hadriel_logs | Event log: How Delightful

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Event log: How Delightful

Who: Anyone and everyone!
What: Delight's resurrection.
Where: Throughout the city, starting in the bar.
When: March 23rd-April 3rd
Warnings: Partying too hard, poor life choices, underage drinking, the worst hangovers of all time.

On the morning of March 23rd, bright and early, Delight is resurrected. Her temple is restored, and her bar appears in the city. What does that mean? Well, obviously it's time to celebrate. We hope everyone brought their party shoes! From March 23rd to March 27th, the party will be mostly contained in and around Delight's bar, with an invitation from the goddess herself. But it won't be long before she decides that's just not good enough - gotta bring the party to the people! From March 28th to April 3rd, the natural light is dimmed and replaced with flashing colored lights, fireworks, and even a few disco balls. Loud music blares through the city, making it hard to sleep, and a wide variety of trouble is available to be gotten into.

Wanna drink away the pain of being trapped in a hellcave? There's unlimited amounts of alcohol of all kinds, and Delight will be happy to supply anything that might be missing. More interested in karaoke-ing your heart out? Hit up one of the jukeboxes. Enjoy gleeful displays of your own mortality? Here's a skateboard and a ramp, have fun. There's just about anything you could desire, as long as what you desire is to party hard and make bad decisions. And hey, if you find yourself getting tired, grab one (or five) of Delight's special energy shots. They'll eliminate your need for sleep, food, water, cure an oncoming hangover and immediately relax any sore muscles you've got for 24 hours per shot! There's no down side! (Except for all the effects coming back to hit you at once when the shot wears off, but whatever.)

After about a week and a half of tequila shots, keg stands, roman candle battles, tagging the city with free spraypaint, inappropriate party games, and balloon hats made to look like rocket ships (wait... that's not a rocket ship), Delight realizes everyone's partied out and starts to wind things down. On April 3rd, she'll clean up the city, removing everything except for a few remaining fireworks and disco balls, stored in her temple. Her bar will still be around, if you can stand to even look at liquor after all the poor choices you made. Otherwise, lay in bed and try to recover from your hangover while the city goes back to normal.

► This log covers March 23rd-April 3rd.
► Feel free to make your own logs, as well
► Please tag headers of threads with content warnings where they apply
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!
► Did you party too hard? Please report any character deaths right here!

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[Maketh sighs dramatically, then pushes herself upright - only wobbling a little, she's proud to note.] As promised. Though I will have my revenge.

[Thankfully she's drunk enough that embarrassment has become a foreign concept and promptly launches into a loud rendition of one of the politer drinking songs she knows.

Maketh has a surprisingly good singing voice.]

[Dorian is quite entertained by the song. He applauds her, laughing with some pleasure.]

Well done indeed. After such an excellent performance, I believe you ought to choose Henry's forfeit. It's only fair.

[That, and Dorian has to set his mind and creativity to thinking up a cunning lie to attempt to fool them with.]

My turn, isn't it?

[Henry drums out his applause on the tabletop, and cheers Maketh's efforts when she is done. She sings surprisingly well.

He scoffs at Dorian's suggestion.]

Oh, I see. Let your adversaries destroy each other.

[But he twists to better face Maketh, and gives her a goading nod.]

Hit me with your best strike.

[Maketh takes a bow when she's done, grinning cheerfully, and eying the tequila again. Singing makes her want to dance, but alas, that's not the game just yet. She sits down on her stool with a huff, propping her chin up on her palm.] A tactical inevitability, Henry. Well. Since you made me sing, it only seems fair that I make you dance.

[She beams at him.] Surely you know how to dance, Sir Knight?

Now that I would certainly like to see. But first - I believe it's my turn.

[He steeples his fingers, preparing his tales.]

Once, when journeying, I ran short of money. In order to fill my purse once more, I offered a few cheap enchantments to the townsfolk of the place I found myself in. Unfortunately, one maiden asked for a love charm, which is not my area of expertise. I'm afraid it backfired and she ended up quite infatuated with a very confused druffalo.

