hold tight, you're slowly coming back to life

[circlejerked]

Who: Anders (circlejerked), Cullen Rutherford (morework), Garrett Hawke (bloodmagics), Nathaniel Howe (noble_son), and Robyn Cousland (heroica).
Where: First floor, room ten.
When: Backdated to Nov. 2. (Room will remain from Nov. 2-7th for anyone who wants to celebrate in the Antivan tradition.)
Rating: PG? Will change if Cullen loses at Wicked Grace.
Summary: A belated Satinalia celebration for aging dragons. It's time to eat your feelings and drink away your woes, just like the Maker intended.
The Story:



<sub>[Why is it Wonderland seems to acknowledge every holiday from every other world except Thedas'? They've celebrated Summerween, they've celebrated Halloween, but in all the confusion Anders looks up and realizes they've managed to overlook the most important holiday of them all.

Um. Satinalia, of course. What else?

Then and there Anders decides they (for a loose definition of they, since there's a pitifully small number of Thedosians left) could use a little holiday cheer. Once he gets it in his head to bring the idea up to one Thedosian, it occurs to him he might as well bring it up to all of them. It's not much of a festive Satinalia with just one or two people. Thus, he devises a diplomatic and tasteful invitation to those still present that announces his intentions. It goes a little like:]</sub>

Do you know what day it is? Check your calendar! Not those Earth calendars, OUR calendar. Satinalia passed us by without a single feast or embarrassing joke gift. As a loyal Ferelden, I can't let this stand.

I also don't want to celebrate alone because that's sad, so with that in mind, see yourselves to room 10 on the first floor for dinner tonight and let's pretend we're anywhere but here.

<sub>[Anders goes to great lengths to dress the room up in such a way that will be familiar to everyone, which is why should Wonderland's remaining Thedosians drop by, they'll step into what appears to be, for all intents and purposes, a trashy tavern with a long wooden bench in the center, the kind you'd find in any backwater Ferelden village. It even smells like Ferelden--old straw, sour beer, and dog.

Garlands string the walls and classic Ferelden dishes line the table. Everyone gets a Satinalia gift from Anders composed of assorted alcohol (it's not a proper party without the key ingredient, after all). Cullen gets a little something extra--a knitted scarf, because it's never too late to keep your promises.

Happy holidays, one and all.]</sub>


Closed to Robyn


_{[Robyn's text has an extra line attached to it.]}

PS: I have something special for you. Now you HAVE to come, or you'll never find out what it is and you'll live the rest of your life in suspense.

<sub>[Anders isn't above some heavy-handed manipulation to get people to agree to a dinner date. And they're not entirely empty threats--he actually does have something for her. It sits waiting for her at her spot at the table: a leather sleeve, the kind for protecting documents.

He's been holding onto it for a while, it just never felt like... the right time. Now's as good an opportunity as any, he figures.]</sub>

Comments

yes here I am!

[noble_son]

[It wasn't exactly the kind of invitation that he was accustomed to, neither as an Arl's son or a Grey Warden, but it was certainly an Anders kind of invitation and - as with much of the mage's ridiculousness - it also wasn't something that Nathaniel could ignore.

The distinctly Ferelden smell hits him before he even opens the door, and he struggles valiantly to keep the faint smirk from becoming anything more than that as he observes what Anders has done with the room. Their numbers might be pitifully few now, but it didn't look as if any effort had been spared when it came to decoration.

So he smiles - or he does what passes for smiling for Nathaniel - and quirks one eyebrow in Anders' direction.]

I'd almost missed that smell. [Then, he almost laughs.] The number of mabari in Ferelden really doesn't account for it.

[circlejerked]

<sub>[You are very welcome for this excuse to have a social life, Mr. Howe.

Anders has settled at the table, cheek propped against his hand, already working through a pint of ale and a plate of lamb sweetbread, a recipe remembered from some village he'd long forgotten the name of but whose cook had been able to do things with a slab of meat and a pinch of spices that could make a man's taste buds weep in joy. It's home in all but name. He looks up when Nathaniel enters, pleased to see he's decided to join them.]</sub>

That pungent aroma really brings back memories, doesn't it?

<sub>[It's not the sort of fanciness an Arl's son is probably used to seeing, but it's more festivity than the Grey Wardens are typically known for. Darkspawn don't take breaks for holidays, and neither does the Order.

When Anders thinks of his best Satinalias, he thinks of the spare few he'd spent as a free man, drifting from town to town one step ahead of the templars. Nothing special, nothing elegant, but good food and a fire keeping the chill at bay hadn't needed to be in those days.]</sub>

Pull up a chair. You better help me eat all of this before my cats do.

[noble_son]

Mm... it does. [Some of them he'd rather forget, but he keeps his expression wry. No, it isn't the kind of fanciness he'd got used to seeing at his father's home, or even during his time in the Free Marches, but Anders was right about both sides of the coin - Wardens certainly weren't known for their merrymaking.

He takes a seat beside the mage and gently nudges his arm with one elbow.]

I never understood how an entire kingdom could smell so pervasively of the same thing.

[circlejerked]

All we're missing is the dwarven flatulence, but I didn't want to get too crazy. There are children present.

_{[He looks to his two kittens. They count as children. Furry children.]}

We're just so lucky, I guess. Out there in the universe is a kingdom of skunks, I'm sure.

[noble_son]

Hmmm... I don't know, Anders.

[He pets the nearest cat, rubbing the tip of one finger against the top of its head. Nathaniel has a considering look on his face, as if the next thing out of his mouth is going to be something deep and meaningful.

Of course, it isn't.]

You kept out of the Deep Roads; you missed some really unpleasant smells. [A faint, crooked smirk.] They don't even have words for what a putrefying broodmother smells like.

[circlejerked]

_{[In response, he shrugs. Oh, he wishes he didn't know the kinds of subterranean horrors and foul aromas Nathaniel's talking about.]}

The Anders you know must be a smarter man than me. This one's had his fill of the Deep Roads.

_{[The Mother trying to strangle him to death with her creepy, crawly tentacles isn't something one forgets. Ser Pounce-a-lot hadn't been very impressed with the aesthetic, either. Not a fan of ancient dwarven architecture, perhaps.]}

I'll take wet dog any day of the week.

[noble_son]

Tch... I used to volunteer you on purpose.

[Is he joking? He might be joking, but it's honestly hard to tell when his face is set in such a serious expression. Of course, it's hard to take that expression seriously when it comes along with gently petting a cat.]

I couldn't say that I didn't understand, though. Some of the things you find down there...

[He shakes his head, a small frown furrowing his brow.]

But-- Ah, there are better things to speak of. Sunlight, for instance.

[circlejerked]

Finding a way to send you in my place at least sounds about right.

<sub>[Now that does seem like a very Anders-ish thing to do, and he smiles, unapologetically amused. He probably hadn't been sorry then, and he isn't sorry now.

Still, he trades the smile in for a mock shudder at thought of the kinds of "things" waiting to haunt a man's dreams down in those roads. There are definitely more cheery topics to discuss on Satalina. Belated Satinalia. Close enough.]</sub>

And drinks! Don't forget the drinks. My gift to you. You know, to wash the taste of brainwashing out of your mouth.

[noble_son]

Brainwash--... Anders, please. [He sounds insulted, but Maker knows he is trying very hard not to smile behind the mask of distaste. He conceals it by taking a long pulls on the drink in his hands.]

Yes, the drinks.

[Brainwashing. The things that come out of your mouth, Anders. It's no wonder half the Wardens in Weisshaupt wanted to kick him down the mountain.]

You are ruthless, do you know that?