Gathering: New Year's Eve Gala

[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.

Comments

Milady de Winter (Comtesse de la Fere) - OTA

[aspecialkindofwoman]

The gown that Cinna had made for her is ideal for such a fete. Milady (or Anne, depending on who addresses her) has her hair down, dark curls along one side of her head and neck. Of course, she has a choker to cover the scar on her neck, but she stands tall, her shoulders back. She does so like a celebration. Reaching for a flute of champagne, she's content to watch for the moment, keeping an eye out for those she knows and, of course, for her husband. There is a small part of her that thinks it might be nice to dance with him. Perhaps, that small part thinks, this really is a chance for a new beginning.

Re: Milady de Winter (Comtesse de la Fere) - OTA

[armedagainstlove]

Athos is not the sort of man who enjoys parties. Even before his life had become the shadow of what it had once been, they have resoundingly been loud, increasingly irritating, and filled to excess. Now, however, he has brought on one of these excesses and finds himself at this party for there is alcohol and Anne has ordered a gown.

It is the gown that he is truly there for, because it means she's made an effort. He does not have a flute of champagne, but rather a bottle. "Milady," he greets calmly as he can when presented with such a dress. "I have underprepared for the evening," he notes, in his usual outfit.

[aspecialkindofwoman]

And the bottle of wine. She glances at that and then at Athos's face, feeling the pining she always feels just being close to him. "Will you share?" she asks, reaching for the wine. She will drink straight from the neck of it. Perhaps she can get his attention, have it entirely on her.

[armedagainstlove]

"And risk it falling on your dress?" Athos wryly notes, feeling as if he can still play Anne's game as well as she, even if he's already had some drinks and is listing a touch. "But perhaps you have some skill to prevent that happening," he allows, relinquishing his steady hold on the bottle to see what she does with it.

[aspecialkindofwoman]

Perhaps she thought he would stop drinking. That there would be a kind of a contentment.

Perhaps she is still capable of being a fool.

There is no perhaps to that when it comes to Athos. He can make her still feel so deeply that it frightens her. She raises the bottle and drinks deeply, not spilling a drop of it, letting the wine slide down her throat as she holds the bottle out for him to take.

"How do I look, Athos?"

[armedagainstlove]

"Adequate enough," he replies evenly, managing to keep his face entirely even as he offers her this praise. He does not want to become overly emotional, but he knows that she understands what he means. He takes the bottle back, but feels it important to set it aside and ease closer, a hand resting as tightly on her hip as the dress hugs. "Who are you trying to impress tonight, Anne?" he asks, a private teasing question for only their ears.

[aspecialkindofwoman]

She does understand - she can see it in his eyes and in the heat of his hand and somethings softens in Anne, too.

"I thought I might see who there is to impress," she replies, lowering her voice as well, her gaze ranging around his face, his eyes, his mouth .... "Can you think of anyone, Athos? Anyone I could ... impress?"

[armedagainstlove]

"There's at least one man here quite impressed," Athos promises, his fingers splaying a touch wider on her skin as he keeps his distance close. He doesn't think that she would stray from him tonight, but this physical grasp helps him to secure himself in such knowledge.

"You look lovely, Anne," he says, offering her sincerity, now.

[aspecialkindofwoman]

No, tonight - and even here in this hotel - Anne is Athos's. She has no idea what waits for either of them if she heads back to Paris - if she's even in Paris. So, here, she shall be as selfish as she wants to be. She even leans into his hand even more, so that their bodies are almost touching.

"You look handsome as always. If a bit tired," she tells him.

[armedagainstlove]

He feels weary, but he isn't sure how to explain to her why. Beyond the captaincy he bears at home, now he holds the responsibility of the other musketeers on his shoulders, not to mention the guilt of his actions, and the memory of what he'd done. That scar on her neck, the memory in his mind. "It's my advanced age," he replies. "I always look this tired now."

[aspecialkindofwoman]

"Ah, yes," she deadpans, "you are terribly old. I shall have to wheel you up to to your rooms soon, old man. Help you out of your clothes and put you to bed with a hot tea."

