thecapitol | [OPEN] ain't no party like a D̴̡̀R̶̵̶A̷̵̡̛͜G̷͟ ̀҉̸̀͢Q͝҉͟͏U҉͘͟͜͡Ȩ͜҉͞E̷͢Ņ ̷̷̕Ṕ̷̧̛͞A̷͟R̸̛̕Ţ̀́Y̵̴

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[OPEN] ain't no party like a D̴̡̀R̶̵̶A̷̵̡̛͜G̷͟ ̀҉̸̀͢Q͝҉͟͏U҉͘͟͜͡Ȩ͜҉͞E̷͢Ņ ̷̷̕Ṕ̷̧̛͞A̷͟R̸̛̕Ţ̀́Y̵̴

Who| Oceana Gunn and all you party people
What| Oceana's throwing the craziest party of the year to celebrate the end of the Arena, and you're invited. Feel free to mingle, post open starters, and tag around to your heart's content!
Where| Her bachelor(ette) pad in the Capitol
When| Post-Arena, pre-Crowning
Warnings/Notes| Uhhh. Drugs, alcohol, sex, language, etc are all possibilities within!

It's high time that someone threw a really great party in this town.

Oceana's been laying low, working on costumes for the upcoming Crowning and watching her babies kick ass in the Arena, but after a while she gets an itch. An itch to invite hundreds of strangers to her penthouse apartment, dress up in her most sickening clothes, and let the booze pour. So that's exactly what she does. Invitations are sent out, crates of liquor are ordered, food is catered in, and the lights are dimmed way down low.

Her apartment is spacious, minimally decorated because it looks fucking cool and she's barely around anyway, and full of dark corners. The living room has a huge table full of finger foods along one wall, a champagne fountain, and a full bar with virtually endless liquor. The music is loud as hell, and the drag queen has even gone to the trouble of paying people to come early and dance, so that the dance floor is never empty.

The hostess herself will be mingling all evening; the glass of vodka in her hand is never empty, and always garnished with at least six olives. She may not be the classiest bitch in the capitol, but it's apparent by looking around that she knows how to throw a killer soirée.

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His hands twitched, the urge to reach out tingling in his fingertips before he'd even consciously thought about it. Instead, he let the quick, easy heat of anger curl them instead.

"By...?" He watched Dorian's profile carefully. "I've known bigger men who've tried to repress you, Dorian, and failed. ...Did he threaten you? Or us?"

It helped, he realised, not to look at Maxwell's face. Because if he did, the words and the face jarred, made no sense. Here was the face of a stranger, but here were the words of a close friend. Few outside of the Inner Circle knew about Dorian's father.

Save, apparently, for Jason.

"Bigger men when I was still able to electrocute them alive, if I chose to," Dorian said wryly, avoiding the direct question. "If I thought it was more than I could handle alone, that would be a different story."

"That doesn't mean you should always have to," he said softly, but insistently. Someday, perhaps, if he simply said it enough, the man might believe it.

A part of him did doubt it, but that wasn't going to stop him from trying.

"Even if it's just someone to carry the weight of it, if even for a short time."

"You'll forgive me if this particular weight is not one I would wish to share with anyone," Dorian said, fingers idly flecking at the paint chipping on the iron wrought railing.

"Inquisitor - Maxwell. I have to imagine that the man you know that bares my face is almost identical to me, and if that's the case-" He turned his face to look at him, brows knitted.

A stranger, where a friend should be.

"If that's the case, then you must know that I need to deal with this one on my own."

He met Dorian's eyes, and held them for a long moment - string of heartbeats where it seemed like he might keep trying - but then he took a breath, and straightened up from the railing.

"Alright, Dorian. I understand. I don't like it... but I understand."

He hadn't liked the man's decision to leave Skyhold either, but he'd understood why he'd wanted to. Why he needed to. And given his own time, Dorian had partly come around.

Perhaps he would again.

"If you change your mind, I'm-- we're here."

And if he didn't, surely there wouldn't be any harm in keeping an eye on the escort.

He relaxed slightly as Maxwell let it go, turning his head back and nodding.

"Yes. I'm not wholly an idiot, you know," He murmured. "If I get over my head... you'll know. I won't risk everything for something like pride. But nor would I endanger or worry you all needlessly."

"I never said you were." His hands slipped over the iron and he turned to face him. "And it's never needless. Not when it's the people you care about."

"... Actually I'm fairly sure that worrying the people who care about you is exactly the problem," He said, frowning to himself, before finally forcing a smile.

"Never mind. I'm exhausted by my own dramatics. What say we rejoin the party? I am sure I will need to get to know you better somehow, doing so while drinking ourselves into a stupor sounds like the best way to go about that."

