Welcome to Rosavelle!

[royaldecreemods]

INVITATION

You're going about your day when you notice an envelope that most certainly wasn't there before. It's beautiful, if a little old-fashioned: pale pink paper, sealed with a pressed flower instead of wax and your name written in looping cursive that shimmers faintly in the light.
Inside, the letter begins;

Dearest friend—
Goodness, I hope that isn't too forward. We've not met, after all. But I have been told that when one writes an invitation, it's important to sound sincere.

My name is Calanthe Rosabella Petalia de Amoré. I am the Crown Princess of Rosavelle. It's a little island kingdom far, far away - so far that it may not exist quite in the same world as yours.

I know this must sound terribly strange, but I'm writing because I need your help. You see, my coronation is approaching soon, and Rosavelle's magic - the Everbloom - responds to the strength of one's heart. It's said that a ruler must understand love to truly awaken it. Not just romance, mind you, but all kinds of love: friendship, kindness, care.

The trouble is… I'm not very good at it. I've read so many books about love, but real people don't seem to follow the same rules the novels do.

That is why I'm writing to you. The Everbloom - our most ancient and wondrous magic - has granted me the means to reach across worlds. I'm inviting a handful of remarkable individuals, like you, to Rosavelle to help me learn. Not only to teach me what love means to you, but to help me see how it can bloom between friends, companions, and strangers alike.

I promise you'll be treated as an honored guest.

... It goes on like that for a while, whole paragraphs assuring you that you can leave whenever you want, no time will pass back in your world, the Everbloom's magic will keep you safe, etc etc… honestly it gets to the point that it starts to sound less like an invitation and more like a contract. But then, mercifully, the writer finds their footing again:

If you'll come, I'd be so very grateful. I know this is a strange request, and you owe me nothing - but still, I hope you'll consider it. Rosavelle is beautiful this time of year, and it is my hope that seeing it alongside fresh eyes will allow me to see it more clearly as well.

With all my thanks (and my hopes!)—
Princess Calanthe Rosabella Petalia de Amoré

Maybe you accept right away or maybe you dismiss it as a prank or something equally unimportant. No matter what you think when you first read it, your mind eventually turns back to that invite and your find yourself thinking that it might not be a bad idea…

And once you do, you feel the world going soft and sweet around you, the scent of blooming flowers filling your nose - and before you can quite process what's happening, you realize you've accepted.

ARRIVAL

You arrive in a haze of soft, rosy light. For a moment, everything is weightless - the air around you hums faintly, thick with warmth and the heady scent of flowers. When the haze fades, you find yourself standing beneath a vast glass dome that stretches impossibly high overhead. The light filtering through its pink-tinted panes paints everything in gentle rose and gold and petals drift through the air like drifting snow.

You are standing in the Everbloom's Greenhouse. The walls curve upward in graceful arches, every pane glimmering faintly and the air is warm, fragrant, and shimmering with faint motes of magic. Flowering vines climb the supports, colorful blossoms of all kinds spill from hanging baskets, and everywhere you look there's flowers, flowers, flowers.

At its heart stands the Everbloom, a colossal tree the likes of which you've never seen before. Its smooth trunk is faintly luminous and the canopy stretches so high that you can't see where it ends, vanishing into a haze of golden light and drifting petals. The air around it hums softly with power and for a moment, all you can do is stare up at it in awe.

A moment later, movement stirs: castle attendants glide forward in elegant uniforms, carrying towels, refreshments, and generally doing their best to make sure everyone's arrived safely. After all, you're not alone. Around you, other figures begin to appear - some blinking in wonder, some already steady on their feet. Each seems as out of place as you, drawn from distant worlds and disparate lives but under the rosy light they all seem to come together like flowers gathered into the same bouquet.

Those who stumble are gently guided toward a bench cushioned with flowering moss. Cool towels and drinks infused with rose and mint are offered freely. Eventually, once it seems like everyone's arrived and mostly gotten their bearings, one of the attendants - a lady-in-waiting as you'll eventually find out - speaks up.

"You are most welcome to Rosavelle," she says, dipping into a polite bow. "Their Princess will be hosting a banquet this evening to greet you all properly. Until then, please take your time to get settled and familiar with your surroundings. If you need anything at all, do not hesitate to ask."

