Winter Gala

[justaddh2o]

WHO: Everyone
WHERE: Jeopardy
WHEN: Saturday, December 21 from 5:00 p.m. onward into the early morning hours of Sunday, December 22.
WHAT: The Winter Gala Fundraiser for Jeopardy Relief Efforts
WARNINGS: Please include any necessary warnings in your TLs.
NOTES: This post will serve as a catch-all for logs for the entire event (though you’re also welcome to post things elsewhere, of course).

It's the most wonderful time of the year! Well, mostly. In the wake of a near-apocalyptic event, the city of Jeopardy is in need. What started out as an idea to advertise Rikki Chadwick's burgeoning business, after a little more planning and nabbing some ideas from Kenzi's post, she and Rupert have reconfigured and rebranded their idea to focus less on her and more on the relief effort.


Characters will enter the venue after giving a small donation at the door and they will be greeted by a large room lit in blues, soft pinks, and purples. From the ceilings hang snowflakes made of glass. The centerpieces are also made of glass. Come to think of it, nearly all the decorations are made of glass. Except, that is, the mistletoe hanging from several of the rafters and archways. A buffet-style dinner will be served from 5:00 p.m. to 6:30 p.m., at which point, the buffet tables and seating tables will be cleared away to make room for the makeshift stage for the DJ and a gigantic dance floor.

Drinks will be flowing, music will be playing, and people will be bidding on silent auctions to win everything from one of the centerpieces to a date with their favorite imPort and everything in between. So, eat, drink, and be merry until you can't stay awake any longer. Why not? It's all for a good cause, after all.

Comments

[thecacophony]

This is a challenge she accepts with relish. As the crowds cheer on, now enticed by Rupert's easy showmanship, she leans into the ice sculpture and does what she does best. Aside from fighting, anyway. Wanton drinking is, after all, vastly preferred over any other distractions she could cause.

She swallows down the generous amount of alcohol with the iron will of a practiced lush. If any of her friends from her world back home had seen this, they'd only be able to sigh and look on with knowing disapproval. Fine by her, for this rum burns down her throat in a perfectly fucking pleasant fashion. He's got good taste for liquor, and if she's sober enough by the end of the evening, she'll have to remember to pay him a compliment.

And here Sal thought she'd find this whole party boring; not the case, as she leans back from the ice, hand up to wipe the condensation from her lips. Not a drop wasted, thank you very much. The crowds give an uproarious cheer of victory, to which she can only pump up her fists like a gladiator.

"My fucking thanks to whoever thought this game up," she says, and with how much rum she's just imbibed, the grin comes off as roguish. "Can't be the one to say all of these modern inventions are a bunch of garbage, now can I?"

[leatherboots]

Hentzau cheers just as loudly as any of the onlookers and raises both hands, still grasping the bottles of spirits, in heartfelt salute. A woman after his own heart, clearly! And thank God - there were too many imPorts here who were quite frankly boring Hentzau to death. He leaps easily down from his chair and passes the bottles off to a waiter, thanking the man quietly under his breath as the waiter takes over pouring duties (with far less enthusiasm and showmanship than Rupert). He grins at her question, raising one shoulder in a nonchalant shrug.

"Oh, certainly not. I for one find most modern inventions terribly exciting," He admits, his expression glittering with amusement. "But I am something of an ancient relic compared to most."

[thecacophony]

"You look too good in that suit to be considered a relic," Sal assures him, raising a hand in a dismissive gesture at the notion. She's got someone like her friend, Alothenes, in mind when she thinks of the word relic; the old man always loved trying to correct her language and behavior. In comparison, this person seems to be thriving here, absolutely at home in this gala.

"So, aside from this useful invention, what else do you suggest for fun at a party like this? I've got to fucking admit, this isn't at all like the galas I've been too myself."

She glances around. So many purely modern inventions, holidays, and strange customs surround her, and the entirety of it has been...difficult to adapt to.

[leatherboots]

"Oh, too kind," Rupert replies demurely at the compliment, pressing a hand to his chest in a miniature bow. Of course he looks good, he knows it as a categorical fact.

"You have rather excellent taste, clearly," He adds, reaching out to collect Sal's jacket from where she had discarded it. A rich red, much like Hentzau's own; he elegantly flicks a non-existent speck of dust from the lapel before handing it over.

"Drinking oneself into oblivion and dancing the night away is one thing, although hardly a new tradition. Quite the opposite, I'd say." He smiles craftily. "There is always mistletoe, however. Have you indulged in that tradition yet?"

[thecacophony]

Sal graciously takes back her jacket, sliding it easily onto her shoulders. It's a good outfit, almost helping her look respectable. The smile doesn't help, however, to have her appear as anything but mischievous; for someone thrilled to partake in a shot luge, that's fair enough.

"Drinking and dancing might be old fashioned concepts, but the outward dressing has changed quite a fucking bit," she argues in good spirit. Gesturing over toward what can be seen of the dancefloor, she tries to prove her point.

On the topic of mistletoe, however, the expression she offers him is one of confusion; she's really at a loss with these holidays and customs. Too many new things to learn, so little commitment to trying. "Something with plants, isn't it?" She shrugs. "I'm really foreign to this Christmas excitement, sorry to say."

[leatherboots]

"Changed for the better though, don't you think?" Rupert counters, following her gesture and gazing out over the dance floor. Skin-tight clothing wasn't exactly new in Hentzau's particular time period, given the tight breeches that were perpetually in fashion, but skirts! Shorts. These are things that Rupert is immensely glad for.

He points out a bough of mistletoe hanging over a couple of friends - natives, given that Hentzau doesn't recognise them - exchanging warm (if tame) kisses on each cheek, and adds with a grin:

"There - you see? An enthusiastic exchange of festive cheer. That is the finest Christmas tradition, I say. You don't have that in your homeworld?"

[thecacophony]

Sal can't do much but offer a small hum in response to the dancefloor. She hasn't had time enough to really get used to it, after all; although if Rupert, who seems to have excellent personal tastes, has learned to not only stomach but enjoy this sort of party, she imagines she might be able to do so eventually. Maybe.

At the mention of the mistletoe, she directs her attention over to where he's pointing. Sure enough, she sees a couple very politely exchanging small kisses. Now there, a small amount of amusement begins to appear in her expression. "I'm not sure I'm willing to call that shit enthusiastic," she argues, and there's some hint of mischief in her voice now.

"Sure, we have kissing," she agrees, waving dismissively to those gentle peck-on-the-cheek offerings ahead of them, "but this isn't exactly opera in terms of entertainment. If you're going to kiss people at a party, it might as well have some fucking passion behind it. Just like drinking, or dancing, or anything else—revelry can't be so...restrained."

What's the point?