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[personal profile] concierge
Any entries earlier than this were pre-reboot.
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[personal profile] concierge
The annual Nexus New Year's Eve gala began at 8 in the evening. Too grand to be contained by the lobby or dining hall, the gardens at the front of the hotel were employed, with long strings of white lights forming a twinkling canopy from the front doors all the way to the hedge maze. The weather was temperate and calm, and the night perfectly clear.

Drinks were served at various bars set up throughout the gardens and lobby, with champagne cocktails being the specialty of the night. Wheeling through the crowd was a bartender with golden cart providing warm drinks on the go: Tom and Jerrys, rum punch, negus, and Irish coffee.

Crisply-dressed wait staff wove through the collected guests with an abundance of hors d'oeuvres for all different tastes. The Bistro remained open with a limited selection of items for those who were wanting something more substantial.

Above the front doors was hung a large, gold-rimmed clock counting down the last hours, minutes, and seconds of the current year.
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[personal profile] magicallystrange
The King's Road must lead him somewhere, they must take him onwards. Jonathan Strange has fallen through into the fairy world and he must discover the paths for what they are. For if he is to discover this magic, he can bring it back to England and truly begin a new age of English magic. Norrell would disapprove, of course, but then, does not Norrell disapprove of all?

This flight of discovery only lasts him so long before he knows he must return to Arabella. Turning, he strives to find the nearest reflective surface he can, but the paths are unknown to him and Strange is new to all of this.

Finally, he finds a mirror, but when he seeks to take it back to England, that is not where he arrives. Instead, he steps out of the full length mirror and discovers himself in the midst of a terribly lovely ballroom that bears the finest chandeliers he's ever seen. Being a man only barely escaped from war, this luxury is unexpected and frivolous and yet, he wishes to bring Arabella here.

Perhaps this is yet another realm of the fairy? Perhaps the Raven King has led him onwards to a new domain, tucked away where he would not think to look?

Striving to be polite to any fairy he might come across, he presses a hand to his chest as he regards the nearest passing person, who does not seem to be under any enchantment, nor bearing any of the magic that Strange would think to look for. Perhaps these people are not the magicians he had expected and yet, he has come here by magic.

"Good day," he introduces himself as brightly as he might, bowing his head to them. "May I ask, which direction would I take to return to England?"

Feb. 8th, 2015 07:11 pm
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[personal profile] sawny
They say that some men are born to battle, are born with black powder on their hands and the keen edge of sword an extension of their bodies. It makes their hearts beat faster and their blood run hot and drives them to madness that can only be slaked on a field against a foe.

Jamie isn't one of those. Oh, aye, he's good at it - damned good at it, which has saved him more than once. But he's no one of those that likes it and the last thing he wants is to be fighting a losing war alongside the fool pretender, the Bonnie Prince, when he could be safely wrapped up with his wife in a crofter's house somewhere.

It's a simple life he wants and yet he seems thrust into this one instead, this destiny that's only going to end in bloodshed on a field in April. It's only October now, so he's got some months to spare but it's not long enough. He means to delay his inevitable death if he can, more for Claire than for himself.

It's to that end that Jamie goes about stealing the wheels and pins off all of Cope's cannons in hopes he won't be able to mount a defense. The English have them outgunned, to be sure, but without ordnance and muskets, the Highlanders know the land and know every hill and burn. They'll have the advantage once the firepower's gone. At least, that's what Jamie hopes.

He means to make his way back to camp to show Claire his prize, to give her all the cotter pins off the English cannons and show her that he's found a way to rout the English at least this once but he gets twisted in the dark. When he pushes back the flap of the tent to greet her, it's a richly-appointed corridor he sees, not the smiling face of his wife.

"Och, aye, what's this, then?" He's covered in soot from head to toe and with his hair long and his kilt and plaid askew, he looks for all the world an outlaw. He is, actually, if the broadsheets are to be believed and he thinks he ought to be every inch a braw Scottish brigand if he means to escape the English yet again.

"What devilry is this?" There's a door behind him, pushed shut, and when he tries it, it won't open.



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