all_inclusive | Gathering: New Year's Eve Gala

Gathering: New Year's Eve Gala

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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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.

Edited 2015-12-31 21:06 (UTC)

For his part, Aramis is looking at this celebration as a new beginning. As a means of moving on. Of moving past the mistakes he's made and finding a new path.

It has become clear that kneeling in his room and praying are not that path. There is drink to be had, camaraderie to be part of, and yes, women to meet. Hence, the Musketeer is here, wearing his full regalia (back to, of course, being a man, thank God). He will happily dip his hat and give a slight bow to any beautiful woman - chivalry, of course! And while the drink that sends bubbles up his nose is not exactly his favorite, a good glass of red wine is and he will drink that as he makes his way among the party-goers.

He is not seeking trouble - that should be stated clearly. However, should trouble find him, well, that is hardly his fault, is it?

It's a pretty surreal feeling, Matt thinks, to find himself in the middle of a New Year's Eve bash when it was still fall in the room he just left. He isn't really dressed for it—Couldn't really be dressed for it even if he wanted to—and it's no more his scene than the smooth marble and rich leather of the Smoking Room. But he doesn't let a little classism keep him from the hotel bar, and there's a similar itch to stay at this big, brash party. (It doesn't hurt that there's free drinks.) Everything is bright: The voices, the music, the crimson auras pulsing around the press of bodies. He should hate being in a place so crowded with sounds, but he isn't exactly the average blind guy, and this isn't exactly the average gala.

He pulls the tie free from the collar of his dress shirt, shoves it into his jacket pocket, and dives into the fray.

Cinderella has never seen something quite like this. The ball at the palace had been very similar but that almost seems like a dream after spending almost a year here in this place.

While she very much misses her prince, she thinks this place is better by far. There's so many worlds to visit and so much opportunity, opportunity that she cannot experience anywhere else. She spends some time eating delicate hors d'oeuvres and flitting from table to table before getting exhausted and taking a bit of air outside.

The garden is beautiful tonight and the stars are bright and Cinderella thinks she's never been happier.

Back in London, it was actually New Year's Eve, though 2008, rather than...well, Martha wasn't entirely certain what year it was, back in the hotel, though she assumed she'd figure it out soon enough. As usual, she'd been taken in by the trick of passing through a doorway (this time, the archway to the coat check at the hospital's new year's gala for donors and off-duty staff).

There were, at least, worse ways to get unstuck in time.

"I'm never going to get used to this," she muttered to herself, though she was subconsciously glad she was dressed for the occasion, instead of in jeans, or god forbid, scrubs. Smoothing her hands down the front of her dress, she pulled her coat a little closer around her shoulders and took an Irish coffee before stepping out into the garden.

Jon had been to a great many celebrations of the new year both on the island and now here in the hotel. There were a few things he understood to be tradition - kissing at the turn of the new year, drinking a toast, shooting off fire. He had no one to kiss this year but he decided he wasn't going to let that bother him. No, he would be going to the party alone and intended to have a good time of it, even if it was not normally his sort of thing.

He dressed in modern clothes for once, though still fairly dark. He would not be wearing one of the suits common among men or anything of bright color, as it did not seem like him. Perhaps he was no longer a man of the Night's Watch but he could not forsake everything.

He had a spindly glass of some light wine, something that bubbled, and he had no idea what to call it. He felt at loose ends. He recognized most everyone present but was terrible at small talk so, instead, he drank his bubbly wine and simply watched the others.

If there's one thing he's come to love about the Nexus, it's the way it subverts time completely. Chase can be here for the party, enjoy a leisurely lie-in, spend the whole next day relaxing, and still go back and work the New Years' shift at the hospital and bank some money. He can even do it well-rested and refreshed, which is more than he could ever hope for before.

What he intends to do with the money, now that's another story, but right now he's managed to clean up in a decent sport coat and pair of slacks, enjoying a party and getting ready to relive the night a few days from now, for work's sake.

So, he'd managed to find a way out (accidentally) of the Nexus and back home, which was nice, especially when he learned that time hadn't moved all that much and he was right back where he'd left off. That part was pretty cool. What was less cool was when he was on the way to the men's room and ended up back at the Nexus. As it turns out, that was right in time for New Year's Eve at the Nexus.

Dressed in a stylish tux, he arrived at the party, got himself a drink and found himself wandering about the grounds.

He's scruffy and still wearing his long coat when he walks into the party, his eyes a touch red from persistent insomnia, but for all that Luther is feeling as relaxed as he can in any such situation. Almost pleasant.

In a cursory search there is no appearance of anyone he recognizes and, feeling the heat of the room rather uncomfortably beneath his coat, he takes it off to hang it and the accompanying scarf on a nearby chair. He's not opposed to sitting alone and drinking, God knew he did that often enough, though that surprisingly isn't what his mood is calling for today.

Slipping both hands into his pockets and working to not ball them into their habitual fists, he makes his way toward the fella pushing the shiny gold cart and orders himself an Irish coffee.

Porthos was never one to miss a party, and this was no exception. He was also one to pay a lot of attention to his appearance, and his doublet was his finest here, his hat perfectly poised on his head, and his sword perfectly clean at his waist.

By the end of the evening, he was fairly certain a donkey had stolen his hat, his doublet had been forgotten on the back of a chair - but at least his sword was still by his side. Even a very drunk Porthos had some standards, it seemed.

Chiana likes the parties best. It's easy to snurch things off people while they're inebriated and distracted, but that's not even the thing, here. She doesn't need to steal much here, to survive, so she can relax and just enjoy the party. Her corset and matching asymmetrical skirt show her off and she knows just how she looks, her pants and boots betraying her true priority: being comfortable (enough to run, if need be).

She has a smile for everyone whose eyes she meets, and she thinks to herself that this human need to throw parties for any and every reason is a very welcome one.

As always, Cinna knows exactly what Grey can wear and still be comfortable, not fidgeting too much. His suit is loose and flowing, but the material is soft against Grey's skin. It allows him to stand and get to the words on his chest or arms if he needs to, or to the notepad he now carries in a pocket to communicate.

Even here, there seem to be parties. This is one of the fancier ones. He's already had one glass of sweet wine; enough for his head to buzz just a bit. He flips his head just a little, getting his bangs out of his eyes and watches people. Just as his lover had promised, there are familiar faces here, but if those eyes land on him, they do so without recognition. It makes Grey feel a little sad, it's true, but he has Cinna. That's what matters. If he is not with Cinna, he is on his way to or from him. They are never very far apart.

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Milady de Winter (Comtesse de la Fere) - OTA

Aramis - OTA

Matt Murdock - OTA

no subject

Martha Jones - OTA