TR Day Party

[coffee_sir]

Every year, between Guy Fawkes Night and Thanksgiving, there was a holiday that everyone on the island could celebrate despite their cultural background. Tabula Rasa Day might not get the same fanfare as the other two red letter days, but it was well-enjoyed nonetheless because it commemorated the establishment of the community, a new home and a

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[wearestars]

The parties in this place are so weird. Lionel hasn't been to as many as he'd like, but the fact remains. He thinks that maybe it's owing to the low age of consent in this place: Age sixteen and you're an adult, here's your house, your free booze and your right to socialize with people twice your age.

This one is particularly strange, because it can't decide if it wants to be a cocktail party or Thanksgiving. Like all of the weird parties, though, it has plenty to drink and an inordinate number of hot guys milling around, so Lionel makes himself a cocktail, takes up a place on the edge of the crowd and tries to make it not completely obvious that he's pretty much constantly staring at one or the other Chris Evans.

[makemaps]

I am totally buzzed and it's kind of weird. Parties with my friends were, like, all drinking and weed but it wasn't like this. I'm totally out of my depth. It's not all bad. I spot a familiar face and, for a moment, I grope for where I know him from but then it hits me - that weird, false intimacy you get from drawing someone, looking at them with that kind of intensity. I slide in next to him. Fuck it. I'll take what I can get.

"Hey."

[wearestars]

Lately added to Lionel's list of things to be thankful for: That Craig's brand of awkwardness is distinctly different from Marshall's. Otherwise, he'd never be able to tell them apart so easily.

"Well hello," he greets, flirtatious as a matter of instinct and self-preservation. That face throws up all his walls as easily as it tears them back down.

[makemaps]

The flirting is kind of a new sensation. People don't really flirt with me, or, you know, I don't really notice if they do? Maybe Noelle was flirting with the drawings. Nia never once fucking flirt punched me. So, you know, I don't know. Maybe I'm just shit-faced.

It's kind of awesome.

"You are, like, seriously the only person I know here."

[new_ophelia]

The party for the island, is one of the few parties Kate can let Sam attend, as it's one of the few parties that doesn't actually start with boobs. It might end with them, but it's usually later into the night.

She's got Sam perched up onto her shoulders as they stroll, letting him grab at banners and ribbons and whatever else catches his eye. He's getting almost too big to do this comfortably, but she's determined to carry him around as long as he'll let her.

When he grabs the nearest head of hair with a triumphant crow, she realizes it's not the most well thought out plan.

[dishabille_mal]

"Ow," Maladicta snarls quietly, blue eyes going wide and rolling as far to one side as they can while her head is being held with remarkable stability by a very tiny fist.

"No, truly, ow. Kate. Your spawn."

[new_ophelia]

"Hi!" Sam shouts down, as if Maladicta's ears weren't right there. "Sam Crew," Kate scolds, flicking at his chubby legs. "Uh huh, and I'm sure your little angel never grabs at hair."

[dishabille_mal]

"She goes for the fangs, actually," Maladicta said dryly, carefully disentangling herself from grasping baby fingers.

"Her da gets hung upon a good deal more than I do, though, in truth."

[loveofmasters]

Living in the Compound, it was hard to miss all the preparations happening outside. Not wanting to be in the way, she kept to herself, studying in her room and only occasionally going back downstairs to look around. Eventually she lost herself in the book she was reading and didn't think any more about it until she went down for dinner and discovered the entire party had been set up and people were milling around.

Wandering around, she picked up a drink and hovered around the edges, realizing that she still hadn't asked what this was all for.

[whoneedsadream]

Anatoly caught sight of Florence and made his way over, deftly navigating through the crowds. He still felt a pang of guilt every time he saw her but he was bound and determined that they could move through all of this, that they could become friends.

"Hello," he greeted her softly, raising his glass in a salute. "How are you doing?"

