☩Light one candle to find us together☩

[magicalskeptic]

Unlike the opening of the Wayfaring Mare, there are few external decorations for this particular party.  The hostesses doubt, given the temperature and cooperation of the weather to participate with the colour scheme, anyone will want to spend much time outside.  Another difference is that the doors to the upstairs have been pulled shut and locked

Comments

The Hostess

[magicalskeptic]

Her gown has nothing to do with traditional winter colours. No, Morgana wears what she pleases now, though this one is similar to those she wore in her old life.

She can be found mingling amongst the guests, though frequently in the company of her escort, she can, should someone want a word with her, be found independently from him.

At some point early in the evening, she can also be found distracting her very favourite guest at the Mare, the now eight and a half month old Elisheba. With pets and babies, should they be around Morgana, she's more than happy to co-opt them for a while.

[consorting]

Gwen pulls herself away from rechecking the room, grabbing two cups from the table before heading over to Morgana with a wide smile on her face. Perhaps Morgana feels comfortable with throwing such a party as she had done many times in Camelot, but this is the first one Guinevere has had a hand in aside from taking on small tasks and deliveries. Her smile is beaming with pride above all else.

"Now we just wait and see if everyone enjoys it. This is much less grand than what Camelot has at the solstice, but I think it's perfect," She raises her cup to Morgana. "To a successful evening."

[magicalskeptic]

Taking the cup, she responds in kind. "I think I prefer things like this. Just look Gwen," holding out her goblet, she indicates the rest of the room, which is still pristine, as the guests have yet to arrive.

"This is all ours. Could you ever have imagined this being possible in Camelot?"

[consorting]

She takes the slightest sip of her drink and a look about the room around them. Not once in her life had she ever hoped, let alone imagined, having something like this to call her own. (Not even a fleeting moment with a certain prince could provoke such)

"No...not ever. But you were bound for something like this, I just never thought it would be outside of your guardian's influence," she refrains from speaking his name at such a joyous occasion. "I can think of very few people who would trust in our abilities to accomplish such, yet the proof is here before us."

[crophisownrose]

Sagramore is actually well enough to be back on his feet, his injuries little more than shallow, nearly-scarred furrows, and he's wearing the clothes Laura made him. He hasn't been drinking for a month, although he might to-night since it's a special occasion, but the fact is he looks healthy and well, and he probably annoyed the hell out of Morgana by making her help him trim his beard to exactly the right length and then fidgeting the whole time she was doing it.

Anyway, he is here, standing, sober, and ready to be as charming as necessary (and sort of hoping against hope that Mordred will show).

[magicalskeptic]

Morgana would prefer if a special occasion for Sagramore means he will spend the entire evening sober. As for making sure he looked acceptable for the evening, Morgana was less annoyed and more, insistent he stay still. There may or may not have been a light swat involved, like she would with Arthur when she was much younger, when he got too fidgety.

Still, when he arrives at the main house, Morgana greets him as she would any guest. Then again, she will not hug every guest but Sagramore is going to get one. "Good evening, sir. I must compliment whoever helped you be ready for the evening."

[crophisownrose]

"Then I'll accept that compliment for myself, my lady," with a low bow.

[magicalskeptic]

That gets an approximation of a badly executed dirty look. It lasts for all of about two seconds, and she laughs.

"You so easily call me when I fish for compliments. Do you often crush a lady's hopes for flattery?" She's terribly amused, and teasing.

The other Hostess

[consorting]

It is a party, but with all that needed coordinating and arranging Guinevere has difficulty enjoying it (or so it seems). Not that things aren't in their perfect places and already well set for their guests; Morgana had been the head of a household and had thrown her fair share of parties, but Gwen wants this particular one to be perfect. It is, after all, her first event as a co-hostess.

Unlike her normal habits, this evening she opts for something a bit more appropriate for a hostess of a party to wear. Of course she has been eying it for some time in Morgana's wardrobe and it was eventually transported to her very own room by some magic (much to her chagrin, which Morgana had none of), though it was perfectly fitting for the evening.

