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((OOC: Satinalia 9:35, Early Evening, @Ferren Bairston ))
Fuckinalia.
That was the term Linette and Ferren had for the fucking carousing amateur 24 hour party. People pretended (ok, some really didn’t pretend) to lose their inhibitions and really cut loose. What it meant more times than not was that someone ended up drunk face first in hopefully their own vomit.
Amateurs.
But better to be in Highever than Denerim for the holiday even with all those uncomfortable memories Linette associated with Highever and Satinalia. Hard not to think of the date and not think of her Antivan slice of tattooed muscle. That was way in the past, though. She could push those thoughts aside in favor of new memories Ferren and she would no doubt make on this evening. The pair that mocked together, platonically stayed together.
The boat ride to Highever had been relatively without incident. Someone had dropped a fish accidentally at her feet and she may or may not have squealed a more high pitched squeal than Riane presented with a pony. The damn fish ended up smashed against the deck floor soon enough, Lin boot stomping it to really, no seriously really, dead.
People were already out and about, people that would never dare to go to Sarim’s Luck during the regular year walking down the pathway from the village to the seedy tavern just on the water’s edge of the docks. Another time she might have taunted them but not tonight. Lin had a Ferren to go find and she walked past them with a roll of the eyes and a gruff snort.
The smell of wine and stupidity, an incredibly hard scent to scrub away, wafted on the cool evening’s breeze as Lin wound her way through the village of Highever to Ferren’s house. The place was much as she remembered it - not nice. Ferren was good with a hammer just not the kind you needed to fix actual domestic shit. Working her little lock pick magic, she let herself into the house. Sure she had a key, but using her lock picks was just faster.
Fuckinalia.
That was the term Linette and Ferren had for the fucking carousing amateur 24 hour party. People pretended (ok, some really didn’t pretend) to lose their inhibitions and really cut loose. What it meant more times than not was that someone ended up drunk face first in hopefully their own vomit.
Amateurs.
But better to be in Highever than Denerim for the holiday even with all those uncomfortable memories Linette associated with Highever and Satinalia. Hard not to think of the date and not think of her Antivan slice of tattooed muscle. That was way in the past, though. She could push those thoughts aside in favor of new memories Ferren and she would no doubt make on this evening. The pair that mocked together, platonically stayed together.
The boat ride to Highever had been relatively without incident. Someone had dropped a fish accidentally at her feet and she may or may not have squealed a more high pitched squeal than Riane presented with a pony. The damn fish ended up smashed against the deck floor soon enough, Lin boot stomping it to really, no seriously really, dead.
People were already out and about, people that would never dare to go to Sarim’s Luck during the regular year walking down the pathway from the village to the seedy tavern just on the water’s edge of the docks. Another time she might have taunted them but not tonight. Lin had a Ferren to go find and she walked past them with a roll of the eyes and a gruff snort.
The smell of wine and stupidity, an incredibly hard scent to scrub away, wafted on the cool evening’s breeze as Lin wound her way through the village of Highever to Ferren’s house. The place was much as she remembered it - not nice. Ferren was good with a hammer just not the kind you needed to fix actual domestic shit. Working her little lock pick magic, she let herself into the house. Sure she had a key, but using her lock picks was just faster.