entrancelogs | IO, SATURNALIA!

Entry tags:

IO, SATURNALIA! | OPEN

Who: EVERYONE
Where: THE BALLROOM
When: THREE WHOLE DAYS - 12/17-12/19
Rating: PG-13 (or higher depending how rowdy you guys get)
Summary: IO, SATURNALIA! The party has arrived and it is here to stay for 72 hours straight of good food, gambling, dancing, drinking, singing, and so on and so forth!
The Story:

A few days into Ewaymas, on December 15th, everyone will wake up to a scroll outside their door. This scroll is an invitation to a Saturnalia celebration in two days, and everyone is welcome! If asked for clothing for the party, the closets will provide synthesis – brightly colored Roman robes – for the occasion, but the dress code is mostly just colorful and fun, if you choose to abide by it.

Starting on the 17th there will be a lavish feast in the ballroom, and food and drink are never in short supply. Drunkenness is encouraged, but there will be non-alcoholic beverages as well. There will be tables set up for gambling and dice games, music from a wide variety of worlds (specifically to encourage loud singing along and dancing all night - some are holiday remixes but others aren't), and areas for dancing and playing other games. The decorations are all in a rainbow of bright colors like the synthesis, with suns hanging up and candles floating in the air. Laurels and pileus will be available at the party for everyone to wear on their heads.

It's the kind of party that will get increasingly louder and rowdier...and it literally won't end for three whole days. Those prone to gluttony, greed, or even just escapism will find themselves not wanting to leave the party at all. There's always something to do and you can always just pass out of the floor when you're tired, right? Right! No one knows how to party like the Romans did. At the end of the day on the 19th though, all of the decorations and food will vanish and the party will abruptly come to an end.

Prose or [Action Brackets] are more than welcome, and if you have any questions please send them over to the FAQ thread for the event!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I wouldn't be crowded, but if you're shy...

[She manages a slight smirk, though, and cants her head to the side. He's swaying, and that does actually mean she'll let her former-waitress instincts kick in. She sits up on the couch, making room for him and then motioning to the now-opened spot once more.]

...I can make some room. I'd rather not have to clean up your blood if you end up falling on the floor.

[She purses her lips.]

I can't say for sure that talking about me is going to be cheerful, either. What do you want to know?

[He pouts a little at the suggestion that he's shy - he'd rather think of it as gentlemanly but fine.]

I'm not going to start bleeding everywhere just from a fall.

[He thinks. It would be embarrassing if he did. It's mostly defensiveness that makes him argue the point given he hasn't often had the opportunity to drink much. Alistair considers the space she's made for a moment before moving to join her, dropping heavily into the seat. Despite the alcohol he does his best not to crowd her for now, though that could well change.

He pauses, a worried expression flashing across his face. The way she says it, that she's not going to be a particularly cheerful topic to talk about, he's worried he's said the wrong thing. But Mystique doesn't seem offended and hasn't said she'd rather talk about something else. And he really is curious.]

Where are you from? I've never seen your people before.

[It can be a bit of both, Alistair - to be fair.

She snorts at his statement, though.]

All right, you've got me on that one. Unless you had really bad luck, you probably wouldn't.

[She doesn't consider it crowding, really, and she's used to being the person doing the invading of peoples' personal space...so she reclines a little again, swirling her drink.

Her lips twitch into an amused smirk.]

I don't really have a 'people' in the way that you're saying it. There are other mutants where I'm from, but nobody who really looks much like me.

[Azazel or Beast were the closest in texture and colour, respectively.

Or ... Azazel was. She swallows that thought and shakes her head.]

Both my parents were human.

[Maybe they still are, but she doesn't know -- or care.]

Well, my luck is pretty bad usually.

[He grins a little at that and sways closer, listening to her answer with an intent expression. Leaning back again he stares at Mystique in bafflement, clearly struggling to make sense of things.]

You- I. Oh. That's... weird.

[Both her parents were human. So she's human? But she's blue. And... different. But still human?

Alistair's face clears so suddenly there should really be a lightbulb hovering over his head - or a lightning bolt given his next question.]

You're like a mage then! [Mages could be born to non-mage parents. In fact, from what he'd been told most were, as most mages didn't really get to have children.] Do you do magic?

[There's a hint of wariness about him now, that he can't hide with as much as he's had to drink. She seems nice but his history with mages hasn't been the best and, well, he really doesn't want to get turned into a toad or something. He's never seen it happen but it could still be possible.]

[She's fully prepared to be offended by his use of the word 'weird' until he looks like he relates what she's saying to something (she presumes) from his world.

When the word 'mage' comes out of his mouth, she has to suppress a laugh - but it's clear enough a few moments later that he wasn't kidding. He really has come out of some sort of fantasy novel, hasn't he?]

