it's been raining for days
WHO: Haydée de Monte Cristo and her guests
Where: Haydée's Apartments
DATE: October 17th 1935
WARNINGS: Fanciness, drinking, social awkwardness
SUMMARY: The housewarming party of New York's new countess.
STATUS: Present your invitation at the door, metaphorically speaking.
[[ooc; (it's tomorrow now right? probably... going to sleep for a few hours) everyone is, of course, invited to mingle amongst themselves as well. This whole post is really here to graze over for as long as people are interested in doing so, even unto the lands of back-tagging.
&Apologies for teal deer intro. Haydée can't help it, she was created by a fat black Frenchman like that.]]
It was remarkable the magic that Bertuccio could work in only a few short days. Edmond had left him some few small directions, and Haydee herself had advised him to her tastes but, in truth, all that was laid out had been his doing. The somewhat empty and too-large apartments had been transformed magnificently.
Despite the late season, he had arranged for an amazing assortment of fresh flowers. The colors were all bright and playful; lilies, sunflowers, mokara, tulips, iris, and orchids spilling from vases and other niches throughout the string of rooms.
Light fanciful drapes had been put over the abundance of windows, each of their patterning telling a story of tropical birds and natural beauty, blocking out the outside world and creating an intimate bubble within the rooms, a daydream of a foreign world. There was a faint spice of incense on the air, cones of oil, herbs, and flowers smoldering away inside the graceful brass thuribles strung from the ceiling among a star-like concurrence of lanterns.
The sofas were prepared, arranged into comfortable groups for relaxation and conversation, decorated with their intricate brocade throw pillows. Heavy dark wood tables were brought in to lay out the selection of punch, meze, baklava, lokum, and fruits. Baptistin had agreed to serve the other drinks in an attempt to improve his English and to be at the center of party without drawing undue attention to his status as guard. Though there was a separate bar for wines and the like, the punches were also spiked according to their traditional recipes.
Even the small stage where the band should play was arranged impeccably, a lovely white satin canopy with delicate sparkling beading had been placed above it, accentuating its place in the room.
Bertuccio had done well by his Lord and Lady. Yet despite all his hard work the room did not compare at all to Haydée. The Grecian woman was blessed with the picturesque beauty of her ancients, the long thick lashes of a doe, dark liquid eyes, full pouting lips, pink cheeks, lustrous skin, and long raven hair pinned in sleek coils around her head in a halo of diamond pins. She was young yet, but even time would not rob her of the perfect structure of her features.
Even the excellent gown dear Angelina had helped her to procure could take no attention from her, only served to highlight her dainty frame. The precious stones draped from her ears and neck only making her ivory throat more supple and lithe. She was a woman to inspire wonder and envy and surrounded as she was by the opulence her husband's money provided there was no shortage of either.
"I heard she was a slave and he forced her to marry him when they came to the states in order to keep her. One servitude for another, I suppose. Poor girl."
"Perhaps she enjoys it. She's twenty years his junior, he'll be dead in a few years and all this will be hers alone."
"Is it true the Count's wrestled a tiger?"
"That old man?"
"Oh, you haven't met him, poor dear. The Count is quite fit."
"Quite handsome."
"But very odd, I wouldn't put it past him to have wrestled some beast. They're both very strange. Are all the European nobility so eccentric, do you think?"
"You mean do they all keep mute servants who can't spill their secrets? Haha."
Haydée was well used to it and she moved past their tittering circles without notice, Ali fixed to her shadow.
Where: Haydée's Apartments
DATE: October 17th 1935
WARNINGS: Fanciness, drinking, social awkwardness
SUMMARY: The housewarming party of New York's new countess.
STATUS: Present your invitation at the door, metaphorically speaking.
[[ooc; (it's tomorrow now right? probably... going to sleep for a few hours) everyone is, of course, invited to mingle amongst themselves as well. This whole post is really here to graze over for as long as people are interested in doing so, even unto the lands of back-tagging.
&Apologies for teal deer intro. Haydée can't help it, she was created by a fat black Frenchman like that.]]
It was remarkable the magic that Bertuccio could work in only a few short days. Edmond had left him some few small directions, and Haydee herself had advised him to her tastes but, in truth, all that was laid out had been his doing. The somewhat empty and too-large apartments had been transformed magnificently.
Despite the late season, he had arranged for an amazing assortment of fresh flowers. The colors were all bright and playful; lilies, sunflowers, mokara, tulips, iris, and orchids spilling from vases and other niches throughout the string of rooms.
Light fanciful drapes had been put over the abundance of windows, each of their patterning telling a story of tropical birds and natural beauty, blocking out the outside world and creating an intimate bubble within the rooms, a daydream of a foreign world. There was a faint spice of incense on the air, cones of oil, herbs, and flowers smoldering away inside the graceful brass thuribles strung from the ceiling among a star-like concurrence of lanterns.
The sofas were prepared, arranged into comfortable groups for relaxation and conversation, decorated with their intricate brocade throw pillows. Heavy dark wood tables were brought in to lay out the selection of punch, meze, baklava, lokum, and fruits. Baptistin had agreed to serve the other drinks in an attempt to improve his English and to be at the center of party without drawing undue attention to his status as guard. Though there was a separate bar for wines and the like, the punches were also spiked according to their traditional recipes.
Even the small stage where the band should play was arranged impeccably, a lovely white satin canopy with delicate sparkling beading had been placed above it, accentuating its place in the room.
Bertuccio had done well by his Lord and Lady. Yet despite all his hard work the room did not compare at all to Haydée. The Grecian woman was blessed with the picturesque beauty of her ancients, the long thick lashes of a doe, dark liquid eyes, full pouting lips, pink cheeks, lustrous skin, and long raven hair pinned in sleek coils around her head in a halo of diamond pins. She was young yet, but even time would not rob her of the perfect structure of her features.
Even the excellent gown dear Angelina had helped her to procure could take no attention from her, only served to highlight her dainty frame. The precious stones draped from her ears and neck only making her ivory throat more supple and lithe. She was a woman to inspire wonder and envy and surrounded as she was by the opulence her husband's money provided there was no shortage of either.
"I heard she was a slave and he forced her to marry him when they came to the states in order to keep her. One servitude for another, I suppose. Poor girl."
"Perhaps she enjoys it. She's twenty years his junior, he'll be dead in a few years and all this will be hers alone."
"Is it true the Count's wrestled a tiger?"
"That old man?"
"Oh, you haven't met him, poor dear. The Count is quite fit."
"Quite handsome."
"But very odd, I wouldn't put it past him to have wrestled some beast. They're both very strange. Are all the European nobility so eccentric, do you think?"
"You mean do they all keep mute servants who can't spill their secrets? Haha."
Haydée was well used to it and she moved past their tittering circles without notice, Ali fixed to her shadow.