faces on parade [active / very open]
Characters: Everyone.
Content: The New Year's masquerade, another extensive party. Dancing, declarations, the making and breaking of resolutions and unmasking at midnight!
Location: The first floor foyer of the New York Palace Hotel.
Time of day: Early evening and onwards until midnight!
Warnings: Decorations were divided between Vyers and V. That ought to say enough.
Here's to us! A toast to all the city!
(What a pity that the Phantom can't be here!)'>It was a vision.
The room had transformed as fully as a landscape might, when new snow fell, and had made the transition as suddenly.
Almost everything was white, with the tablecloths, a trio of overstuffed loveseats stolen from the lobby, and walls being only the beginning. (The drapes, white beneath burgundy, remained as they were.) This might have struck some as dull, but there were high hopes held---the guests were to provide most of the colour, their costumes against a blank canvas, and amidst the glitter of silver and gold.
Mirror tiles had been strategically placed, forming four floor-to-ceiling mirrors, one in the center of each wall. Each corner was inhabited, the occupant a cement statue (stolen from some garden center and spray-painted gold) on a stand, each base lost in a curling sprawl of artificial ivy.
The tables were few and far between, and sat no more than four. Surface space was scarce; huge bouquets of silk roses---red, white, pink, and perfumed---dominated their setting and left little room for the tea lights, waiting to be lit. Similar roses were expertly pinned along the curtains, top and bottom, white on red and red on white.
The floor seemed suited to dancing, and a sound system had been set up; as appropriate, the lights were low, drawing due attention to an ornate chandelier, looted and re-located for this occasion alone.
(The neighboring room had been similarly arranged. It was every bit as elaborate, although it was storage space, set aside for additional attendees, the furniture from the first lounge, and the mandatory punch bowl. Iris had been approached after her offer to help, and as a result, several platters sat out, loaded with snacks that would keep well enough over the next few hours. The others had sewn, stole, or set up.)
Although a red carpet had been unrolled as another invitation, everything stood still; this would start at six o’clock sharp, and end with the unmasking. In the silence, it seemed that someone ought to answer the unasked ‘why’.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow:
And the night shall be filled with music,
And the cares that infest the day
Shall fold their tents like the Arabs
And as silently steal away.
Content: The New Year's masquerade, another extensive party. Dancing, declarations, the making and breaking of resolutions and unmasking at midnight!
Location: The first floor foyer of the New York Palace Hotel.
Time of day: Early evening and onwards until midnight!
Warnings: Decorations were divided between Vyers and V. That ought to say enough.
Here's to us! A toast to all the city!
(What a pity that the Phantom can't be here!)'>It was a vision.
The room had transformed as fully as a landscape might, when new snow fell, and had made the transition as suddenly.
Almost everything was white, with the tablecloths, a trio of overstuffed loveseats stolen from the lobby, and walls being only the beginning. (The drapes, white beneath burgundy, remained as they were.) This might have struck some as dull, but there were high hopes held---the guests were to provide most of the colour, their costumes against a blank canvas, and amidst the glitter of silver and gold.
Mirror tiles had been strategically placed, forming four floor-to-ceiling mirrors, one in the center of each wall. Each corner was inhabited, the occupant a cement statue (stolen from some garden center and spray-painted gold) on a stand, each base lost in a curling sprawl of artificial ivy.
The tables were few and far between, and sat no more than four. Surface space was scarce; huge bouquets of silk roses---red, white, pink, and perfumed---dominated their setting and left little room for the tea lights, waiting to be lit. Similar roses were expertly pinned along the curtains, top and bottom, white on red and red on white.
The floor seemed suited to dancing, and a sound system had been set up; as appropriate, the lights were low, drawing due attention to an ornate chandelier, looted and re-located for this occasion alone.
(The neighboring room had been similarly arranged. It was every bit as elaborate, although it was storage space, set aside for additional attendees, the furniture from the first lounge, and the mandatory punch bowl. Iris had been approached after her offer to help, and as a result, several platters sat out, loaded with snacks that would keep well enough over the next few hours. The others had sewn, stole, or set up.)
Although a red carpet had been unrolled as another invitation, everything stood still; this would start at six o’clock sharp, and end with the unmasking. In the silence, it seemed that someone ought to answer the unasked ‘why’.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow:
And the night shall be filled with music,
And the cares that infest the day
Shall fold their tents like the Arabs
And as silently steal away.