sixthiterationlogs | [MINGLE] Saints & Sinners Masquerade

[MINGLE] Saints & Sinners Masquerade

WHERE: Corn field next to the inn
WHEN: 31 October, all day and night
OPEN TO: ALL - MINGLE
WARNINGS: Please warn as appropriate in your subject lines
NOTES: Please make sure you have read and understand the event details! If you have questions, drop them here. RECOMMENDED BUT NOT REQUIRED: Put your SCRUBS COLOR in your OTA subject line for folks doing bingo. Time your OTA for the harvest feast, the masquerade, or both. Costume matches and details for folks who did not get matched are here.

This morning, our intrepid villagers awoke to a surprise of the nicer kind: A bundle of clothing left at the foot of their bed, tied with a bow. There is also a note: Put on your new outfit and join the festivities in the corn field next to the inn.

You may be thinking, what corn field next to the inn? The one that sprung up fully-mature overnight, of course.

In the middle of the field, villagers will find an autumn feast: Tables piled with harvest time food and drink, warm and rustic decorations, the day's sunshine fending off any chill in the air.

Tuck in and enjoy, villagers, but take note: Things often look different in the dark, and you might be one of them.

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Hawke looks over at the woman and she's instantly jealous. "Well see, you at least look closer to the right image." Was it so much to ask to give her some armor? Then again, if she had it and then it was taken away again, that would be worse. She sighs, deflated, and kicks at the ground since she can't kick anything else.

"I suppose if I looked like myself, it wouldn't be much of a costume. I have to give them a salute for a good joke, irritating as it is." The "them," whoever that is. She really likes the woman's hair, after she gets a closer look at her, tilting her head. And because it's Hawke, she doesn't hesitate. "Love the hair." Not everyone can pull it off. She did have her hair very, very short before they got to Kirkwall, but then she got lazy about keeping up with it and let it grow out to where it is now. "I'm Hawke."

"To be fair," Phryne answers, "if I'm right about who I'm supposed to be there aren't that many options for how one is meant to look."

She will also readily admit that this might not help either, given that she's only guessing about her costume (even if she is reasonably certain she's on the right track) and doesn't have even the slightest idea of what the concept behind Hawke's is supposed to be. She has a few reasonable guesses, yes. But given that they haven't exactly been given a who's who, costume-wise guesses are about the best she can do.

Even if she's more than glad to leave them aside in favor of the other topic Hawke has just brought up.

"Phryne. And I'm quite fond of it myself."

Otherwise she would have grown it out again a long time ago.

Hawke's eyebrows go up in interest. "So you think your costume is based on something specific?" She has no reason currently to think hers is doing the same. She knows that fake armor is the suggestion, but nothing else about it stands out to her. It's certainly not anything people in her world wear to a masquerade or the sort. She glances around to the other costumes being showcase, and none of them resemble something she recognizes. Some are completely baffling.

"It's the cheekbones that make the general look work, I think. My face was always too round for it." She never really thinks through her compliments or intends to give them, thy simply spill out of her mouth with ease. Along with any number of other thoughts depending on where her mind is at. "I suppose it was foolish to think we'd just get food and liquor for nothing though."

"Someone specific," Phryne corrects. "But yes. Although I'll need to see more of the other costumes people have been put into to be sure. I could be misreading things."

She doesn't think she is, mind. But if there isn't a matching Robin Hood then she can't see much use in the Observers having chosen King John in particular. But that's something she figures she doesn't need to get into. Not when it's clear enough that Hawke would most likely not recognize either of the names if she were to mention them. And with another topic at hand besides, she's more than glad to turn to that instead.

"It's one of the popular looks, back home. Although I'll admit that not quite everyone can manage to pull it off terribly well."

Not that this stops people from trying. But such is the way of human nature, regardless of where one should happen to live.

"And I have rather been getting that impression, when it comes to those responsible for our being here."

"Interesting. So this is possibly specific to a person?" Hawke's uncertain if that is better or worse. She's guessing it doesn't matter. She still hates it. And it's not based on something she knows. Ah well. In the end she's stuck here and in this. She will be pissy about it for a bit more and then laugh it off, as is her way.

"For a time I had my hair completely cut up to here," a tap at above her ears. Very short indeed. "With bangs. It ended up harder to maintain after awhile so I gave it up." Constant cutting and shaping, and she'd only done it in the first place so no one could grab hold of her hair and pull her off guard. As a mercenary it was wise, as a long term resident in Kirkwall, unimportant in the end.

Hawke arches an eyebrow. "It makes sense. Nothing is for free. I don't know what they're getting out of this. Perhaps a laugh? I can see doing it for a laugh." She does like laughing, and for people she cared about, this is the sort of thing she'd play around with. But this is most likely for crueler reasons. "How long have you been here?"

