milliways_bar | Twelfth Night Party, Pontmercy style!

You -- yes, you, whoever you are -- got an invitation to the party. All of Milliways is welcome!

If you choose to come, you'll find Bar directing you to a big round tent that went up this afternoon on the lawn outside the bar. Marius and Cosette and various friends spent a lot of time this morning ferrying decorations in, and the waitrats spent a lot of time in the afternoon ferrying food in, but the doors won't officially open until close to sunset.

But this isn't a cheap white plastic tent, oh no. It's warm and domed and made of thick fabric, something like a very large yurt. A bit of magic keeps out the drafts, making everything extra cozy.

There's a fire in the middle of the floor, with a low screen encircling it but also magic meaning that this fire puts of warmth but will not actually burn anything, even if you step right into it. The floor is wood -- great for dancing, if you feel like it! There's a piano over against the wall for anyone who wants to make some music.

Everywhere there are garlands of European evergreen branches and herbs, studded with bright dried fruit and sparkling ornaments. (Mistletoe might very well be among them, though the Pontmercies haven't thought to supply that as an intentional party game.) There are candles and lanterns everywhere, and a big chandelier. There are no electric lights at all -- it's all fire -- but a good number of them are magical, so that nothing's going to get set on fire or covered with smoke. The general intended impression is of genteel, welcoming festivity, in a very French and very early 19th century European way.

There are food and drinks galore. Come in and enjoy the party!

[OOC: Party-style post! Subthreads for various categories and activities, etc. Open from now until whenever!

Edit: As of Joly's arrival, Cosette now has a mini-polaroid camera. Fear, Milliways. Feel free to assume that she's popped up to take a candid picture of your character(s) at any point, as long as they're not doing or wearing anything scandalous! She will happily give the resulting picture to your character if they want; it probably won't be a very good picture, in terms of composition or focus, but it will be cheerfully enthusiastic.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Pointed at both of them, mayhap. Ysalwen is well aware sometimes she pushes too far -- in a lot of ways.

She raises her cup in salute, then, and takes a deep pull on the burning -- whatever.

It's nice.

Edited 2017-01-07 16:04 (UTC)

It's-- definitely alcoholic. Well, the fire probably should have been a hint.

"I wager thy nation hath no Christmas, nor no Epiphany."

"We have no Christ, as I understand it, to no. Though we do celebrate Funalis, which has much to do with Andraste and her own martyrdom. It's just -- not in the winter."

For one.

"And more solemn than festive. But Epiphany -- what's that?"

"It is that Epiphany we celebrate-- it doth mark the visitation of Christ by three kings," Harry says. "We keep festive all the while betwixt Christmas and Epiphany, the last the greatest feast of all."

"You have three kings in all your world? That -- either they govern vast areas, or it is a very small world."

Three entire kings? That's . . . it?

"Or did not all of them visit this Christ of yours?"

...you're really testing the boundaries of ~~the mun's~~ Harry's theology here.

"We have many kings! But these, they-- they were-- holy kings-- I know not."

"Isn't that always the way with the important stories. So many details lost, or changed by those who don't like what happened."

Like the vanishing of Shartan the elf from tellings of Andraste's story. The Chant is a human religion, after all. No elves could have ever been part of her uprising. That's blasphemy.

"I am no priest," Harry says dismissively. "Some devote themselves to such study, inquire of them. There is naught thou canst demand they cannot contrive an answer for."

Ysalwen laughs, taking another swallow of alcohol. Hers is still on fire.

"If I wanted fiction with a bias, I could just invent what happened myself. It would save time."

Harry's not particularly devout, but he's a man of his time, and that's enough to shock him. "Why, it is no fiction!"

"Well, no. But priests, revered mothers, even the Divine -- they all have a stake in what the stories say."

She shrugs.

"So I'm not entirely trusting."

"Then wherefore didst thou inquire?"

Ysa's mouth quirks up at the corner.

"You can learn a lot about people by what stories they choose to tell. And how."

A faint pause.

"Or at least I can, these days."

Edited 2017-01-08 00:52 (UTC)

"There are others would tell the tale far better," Harry says, waving his hand dismissively. "I was but an indifferent pupil, and minded not the priest."

"Maybe I'll just make my way to the library at some point -- the one here, I mean. And perhaps I will find a few books that can tell the story just as well."

It might save on the . . . . finding someone else from Harry's world and time that is not also a frequently-drunk nobleman.

Hey, Harry's basically never drunk!

"Why, thou art so well-spoken, and ever hast some lesson to give-- I would have thought thee one of those that makes of the library a second home."

She huffs out a laugh.

"I'm more often looking for ancient works from my own world, or diving into the scientific literature of every world save my own. Religion -- I often have far better things to do with my time. But I find myself curious now, so."

"Nay, thou hast the right of it!" Harry cries. "It is passing tedious, trouble not with it."

"I appreciate your effort to save me from my curiosity."

It's not a lie.

"I thank you."

Harry is always here to keep people from making boring mistakes like trying to learn something.

"I am glad to spare thee the time and tedium," he replies solemnly and entirely sincerely.

Edited 2017-01-08 01:29 (UTC)

"If only others were half so considerate."

Sparing a person time, tedium, madness, and mayhem would be a little more welcome, but one can't have it all.

"True indeed! The most of men do seem to love nothing better than to foist their tedium upon thee."

"Do you find it happens more often here than in your land?"

It seems likely, somehow.

But maybe not.

"O, there are tedious men across the world, methinks."

...Hotspur is easily bored.

"What do you do to relieve boredom, then?"

She's curious.

Very, very curious.

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