She's teasing, especially about the tea, but the offer to take him to bed is legitimate, should he wish to take her up on it.

[armedagainstlove]

"What if we were to remove the hot tea from the equation?" Athos suggests calmly, though he wonders if he will be able to remove her from her own vestments without a knife (though he does imagine that she would have a knife to his throat sooner, for having ruined such a dress).

"I'm very weary and my old bones could use the rest," he deadpans.

[aspecialkindofwoman]

"How can you be a viable captain so old, mm? How did Treville do it." Anne laces her fingers between the buttons of his doublet, deepening the connection between them. (Interestingly enough, there is something called a 'zipper' tightening her dress. Very intriguing development.)

"I would assume, sans tea, you would want wine."

[armedagainstlove]

"I doubt Treville ever had someone so cunning and clever to help take him apart," Athos remarks, and if their old Captain did have someone like that on the side, they had never found out because he had remained a paragon of privacy. "I believe that you might be able to distract me away from all beverages," he concedes. "Shall we try?"

[aspecialkindofwoman]

"Mmm, I don't know," she hums, a coy smile playing over her lips, turning to take in the festivities. "I think I might like to dance." After all, the odds of her getting invited to another ball wherever she is beyond the doors is ... well, at least relatively slim. Not entirely impossible.

[armedagainstlove]

"You know I'm a poor dancer, especially in public," Athos remarks, which had been true ever before his descent into the bottle. He's coordinated plenty, but the graceful movements of dancing are something he's done very few times in his life and he cannot see himself doing much more. "Perhaps in private, though..."

[aspecialkindofwoman]

But as a comte, Athos had to go to more than his share of balls, surely.

"Let's try," she says, taking his hand. For some reason, dancing with him in public would mean something. Show something. Wouldn't it?

[armedagainstlove]

Athos sighs as he condones the suggestion with a nod. He had always been lucky to avoid dancing by having a fiancé and using the excuse of conversation to escape. The odd dance here and there had been necessary, though trudged through. He holds her in his arms and takes her hand with a bow. "Perhaps something we both know?"

[aspecialkindofwoman]

"Just a waltz," she concedes, leading him to the dance floor. There, she can face him, shifting how they are holding hands so that her other hand can now rest on his shoulder. The song is at least moderately compatible to such a rhythm and with a small nod and amused smile, she nods so they can start moving at the same time.

Perhaps she hopes that they look good together - that others perhaps envy them, not, of course, knowing what all hovers beneath the surface.

[armedagainstlove]

"You know, for many, the waltz is considered quite the daring dance," he reminds Anne, given that their proximity is rather a risky thing, but they both have been much closer than this, of course. Their relationship has never been about propriety. He curls his fingers in against her body, holding her close.

His wife.

He closes his eyes and drifts into the miasma of her bearing and being, exhaling as he sinks in towards her.

[aspecialkindofwoman]

Even as Anne keeps her eyes open, aware, as always, of their surroundings, she holds Athos more tightly, leaning her temple against his cheek.

She'd meant it when she said that they were bound together. She loves him, so much so that it's dangerous. But she can't help it and more than that, she doesn't want to.

[armedagainstlove]

He's protective and possessive of her, though he knows he has no right or need to be. She is here by choice and in his arms. "Is this a suitable dance, milady?" he asks, ever open to being teased by her. "I'm sure I could be convinced to something else if it was not to your liking."

[aspecialkindofwoman]

"I quite like it," Anne tells him, smiling just that little bit. "Though it is good to know that I could convince you of more if I needed to."

It is terrifying how she could grow accustomed to this.

[armedagainstlove]

"I suppose I've begun to take our vows rather seriously," he notes, even though he thinks perhaps they need new ones because 'until death do us part' hadn't worked so properly the first time. As the music dies down, he steps back to bow to her properly. "Was that suitable, dear?"

[aspecialkindofwoman]

"It was," she says, curtsying as well, despite the seeming tightness of her gown (Cinna is something of a magician with clothing, it seems).

She reaches for his hand though, to be escorted off the dance floor. She holds her head high, something she would do regardless, but now, with good reason. "Thank you."