Event | Sinbrilee | Bacchanal

[ironwood]

Characters: Any and all!
Date: August 24 - 30th
Location: Sinbrilee
Situation: An ancient festival of an ancient city, all are welcome at the Bacchanal!
Warnings/Rating: Please label threads as appropriate.

Death and destruction cannot curtail the single most important festival celebrated by the denizens of Sinbrilee: The Bacchanal! The ghosts in and about the city have begun to gossip about high fashion and festivities, sending any that inquire to the Amphitheatre -- a grand, circular structure nestled in the west side of the city.

This structure bore the fall of Sinbrilee and the wear of time with dignity, having lost handfuls of archways and one long stretch of wall to crumbling decay. Despite this, it is obvious that the amphitheatre once hosted many a display and every more festivities than the mind can grasp. This was their solace and safety; here is where the people of Sinbrilee came to find the mind's escape from all that threatened them and their great turtle.

Ghosts have been busy throughout the week, clearing paths through debris and hanging great cloth banners of soft blues and greens to disguise the more blatant signs of its decline. Many hundreds of them shimmer and slid through the area, providing for tables upon tables of food, offering drink, and overseeing competition of sport and skill (some even denying death's non-corporeal curse to enter).

Here, well... Here is where the party begins!

Food & Drink | Music, Discussions, & Dancing | Wrestling & Competitions

Comments

[depicted]

Then you must call me Dorian. [The candid insistence matches his appearance more than his real name, but even so he carries it on.] I don't understand why you're so reserved about it. The men I knew in your era were far quicker to come on first name basis with me, and usually with less grounds to do so.

[That's because of the people you hung out with, Dorian.]

and now all my icons are terrible!

[cravats]

Perhaps because your protests amuse me, my dear Dorian. [Lyall can, occasionally, be a bit of a troll. Sorry.] You may call me whatever you like.

[depicted]

[Dorian raises his eyebrows, except that there's a slight raise to the corners of his mouth.] For that, I'd call you an ass.

[cravats]

I admit, I would deserve it. [His tone is quite complacent. Sometimes he just likes to rile people up.] But if I call you Mr. Gray in future, I am probably just teasing you.

[depicted]

I cannot be certain. [As Dorian follows Lyall around the room, he affects the air of the mildly wounded.] People have been quite cold to me in that manner in the past, Randolph. You pry at old wounds.

[Alan Campbell was so rude after Dorian ruined his life! So rude!

[cravats]

[Lyall isn't trying any fancy moves, because he's Lyall and thus mostly boring. The elegant steps are quite enough for him- also he doesn't know how Dorian would feel about twirling.] Then I must offer my humblest apologies. Dare I hope for forgiveness?

[depicted]

[Twirling is definitely not more unconventional than some things Dorian has done.] Well, when you put it so nicely, I can't say no.

[cravats]

[True, but Lyall is utterly conventional in public whatever he may be otherwise. He smiles.] That's a load off my mind.