For now, you're free to mingle. This is your chance to get your bearings, meet your fellow arrivals, and explore your surroundings. Beyond the main atrium, you can glimpse winding paths lined with blooming hedges and fat, colorful blossoms. Somewhere in the distance, you can faintly hear birdsong. You feel a little tug somewhere in your chest and if you follow it, you might just come across a flowerbed somewhere in the Greenhouse that you somehow know as your own.

After some time to mingle and acclimate, the attendants return, clapping their hands gently to draw attention.

"It's nearly time to prepare for the evening banquet! If you'll come with us, we'll see to your attire."

DRESS UP

You're led from the warmth of the greenhouse through a series of winding marble corridors until you're ushered through a set of grand double doors into a suite of guest rooms bustling with motion. Tailors, stylists, and attendants hurry between privacy screens, racks of lavish garments and trays piled high with glittering jewelry. Silks and satins gleam and lace and velvet catch the light in soft waves of color.

Tailors and stylists bustle about, armed with measuring tapes, pins, and brushes. The staff are cheerfully firm about making sure everyone looks their best for the banquet but nobody's forced into anything they don't want; the attendants listen to everyone's preferences and somehow find something flattering for even the most reluctant participant. Whether you comply with good humor or grumble through the process, it's impossible not to get swept up in the flurry of preparation. … of course, if you're determined to be a grump about the whole thing, you're welcome to wait outside until everyone's dressed up nicely.

The attendants encourage everyone to chatter as they work or even to lend a hand to another guest struggling with their ensemble. Maybe it's out of curiosity - the staff are polite, professional, but it's clear that dressing guests from other worlds is a novelty they want to enjoy.

As final adjustments are made and mirrors fill with transformed reflections, the bustle slowly quiets. Attendants exchange satisfied looks, then guide the group once more through the corridors. The faint strains of music drift down the corridors until at last, you find yourself before the towering double doors of the Azurite Banquet Hall, carved from the stone it takes its name from. The lady in waiting pauses just long enough to smooth a wrinkle here, adjust a collar there, and make sure everyone is present before pushing the doors open.

BANQUET

The Azurite Banquet Hall glows with warm candlelight reflected in polished marble floors and the air inside smells of wine and roses. Long tables stretch the length of the hall, each one dressed in embroidered runners and heaped with platters of food that look almost too beautiful to eat and in the corner, a string quartet plays a soft, lilting melody.

At the head of the room stands your host, Princess Calanthe Rosabella Petalia de Amoré. Draped in pale gold, they look every bit the part of a royal... though the slightly nervous way they adjust their posture speaks of someone not entirely at ease in the spotlight. When they catch sight of the assembled guests, though, they brighten a bit. Their hands are clasped too tightly around their wine glass, but their voice is bright and earnest.

"Ah - good evening, everyone! I - well, goodness, where does one even begin?

First of all, thank you. Truly, thank you all for coming here - to Rosavelle, and to me. I know this must all seem terribly strange - one moment you were in your own world, and the next you're here. It's strange to me too, you know. I've been imagining this for weeks, and yet somehow it still doesn't feel quite real.
Ah - oh! I suppose I should introduce myself properly. My name is Calanthe Rosabella Petalia de Amoré. I am the Crown Princess of Rosavelle, soon to be its sovereign, though I admit that still feels a little surreal to say aloud.

I invited you here because - well, I imagine all of you read your invitations. The Everbloom, our kingdom's oldest and most sacred magic, is bound to the heart and mine is… embarrassingly, quite uneducated in such matters. I couldn't imagine anyone in this world I could burden with such a problem and so I thought - perhaps - those who come from other worlds might help me."

... suddenly, they look sheepish.

"That said, ah - there is a small complication. It is. Um. Frowned upon by most scholars to interfere with the affairs of other worlds, even with the best of intentions and I fear it would cause quite a stir if word got out. So for the time being, we'll need to keep your origins a secret. Please don't worry, though - we've arranged everything you'll need. Over the next month, we'll be teaching you about Rosavelle and all its customs so that when you venture out for the Wilting festival, you'll feel quite at home.

I realize that's rather a lot to ask, and I'm - well, I'm deeply grateful for your patience. I promise to do my best to make this worth your while.

So, once again, thank you. For answering my invitation. For being here, together, tonight.

Now then-"

They raise their glass, cheeks pink but eyes bright.

