly, gritting his teeth as his boots step into the mud. Not something he's happy about, but he's going to make sure this does not continue.

"Nerva!" Fate calls for her. "Nerva, it's over."

He glances over his shoulder at Anders, frowning under the brim of his hat. It's tempting to make a cutting remark, maybe at both, maybe at just one, but right now he's more interested in ensuring that this is done.

Twisted Fate is greatly disapproving of both of them.

[keeperofmagi]

Fate's voice cuts through hers and it finally seems to register, the words dying on her tongue. She is filthy, sitting in the mud, her breathing hard and ragged, staring down Anders as if her glare alone could slay him.

It's over, and for a second she's confused - because how could it be over, it would never be over, the fire would never stop burning, and she could feel it - feel the skin bubble and melt on her shoulder--

But then she's in the mud, two and a half decades later, outside a tavern, in the heart of the Inquisition and Twisted Fate is there, and the look on his face makes her want to squirm out of her armour and scrub it clean, and she can taste the copper on her tongue--

She pulls herself upright, staggering back a step, trying to centre herself as the awareness washes over her.

And with it comes the shame, and the sharp tang of bile in her throat.

[justice_is_blond]

He takes a step back, at a loss for words, and that's when the pain pierces the numbness and he nearly trips. Only the staff is keeping him upright. Her landing on top of him had been hard and he's going be covered in bruises come morning; a barrier put up that hastily couldn't block enough, apparently.

Twisted Fate gets another look, heavy and sorry, but Anders can't get the words out and it's not just because his jaw hurts. He's supposed to have some sort of control. He's supposed to not be a huge risk to everyone. The reality is so much different and he's been fooling himself. Putting everyone here in danger because he so desperately wanted to make everything worth it by helping more.

A glance at the gathered crowd shows too many faces for him to take them all in, but one stands out. Nate. Great. It's like the Maker wanted him to disappoint everyone all at once... but he doesn't see judgement there. Maybe Nate's waiting until they're back at the Warden camp. It doesn't really matter, what matters is Anders knows he can get a hand back from the man and that thought's an even heavier one as he slowly starts making his way over and away from Nerva and Twisted Fate.

[wickedchase]

For a moment, Twisted Fate is silent, watching Anders leave with Nathaniel. His eyes are narrowed as he watches the Grey Warden go. It's for the best; at this point, he doesn't expect that Nerva and Anders can really be in the same area within each other. He hasn't stepped in between them in the past, preferring to let the conflict sort itself out. It's how he is.

Obviously, that can't really continue. The longer he spends in the Inquisition, the less Twisted Fate can find he can avoid this sort of thing.

He turns to Nerva, glancing her over, not entirely without sympathy. A sigh escapes him.

"Let's talk later. For now, perhaps get yourself sorted out," Fate suggests quietly.

[keeperofmagi]

She doesn't meet his eyes. The shame burns hot once the rage dissipates, and she doesn't need to see it in his face to know his disappoint. She'd promised herself. She'd promised--

She doesn't speak, just nods. Once. Hard and sharp, and not looking at him. She turns, every part of her sore and stiff, and walks away.