Though she keeps busy, wandering the room and occasionally venturing out into the cold to check for arriving guests, she does find time now and then to sip some wine and enjoy interacting with the others taking part. As busy as she may seem, she always turns her full attention to anyone wanting to

Re: The other Hostess

[magicalskeptic]

Morgana will deny any and all knowledge as to how the dress in question made if from her room, to that vast distance across the hall, and into Gwen's wardrobe.

It will always remain one of those mysteries of the Nexus.

Speaking of mysteries of the Nexus, there is a voice coming from behind you, Gwen. "You look lovely. You would look lovelier if you stopped worrying about things." Morgana leans in a little closer. "The secret to being a successful hostess is to never look as if anything might ever go wrong."

Living in Camelot, it's a skill Morgana possesses in spades.

[consorting]

Mystical as the Nexus is, she greatly suspects her friend's sentiment towards spoiling her is a universal that transcends space and time. (she could be wrong though)

She turns around promptly at the voice, smoothing the dress down a bit with a shy smile.

"Thank you, admittedly it is better suited for you," she says before shifting her attention back to the table momentarily before pulling her attention away. "I am sorry. It's a force of habit to want everything just right. I am not as good as seeming collected and calm as you are."

[magicalskeptic]

Gwen may wish to trust that feeling, but Morgana certainly isn't going to spoil any of the mystical aspects of the Nexus. Things will appear. Morgana will pretend she hasn't a single idea as to how they got there.

"That is because I cannot convince you to have such gowns made for yourself, but I must say, it does look as if it was made for you. You shall garner such attention tonight, and I hope you will enjoy it."

Morgana looks at the table and then back to Gwen and smirks, "You will become accustomed. Fortunately, the people here do not have the same habit of insisting upon duels. It does save rather a mess in the front hall."

[a_pretty_fire]

White, gold and red. They were good Christmas colours and, although she was dressed all in black herself, Drusilla approved of Morgana's decisions. As far as the vampire was concerned, the longest night of the year was something to celebrate. A night of danger and mystery and mischief.

Humming a carol - every night was silent, unless you were as keen as she was, but she liked the tune - she swept across the room, her silk dress whispering over the stone. They were singing a song of their own.

[magicalskeptic]

Clearly, there is only one appropriate greeting from the hostess: "I shall have to declare the evening a success, should my guests be joyful enough to sing."

[a_pretty_fire]

For a moment, Drusilla felt as if she'd been caught doing something she shouldn't have been doing. Usually, her music - the music she danced and swayed to, the music she lived through, the music that contained the beat of the universe - stayed in her head. She wasn't supposed to share it. Not even the tiniest scrap of it. Not even with Morgana.

"Will you be singing?" she asked, with unusual care. Like a lost child seeking an answer to a question they hadn't thought to ask.

[magicalskeptic]

"I am unfamiliar with the songs." As per usual, these two could be talking about singing, or something else entirely. Strangely, Morgana has little difficulty following such conversations.

[theydidnothing]

Simon has made it, but his past history with parties hasn't been too favorable. He's there because he was invited and while he's not very good at it, Simon wants to meet new people. He craves the idea of having friends and he's at least moving in the right direction by showing up at all.

Right now he's next to the buffet hovering around the drinks and pretending quite unsuccessfully to look busy.

[notmyhome]

Gaheris slips over, also trying rather unsuccessfully to cultivate an impression, though his is of someone who is not just here to get free alcohol. He's lighting up even as he stops by the drinks and pours himself something unnecessarily strong; then he casts a sideways glance at Simon.

"You're a young one, aren't you?"

[theydidnothing]

Simon's eyes dart over to this newcomer before looking down into his own hands as if they will tell him the right thing to day. "I'm twenty."

[notmyhome]

Gaheris laughs. "Twenty. Christ Almighty. What's your talent?"