"To new beginnings, and to the bonds we have yet to form. May they bloom as beautifully as the flowers of Rosavelle... oh, that sounded quite good, didn't it? A toast - to all of you!"

As the toast echoes through the hall, the music swells again - a graceful waltz this time - and attendants sweep forward to usher guests toward the buffet tables.

There's something for every palate: platters of lemon-butter shrimp and rosemary-crusted fish, seared scallops on saffron rice and fillets of calendula-cured salmon alongside oysters resting in crushed ice and lobsters cracked open beside dishes of herb butter. It's not all seafood, either - whole roasted ducks glazed in something fruity dot the table, alongside lamb, chicken and a mouthwatering roast beef.

Between the platters, bowls of vegetables offer roasted root vegetables glistening with sweet glaze, delicate salads strewn with edible petals, caramelized carrots, blistered cherry tomatoes and crisp greens grown. And, of course, baskets of warm, golden bread wait beside whipped butter and creamy sauces.

If you're in the mood for sweets, there's desserts in dizzying abundance: sugared fruit tarts, meringues shaped like blossoms, chocolate soufflés dusted with candied violet, and pastries of all kinds filled with custard, chocolate and all manner of fruity, flowery fillings.

A side table gleams with crystal decanters and goblets: bottles of wine, deeply colored mead and delicate floral liqueurs seem to be the alcoholic offerings but there's carafes of chilled fruit water steeped with mint for anyone who's not inclined towards spirits.

If you're feeling bold, the cleared space near the musicians makes a perfect dance floor. Perhaps you find yourself drawn into a dance, or perhaps you linger at the buffet, trading stories with a stranger over a shared plate of sugared pastries. Or maybe you'll take the opportunity to introduce yourself to your host now they've made an appearance.

Eventually, as the night wears thin, the quartet's melody softens to a gentle hum. Candlelight flickers low. The attendants appear once more, smiling as they begin to guide everyone toward the final stop of the evening.

HOUSEWARMING

The banquet winds to a gentle close and ne by one, the guests are gathered once more by the castle attendants who lead the way through dimly glowing corridors. The halls are quieter now, the rosy light of evening filtering through stained glass in sleepy shades of pink and gold. Everyone is lead through the castles and out into the grounds, their splendor only a little dulled by the darkness starting to settle over the castle.

"Your lodgings are just ahead," the lady in waiting says, her voice hushed out of respect for the hour. "You've each been assigned to a house - named for the flowers that chose you."

Slowly but surely, everyone's names are called and each person is supplied a heavy brass key to a house named for a flower you may have seen blooming somewhere today. When they speak the name of your house, something in you stirs with faint, inexplicable recognition, like you know it already - or maybe it knows you.

In any case, the barracks themselves are nothing like the name implies: warm, inviting, and softly lit by enchanted lanterns. Each house has its own cozy common area where low couches and plush chairs are gathered around softly glowing hearths. A long table in the center has been set with some late-night comforts, in case you somehow have any room left in your belly - plates of fruit and pastries, steaming pots of tea, and rich cocoa dusted with rose sugar.

The attendants leave you to settle in for the night, with a promise that the barracks staff will prepare meals from tomorrow onwards but mostly, you'll be left to your own devices. You could just track down your room and crash for the night but now seems as good a time as any to get to know your new housemates.

(CODE)

Comments

Astarion | Baldur's Gate 3 | lily

[exsanguished]

[ Putting my prompts in separate comments because some of them ended up so long and I wanted different icons I'm sorry ]

Arrival

[exsanguished]

[ When Astarion first received the letter he almost didn't read it. Letters from admirers have found their way to him a handful of times over the centuries and his default reaction now was to ignore them - better for everyone involved if he did. None ever had his name actually on them before though and that... sets him on edge somewhat. It's one thing when someone who's seen him from across the tavern over several nights admires him from afar and uses letters or poetry as a first move - it's a whole other when they've been watching and listening closely enough to pick up his name without asking. That takes it from secret admirer to stalker territory which... mm. Yes, that's far more of an issue. But once he finally gives in and opens it... well. Now he's certain this is just a prank instead. Someone's stupid idea of a joke.

Yet as he makes his way through the Lower City's streets, having no luck at one tavern and feeling the desperation of knowing he can't return to the palace empty handed creep in as he heads to a different, less than savory one... his mind drifts back to it. As stupid as it is... well it would be nice, wouldn't it? If things were that easy. If some stranger from another plane would really choose to pluck him, of all people, out of his world. Out of... this.