...no, not magic. I know some people like me whose powers might be mistaken for magic, but it's -- not that, really. We don't use staffs, and we don't fly.

[She pauses.]

Okay, I don't fly, and only the mutants with wings can really fly.

[Not like Erik's levitation using magnetic fields, or Banshee's gliding.]

If I show you what I can do, you have to promise not to, uh -- start a mob and hunt me down or something.

[Alistair nods eagerly, more than a little excited to see what she can do if not magic. Or flying. Which is almost a shame but maybe she can do something just as good.]

Trust me, if I ever tried to raise a mob I'd be the one who'd end up getting run out of town - or crazy-land - by it instead.

[He's sure that he's just that bad a leading people, no matter the goal. But she is asking seriously and if the mutants she talks about are even a little bit like mages then it makes sense she's wary. Most people in Ferelden are nervous around magic and mistrustful of mages, even when they're trying to help. His expression turns earnest and (briefly) serious.]

But I promise. I'm not going to hurt you. [He pauses then adds-] Unless you start cackling madly and trying to turn me into a frog. Then I'll feel justified in fighting back but only because I'm too charming to be a frog. OK?

[Wow, this guy has got some self-esteem issues. She can't really talk, though, so no judgment from her -- at least out loud. She laughs, shaking her head.]

Okay, got it. No cackling, no frogs. I won't even ribbit at you, just in case.

[And with a shake of her head, she decides to show him exactly what she can do. Her skin ripples smoothly down so that she's settled in the form of first her usual blonde body, and then so that she's an exact copy of Alistair himself.]

Ta-da!

[She holds her arms out with flourish, even.]

[He does not! ...OK, maybe he does but that's not anyone's business.

Alistair gapes as Mystique changes before his eyes, first into a pretty young woman - with clothes thankfully - and then into his own, larger form, also fortunately clothed. He's seen Morrigan shapeshift before so it's not completely new to him but Morrigan turns into giant spiders or bears and the like not people. And she'd never ever look like him even if she could mimic others.]

That's amazing!

[He reaches out to poke 'himself' in the chest cautiously, confirming that yes, it's real not just some illusion.]

Can you turn into anything you like? Or anyone?

[The part of him that still remembers his training to control mages points out that it could be dangerous too if she can imitate anyone - like the ruler of a nation. But so is magic when used for the wrong purpose and Mystique hasn't given him any reason to mistrust her so that part can shut up.]

[Well, this was a much more hilarious reaction than the ones she's had so far from others. She grins, still in his body, and clears her throat.]

Anyone, anything. Within reason.

[Things that were larger than her or significantly smaller took a toll on her body and were harder to maintain. She wasn't going to just share that with someone she'd only just met, though. She lets her body shift back to its resting form, pulling a knee up to her chest. She's more comfortable speaking to him now that he knows about her mutation, and it shows in her posture.]

I've never tried something more than a few times my size, and I've always stuck to living things.

[The idea of shifting into something that doesn't naturally breathe is -- unsettling.]

[She even sounds like him! Which should be less of a surprise than it is, as it wouldn't be very useful looking different if she still sounded the same.]

Wow. That really is incredible!

[He's grinning broadly as she changes back, leaning closer and gesturing expansively while speaking. She does appear more at ease now and it makes Alistair relax (further) in turn. Not that he needed much encouragement to start with.]

So you couldn't turn into a dragon? There goes that brilliant plan. [Unless it was a young dragon, those were smaller. But he didn't really want a dragon around anyway.]

I know a witch who can turn into animals but I've never seen anyone do something like that. Is it common where you're from?

[She had mentioned people with wings before but maybe that was also a shapeshifting thing. Or a strange-looking-person thing. Something like that.]

[Careful, Alistair, or you might touch one of her pretty bare legs. She pauses, raising her eyebrow.]

I can honestly say I've never tried to turn into a dragon. I try to stick to creatures that actually exist - it's a little easier for people to believe you that way.

[She focuses back on what he's saying. Okay, so magic is a real thing where he's from. Interesting.]

As far as I know, I'm the only one who's developed this mutation. I know at least a few psychics, and people with varied abilities to fly, like I said -- but I'm one-of-a-kind, for now.

...what exactly were you planning that involved a dragon?

Dragons are real, I- [Right. Different places. How exactly did he manage to forget that when she's blue?] I mean, they're real where I'm from.

[But he sees her point. A dragon would draw lots of attention in Thedas too and everyone knows they exist.]

What? No, I wasn't planning anything with a dragon! Dragons are terrible. I was just- I don't really want a dragon.

[The ones he'd had the displeasure of meeting he'd rather not have. There was no need to repeat the experience. Really none.]

So there's no one else who can do what you do? Does that mean you taught yourself how to change your shape?

