They say it's your birthday... [OPEN]
Characters: Giselle, and ANYONE AND EVERYONE ELSE ON THE WAY. Or at least anyone who wants cake and ice cream.
Content: It's Giselle's party, and she'll cry if she wants to! (Fortunately, she doesn't want to.)
Setting: The kitchen/galley of the Winding Way.
Time: Eveningish, sometime after dinner (because dessert always comes after dinner!). (PRE-PUPPETS BTW)
Warnings: It's sort of like Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds, only instead of birds, there is cake. And instead of trying to kill you, it just sort of sits there and looks delicious.
If there was one thing Giselle loved more than singing (or sweets, or the mice, or fairy tales, or dreaming of true love, or all of her wonderful friends on the Way plus Ffamran), it was birthdays.
Birthdays were just...special. Why, from the very moment she'd woken up that morning, today had just felt magical! Nothing unusual or strange or even vaguely peculiar had happened -- well, relatively; this was the Way -- but there had just been an air of super-special-incredibleness hanging about the day. And it was even more special, because she was turning twenty -- what a lovely, round, even number! It made her beam just to think about it.
Giselle was glowing even more than usual as she put the finishing touches on her birthday cake. It was a sight to behold; five layers, bright pink, and decorated with a multitude of carefully-piped roses and chrysanthemums and tulips and a million other different kinds of flowers, like a demented, pastel-colored field that had been shoved into an oven and baked. There were even a few marzipan bunnies sprinkled throughout for good measure. Gosh, she'd really outdone herself today!
This was not, of course, the only cake -- it was Giselle -- so spread throughout the kitchen was a veritable squadron of cakes of varying sizes and flavors, each resting on its very own hand-tatted lace doily. A rainbow of ice cream stretched over the far counter, packed carefully in ice to keep it from melting. The mice were grouped in a corner, snacking contentedly on the crumbs.
Giselle was singing happily as she piped the final rose onto the cake, setting down her pastry bag and wiping her brow, looking triumphantly around the room. Oh, dear, but she'd forgotten one very important thing -- the plates! Goodness, and everyone would be arriving soon to join in celebration with her; it would just be terrible if they couldn't even eat any of the cake she'd made just for them!
"You say it's your birthday," she trilled, hurrying to set out plates and bowls and forks (and, after a moment of contemplation -- Watanuki was just never going to live this down -- spoons). "Well, it's my birthday too, yeah! We're gonna have a good time..."
Content: It's Giselle's party, and she'll cry if she wants to! (Fortunately, she doesn't want to.)
Setting: The kitchen/galley of the Winding Way.
Time: Eveningish, sometime after dinner (because dessert always comes after dinner!). (PRE-PUPPETS BTW)
Warnings: It's sort of like Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds, only instead of birds, there is cake. And instead of trying to kill you, it just sort of sits there and looks delicious.
If there was one thing Giselle loved more than singing (or sweets, or the mice, or fairy tales, or dreaming of true love, or all of her wonderful friends on the Way plus Ffamran), it was birthdays.
Birthdays were just...special. Why, from the very moment she'd woken up that morning, today had just felt magical! Nothing unusual or strange or even vaguely peculiar had happened -- well, relatively; this was the Way -- but there had just been an air of super-special-incredibleness hanging about the day. And it was even more special, because she was turning twenty -- what a lovely, round, even number! It made her beam just to think about it.
Giselle was glowing even more than usual as she put the finishing touches on her birthday cake. It was a sight to behold; five layers, bright pink, and decorated with a multitude of carefully-piped roses and chrysanthemums and tulips and a million other different kinds of flowers, like a demented, pastel-colored field that had been shoved into an oven and baked. There were even a few marzipan bunnies sprinkled throughout for good measure. Gosh, she'd really outdone herself today!
This was not, of course, the only cake -- it was Giselle -- so spread throughout the kitchen was a veritable squadron of cakes of varying sizes and flavors, each resting on its very own hand-tatted lace doily. A rainbow of ice cream stretched over the far counter, packed carefully in ice to keep it from melting. The mice were grouped in a corner, snacking contentedly on the crumbs.
Giselle was singing happily as she piped the final rose onto the cake, setting down her pastry bag and wiping her brow, looking triumphantly around the room. Oh, dear, but she'd forgotten one very important thing -- the plates! Goodness, and everyone would be arriving soon to join in celebration with her; it would just be terrible if they couldn't even eat any of the cake she'd made just for them!
"You say it's your birthday," she trilled, hurrying to set out plates and bowls and forks (and, after a moment of contemplation -- Watanuki was just never going to live this down -- spoons). "Well, it's my birthday too, yeah! We're gonna have a good time..."