Or - I killed a dragon. It was difficult and dangerous, but certainly thrilling. With the assistance of some companions, we took down the beast, and my magic delivered the final blow. From its hide, we made a rather garish but very effective set of armor for one of my companions.

[And that one is the truth - including, to Dorian's sadness, the part about garish armor.]

You would have us believe your work was of doubtful quality? 'Tis the storyline of a comedy, surely.

[Henry shakes his head, then says intently:]

You have slain a dragon. I know it.

[The descriptors match his own thoughts, and he just really wants dragon armour to exist so that he can learn its secrets to take home with him. If it is actually true --God, let it be truth-- he will have to take immediate measures.

And now to the matter of his forfeit. Henry turns on his seat to watch the patrons who are making the most of the background music. He studies them keenly, as he would ordinarily size up a warrior, and scrutinises all the minute details of technique. Not quite so well as he would sober, but certainly well enough for the task at hand.]

Be that what you call dancing? Hmph. [A bit of drunken disdain does not feel amiss. What his society considers dancing is much more formal and far more virtuous.]

If you think that I cannot, you are sorely mistaken. At the next song.

[Though Maketh has a feeling that the dragons of her world and the dragons that Dorian is familiar with are slightly different beasts - hers don't generally breathe fire - she latches onto the familiar. Giant monsters. Forging armor out of their remains. It's exactly the kind of thing the Jedi did once.] I'm with Henry on this matter. You killed a dragon.

[That said, her truce with Henry is over. She grins at him widely.] Oh, I do, I do. And I intend to thoroughly enjoy the spectacle.

Ah, flattery will get you everywhere with me.

[He's quite pleased they think so highly of him - though, of course, it was true, and that means he's lost this round.]

You are both correct. I did kill a dragon, with the help of some companions. It was very thrilling. And now, I believe, I owe a forfeit as well.

[Dorian wastes no time pouring his drinks, though, quite ready to enjoy that part of his loss.]

After we've seen Ser Henry dance, however.

Marvellous.

[Henry says with delight, an eager light in his eyes.

There's just enough left of the current song for Henry to get out his phone. It is the one guaranteed way he will remember tonight. He sends Dorian a rather incoherent text that suffers from both drunken and rapid typing -- then he decides that Maketh should not be left out, so she gets one too, squeezed out in the nick of time.

Henry drops his phone onto the table, before hops off his seat with the start of the next song and steps back so that he has space.]

Just watch me.

[Unlike his boast about beating Maketh in a drinking game, this is one he lives up to. As Henry dances he proves himself a quick study in this arena. The calibre of knight he is and his natural aptitude for physical arts are abundantly clear in the seemingly effortless smoothness of his movement, his light-footed grace and his acute instinct for timing and rhythm. He is someone made to be in motion; he feels most comfortable in his skin when he is. Though intoxication leaves a layer of dampening fuzziness, and the feelings of exhilaration and completeness are lesser than battle provides, he enjoys himself.

Of course, what he has to say somewhat ruins things.]

Are you not shamed even the slightest to be so overt?

[He's not prudish by the standards of his time, but by modern standards... not to mention the hypocrisy of saying so while dancing like the best of them.]

Oh, I'm watching, I'm watching.

[Maketh props her chin up on her palm and does just that, grinning all the while. This is a good moment right now, she decides. With the music playing loud and the liquor flowing so easily, and her friends by her side. Dorian could be her friend, Maketh thinks. He's clever and fun, and Henry likes him. Therefore she likes him too.

And she gets to watch Henry dance. He's surprisingly good at it, someone made to be in motion.

Maketh claps when he's done, beaming.] Me? Never. How else would I fall drunkenly into bed with strangers?

[She's a little disappointed Henry isn't blushing, but that's okay. The night is young.]

[Quite frankly, Dorian enjoys the show. He watches with no little appreciation, feeling the warm burn of tequila and the pleasure of companionship. Truly, he doesn't quite understand the ways of dancing that some have, more familiar with Theodosian styles - probably not so different than Henry is used to. That doesn't mean he can't approve of it, though, and he does.

When Henry is done, he applauds as well.]

An excellent showing.

