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!

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"If he was going to kill us, he would have done it a long time ago," she points out, offering a little shrug beneath the strange clothing. "He's had more than one opportunity, and he's been with most of us alone, I think."

No, if anyone is going to kill her, it'll be the Archdemon, and she has no intention of letting that happen, either. It won't be Zevran, though, and it certainly won't be Loghain.

"Oh, he's all right," she said fondly, smiling again. She's grateful for Dorian and thinks highly of him as made clear by the expression. Though Brennan and Dorian aren't especially overt about their relationship, it momentarily slips her mind that he might not know about their relationship. Or, perhaps more accurately, that he might not know why she would not be pursued by the mage.

"He charms most that he meets, I think." Robyn laughs lightly, trying to quash the little, hopeful bud that appears at Alistair's tone. "I'm glad that we've been able to get so close."

As friends and confidants, she means, but doesn't vocalize (because, in her mind, that bit is implied). Never mind that he doesn't like dogs...

"Close." He says it like the word itself tastes bad, something unpleasant already prickling at his gut despite himself. He knows he could well be overreacting and it might be nothing closer than friendship. Alistair has spoken to the man in question himself and his first impression is that he could come to call him a friend given time. But the idea has wormed its way into his head and it's like watching an rock-slide careening towards a village in that he can't just look away and pretend it's not there.

"Just how close are we talking?" Why is he asking this? He doesn't need to know and definitely doesn't need her to ask why he wants to know. And he doesn't want to know. Not at all. She'd saved his life and he owes her at least a little for that... which is why he's asking and not accusing. Or even hinting. Just asking out of curiosity because he's trying to be friendly. And maybe he's thinking a little bit of someone who looks a lot like him and is certainly a very likable person. But mostly he's just trying to take an interest. Really.

Well as she knows Alistair, she can also be blissfully ignorant of some things, usually immediately going for the more optimistic or innocent meaning in others' words and actions before doing anything else. It's why she doesn't save him the discomfort of their conversation quite yet, nodding slowly, thinking back to the handful of pleasant conversations she'd had with the Tevinter mage thus far.

"Close enough," she adds, then adjust: "We're friends, anyway."

Isn't that what she'd said before? But, there are sour notes in his voice and in his face and for a moment she's afraid they're about to argue about her being friends with a Tevinter mage, which she won't stand for, until... ah. Very quickly, her own fleeting worry melts away into an easy smile, one much brighter than before, and almost knowing.

"Not as close as the Inquisitor, I should think," she says airily. "They're very sweet together."

She won't say it outright or make a scene, not wanting to put him on the spot if he hadn't, in fact, noticed that the two were together. The minor interrogation, though... despite herself, her heart flutters with an excited buzz. Why would he care about that? More importantly, he should know that she would never be anything but true to the 'other' Alistair, but she isn't about to say that outright, either.

She's smiling. Why is she smiling like that? Has she figured out what he-

"Together?" That stops him in his tracks right away. "As in... together-together? They're- Oh."

Now he feels stupid - and more than a little awkward with the realisation. In his defense he'd never so much as seen the two of them in the same room and they hadn't spoken about each other to him. He'd had no way of knowing and it's not the sort of thing you just assume because two people know each other.

The fact that she even brought it up - had the Warden realised why he was asking then? Maker he hopes not, that would be too embarrassing and he feels stupid enough already. He'll just press on and hopefully they can pretend he was asking for entirely innocent reasons. That shouldn't be too hard to believe.

"I didn't know." Fairly obviously from his reaction. "Hang on. The leader of the Inquisition - the Chantry's Inquisition - and a Tevinter mage?"

Never mind them both being men, that bit was actually worse. Or was that better? Hard to say. On one hand, half the Chantry would have a fit over such a thing. On the other hand, people having fits sometimes caused trouble for the cause of said fits. And well, one of the people in question was still from Tevinter. No matter how likable he seemed it was still worrying.

Maybe it's strange and forbidden for a handful of reasons, but she's always been a believer of love is love. Not... that she'd had a lot of romantic experience, herself, but it seemed simple enough in concept. Seemed, past tense, because every new day proves her a little bit more wrong.

"Together, yes." Only as lovers, as far as she knows, and not in a more official sense. At the mention of the Chantry, she nods slowly, considering it.

