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

[quip]

Cordelia's job was done. It was no easy feat dragging Angel and his broody, stubborn self anywhere outside of the apartment. But Cordelia would call that a success.

For the evening, she could be found sitting at one of the tables, a drink sitting in front of her, and eyes on the dancefloor as she watched the people of Luceti in their fine outfits enjoy the ball.

She had settled on a one-shoulder short, black dress to ensure the survival of the outfit on the incredibly long walk back home. Anything longer, she feared would be destroyed within seconds of walking. And it wasn't like her to turn up to a party looking worse for wear.

[undoing.livejournal.com]

Thrilled wasn't something one would use to describe how Angel felt about being here. Uncomfortable was one, as was nostalgic. The aromas that hung in the air, the scenery that surrounded him - it was all very reminiscent of Christmases past, back when he actually used to partake in Christmas celebrations. He found distaste in the way modern Christmases were conducted, with more focus on retail and marketing than the meaning of the day, or even the religious significance.

Too much receiving and not enough giving.

Coming here was part of his giving, not that it was hard to get Angel to cave to Cordelia Chase's will. He'd put up a stubborn fight - mostly for appearance's sake, if he were being honest with himself - but eventually agreed. And now here he was, sitting at her right in a tux, looking more bodyguard than date or escort with how rigid he sat in the chair and the hardened glances he shot anyone who happened to look a little too closely at her.

[quip]

Cordelia shifted so she was facing him. She took in his posture, reminding her of someone who wasn't her date to this shindig. All she wanted for Angel was to see him have some fun and shed a few of those layers he'd applied to that everlasting wall of his. Her eyebrows were raised as she gave him a pointed look. "You're doing it again."

She placed her hands in her lap, shifting even more so her entire body was facing him. The ball-goers could live for a few minutes without her appraising eyes on them. She figured she'd cut out the inevitable 'What?' question and dive straight in. "You're not having fun. You do know you're supposed to have fun here, right? Sit back, relax, have a few drinks?"

[undoing.livejournal.com]

"Doing what?"

He did his best to look innocent, but at most he manages to muster a look of utter cluelessness. Sometimes, Angel couldn't follow her train of thought and he didn't understand what he was doing, let alone again. He wasn't doing anything. He was just sitting here. Glaring at people for looking at her. Surely she hadn't noticed that air of possessiveness he was trying to contain and somewhat failing at?

"I'm having fun. I just don't..." The vampire pressed his lips into a thin, straight line. "The last time I was at one of these? It was your prom." And with a very different date he spied across the room in something that reminded her of that Halloween costume she wore one year. "Before that, it was the 1800s. Not exactly a dance-goer. I'm not here because of fun, I'm here... I'm here because of you. You want me here, so I'm here."

[quip]

She was beyond touched that he'd come here just because she asked - pushed - him to. She wasn't entirely convinced he was having fun, despite him saying he was.

"You're having fun?" She didn't quite believe that. Though, she always forgot her idea of fun was nowhere in the vicinity of what Angel considered fun.

Prom. She didn't really want to think on the thing she had for a bumbling Wesley back then. But she remembered him turning up - presumably because Buffy battered those eyes at him and asked - and dancing with Buffy.

She wanted to get it straight that he was having fun, because if he wasn't she wasn't going to make him sit here all night. If there was a television back at the apartment, she'd make him endure something painful - and incredibly girly - in a familiar environment instead. "You, sitting there, all stony-faced, is you having fun?"

[undoing.livejournal.com]

He'd showed up to their prom because he felt bad about forcing Buffy to attend this rite of passage she'd been obsessing over after he'd broken up with her. They hadn't been together at the time and he had no obligation to attend, but he'd done it anyway. As much as he wanted her to move on, grow up, and figure out who she was supposed to be without seeing him as a constant part of her future when there were so many doors and possibilities open to her, he couldn't deny her what - from the way he'd understood it - every teenage girl wanted.