[And he laughs at Maketh's comment.]

Does dancing like that truly make it so easy? And to think, I've been doing it the difficult way all this time. Compliments, witty chats, expensive drinks. Dancing would have been much easier.

[Henry raises his eyebrows as he takes his seat again.]

Let me not interrupt the pair of you.

[He says dryly, because this is a topic that he has no plans to contribute to. Even this drunk is not drunk enough.]

Except to propose a forfeit. We have had a singer and a dancer, so an actor should follow. A single passage will suffice.

It truly does. [Maketh bumps her arm against Henry as he takes his seat, grinning at him. Her quest to see him blush has failed thus far, but the night is still young. There's plenty of alcohol yet to make the rounds.] Oh, I like this idea of yours, Henry. Dorian, give us your best.

That, I believe I can do.

[He stands, of course, because Dorian most certainly has a flair for the dramatic. Though perhaps not quite acting, he provides his own flavor to a portion of the tale of Ameridan and the Mage. Though getting rather more drunk as their game goes on, Dorian has an excellent memory - he has to, after all, being a mage - and he remembers it word for word, providing his own almost melodramatic intonation.

And he finishes, of course, with a regal bow. Applause, please.]

[Henry catches Maketh's arm, huffing a laugh, then links elbows with her before turning his full attention on Dorian. Dorian's performance is captivating; Henry is certainly drawn in. He applauds loudly at the end.]

Profusely talented.

[He smiles broadly, cocking his head.]

Methinks the next forfeits should be merciless.

[Indeed, Dorian has a wonderful flair. Maketh leans against Henry, settling comfortably against his side, and claps perhaps a tad too loudly when the performance is done. Oh, she's missed this. The closeness of other people, the sense that these two have her back, that she is both protected and in intelligent company.

It's been too long since she's had either.

Maketh grins at Henry.] Oh? Then I shall have to manuver around it.

[It's her turn now. Maketh frowns, considering her options.] All right. I once knew a captain of the Imperial army - wonderful woman, very good at her job - who bet me that she could do a line of shots without flinching - after they had all been lit aflame. She then proceed to do just that, and I, naturally, was so impressed that I fell into bed with her.

[True, unfortunately. The captain in question had also been married, though Maketh hadn't realized that for a while. It hadn't ended especially well.]

Or my father threatened to disown me when he learned that I had joined the Imperial Academy. Naturally I thought he was making a point and that my mother would eventually talk him down, but she never did manage it that time.

[Maketh shrugs.] Not that it would have been much of an inheritance, but it took him four years before he changed his will. And that is where my stubbornness comes from.

Ah, a difficult one.

[Either seems equally likely to Dorian, as they are both somewhat similar to his own experience. He sits down, tapping his finger against the tabletop as he thinks.]

The intransigence of parents is something I have particular experience with, so my guess lies with that tale. Still, some part of me hopes the first is true. Now that would be something to see.

[Apparently it is not enough for him to just have Maketh close, because Henry hooks his free arm around Dorian's nearest arm once the other man is sitting.

To Maketh, he says:]

Your taste for women and drink give no pause -- but aflame? How you nagged when I merely approached your stove makes that hard to believe. The latter.

[It will be like learning that Maketh likes drinking shots off of other people's bodies again if he is wrong in this. Then again, it is probably why he is losing to her in the first place.]

[It appears that she has indeed regained her touch. Maketh covers her mouth to mask the grin threatening to split her face, before she gives up on subtlety and just laughs. She bumps her forehead against Henry's shoulder.] And I win!

[The latter story is also true, except for a single detail: it was Maketh's mother, not her father, who threatened to disown her. But that is a story for a different time. Maketh grins happily.] Drink, gentlemen! Captain Sumkyt had a particular mix that I will show you on some...other occasion.

[She's a bit too drunk for that right now, more liable to burn her hair off than drink anything that impressive. Maketh makes a face.] The captain was also married. And twice my age. Not my best affair, I'll admit.

[He's surprised at Henry's easy familiarity, just a bit, but he's pleasantly drunk and really doesn't mind. He wouldn't even if he were sober - that much, he's rather sure of.