"I promise you'll be treated as an honored guest." ]

...Of course I'd say yes. [ It comes out without his intention. It's heavy but soft. Bitter but wistful. A low murmur under his breath, as if afraid his master may still be able to hear all the way back in the palace if he isn't careful. His eyelids close, not even noticing the scent of flowers. ] If it were--

[ And when he reopens them... well. Suddenly everything is different. Much, much different. ]

--real...?

[ Oh.

Uh oh.

What has he just gotten himself into?

And oh gods, why is it suddenly day???

That's the panic that takes priority before anything else. Not the fact he's been suddenly teleported somewhere or that there's so many other people here or any of that. It's that there is absolutely sunlight filtering into this greenhouse and that. That's bad. That's real bad.

So he is getting even closer to this tree. Not too close, because even he can sense all this power in the air is coming from right here, but close enough that the branches are denser and the shade is better. He stays there, keeping his distance from the others as he tries to get a better feel for the situation. He's not... skittish, per se but he definitely doesn't look comfortable. Like he's bracing for something to go wrong. Thankfully there's enough going on with everyone else that he should be able to fly under the radar--

Oh. Nope at least one attendant noticed. And is also worried about how pale he is. Shit. ]

Oh-- oh no darling, I assure you I'm perfectly fine. [ And in that moment he sounds it, charming smile and assured tone. ] No need to worry your pretty little head over me.

[ His eyes then flick briefly to the side before pointing to whoever's nearest to him. ]

Now that person though - wouldn't you say they look a little green? [ He brings a hand up to his face, resting his cheek in it with faux concern as he makes a sort of... pitying sound with his tongue. ] Poor thing, perhaps the planar travel didn't agree with them...

[ ...

...Oh yeah, he's talking about you, random fellow other wordly visitor, whoever you may be. Yes, he's full of fucking shit.

(Feel free to also respond to him just wallflowering (heh) if you would prefer that) ]

arrival

[pegasinister]

[Well, he certainly could not pick a better target for the fretting staff to focus on. The tall man looks distinctly under fed and pale in a much more mundane way than Astarion, certainly. The staffer looks him up and down and flits over just as Astarion desired, the man looking disgruntled over being fussed at. He glances up to see what set them off and, oh, he looks right at Astarion, the one eye not covered by fringe narrowing with intent before having to turn back to the kindly staff]

No. I promise I always look like this.

[The smirk he gives seems to make them second guess asking at least]

[exsanguished]

[ If Astarion catches Hubert's narrowed eye he's not showing any indication that he did so (he absolutely did who are we kidding) but that comment? Ohhhh that comment though. ]

Really? Oh darling, that's so much worse. You know that's worse, yes?

(Not) Dress Up

[exsanguished]

[ You know, once upon a time he might have been elated to be presented with the opportunity for fancy new clothes. And once the shock of the situation has worn off a little he might very well regret not taking advantage of this when he had the chance. But as they're led down the halls he has a building sense of dread in his stomach and-- ah. There it is.

Plenty of mirrors. And lots of people very eager to take their measurements and help dress them and style them and

Touch them.

Touch... them...

As a very well meaning tailor approaches him with a measuring tape, his hands reflexively shoot up, held out and crossed in front of himself so the other keeps their distance. ]

Don't-- [ the word almost comes out like a snarl, but he manages to reign it in a little, the words following more of a subdued hiss. ] Don't touch me.

[ Oh. That was. Still too strong of a reaction wasn't it. Okay. Pull it back even more. Put on a razor sharp smile, fix your tone, lower your hands and gesture with them like you usually do when you talk instead - look less like an animal backed into a corner. ]

Apologies, but I think we can all agree that I'm the least in need of a change in clothes, hm? My outfit is just fine, thank you, and frankly I don't trust anyone but myself with these curls. It already took me hours to get them just right and I've had more than enough mishaps with fools trying to style or - gods forbid - straighten them for one life time, thank you.