"Well... I don't think that the modern Inquisition is so involved with the Chantry as it once was." Or, was said to be, since neither of them had been alive during that period in time. "There are a lot of people involved fighting for a common cause. I'm not sure that they have the time or resources to scrutinize others' personal lives."

The impression she'd gotten had been that the Inquisition's work was never done, so it would stand to reason that they would overlook (or, she hopes, understand) whatever they might have disagreed with before.

"They're both my friends, Alistair; that's all. They've been very kind to me since I first arrived."

And they were immeasurable comforts when she began to realize that not a single other person seemed to know of a Robyn Cousland.

"I'm not saying they're wrong for being... you know." He can't pretend he's not slightly uncomfortable with the idea though. It's not the sort of thing that was ever discussed at the abbey or during his training and it's... strange. He's not going to do anything ridiculous like try and tell them it's wrong or something - not because of that anyway. If Dorian suddenly turns out to be a blood mage that will be something else entirely but as it stands it's just going to take him some time to get used to the idea.

"It's just a surprise, that's all." He'd learned something of the first Inquisition in his Chantry history lessons and it hadn't sounded like the kind of organisation that would accept that sort of thing. As she says though, it may well be the second one is less involved with the Chantry. That's a distinct possibility, given Brennan seems considerably less devout than he'd expect someone in his position to be if they were heavily tied to the Chantry.

"And I wasn't trying to say you couldn't be friends with them. I was trying to be... friendly." It's a poor lie but it's the best he can manage, not helped by the defensiveness creeping back into his voice.

It hasn't occurred to him that, while almost everyone he's spoken to from Thedas has seemed to at least know of him, the same isn't true for her. Whatever else happens he knows that back in Ferelden there is a place for him even if it's not what he might have expected. Without that life here would be considerably more difficult. It's a problem Alistair might come to appreciate eventually but not yet.

"I didn't get the sense that you were." He seems uncomfortable, and it's an understandable reaction; the situation is fraught with complication and it's unusual, besides. She offers a little smile, thinking that it'd be best to change the subject sooner rather than later, but... once she reaffirms that he isn't cross with her for the conversation so far (and defending herself if he is).

"I can understand that. But, you never know why certain people come together."

She doesn't mean it to be a parallel to their own situation, or lack thereof, in this case, but it crosses her mind nonetheless. Without Howe's treachery, she might never have become a Warden. She wouldn't have met Alistair and the others and set off down a path that no one could have foreseen.

Fate can be strange that way.

"Friendly, of course." She repeats, and it isn't flippant, but rather light and unassuming. Though she suspects there's more to it than that, particularly considering that his 'friendly interest' doesn't make complete sense in the situation, she won't press the matter. It'll only drive him farther away and that is the absolute last thing she wants to do.

"Do you have any other questions about Dorian and I? If not, I actually wanted to ask you something, myself."

A change of subject is definitely appreciated, for more than one reason. But. That sounds rather ominous somehow.

"No. No more questions. Not about that. Him. Or you. Or the Inquisitor. Not yet." He is tempted to make up a question, something to avoid finding out what she wants to know, just in case it's something he doesn't want to answer. That will only be delaying the inevitable though as he doubts she's easy to distract when she's set her mind on something. She wouldn't have made it as far the Landsmeet if she was. Better to just get it over with quickly, maybe it's something harmless like 'will you get me another drink'?

"What did you want to ask?" Does he sound worried? He's not, not really. Maybe a little concerned. The Maker only knows why though, there's not much she could ask that would be that terrible. She already knows his big secret, what else is there?

Well, plenty of things he'd rather not share or discuss even if they're not exactly a secret. Which doesn't make him feel better.

She shouldn't ask, really, is what a little, nagging voice in the back of her mind is saying. But, her curiosity is stronger, eggs her on so that she shifts where she stands, mentally preparing, and then clears her throat lightly before posing the question.

"Well, if it isn't too... strange, I wanted to know what your Warden Cousland was like. Is like," she corrects, carefully. "It's just, you're the only one who knew him personally. Knows him. And I've been wondering what kind of person he is, and how much we really have in common."

Hopefully, he doesn't think she's implying any kind of relationship between the man Cousland and Alistair himself, one that might mirror her own situation with the Alistair she'd left. The idea of two men is one thing, but another version of herself (if that is what he is) and Alistair is... a little harder to swallow. Hence her hoping it isn't on his mind, either.