[Mages needed to be taught their magic so he's assuming Mystique would have required the same. But if no one else can do what she does then she must have figured it all out on her own somehow. Which would be no mean feat if it's anything like magic.]

...ah, of course. I did say you looked like you'd just stepped out of one of those high-fantasy novels.

[She can't help the small laugh, though -- she smiles, shakes her head -- at least up until he asks her about her powers. Her face falls and she drains her glass almost sulkily before she answers his question. Someone twirls by and fills up her glass again, fortunately.]

Nobody else. And I didn't -- teach myself anything. It just ... happened. Your powers manifest first when you're angry or scared. I was fighting with another child who was over at my home, and she hit me -- I just watched my skin change.

She ran away. It took me a day to look like who I'd been before again, but not before my family threw me out.

[Cheery, that.]

Ok?

[He's really not sure what she means by a 'high-fantasy' novel - unless it's what she calls one of those Orlesian stories about over-dressed nobles flouncing about betraying each other. In which case he does look the part. It would be an embarrassing comparison if he didn't manage to ruin the good mood a moment later.]

I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up bad memories. [He chews on his lip worriedly before offering-]

I- The man who raised me. He sent me away when I was just a boy, to a place I hated. It's not the same but I understand a little what it's like to lose your home.

[Even if he hadn't been very welcome in Redcliffe before he left, it had been the only home he'd ever known and being sent away had hurt.]

[Well, when it comes to reactions to her little story ... Alistair's isn't the worst that she's come across by a pretty wide margin. She grimaces, taking another sip of her drink before she continues. She might as well try to be sympathetic with someone that she might actually have things in common with.]

The man who raised you -- not your father, then. I'm -- sorry, I know what that's like too.

[Charles had taken her in, and although she'd made her choice to leave him and he hadn't sent her away, it was still painful.]

It was so long ago, I don't even know if they're bad memories any more. Just ... memories. I don't even call myself by the same name any more. It helps.

-- where'd he send you?

It was a while ago for me too and I... understand why he made that choice. I didn't at the time but like you said, it's just a memory now.

[And since then he's had a chance to speak with Eamon again, however briefly. It's a better outcome than it sounds like Mystique had so he shouldn't complain. In answer to her question Alistair smiles and shrugs, some of his earlier good humour returning.]

He sent me to an abbey. I'm not especially pious so you can guess how I felt about that.

[Along with the fact that he hadn't gotten along with any of the other boys there it hadn't been a happy place for him. It's not something he cares to discuss much so, in an effort to lighten the tone he nudges her, leaning in conspiratorially.]

You think I should try changing my name too? I never tried. I could start calling myself Al... fred? What do you think? Does it suit me?

[Not that a new name would have changed the important facts of his life, mind. The people who mattered would still know him and his unfortunate royal heritage whatever he called himself so it wouldn't have made a difference there. Still it's better than the two of them dwelling on unpleasant memories.]

[She's still mad at her family, but having them abandon and then later try to kill you -- it means you develop something of a sore spot over it. When he mentions not being pious, she laughs herself.]

At least you know that entering a church doesn't make heathens burst into flame in your world, right? That's something.

[Then he mentions the name-change idea and her laughter heightens.]

I think that Alfred sounds like you're the butler to a masked superhero, so you should probably try again. How about ...

[She purses her lips, thinking, and leaning in a little so that their shoulders are touching past the nudge.]

Liam!

[It's practically 'ali', right? Close enough.]

That's true. Bursting into flame is reserved for people who fight dragons, no matter who they worship.

[It would be absolutely terrible if Chantries could make people catch fire. He'd just bet they'd use it on people who fell asleep during the boring bits - something he knew nothing about, of course - and that would just be cruel.

But he's relieved to see her laughing - it's much better than talking about things that upset her.]

'Liam'? That's not very manly.

[Which is so very important to him and his manly pride. His pride that would never tolerate anything like him embarrassing himself in front of pretty girls or wearing anything less intimidating than blood-splattered armour - like fancy outfits fit for a prancing noble.

Still leaning against her, Alistair twists around to smile widely down at her, shaking his head cheerfully.]

Come on, there has to be something manlier than that! Like maybe... Hmmm, Caleb? No, that's no good... This is hard! How long did it take you to come up with Mystique? I bet it took forever, admit it!

[Unfortunately for Alistair, a lot of her life revolves around really terrible, traumatic things happening...at least the parts of her life not carefully isolated by her adolescence. She snorts at his reply, noticing him still leaning against her.

She takes the opportunity to quirk her eyebrow at him and reach up to place her thumb and forefinger under his chin, as if examining his face to discern this new name of his.]

Well, Caleb makes you sound like you're some sort of chubby cherub.

And it really didn't take that long. I was just -- happy, and with friends.