[ It's harsher than it needs to be and he might feel stupid about it later but in this moment all he can think about is how he needs to get out of this room now. Before anyone glances at any nearby mirrors and happens to notice him conspicuously absent from the reflections of the group or continues to insist- (they won't but he doesn't know that. why should he think they would. no one ever gives a damn about what he actually wants, no one would ever actually let him say no--) ]

Now. If you'll excuse me, I'll be taking my leave and waiting outside. Please - go assist the poor dears who actually need it.

[ And with that he's already leaving before anyone can respond. He'll just be out here in the hall if you need him. ]

[wingstosee]

[ okay, so. here's the thing: vampires don't exist. but if they did, he's pretty sure this weirdly prettyguy has been acting like one all day?

like. look. first off, they arrive in the greenhouse, and the man immediately hid in the shade. which is totally normal! that's just... sort of what you do when it's hot out. which, admittedly, it's really not?? it's actually kind of a relief to have some sunlight, when it's cool like this. but maybe he just. sunburns easily. an albino, right? that's the word for when you have. white hair. and red eyes. and skin that burns easily-

okay that's the second thing. he looks like a vampire? not like, you know, the scary ones from stories about devils. not like the folklore about bloated corpses. he looks like- okay, this is intensely embarrassing to admit, but he looks kind of like venus imagined the main character of a certain fic he'd read a few years back. the sort of thing with a gentle, weepy boy getting-

-okay! no need to think about that! what REALLY matters right now is the double whammy of seeing him in the room with the tailors, wondering for a moment just how impressive he'll look when they're done, and then seeing him storm out - and for a second - just for a single second - realizing he couldn't see him in the mirror.

it's probably nothing. he sees things - doesn't see things - all the time. maybe he was distracted by the lights. maybe he was distracted by the way his hair curls. it's... he's always wanted hair that did that, just a little bit. instead of a mussy, useless bird's nest. (his father had always wanted him to get a buzz cut. he'd just. found ways to put it off.)

yeah. he's just seeing things. vampires aren't real, but this guy is, and that's what matters right now. that's why he's apologizing to the tailor, heading out the instant they finish measuring his chest with hands that pry too close at and pull at his thighs and make him feel weirdly distant and unaware. that's why he's approaching the man in the hall, asking in a quiet sort of way- ]

Hey. Are you- um, I saw. The tailors try to pull you over. Are you okay?

[ he just wants to check up on someone. he just wants to do something nice. there's nothing self-serving about this. there's nothing gross and needy and hopeful about it.

god, he's gross. ]

[exsanguished]

[ Since leaving the room Astarion has mostly been brooding thinking to himself out in the hall. At the moment Venus comes to check on him he already has one of his daggers out, examining and flipping it around in his hand idly. He's mid toss when Venus approaches, but even while looking away from it he still expertly catches the handle. ]

...Hm?

[ Oh. Someone's checking up on him? He shouldn't be too surprised given the scene he just made in there but. Well. That's not actually something that usually... happens? Not really anyway? Not unless the person wants something (the something usually being him, in bed, of course) and for all he knows maybe that's the case here too but...

Quickly he puts the dagger back where it belongs at his hip. As soon it's there the charm is back on like a flipped switch. ]

Oh yes, I'm quite alright darling. No need to worry about me.

[ It's the same thing he said to the attendant earlier. A canned response. Almost automatic. Become unassuming, don't draw attention for any other reason than the one you want eyes on you for--

... ]

It's just... mm. [ he tilts his head to the side ] A lot, isn't it?

[ Okay maybe he'll say a bit more in this case than he did back then. After all it can't be just to make sure he's okay, right? That's gotta be fake. Maybe he's just a convenient excuse for someone else to get out of there. That's way more believable than anyone actually caring about him. ]

1/2

[wingstosee]

[ he watches the way the man tosses the dagger, snatches it out of the air almost effortlessly. (he's gross, isn't he? he's being gross.) his gaze drops down; he crosses his arms, covering himself almost reflexively. small. unassuming. easy to overlook.

(the same response. he's not fine. but he says he's fine, so that's what you're supposed to believe, right? just take it at face value. just nod and say "i get it" and-)

he continues, and venus watches with wide eyes- ]

2/2

[wingstosee]

[ -and then, against all odds, venus lights up. for a moment, his shoulders untense; those arms, crossed so defensively against his chest, slowly loosen their mutual grip. ]

Oh! Yeah, it's... It kind of is, huh?