Dorian laughs, taking his defeat in stride.]

That, I would certainly like to see. I'll hold you to it eventually.

[He pours himself a shot, pours one for Henry too while he's at it.]

Ah, well. Who hasn't had an inappropriate encounter or two with a married man - or woman, I suppose? It's rather difficult when they don't warn you.

[Henry looks at both of them in disbelief, lips parting, then frowns.]

I pray thee moved on to lovers worthy of you.

[Maybe he is a little scandalised, but mostly it seems to him an affront that either of them were used so. And certainly he is still not soused enough to learn these details. He tips back the shot poured for him without unlinking either arm. Afterwards, he taps the empty glass against his forehead.]

Oh, and for my turn.

[Setting aside the shot glass with a small thump, he jumps straight into it.]

When I landed in France, I was the current subject of the mercenaries' gossip. Following that first battle at Harfleur, I overheard more than one of their sort say, "Is that Hotspur of England? I heard tell that he would cut down all in his path, be they friend or foe. Even his own commanders! He is thoroughly merciless.” Hmph. An unsubtle lot. Unwise too, when one considers that repute.

[That is false – but only because that had been at the start of the battle. After its end the rumour mill was busy wagering whether Iamarl would try to assassinate him without Edward's blessing. Of course she would not, but she had later appeared out of seemingly thin air to warn him off turning on Edward. It is amusing to look back on. How absurd their beginnings were. Much too drunk to have self-control, he chuckles to himself. He and Iamarl had been so serious about it all. Only Edward had possessed the good sense to find it funny from the very start.]

'Twas not merely the mercenaries who failed to be circumspect. When Iamarl ventured alone into enemy territory, I set out to fetch her back with a force comprised mainly of mercenaries and a small number of voluntary English soldiers. At the onset of our foray, one of the latter said within range of me, “I believe it not! Hotspur is aiding another! I suppose people truly can change.” Evidently there for the spoils, that one.

[Henry scoffs, then jostles both captured arms.]

Which is truth?

[Maketh just shrugs. She's had many affairs and perhaps just one lover. Whether some were better than others is debatable. In the end she's forgotten most of them, moments lost to the alcohol. At the time, Maketh had thought it better that way. A stranger couldn't hurt you. Here, though, she has friends.

It's been a long time since she's had a friend. Maketh frowns, considering what she knows of Henry's history and what little he's spoken of Iamarl.] You pose a difficult question there. I guess the latter. You have spoken of change, after all.

[Dorian is little different - except that he has never really had a relationship that could be called such, only various lovers, moments snatched here and there but never lasting. He has a romantic soul, but a pragmatic mind, and something like love hasn't had a place in his life. He doesn't regret it, exactly, and he doesn't expect more, but it was still a pleasure to be part of the Inquisition and have a million other things to worry about.

He taps the tips of his fingers against Henry's arm, considering.]

I believe I'll side with milady Maketh on this one. Though it's difficult to believe that one such as you would be unwilling to aid another, I've no doubt we've all changed quite a bit from what we once were.

[Henry feels a fresh pang of affection for Maketh and Dorian, these two unanticipated friends of his. He won't give them up, even if they are besting him.]

Be this the field upon which I perish?

[Which serves as confirmation of his loss. He pours himself two shots and drinks them down in succession, before he makes a disgusted noise. Mostly at his own exceptional drunkenness, in a fleeting moment of acute awareness.]

I [he tells them both, apparently still concerned by their love life revelations] will defend your honour as though it were my own. Even should you repeat your follies.

Perhaps, perhaps. [Maketh's vision is beginning to swim, everything going pleasantly soft around the edges. She likes the weight of Henry's arm looped through her own, the certainty of it as the world dances. Everything is moving right now except for him and Dorian. Dorian, who she's come to like in the brief moments that she's known him. He's charming. Has an easy sort of smile and a quick wit, even with all the tequila.

Yes, she likes these two.

Maketh bumps her head against Henry's shoulder in a drunken display of affection.] You are -- very good. Uh huh. Very good. Dorian! Isn't Henry good?

Event log: How Delightful

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