[loveofmasters]

It wasn't ideal, but Florence figured it was better to be seeing him in public where she felt she could control herself a little better. It still hurt, more than she wanted to admit, but at least she didn't immediately feel like breaking into tears so she figured that was progress.

"Alright, I guess. Not really sure what all this is for, but it seems nice. You?"

[whoneedsadream]

"I am doing well," Anatoly answered. It was still instinct to want to wrap his arms around her and kiss her cheek but that was simply something he had to work on because he was all but certain that was not a good idea.

"This is to celebrate the founding of the community or so I understand," he explained. "When the first people came here, I gather there was only the compound. It is amazing how much they have done in a few short years."

[butterflyfactor]

Layla was vaguely interested in the Tabula Rasa day party, because a good percentage of the island's Avengers were running for public office, which meant their friends would probably be in attendance also, which meant the possibility of a truly spectacular brawl breaking out was higher than parties past.

So she had a highly alcoholic daiquiri in hand and a perch on the compound steps, and boundless optimism for a thrilling evening.

[howmanylives]

"How goes the stake out?" asked Jamie, easing down beside Layla with his own drink and a plate of hors d'oeuvres to share. There were plenty of things to watch at a party like this, though he could guess where she was looking; Jamie's own gaze fell onto Stark and his bombastic campaigning tactics before he turned back to his infinitely more interesting girlfriend.

"Think we'll see some fireworks?"

[butterflyfactor]

"Tipsily," she said around her straw.

"I hope so. If not, Stark's speech was a big overture for a little show."

She looked back at Jamie, watching him with round blue eyes for a moment before she smiled a little, still around the straw.

[howmanylives]

Jamie laughed into his glass as he took a sip, watching her from over the rim. He wondered, idly, just how close tipsily was to becoming drunkenly, but if there was one play to enjoy the excesses of the Island, it was at a party, and besides, she'd dealt with his escapades enough that he was hardly about to throw stones.

"Well, now," he said, "I do believe that that... Is the look of a woman who is about to cause me a world of trouble."

[nobler_things]

Island anniversaries weren't something he was too keen on celebrating. While he did feel more settled -- more settled on the island and with his newly humanized self, he felt sedentary and woefully useless as of late. Kicking the fluffy, stuffing-filled arse of a few plush bunnies wasn't quite enough to shake the feeling that he'd been caged.

Still, Fred was alive and relatively happy, and he could say the same for Buffy, so he did, in fact, have reasons to be thankful.

So, he'd gotten himself a beer and a bit of food, and was milling about, attempting to be social. No word yet on how that was going.

[chose]

"Happy whatever, whatever day," called Buffy as she approached. With her own drink in in hand (a frozen daiquiri, heavy on the fruit - and also heavy on the rest), she raised her glass to his for a toast. "To... something," she said, frowning. They were coming up on Thanksgiving, and what did they have to be thankful for? Each other, no doubt, but this this wasn't the time to get that sappy. Not yet, anyhow. "To still being alive and rocking really great tans." A smirk. "Some of us, anyway."

[nobler_things]

"Not all of us are content to waste away our lives sunbathing, love," Spike smirked, knowing full well that she did much more with her life on the island than he could ever claim.

"But I'll give you that first part," he said, clinking his glass against hers.

[chose]

Buffy resisted the urge to drop a comically over-accented "Cheers!" into the mix before quietly taking a sip of her drink. "Right," she agreed, giving a firm nod. "And that has nothing to with the 99.9% chance that you'd burn up within an inch of your life with all that black you wear." However, she wasn't hypocritical enough to ask why he didn't sacrifice his carefully cultivated image for some lighter, infinitely more comfortable shades. She was just as (possibly more) likely to suffer in the name of style.

Her expression changed from one moment to the next, a sudden thought pushing the corners of her lips back down into submission, her brow now furrowed with thought. "Do you... Do you miss it? Sunnydale? Or just, life before Tabula Rasa. You know, in general."