[ maybe it's exactly like astarion thought. or maybe- just maybe-

venus turns himself, leaning against the same wall at a respectable distance. close enough to hear; not close enough to be a nuisance. (any more of one, at least.) ]

It's... I mean, it sucks, for sure. It's always so- constricting, you know? You button it up to the top, and you can't breathe, and everyone's telling you what to do the whole time. [ he laughs, and even if it's nervous and forced out it's still the closest thing to genuine he's given since he arrived. ] I, uh... I usually just sort of pretend I'm not there. You know? Just nod and go along with it. It goes quicker that way.

[ venus honey that's dissociation. you're dissociating out of your mind ]

[exsanguished]

[ Astarion tilts his head as Venus speaks. It was a simple comment, just something to allow for some small talk. Definitely not one he expected to get an actual honest answer from, that's for sure. But some people are just waiting for the right person to say the right combo of words, he supposes. Happened more than once while wooing targets, especially if they'd had enough drinks. He was an expert at mostly tuning it out by this point.

He's not doing that this time though. Partly because he has the luxury to actually listen for a change, but also because... well.

Maybe it's also a little relatable. Maybe. ]

Something tells me you're not just talking about an ill-fitting waistcoat, my dear.

...But yes. I think I do know. Very well, even. I've done my fair share of "nodding and just going along with it" in my life time.

[ It's absolutely dissociation. It's the only way he gets through the night. But of course he doesn't know that's what it is nor would he use the word if he did. ]

[wingstosee]

Ha. Maybe not.

[ ..."my dear." it's weird, what two words can do. venus's gaze drops down to the ground; his cheeks light up, a red burning from nose to ears. it's a good thing he's not looking directly at astarion. it's a joke, or a tease, he gets that, he's not stupid, but-

but it's still something he's never been given before. it's still enough to stir something in his chest, butterflies and cold ice twisting together in unison.

he bites his lip. the lights dance in his peripheries. for once, he doesn't make himself not see them. ]

Yeah. You get it. [ he's nervous, now, words coming to his lips and stumbling out half-formed before he has time to overthink them. ] I know that's just sort of how things work. It's like, "hey, this sucks, but that's life, right?" But it sucks that life has to be like that in the first place. It could be better. It should be better.

[ his grip tightens at his elbows. god. he sounds like an idiot. he is an idiot. ]

...Venus. I'm, uh- I'm Venus.

Banquet

[exsanguished]

[ At the banquet he doesn't seem any more at home. There's a... bit of familiarity, sure. He's been to parties in the upper city before, though really it's more that he was brought along and not so he'd enjoy himself (which he never did). But those were never anywhere near as grand as this. Pretentious, perhaps. But grand? Not really.

...And he can't really trust it. (Well, he already knew better than to do so, but--)

There's a shoe to drop eventually, right? He almost thinks that's what they're about to get when the princess mentions a complication but that's... that's honestly nothing? It's not a catch at the very least.

Either way he doesn't touch any of the food but he has helped himself to a glass of wine. He's continuing to mind his business and keep to himself, (well. Okay, that's a lie, he is DEFINITELY enjoying some of the fucking SCENES y'all are making) occasionally looking over his shoulder. ]

[deathwitch]

[ Melinoë likewise isn't eating anything. She finds the whole thing mostly distasteful. Why do mortals have to eat, anyway? Who designed that? Maybe she should have a word with…well, she's not sure who. Prometheus, if he would bother with her.

Not that anyone here has such existential answers. At least the wine is palatable, if not anywhere near comparable to Nectar or Ambrosia. She'd hate to be impolite, however, so she hasn't just bounced.

She catches Astarion not eating as well, and eventually goes to sit next to him. ]

You look as uncomfortable being here as I feel. Not your kind of fare either, is it?

[exsanguished]

[ He turns as Melinoë sits next to him, instinctively going into charmer mode as he gives her a smile ]

That obvious, is it?

I enjoy a good party as much as the next person [ lies. ] but this is... well. Different from what I'm used to.

[deathwitch]

[ She smiles back at him, a wry twist of her mouth. ]

I thought maybe it was just a case of like attracting like. But I'm not used to parties at all, really. I've certainly never been to anything like this.

[ She glances out at the room. ]

What kind of party are you used to, if not this?

1/2

[exsanguished]

The fun kind, of course! [ he waves his non-wine holding hand about as his voice goes a little lower ] The kind where you can meet a beautiful stranger and get utterly lost in one another's company before taking them home for a little more... excitement.