"The outfit, at least. I wouldn't be able to say about the actually costumes themselves."

She's not entirely ruling out the possibility that they happen to mean something. That they've each been given the costume they have for more of a reason than chance. But at the same time she can't say for certain. Whatever the reasoning might be, it's not exactly something that anyone is mentioning.

"And it does sound like that would be difficult to maintain."

Not that she's particularly aware of the finer details of Hawke's life. But even so, it does sound rather high-maintenance. Not that hers can't be either, but she's also not trying to keep it quite as short as Hawke had apparently.

"It could be that. Or they could simply want to see what we'd make of it." Which isn't entirely better as far as Phryne's concerned. But it's not something that either of them can actually do anything about either, as frustrating as that is.

"And several months, thus far."

"It was easier to keep it short in the army because there's people willing to cut it. But as soon as we got to a town, my mother was like really, Marian, now you can look like a lady." Her mother left her noble house for an ill-advised marriage, but she always kept a bit of that class and snobbery in her. In the best sense; she was, after all, a remarkable hostess and beloved amongst most who met her. Hawke tried not to think too deeply on that particular loss, outside of wishing she'd worn a few more gowns for her in retrospect.

"That sounds about right." Hawke peers upwards as if expecting someone there is looking down. That's her assumption, it's the easiest way to keep an eye on them, from above. She herself often used higher perches to watch people. They might have some kind of unique magic to the spying, anything was possible. "Or they want us to think about whether there's some secret message so we'll think about what it could all mean."

Basically, who knows at this point. "There's food and drink so it could be worse."

"And a distinct advantage to having something your enemies couldn't grab, I'd imagine. To say nothing of more... sanitary concerns."

Phryne knows absolutely nothing about the battlefields of the Thedas. To be perfectly honest, she's not sure she wants to. But even without trenches having been involved, she knows very well that short hair is far easier to wash and when it comes down to having to the deal with blood (and everything else that a battlefield tends to entail) not needing to spend absolutely forever washing one's hair is definitely an advantage.

"Besides, I don't see why someone can't look like a lady and still have short hair. However short she should care to keep it."

Still, she's just as willing to put that topic aside in favor of discussing the matter of the party and what the Observers might be up to, offering a shrug at Hawke's comment.

"I wouldn't put either past them, at this point. But there is that."

"That's the funny part, my mother has hair not dissimilar from your own!" Hawke shrugs, no real answer. Mothers. "Had, I mean." Andraste she really should have the right tense down by now. She refuses to linger on that, nope. "She was a bit old fashioned about her daughters I suppose, I think it was a generalized dress in actual clothing and not armor, don't carry a broadsword to dinner, stop slouching in your chair and swearing at the Knight-Commander." She smiles; yeah, it's rough, to remember her after her death, but it's also fond memories. She may not have been the type of noblewoman her mother wanted, but she fussed because she cared.

Hawke thinks it is a rather interesting looking party, if very odd. It's not boring. She does like not-boring things. "I think I'll leave the speculating to people who like to speculate. I gave up on trying to understand complicated magical situations some time ago." Or rather, she understood parts, it just ended up with no win scenarios and she had no interest in no win scenarios.

"So who do you think that costume is?"

The sudden change of tense is absolutely something Phryne spots. It's not really any of her business, mind, not unless Hawke should particular care to share the finer details, but it's very much something she notices. Likely as a side-effect of doing the sort of work she does, if she has any guess. But rather than let her imagination run away with her, she listens instead to what Hawke has to say about her mother, nodding as appropriate.

"To be honest, I would have imagined a Knight-Commander would be used to a certain amount of swearing."

Assuming they bear any sort of resemblance to the soldiers she'd been familiar with back home anyway, and she can't imagine there wouldn't be at least some similarities, despite the fact that they're so clearly from different worlds.

"And if I'm right, this is meant to be King James."

"Oh not Meredith." Hawke's tone noticeably darkens and she scowls. Not at Phyrne of course, but Meredith is a frustrating ghost. "She ruled with a cruel fist, everyone was terrified of her, and I had to put up with her for so much longer than sanity would allow." So Hawke had many swears for the woman, and she only barely tolerated her back because taking down the Champion of Kirkwall wouldn't go so well for her. "Then she tried to murder all the mages so I got to stab her a lot." Hawke pauses and winces. "Sorry, have to keep remembering that talking about killing people isn't great dinner conversation." It was for her, alright?

"A king! Interesting." She knew King Alistair from in person, an adorable sort he was, but she didn't see quite as pleased with it. "Was he the bad sort of king?"

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[MINGLE] Saints & Sinners Masquerade

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