"If it's too much, we needn't talk about it," Robyn is quick to add. "I don't want to make things more uncomfortable than they need to be."

No, he'd been right to be worried. There are more uncomfortable topics of conversation than this one but just barely. And yet he had been thinking that she didn't know the first thing about why he felt the way he did about her. And now she was trying to change that. Thankfully he doesn't even consider any other implications - it was strange enough to think about a virtual stranger and his twin. Being involved with someone he knows, especially another man, would be even more off-putting.

He's also a little distracted by the question itself. Is it even possible to make things between them more uncomfortable?

...Yes, it really is. If the Warden thinks the other Warden sounds like a much better person to have around he's definitely going to want a whole lot less to do with her, which isn't exactly an option. As the only Grey Wardens present they have to be able to work together. But at least he'll know exactly where they stand.

"No, it's fine. I'll tell you." Scrubbing a hand through his hair Alistair looks anywhere but at the Warden, trying to figure out where to start.

Thinking back on the past few months helps in its own way. The anger that Aedan Cousland always seemed to provoke in him coils in his belly and he draws himself up straight, shoulders squared and jaw set.

"The Warden Cousland I know has no business being a Warden. He doesn't care about the Wardens. Not our duty and not what we stand for. Most days I'm surprised he's even bothering to try and stop the Blight."

"He- What?"

It's a surprise, to say the least. Enough so that she forgets to look carefully curious and instead seems almost indignant. Not because of Alistair, but on his behalf, indignant of the kind of man that the Warden in front of her has described.

How could Aedan be her counterpart in any sense?

"... I'm sorry," Robyn says finally, but looks exceptionally troubled and still more than a little frustrated. "But that's... awful, really. Why is he still traveling and fighting if he doesn't, you know, believe?"

She may not have signed up for the order, but she quickly became attached to it as if she'd been there for years. After Ostagar, it was difficult not to. The man who had spared her life was slaughtered, along with their king, and then the remaining Wardens were labeled traitors and set upon an impossible quest.

"After everything that was sacrificed," she begins again, in a low, almost warning tone, "to scorn the Grey Wardens, who have always stood for Ferelden, is... unthinkable."

It's like a knot in his chest has been loosened, letting some of the anger leak out. The Wardens are so important and being one is such an honour that he's never been able to grasp how someone could not feel even a little pride at being recruited. A feeling the Warden shares if her indignant response is anything to go by. All on its own it raises his estimation of her that she actually values being a part of the order.

"You're asking me?" He shrugs, resigned and frustrated by the other Warden Cousland's attitude. "There's no escaping a Blight, Warden or no. I think he must realise that much."

Alistair looks away again, fighting the urge to scuff his feet like he's been caught doing something bad. The choices haven't been his but he's gone along with them all the same and he feels absurdly guilty about the fact now that he's explaining himself. He didn't have a choice - going off to fight the darkspawn alone would have just gotten him killed and yet it doesn't make what happened better.

"We've still been working to stop the Blight. Gathering an army, using the treaties." It's the how's it been done he objects to more than anything. Not respecting the order isn't something he can understand but it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if Warden Cousland could manage to be a decent human being.

"It's just... not how I pictured things. Even after Ostagar."

Alistair seems to deflate slightly, but it does nothing to stop Robyn from being thoroughly incensed. The Warden sets her jaw, standing very stiffly.

"He must at least have wanted to get at Howe, after-"

But she just shakes her head jerkily, pushing the memories of that night at Highever from her mind. The idea that Aedan might not be trying to avenge his family (her family?) is unthinkable, and Alistair hasn't said that, so there's no need to get up in arms about it.

"... Using the treaties. Unseating Loghain." She repeats, returning to the subject at hand. It's fine to be angry with this ghostly figure, the man who shares her name, but she won't sink into mourning the family she'd lost. Not now.

"What's he done?" she asks finally, trying to keep her expression even through the difficulties that are tangled within this situation, this conversation. "If you're still going to end the Blight... what's his plan that you don't agree with?"

Does she even want to know? Suddenly, the Warden thinks back to the recent, difficult decisions that she and the others have had to make. The difference between saving lives and losing them. The difference between selfishness and difficulty. She swallows, a chill running up her spine a bit as the various instances flash through her mind. One in particular stands out, somehow: a crazed templar begging them to slaughter the rest of the mages, to which they hadn't agreed. But, what if...?

