[Though Alia definitely prefers her swims in the lake outside, with nothing on at all, all water is sacred and to be cherished, and she can't pass up the opportunity for a cute outfits. Plus she enjoys being waited on, peeking over the tops of her sunglasses to smile sweetly at all the cabana boys, nudging out one pink-painted foot to nudge at their thighs. In fact, she isn't that picky -- if you pass by her, she'll reach out one small hand and catch your arm, tugging gently and smiling with all her teeth.] Bring me another drink. [It's not a request, but there's no lilt of the Voice in her words either -- she's just tipsy enough to assume everyone will obey her just because.

But then, grinning even wider, impossibly, uncannily:] Bring me another drink and I'll tell you about my rites and visions. [There's an offer nobody can refuse, right?

Later, when the sky darkens, the fireworks start, and something in Alia goes tense, tight, remembers -- the stone burner, the sky bright with blood, Paul's solemn, serious, loving blue-in-blue eyes seared away, seared blind, the beginning of the end, the first step down a sheer cliff, the descent deadly and unstoppable -- and she backs away, shoulders tense, body rigid, head shaking hard, thinking: blood on the sand, a man staggering away, the tether that held her solid stretching, stretching, snapping.

Turning, Alia grabs for whoever's closest, uncharacteristically vulnerable, hiding her face against their chest, whole body trembling as the confession spills out:] I failed him, I failed, he loved and loved and the universe punished him for it and I couldn't stop it...

[The pool party truly seems to be the last hurrah of summer, and there's a chill note in the air for the festival, so Alia pulls on something a bit less revealing and sets off to see what trouble she can get into. Games tend not to amuse her -- she prefers more physical matches of strength, rather than chance -- but once it's pointed out that she can win stuffed animal prizes...

Well, Alia ends up standing, hands on her hips, at the dart-throwing booth, arguing with the vendor, likely due to the fact that the small, plastic bullseye has a very large crysknife sticking out of it's shattered center. Alia scowls, waving a hand towards the knife.] I hit the mark. Isn't that the point of the game? You hit the mark, you win. I win. Give me the plush chicken or I'll stab you. You think that was my only knife?

[Later, Alia will be distracted enough by the strangely addictive taste of the lush fruits spread along the banquet table that she won't notice that she's been tied to another person. It isn't until she reaches for a handful of deep purple plums and finds someone else being dragged along that she pauses, frowning over at her newly-fastened partner.]

Hm. Do we need to consummate the marriage before we're untied, I wonder? [She says it lightly, grabbing the plums with her free hand and biting into the rich, purplish-red flesh. Juice drips down her chin, vivid as blood, falling to puddle on her chest.] I can't imagine there isn't a catch like that.

[permissions here, feel free to ping ceedawkes with any other ideas! open to multiple hits on handfasting and firework confessions, too~