He brow wrinkled, lips pressing together, but before he could say anything, Dorian had moved on and he decided to let it slip. He had said he would leave it be and... he wasn't the man's Inquisitor, was he?

Wasn't his friend, from the mage's point-of-view.

He would need to learn to accept that, sooner or later.

Do his caring from a distance.

He snorted lowly, not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh, and nodded.

"I thought you'd never ask."

"Good," Dorian said, pulling back from the railing and stepping back towards the doors, the party glowing inside.

"What's your poison, Inquisitor? Or do you feel like being adventurous."

He pushed open of the double doors and held it with his arm for Dorian to pass through. Meeting the mage's eye as he glanced back, amusement and more than a little challenge in his gaze.

"If you think there's anything in there meets those terms."

Edited 2015-01-11 02:20 (UTC)

"I'm actually quite certain that everything here is poison in one form or another," Dorian said dryly, thankful more than Maxwell could know for being allowed to turn this conversation to humour rather than his cowardice.

"I was witness to 'Peach Schnapps' the other night, which sounds appropriately awful."

He blinked in surprise, head quirking at Dorian. Then he laughed, a warm, full sound.

His first real laugh in days.

"I believe her name was Beth," he replied as he followed Dorian through, leaning slightly closer to be heard over the pounding noise they called music. "And I thought it was quite fitting. She was very sweet."

"Ah, then you met her as well? Yes, she seems a dear girl. I didn't quite have the heart then to try it, but my mood tonight is significantly more masochistic."

He waved to an avox, and quickly ordered two shots of peach schnapps. Might as well get this night off right.

"I did," he admitted. "And... I did, but in my defense, the menu was quite extensive and I was very tired."

After the day he'd had, he defied anyone to not want to drink themselves into a temporary solution. Especially considering it was the only option available.

The drinks arrived and he stared at the tiny glass for a moment, eyeing it like the aforementioned poison, before turning to Dorian.

"Shall we toast to your escort, and perhaps timely fires?"

Dorian took his own glass and raised it with a wry look. "May the Maker find time for happy accidents," he agreed, before knocking the drink back in a single swig.

He made a face and coughed.

"Maker, but that tastes like liquid sugar."

He had a hard time swallowing his, his stomach apparently remembering all too well what was coming, but after closing his eyes and swallowing hard, he managed to get it down.

With a shake of his head his eyes blinked open again and he forced out a hard breath.

"That was my first impression as well," he murmured huskily, setting the glass back on the table. "And now my second."

He coughed again before frantically waving down an avox. "Wine," he asked, a little desperately, "please. Immediately." As soon as the request was granted, he took a big gulp just to get rid of the taste in his mouth, and then sighed.

"There, much better. That was absolutely awful."

He laughed ruefully, raising his glass to his lips.

"You did say something about masochism, didn't you?" He took a mouthful, held it, and slowly swallowed, letting the bitter edge ease the lingering sweetness. "I think we can safely say that is a wish granted."

Though, to be fair, he hadn't really needed the drink for that.

"I really should stop setting myself up for it," Dorian replied wryly, taking another long sip of the wine. "This is also nearly as terrible but at least it's drinkable."

It was easy enough to be friendly when they weren't talking about home and Dorian wasn't constantly reminded. Like this, he could just pretend Maxwell was another new face - treat him as friendly as he did everyone else, before he made up his mind about them.

This - this was better. This was alright.

For now.

It was harder for Maxwell. The laughing, the teasing - it was so familiar. It was so easy... It made it difficult to remember the new rules. The new place he held.

Stranger. A well-informed, well-intentioned stranger, but still.

He didn't belong.

"I don't know," he replied, joking softly. Half-humor, half-truth. "Everyone needs a hobby."

"I would infinitely prefer if my current hobby was critiquing Tevinter literature," He said with a raised eyebrow over his glass. "Sampling the generous array of Panem's alcoholic beverages is less a hobby and more a survival mechanism."

He'd meant the bite about masochism, in general, but he paused, lips curling in a small, distant sort of smile. "Though as I recall, it did occasionally have similar results. Cursing, threats of fire, books flying through the air..."

Edited 2015-01-13 16:13 (UTC)

"Yes, but then it was fun." And, also, a survival mechanism. Woops.

He really was a masochist.

"I think we may just be able to slip out of this party, however," he realised after a moment, glancing over at Jason. "If you feel like attempting an escape."

There was a pang, so sudden and sharp, all he could do was laugh - the ache too deep to do anything else with. His wine glass bumped against his lip before he could pull his head back and he set it down. Mopping up the dark bead as he glanced sidelong at Jason.

"And when the rumors start flying, how mad will your nanny-goat go?" he asked.

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tevintage - 2015-01-17 17:32 (UTC) - Expand

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dreadinquisitor - 2015-01-17 17:56 (UTC) - Expand

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