The perfect prom.

"You went with Wesley, right?" The question is random, and used to overlay her own as if she'd never asked it. Fun? No, but he's not completely opposed to being here. Just mostly. "I keep forgetting you two used to have a thing for one another. Kind of hilarious, now. You and Wes." He laughed.

[quip]

"Why is it so hilarious?" she said defensively. She was putting the defensiveness on, but she was curious, anyway. It was incredibly hilarious. They were attracted to one another, but they weren't compatible - or had the chemistry to make it work. That kiss in the library - Cordelia would shudder every time she thought back on it. She had more chemistry with Xander Harris than Wesley Wyndym-Price. And she had liked Wesley as a person!

She's glad they never worked out. Bumbling idiot aside, he's one of her best friends and she'd rather have him as that than not have him at all.

She wanted to try and stay mad at him, but hearing him laugh was what she wanted. Cordelia couldn't help but laugh a little herself, though she tried to stay composed. "I didn't go with Wesley. I ended up spending most of the night with him." Talking, with him being insecure, stumble-over-his-words Wesley.

[undoing.livejournal.com]

"Maybe you didn't show up together, but spending an entire night with a person sounds like going together if you ask me." As few were aware, Angel was quite capable of trolling someone when he set his mind to it and relaxed enough to allow that sense of humor even fewer people knew he possessed to actually shine through that hardened exterior he worked so hard at maintaining. "He was your date. Admit it."

[shadedsunlight]

It's not easy navigating around a crowded room when you're blind. It's not easy navigating around a crowded, noisy room when you're blind and your guide for the night is temporarily misplaced. Still, Ginia is quite stubbornly independent and not one to remain sitting in the same spot all evening. From the drink table, armed with a cup of tea, Ginia carefully makes her way over to the table, spare arm outstretched in front of her.

Finding an empty seat, she pulls it out slightly, venturing a light, "is this seat taken?" to anyone who may be seated at the table.

[quip]

"Ginia," Cordelia smiled when she saw her, remembering her from Buffy's party. How could she forget the woman who was in a relationship with Giles? She was someone Cordelia wasn't going to be forgetting anytime soon, especially when she was rather nice to her. She shook her head at the question, gesturing for her to sit, "No, sit." She gave her a once-over, liking her dress a lot. "I like that colour on you."

[shadedsunlight]

Being temporarily blinded, all the gestures go unseen, but the words confirm enough. Ginia carefully pulls out the seat and sits down, smiling at the comment.

"Thank you. Giles picked it out for me. Such a dear. I-I"d comment on your dress, but..."

She smiles weakly and gestures at her eyes, no longer blue but a milky white. "Malnosso. Ah, enjoying the party?"

[quip]

When Ginia makes the gesture, that's when Cordelia notices that something isn't quite like how she remembers when it comes to her. "Was this because of one of those mission things?" She didn't quite understand how performing a mission meant losing something like that. What did they have to gain by taking away Ginia's eyesight?

[shadedsunlight]

"The eyes and voice? No, the opposite. The mission made me run around as a kid for a week then gave me a shiny new acoustic bass once I was back to normal. For the record, Giles as a kid? Adorable little brat. This? The droids hauled me off in the morning and dropped me back at night."

Another wave of her hand is given and a shake of her head. It's all in the past, or the past of four days ago.

"I'll go back to normal in time."

[quip]

"They just keep on giving, don't they?" Cordelia shakes her head. She doesn't like the sound of any of the organisations here. The droids, for one, were not on her Christmas list.

She figures she'll lighten the mood somewhat. Giles, as a kid. She kind of thought he just popped out of thin air. "I can't believe I missed you guys as kids. I have nothing to hold over his head now!" She says, smiling. By the tone of her voice, it's clear it's a joke. Though, she honestly wishes she were around for that. It'd be nice to bring it up on occasion.

[herotypical]

"...All these beautiful modern dresses keep walking in."

