Comfort and Joy

[simplestgift]

Who: Come one, come all! ...In formal attire.
What: A Christmas ball, old world style.
When: December 1st, beginning around five in the afternoon and ending when the last person leaves.
Where: The rec center.
Summary: Earth's eighteenth-century peeps are throwing one hell of a party.
Rating: Well, considering no one is serving water? Probably PG-13 for alcohol consumption and the results thereof (there's coffee and hot chocolate!).

The recreation center has been utterly transformed.

The doors open to a host of candles and a warm, old-world smell and feel. The scent of food and spices hangs in the air—mulled wine, wassail, evergreen boughs, fresh bread and roast meat. Cream brocades, simple but elegant, are draped over the walls. Traditional red rugs have been thrown over the floor. Gone are the billiard tables, ping-pong, and foosball. It looks like a different place entirely, every table impeccably dressed with light linen cloths and set with fine china and crystal. At least one-half of the room is cleared and ready for dancers.

The tables are lit with candles, and five chandeliers have been temporarily added to the room for more light, giving the room a golden glow instead of the sterile luminescence of fluorescent lighting. On the tables, boughs of evergreen and holly surround the candles, and mistletoe has been hung discreetly here and there. In one corner of the dancing area, by a large and beautifully decorated fir tree (Buffy’s insistence), the musicians are set up to play, unobtrusive to the diners but essential to the dancers. Leading them is Frederic Chopin himself, and few here can say they have had anyone better play for their pleasure.

Things will begin with a grand dinner late in the afternoon, with a light supper (mostly consisting of cold meats, bread, and other lighter fare) at around nine o’clock. The selection of food on the tables is enormous. Most of it is meat-based and some of it is simply meat. Roast beef with mushrooms, goose in giblet gravy, herbed chicken, baked salmon, and a whole pig are among the choices. There is some hope for vegetarians, though, with spinach mixed with bread crumbs and cheese on small toasts, turnips (or rutabagas if you speak American), onions, carrots, parsnips, mashed potatoes, asparagus in breadcrumbs, and savory onion and wild mushroom pies. There is hot fresh bread and rolls with butter and heaps upon heaps of small mince pies filled with fruit, molasses, and yes, a little minced lamb. Moreover, there are fresh winter fruits like oranges and mikans and many different desserts, such as Christmas pudding, a rum chocolate dessert, and spotted dog with custard. Sit and help yourself. For a complete list of the food offered, take a look here.

Among the drinks throughout the evening are wassail, tea, hot chocolate (less sweet and much more intense than most modern characters would be used to, made with cinnamon, vanilla, and a hint of cayenne pepper), coffee, brandy, wine both mulled and plain, port, sherry, and gallons of rum punch. Even though the food is fantastic, overseen by Jack Aubrey, the conversation is the point of the game, and who knows who they will wind up sitting beside. At the center of each table is placed a pineapple as a sign of welcome and wishes of prosperity.

There is dancing light as the music itself, with Archie Kennedy and Elizabeth Swann teaching the steps of each dance before striking up the music and letting everyone go to town with it. They are poised and elegant but relaxed and seeming to glide as they demonstrate the motions with an effortlessness that comes with years of practice. They were both raised on these dances and this sort of social function and seem completely at home here. The dancing begins after dinner with the minuets and continues after a light supper with some informal English country dances. Anyone unused to dancing like this may find that it’s harder than it looks, but when one gets used to it, it feels very graceful, beautiful, and…fun! The activity will only end when there are too few dancers left to continue, and will continue all night if possible. As dancers pass each other or move hand-in-hand, eye contact can be made, quiet words exchanged, subtle (or not) messages passed as they spin through the room, or perhaps the room spins while they remain still.

It might depend on how much they’ve had to drink.

Those who do not wish to dance have other activities to participate in. In one corner, card tables are set up with multiple decks of cards stacked up, and there is even a box or two of dominoes and a handful of dice. The tables themselves are round and made of polished rosewood or mahogany. This area is well-lit and on the opposite end of the room from the musicians and dancers, probably as a mercy to the tone-deaf Horatio Hornblower who loves cards but can’t abide music. Here, discreet (or indiscreet) gambling is inevitable. There may be no money here, but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing to wager.

Are you lingering at the dining tables, drinking and talking loud and laughing with friends, or will you shyly sit and watch the dancing and games and hope to be invited in? Are you sitting quietly alone and listening to the music as your foot taps on its own, or are you unable to sit still and ready to dance all night if they’ll let you? Are you playing cards with a few new acquaintances, or are you hanging on someone’s arm and helping them cheat?

Whatever you do, have fun.

Comments

[herotypical]

Then he would be the victim of a ploy. Because Buffy Summers would not be content with just a salute. Similar to how she had strong-armed the napkin away from him, Buffy snatched at the hat and stepped closer as she did so.

"And I get a hostage. Just in case it's more than forty-five minutes."

[all7seas]

"Bugger." Frowning at that, solely because he didn't know what sorts of dirt the hat itself might contain, Jack took the slightest step back, pushing the sudden tangle of dreadlocks back from his face. "You certainly know how to throttle a man into being punctual, sweetheart. Very well--I accept your terms." How could he do anything less?

[herotypical]

He stepped back -- Buffy frowned, as well. A little annoyed and a little sad. She scrunched the hat up in her hands and well-manicured nails bit into is shape.

"Go. Get. Clock's a-ticking."

