event roll
Night thickens the crowd of dancers in the banquet hall. Groups of horses come in from the fields, legs stained from grape stomping and lips stained from wine drinking. Some smell like smoke from the bonfires, others like apples from the orchard. As the festivities carry on around Elena and Michael, laughter and music fill the room. Someone opens the windows for some fresh air, spilling light and merriment into the moonlight streets of Dusk Court.
There might be something strange in the cups the two palominos drink from. It starts as a pleasant tickle at the back of the throat, and continues as a warmth that spreads down the spine and across the body. If they keep drinking they will quickly find themselves at the brink of laughter, pushed over the edge by the slightest humor. It will become harder to tell a lie. Later, near the bottom of their cup, one will find themselves saying things they normally wouldn’t, releasing inhibitions like dandelion seeds to the wind.
The night is wholly indifferent to whether or not the two horses finish the strange drink in their cups. The dancing and the drinking and the celebration carries on around them, fueled by impulsion and laughter until early in the morning.