He opens his mouth to ask about Howe and her family, if she'd killed the man whilst rescuing Anora the same as they had or if he was still alive. But she turns the conversation back towards their primary goal and Alistair lets it drop. He's not completely tactless. The murder of her family isn't the kind of topic to be taken lightly. Even if she's just as callous as Aedan - something he's finding harder and harder to believe - he still couldn't do it.

When it comes to the question of what the Warden he knows has done he remains silent for several minutes, turning over the answer in his head.

What he didn't agree with? ...Where to start?

Grey Wardens do what is needed, not what is nice. Something the Warden - the other Warden, not her - had said to him. But there's a difference between necessary sacrifices and just not caring. He glances back and catches her expression, no more at ease with where the conversation is going than he is. They'd have been recruiting the same allies and have faced the same choices. Which one is she thinking about now? There's been so many it's impossible to guess so he picks the first that comes to mind.

"You went to Redcliffe, right? And met Lady Isolde and Connor, after he'd gotten possessed?"

"What did you do about the demon?" He hesitates. That's not answering her question and it won't be easier to admit what happened if it turns out she chose differently - and he does hope she took another path. That she believes a Warden can do their duty and still be a good person.

"He killed Connor. Just like that. A little boy and he murdered him and said there was no other choice." And he'd let it happen. He hadn't agreed with it but he'd let it happen all the same.

Redcliffe. Her breath catches as she thinks of all the things that could have gone wrong there, between the involvement of the blood mage, the monsters that almost overran the city, the poisoned Arl, and... of course, the boy who'd been possessed. How could she forget their sneaking into the castle, Isolde's lies to try and keep her son safe? How he'd warped the mind of Arl Teagan and slaughtered almost all of the servants in the palace?

When Alistair relays Aedan's choice, her blood runs cold.

"How could he?" Robyn exclaims, sharp and disbelieving. "There were other options, he could have- we went back to Kinloch to get help. The blood mage, Jowan, said that there was a ritual that could destroy the demon without harming the boy. Once the Tower was free, the First Enchanter agreed to lend us their aid. Jowan went into the Fade for this ritual to do penance and managed to kill the demon. Connor- Connor was fine."

She tries not to look so distressed, in case it scares him away, but she can't help it. Robyn has always worn her heart on her sleeve and this is distressing, hearing the differences.

Something occurs to her, then, and she turns back at Alistair with bright eyes and a blazing look.

"No wonder you first looked at me like I was a-... a murderer." She shakes her head firmly, not entirely able to process. There had been options, ways to keep the boy safe, but that had been the simplest option to this stranger. I would never kill an innocent child. How could he have done that?

The Warden's distress has the exact opposite effect of what she worries, easing Alistair's mind with how obviously this impacts her. That kind of emotion is hard to fake and it's exactly what he'd expect from any decent person. It's the first time the whole confusing mess with her has been a good thing. Knowing that somewhere out there Connor is still alive and well doesn't fix what happened but it helps in some small way.

Alistair ducks his head as she turns back to him with a fiery look on her face. He's still expecting... something. Chastisement for criticising the choices of someone he chose to follow perhaps or to be asked what he'd done, if he tried to stop it happening. Neither comes, instead she brings up their first meeting, reminding him of what she'd said before after his awkward, fumbling attempt at gratitude.

"Maybe I did think you were a bit... monster-ish. At the time." Since they're talking about this. And since she really is distressed by the idea of killing a child, abomination or not.

"But you're not. You saved everyone." Connor, Isolde, even the blood mage from what she'd said. "You did the right thing, not the easy one and... I'm grateful. Arl Eamon didn't blame us for what happened but it still wasn't right."

And if she was willing to go out of her way to save Connor then he hopes she'd be equally determined to do what was right in the other, numerous difficult situations they'd faced. It's enough to make him hope.

She's still lost in her ruminations, brow furrowed deep as she curls and uncurls her hands into fists at her side, when he speaks again. It takes her a moment to draw herself out and to hear what he's said, and... strangely, it's calming, almost reassuring. It hadn't been her who'd made that awful choice, after all, and it hadn't been him, either. They're both innocent of Connor's blood.