[Most of whom were dead now, actually. She clears her throat, not wanting to bring that up.]

I wanted something with -- feminine allure.

[Which totally sounds more stupid now that she's saying it out loud.]

[And there is the blush, right back with him like it never left. It doesn't even matter why she's holding his face and staring at him, it's still enough to turn him red as a tomato and make him forget her comment about his suggested name.

Swallowing nervously, Alistair's eyes flick over her from head to toe before fixing back on her face determinedly.]

I don't think you need a name to have that.

[If it's 'feminine allure' she's after she really needs to just sit there. Naked. And now he sounds like a complete pig ]

Ah, forget I said that!

[Distraction, distraction he needs a distraction! What had she just said about choosing her name? That sounded like a good start.]

Are any of your friends here too? I know a couple - well, one other person here. And there's others from my home. What about you?

[Careful, Alistair - Mystique has a bad habit of taking any positive attention toward her looks to a quickly emotional level. The blush and the way his eyes move across her cause a coy smile to cross her lips.]

I'd rather not.

[She laughs gently, dropping the hand that had been on his chin down to just above his knee.]

Fortunately not. Most of the people who could show up here would probably make things complicated for me.

I- ah. Ahem. Ha. Right.

[He's beginning to wonder if Mystique isn't trying to see if she can make him spontaneously combust. Why does he always seem to meet people who enjoy embarrassing him? Alright, the answer to that is obvious even to him - it's easy. So very easy and so very obvious when he is. But just once it would be nice if someone didn't take advantage of that. And while he's at it, he'd like all the problems back home to just disappear and a cheese-wheel that never runs out.

Eyeing her hand nervously Alistair drags his eyes back up to her face as she speaks, his cheeks still red.]

I guess I can understand that. Complicated is a good way to put it. Some of the people from my home.... Maker, I don't know what to think.

[And it's very quickly gotten awkward, despite his only just recognising one of them. Not that having certain people he does know present would be much better. Either way he can sympathise and maybe he's being naive - or is still a bit tipsy - but he can't not offer-]

If you ever need a friend - I know we just met, but you said you're here alone and so if you do need anything you can always ask. Me. Ask me. I mean. Clearly.

[In truth, she's less trying to make him spontaneously combust and more testing the waters of what it is that he's going to tolerate from a near-stranger. Touch isn't unpleasant, after all, and he's been nice enough to her. Call She it ... curiosity. She leaves her hand where it is for the moment, neither moving it further up nor away from him.

Then he's offering to let her confide in him, and she can't help but be flattered - because she isn't used to this kind of openness at home, and having it here is a refreshing change. The atmosphere of the party doesn't hurt, either.]

I'd like that - if we were friends.

[She's smiling again, a little more genuinely, and then she adds, for good measure,]

So long as it isn't going to make the people from your home think you've been seduced by the dark side, or whatever it's called where you're from...and that you know it goes both ways. You want to talk out what you should think about your people from home -- trust me, I'm an expert at mulling over and analyzing the actions of people who say they're your friends and then act like the complete opposite.

[As far as touching goes Alistair will tolerate a surprising amount no matter how awkward he feels. He doesn't want to be rude and, more importantly, there hasn't been a lot of physical affection in his life. Honestly, it is nice when he's not tripping over himself with nerves. If she were a man - or wearing clothes - he'd be a lot less worried. Given time he'll be just fine with it, something it seems he'll be getting as she doesn't reject his poorly phrased offer.]

Me too!

[He beams back at Mystique, happily surprised by the offer extended in return.]

Really? You'd do that for me? Most people just tell me to stop complaining. [That's mostly an exaggeration - though he has been told off for whining plenty of times it was sometimes (mostly) justified. But that she makes the offer at all means a lot.] Thanks, I- thanks.

[He hesitates a moment then reaches up and squeezes her shoulder affectionately. Letting his hand drop back into his lap Alistair clears his throat self-consciously.]

And you don't have to worry about them thinking you've done something to me. Believe it or not, possessed people act even stranger than I do.

[It's been much the same, although she fell more into the 'abandoned' category than the 'technical orphan' one. She finds his awkwardness oddly charming - she has a type, okay? Normally they're a little more brainy, but kindness is definitely more important as far as she's concerned.]

Trust me, I listened to my older brother complain through his whole time at Oxford not only about schoolwork, but about girls as well. It can't be worse than that.

[She takes his words into consideration, although she still might be cautious of people he knows mistaking her for some sort of demon. The squeeze to her shoulder elicits a small, pleased 'hmm' out of her, but since he's busy clearing his throat he likely doesn't notice. When he drops his hands into his lap, she brings the hand that had been on his leg to rest on his forearm instead.]

And I've met stranger. Being a waitress means people tell you the weirdest stuff.

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