Buffy commented brightly as she fell into a chair near Cordelia. She, herself, had been talked into a more period appropriate outfit by Archie Kennedy. She had been feeling a little more out of place in its fabric earlier in the evening but much of her discomfort has since evaporated.

"Merry such-a-long-time-still-before-Christmas, Cordelia."

[quip]

"And what about the lovely period dresses, Buffy?" She gave her a smile, looking over her outfit and quite liking it. It suited Buffy, in her opinon, and it was nice to see someone she knew going for a dress that was less on the modern side.

She shook her head, letting the greeting sink in. Despite being here a month, she was still adjusting to not being in her year - or month, it seemed. "I can't believe it's December already. Time sure flies - or moves quickly. Whatever." Dimensional crap. Not quite her forte.

[herotypical]

"I know, right? Ugh. It's like if I let myself think about it for too long I realize that not-so-long-ago it was still swimsuit weather and beach powwows were entirely possible. The winter comes too fast and stays for too long, here. It's like living in Canada.

Hypothetically. Not that I know what that would actually be like. But right now? I'm assuming cold and awful."

[quip]

"You've never been outside of Sunnydale and L.A.?" For some reason, Cordelia thought Buffy would want to escape - far, far away from any of the reminders of demons and vampires.

[herotypical]

"What? Oh -- no. I'm actually living large and in charge in Scotland. Back home. Just moved there. It's a...thing. A post-Sunnydale thing. But never Canada. Scotland might be the Canada of Europe, though...but at least they have the cuter accents."

[quip]

She waited for the 'Just kidding', but ended up staring at Buffy blankly, quite taken aback. Despite always thinking Buffy would love to get out of Sunnydale, she never thought she actually would.

Or ever have the chance.

"Vacation time. One of the benefits of Sunnydale blowing up." She remembered what Buffy had told her. It was hard to believe, despite Buffy being a credible source, because she hadn't lived it yet. It didn't feel quite real.

"So, back home, have you got yourself a Scotsman?"

[all7seas]

If Angel DOES ever let up his guard, Jack will seize the chance to hand the detective a spray of holly and ivy, the bright red berries in abundance.

"Merry party, lovely."

[quip]

She grinned when she saw Captain Marvelous. "Seems like the fun's only beginning." As, you know, the party don't start 'til Jack Sparrow walks in and all that.

"Where have you been hiding?" She leaned forward, as though confessing a secret, and playfully said, "Buffy been keeping you busy under the mistletoe?" She didn't need to put her detective hat on to come up with that potential plot.

[all7seas]

"Mmhmm." Jack reached up and touched the front of his hat in a salute to her, though his mind might have been back under the mistletoe. "So busy, darling. So, me? Not really hiding at all!"

That was at least a half-lie; he had certainly been trying to avoid Angel throughout the night.

"You look devastatingly beautiful, by the way."

[quip]

And avoiding him was a job well done, Sparrow. Cordelia hadn't even noticed said avoiding. It didn't really cross her mind.

She smiled at the compliment. "You don't look so bad yourself. You clean up well for a pirate who hasn't been hiding." It's surprising, seeing Jack all dressed up for the occasion. It wasn't bad at all. It was different. And he looked quite handsome.

"You'll take a time out from all your busy beeing to relax, right? That's the point of this thing. Enjoy yourself. Unless you like being busy, which is something we're going to have to talk about." Cordelia's second job was making sure broody, dark-haired people who will not be named actually experience some fun in their lives. She'd consider herself an expert by this point. And if Jack, minus the broody, was not having fun - or didn't understand the definition of the word, which she doubted very much - she'd just have to make him have fun. Starting this evening.

[all7seas]

And it had been Jack's job early on in his stay at Luceti to make sure sad blond slayers had fun. He'd taken it very seriously indeed.

"This is the most relaxed I've been in a week, actually. Just returned from my mission tonight."