The Warden releases a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"We may have saved his life, but in your... world, it didn't happen that way." Just as their relationship hadn't turned out the same, just as she, Robyn, hadn't been herself at all in his world. "I can only imagine what else might have happened until this point, until the Landsmeet. I can understand why you would have been... on edge."

Just hearing the name Cousland had make him flinch, practically, and every time he'd called her that, and only that, it had been in a harsh, barking tone.

"Aedan sounds like a complete bastard," she mutters, and then glances upward at him, quickly adding: "And not the fatherless kind."

It's the tiniest of jokes, but it doesn't improve her mood. Not when she has all this time, now, to go over the ways that their journey might have gone differently. To estimate how far off the mark this Aedan Cousland might have been from her own decisions and dealings.

It's a little horrifying and a lot disturbing.

She startles a bark of laughter out of him despite the seriousness of the discussion. Normally he's against using the term as an insult but in this case he'll let it slide.

"No, just the other, unlikable kind." Grin fading Alistair does shuffle his feet this time, fiddling with the empty cup he's still stupidly holding.

On edge is nice way to put it. The Warden had done her best to explain Wonderland to him when he arrived, a job that couldn't have been easy for her if she'd been expecting a.... friend instead of someone who made no secret of his dislike of her. She'd been polite - or at least no less polite than he had been - and she had saved his life. And he had been... on edge. Less than grateful. Maybe, just maybe, he'd overreacted. Not that he's quite ready to say as much yet. Not wanting to murder a child is one thing but he can still remember that campfire scene of her and the rest of them and there's a difference between knowing someone isn't completely callous and being friendly and comfortable around them.

"Yes, well." No, nothing else to add there. Oh wait, yes there is. "It might not have been just because of that." Mostly but not entirely.

As little as he cares for the other Warden Cousland he can't blame everything on the man, no matter how much simpler it would be to do so. "I mean, meeting people who think they know you but you've never seen before.... that's a bit weird. Takes some getting used to."

"It's also strange to meet people you think you know, but who have never seen you before."

As happens with Robyn, the anger at Aedan ebbs gradually away and melts into a sigh. There isn't anything they can do about him, or his choices, here. Not a single way to rectify the ending of Connor's life or the other decisions that had been carried out in Alistair's world as a result of 'that' Warden. It's beyond frustrating, but she isn't unreasonable, and it isn't fair to go on barking at Alistair when she's really upset with a man she's never met, and would (hopefully) never meet.

"All this takes some getting used to," she says quietly, reasonably, glancing around at the rest of the party. "Wonderland's magic, of course, and its dangers. And... hearing about your own future as if it's already happened."

Because he isn't the only one who's been going through that particular bit of unpleasantness, either. The Warden shifts where she stands, contemplating for a moment before glancing back up at her companion.

"Well, I hardly meant to bog down the occasion with all this," she says finally, admitting the tiniest of smiles. "I only wanted to see how you've been doing, and... to say Happy Saturnalia."

Which is her cue to bow out, for now, before things turn sour, as they so often seem to do. So, she gathers herself up, trying not to trip over the strange clothes, and adds:

"I'll see you soon, I think, with how close all our quarters are." Her smile grows a little with the unspoken gratefulness of having him in the mansion in the first place whether he remembers her or not.

His future has thankfully not been the topic of discussion so far. The Inquisitor and his... and Dorian have both offered to tell him of the Inquisition and what has occurred since the Blight ended but Alistair... hasn't gotten around to taking them up on it yet. He will, eventually. But it's odd enough hearing of people from the future without adding tales of demons and whatever else to it. And for now he's satisfied with knowing the Blight will be ended with Ferelden still left standing. Being as he has yet to see that occur it's of rather more concern that whatever comes in a decades time.

And then yes, there is Wonderland itself and all the people from places so far removed from Thedas he scarcely knows what to think of them.

It's a lot for anyone to take in without personal confusion in there too. He hasn't really thought about what it must be like for her. If the Warden hadn't spoken to him he wouldn't have known about her and the strangeness of it at all, but she might still have known he's not the person she remembers just by looking. It's something to think about. Later, when he hasn't been drinking.

"Right. Happy Saturnalia." The words are automatic as Alistair nods, watching her go before he turns and slips back off into the crowd, frowning to himself as he goes.

He could really do with another drink now.

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IO, SATURNALIA! | OPEN

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