[ ... ]

2/2

[exsanguished]

[ He only lingers on that word for a moment before waving his hand again, loosening up his posture and the usual hypersexual performance with it. For now anyway. ]

...By which I mostly mean my scene is more bustling taverns than grand banquets. I suppose that's not technically a party... [ a beat, and then a mischievous smile ] But it certainly can be.

[deathwitch]

[ Melinoë isn't entirely used to mortals (she might have mistaken Astarion for one, having no idea what a vampire is), but she's not a total stranger to innuendo. Something about the almost conspiratorial tone of it tickles her and she laughs. ]

Well…I would hope that kind would be fun.

[ She returns his smile after that. ]

Bustling taverns! I can relate to those! At least, a little bit. We have a tavern in the Crossroads. Shades can get fairly rowdy but it's really nothing like this place. Shades are less…substantial, really. Everyone here is so warm and…alive, I suppose.

blorbo to blorbo conversation...............

[liedol]

[ Ai's been channeling her Company Party Smile for the past few hours now - she might be out of her usual element but floating around with a pretty smile, making nice-sounding small talk and not wallflowering too obviously are things she's learned will carry you through just about any social gathering, so long as it's civilized enough.

................ is what she thinks right up until Golshi kicks Darin across the room. She's been doing one of her careful loops of the crowd and it just so happens to have deposited her right next to Astarion while all this is going on and she sort of. freezes. ]

Ah. [ blinkblink. ] Um. Wow! Her leg strength is really something else!

Housewarming (lily house lily house)

[exsanguished]

[ It's when the night is winding to a close and they're being shown to their new "homes" that it starts to finally sink in that this might be real after all. He stares at the key in his hand, unsure how to describe the feeling it stirs in him. (When was the last time that he had a key to anything that was "his"...?)

Of course he fully expects the barracks to be no better than the spawn dormitory back in the palace, there's no way things could change that much for him after all. And so colour him shocked again when they arrive at an actually rather nice and quaint house house.

...Oh but it is a house, isn't it. Hm. That raises a question.

Astarion stands at the entrance, unsure what to do. Is... is it fine in this case? They said it was his living quarters, they gave him a blasted key, so that should count as invited right? Oh but it's not just his house, he has to share it with strangers so does that make it not count again? Which is it?

He's too stuck in place to try and find out for himself (which honestly, might give him the answer) and eventually he opts to call out to the next fellow lily resident passing him to get inside. ]

Ah-- pardon me. Would you mind doing me a little favor?

[ Once he's finally inside he can be found exploring the rest of the house, pausing once again in front of the room that's supposed to be his (though this time for different reasons). ]

[nightwild]

[Yayoi, rather than passing him, is standing behind him.]

Sure. You're kind of in the way, though.

[exsanguished]

Splendid! I promise it's not too much of a hassle.

[ His ass is not moving though. Not yet at least. ]

Just... when you step inside would you mind saying "come on in" or something of that effect to me?

[nightwild]

Uh...

[She pauses. Is this one of those normal rituals for bringing someone over? But it's his place too... and she never had friends to invite over, so she doesn't really know what to say... Is this normal? But...]

That's not gonna give you some weird magic control over the place, is it?

[.....]

Or the people in it, I guess. If it's just redecoration power or something that's probably fine.

[exsanguished]

Oh no - nothing like that, darling!

[ Shit. He didn't think this far. Fuck. What believable explanation does he come up with for this? ]

It's just... well, this is going to sound a little silly but... [ come on, think idiot-- oh ] It has to do with the way I was raised.

You see, my... father [ oh thank gods this is not his first time referring to Cazador this way and he can expertly hide his internal disgust about it ] was very insistent that we never enter a house without being explicitly invited inside first. He was... rather strict about these things so I'm afraid it's more ingrained in me than I would like. Even in a situation like this where the housing has been provided to us I still can't bring myself to step inside.

So a little gesture like that would greatly put my conscience at ease and alleviate any guilt I might have.

[nightwild]

Oh, damn.

[Yayoi makes a face of disgust... but it's not directed at Astarion. In fact, she seems to buy the story completely, at face value.]

Yeah, I can do that. That sounds like a shitty way to get brought up... I can do that.

But I do need to get to the door first.