[all7seas]

Jack grinned, soaking her in for a second---golden and annoyed and sad and gorgeous and treasured. Exquisite.

Then, without another word, he whirled away and made his unsteady but determined way toward Seven.

The ladies will probably be shocked at the bathtub ring that he was going to leave behind, when it is eventually discovered.

With very little time to spare, a curious sight will be on offer to any (un)fortunate enough to be hanging around the shuttered clothing shop: Sparrow, wrapped about the waist in a towel, breaking in for a suitable set of clothes for this party.

Mother Fate adored him. Auntie Luck was chucking him under the chin and pinching his cheeks. Grandmother Doom was sulking in the corner.

There was still a collection of twenty five or so seconds to spare when Sparrow finally made his breathless way back to the party.

[herotypical]

Then he would have the length and breadth of that collection of seconds in order to locate her in the mass of guests. Buffy had abandoned her post by the tall, tall tree and was instead picking at the edge of his hat on the complete opposite side of the room. Not...not quite close enough to a sprig of hung mistletoe to be considered under it but close enough to suggest that she knew it was nearby.

It looked entirely likely that she had found this spot the moment he had left and had been standing in it ever since.

[all7seas]

Somehow seeing Buffy Summers standing alone not-quite-beneath that mistletoe brought out somewhat predatory feelings in the pirate after another initial pang of Oh. Annie. He tried to approach her from behind without her noticing. It might not be such a feat amidst the bustle of the party; on the other hand, she WAS the slayer.

[herotypical]

She was distracted. Her eyes were on the hat and her thoughts were God knows where. Her head did bob and nod now and then with the music -- after an hour or so she had grown to be okay with this entertainment, though she found it sorely lacking in a delightfully grounded bass beat.

[all7seas]

The first instinct was to grab hold of her from behind. But no---no. That might earn him an elbow to the face. Might upset her.

Slayer, after all.

Instead Jack reached out to trace the neckline of that dress, marveling at how the gold fabric draped against her creamy skin, the red wings giving a most pleasing effect.

This, of course, might ALSO earn him an elbow to the face, but at least it was a gentler approach.

[herotypical]

The first three-fifths of her reaction consisted of a tightening along her shoulders. Her head lifted from her task -- straightening drawing away from the touch until she glanced behind and..."Jack."

The Slayer relaxed. "I think..." She turned around entirely and was about to admonish Jack for his tardiness when..."W-wow. You're very -- blue."

[all7seas]

"No kiss?" He seemed disappointed at that reaction.

[herotypical]

"I could've asked you the same thing forty-seven minutes ago, you know."

[all7seas]

"Id've filthied you up."

[herotypical]

"So? You've been gone. For a week. When've I ever..."

Her mouth closed abruptly. Hadn't she already decided that she wanted to avoid a fight? And she was actually so genuinely happy to see him -- so pleased and glad and warm from the inside out -- that none of this surface tension felt at all like an adequate representation of her current state.

Buffy reached for his hand. "Come here."

[all7seas]

This time he took her hand without reservation, threading his fingers with hers and drawing closer.

"When a man goes a week without seeing his Annie, and then he walks into a room like this and sees her...sees her floating there, so beautiful..."

[herotypical]

"He runs off and raids clothing shop of all the blue things ever. Hasn't anyone ever taught you the value of contrast?" It was an affectionate kind of needling. Her opposite arm -- its hand still clutching onto his hat -- found its way around his waist and she looked up at am.

"I was scared you weren't gonna make it."

[all7seas]

"But not afraid. Not afraid of that." Jack continued to trace the neckline of her gown with his free hand, lingering at the chain that held the ring--pressing his fingers to the bare skin beneath it. "I like blue. Looks like the sea. Or the sky. Free things."

If the prize in his pocket had been a heart, it would have been thumping a rapid rhythm against his body in a telltale sort of way.

"I convinced them to let me come back." Working night and day, nearly, had been enough for that purpose.

[herotypical]

"...Convinced?"

An inhalation. The touch of his fingers was just the right ratio of soothing and maddening. Her hand fisted in fabric at the back of his blue blue coat -- holding hat and coat and him all at once.

"What -- any they were convinceable?"

[all7seas]

"Just a deckhand," was the murmured reply. "Who works quick-like and doesn't mind standing a watch or two."

[herotypical]

Her cheek fell to his shoulder and strength entered her half-hug.

"Colour me happy that you're so convincing, then."

[all7seas]

Jack dropped his cheek against the top of her head, breathing in the fragrance of that shining hair. "Color me happy that you're happy, love. Sorry about the forty-seven minutes."

[herotypical]

"I think you're coloured enough."

Muffled but...lighter. Sweeter. It generally took her a few moments but Buffy would reliably thaw out given the right application of non-insult.

[all7seas]

"Suppose I could have gone red, like Aubrey," he grumbled, and in near-petulant tones: "Need to step back two paces."

[herotypical]

"Then we would've matched. It would've been nauseating."

And then, also petulant: "Don't wanna." Her grip tightened.

[all7seas]

Jack wrapped both arms firmly around her waist in return. "You're not properly under it." And he would make his best effort to lift her and move them both the required distance.

[herotypical]

In a most contrary voice: "Don't have to be under it to be kissed, you know. You could just kiss me because you want to kiss me."

But being lifted was one of her chief weaknesses -- strength was all well and good but she was still a small thing of a woman and was easily repositioned. Perhaps a little too easily; however, she would deny her complicity.