cuddlecity | EVENT: A VERY NICE BALL.

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EVENT: A VERY NICE BALL.

Blink, and a week goes by; close your eyes, and the evening of the fifteenth comes to life, the cool glow of moonlight illuminating the quiet streets of the city. For once, it seems like the entire city's come to a standstill — many of the local businesses have closed early today, with signs advising they'll reopen first thing in the morning, and even the dependable, cheerful squawks of the street vendors have hushed for the time being. Hurried as this year's event may seem, the annual celebration is a city tradition that's not to be missed; bakers and booksellers alike know this all too well, and any lingering souls in their shops will be gently but firmly shooed to the exits by late afternoon. They've got to get all dolled up too, after all, and such finery takes time.

Whether the Social Committee's video enticed you or you've been dragged by the metaphorical scuff tonight, the Samhain Ball hopes to offer you an evening of seasonally appropriate escapism. There's something for everyone tonight, from the comforting swells of smooth jazz and upbeat swing pouring out from the stage where a live band plays, to the mouth-watering smells and tastes of a gourmet plated meal served early in the evening, to even the simple beauty of the decorated ballroom itself.

The first hour or so of the evening allows for guests to enter at their leisure through double doors at the north end of the ballroom, where all are greeted by the smiling faces of Flora and Cornelius in their matching cream pantsuits. Should you choose this main entrance, you and your companion — or companions, if you've brought more than one — will be announced in grand style, befitting the occasion. (Savvy — or sneaky — attendees may note the auxiliary entrance on the west side of the ballroom. Follow the garden path, and be mindful of the sprinklers. They do have a tendency to go off at the wrong moments.)

Take a look around, and soak in the sights. The ornately carved ceiling of the ballroom has been obscured for the evening with tasteful black draping dotted with the gentle glow of strung lights. It lends a twilight quality to the evening, enhanced by the soft flicker of tea lights placed at the center of each table on the east side of the ballroom and the sconces hung on the wall throughout. Each table, too, features a soft cream tablecloth and a bounty of autumnal florals, perfectly arranged to match the golden chairs surrounding. There's plenty of seating for all, and no assignments — feel free to claim a table for you and yours, and free your hands of anything you may not wish to carry.

The slow fade of music from the stage signals attention to a single woman illuminated by spotlight, whose silhouette should look familiar to anyone who's spent time in the city. With a small, tired smile, Mayor Drake welcomes you and yours to the city's annual Samhain Celebration Ball; her speech is short, but touches on the importance of the holiday, from the appreciation of the harvest to the welcoming of the new year, and reminds both natives and visitors alike to take time in the coming months to cherish their blessings — including this most immediate one, the promised Samhain feast.

Once you've settled around a table, the ballroom welcomes you to chat with strangers and friends alike, encouraging conversation with soft instrumental music and the quiet, pleasant generosity of passing waiters carrying flutes of happily bubbling champagne. A little liquid courage never hurt anyone, after all.

Dinner is an affair in itself, plated and served by hushed but skilled waiters whose capable hands whisk courses in and out with no more than a smile. No matter your dietary preferences or needs, there's an appetizer, entree, and everything in between available for you — simply raise a hand, and a member of the waitstaff will be at your side to assist in taking your order when you're ready. Linger as long as you like at the table; there's no rush to leave, but when you're ready, let the swells of the music from the stage entice you to the west side of the ballroom, where a dance floor's lit by the warm glow of so many twinkling lights overhead.

The music itself goes on through the wee hours of the evening, so there's plenty of opportunities to fill your dance card with any number of partners. The songs themselves vary from gentle waltzes perfect for cheek-to-cheek swaying to faster rhythms suited for swing dancing's signature dips and twirls, and requests are always welcome if you've something particular in mind. There's even a microphone tucked to the side, just in case you feel the urge to croon with accompaniment to someone special as the night goes on.

Of course, if you don't feel like dancing, or just need to rest your feet, there's plenty of entertainment tucked in the hall. In a small room just off the ballroom, you might find a collection of old-fashioned photobooth machines, ordered on accident and set here where they won't clash with the rest of the decor. They're operational, of course, and free of charge; feel free to take a few silly photos, but be sure to wait for them to print. There's the gardens, too, equally decorated with twinkling lights, though the effect is muted by the moonlight that trickles through the canopy overhead; the adjoining hedge maze and walking paths have often been a perfect site for quiet walks and romantic interludes in years past.

While a perfect world might allow such a charmed evening to last forever, unfortunately all good things must come to an end, and as the late hour of the evening gives way to the promise of dawn, a familiar tune is played to signal the end of the event. As the lyrics go, you don't have to go home... but you can't stay here. Time to make your way to the exit, and see where else the night takes you.

Whew, talk about words. Should you need a recap: be pretty, because this is a fancy event. Bring a friend or come stag, whatever you choose; eat, drink, dance (or don't) and be merry, for this is an event without any dramatic accidental consequences. Well, except the sprinklers... and maybe your own excessive consumption of champange, but that's up to you!

And, though we say it every time, please don't forget that your mod team is here for you with answers to any questions you might have, whether related specifically to this event or the game in general. If you have any further questions specific to this event, we encourage you to ask away on our QUESTIONS COMMENT here in this post. If you have general questions, or prefer a more private venue, our GENERAL INBOX (and SCREENED INBOX) is always available for you.

Enjoy your evening, cuddlers, but if you would, please — save the last dance for us?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

smoke break

[It's not that tonight is stressful, but then, Vasquez isn't a smoker because he needs it. He's smoked for so many years that it's habit and maybe there's a smidge of oral fixation to it. He's been dancing and drinking, taking care to try and blend in with his suit and cleaned cheeks (though not too clean), but eventually he excuses himself for a little outside break.

Of course, no sooner than he gets the matches out to light up a cigarillo but trouble starts up. He should've taken notice that no one was out on this path, but he'd been too eager for the privacy to pay any mind. Seconds later, Vasquez pays for this privacy when a deep chugging sound in the ground begins and water begins to spray all around him, soaking him from head to toe, and worst of all, putting out his cigarette.

His shoes squeak, his hair is sopping, and there is a look on his face that says that whoever turned on this water is going to pay with their life. Right now, though, all he wants is to salvage his smoke break. Squeaking his way back to the doors (and into safe territory), he whistles to the nearest person to get their attention, signalling to his soaking cigarette.]

You got a spare and a light?

stain remover

[The dinner is more than Vasquez is used to, with too many rich foods settling heavy in his belly. Everything makes him somewhat sick, but not in a way that he intends to stop eating, only barely putting on the five pounds that he's been missing when really, it'll take another fifteen before he's got the meat back on his bones that he needs after three months on the run.

He's quick to serve himself rapidly from each passing plate when he knocks a glass of wine onto himself, causing a flurry of cursing as he looks down at how it stains his white suit-jacket. He should've known that something like this would happen to him. Excusing himself, he ducks dancers and other dinner-goers, grimacing when he ploughs right into someone.

Grimacing, he stares down at the stain and his new friend, having forcibly bumped into them.]

Did you get any on you? I don't think it's so quick to transfer. [With a glare downwards, he aims that evil eye on that seemingly growing stain]. But, you never know.

wildcard | ota

[Go crazy, don't do anything he wouldn't do, and hit me up at

lovelyambition if you want to run anything by me!]

... fortunately, for you. [She replies with the lift of a brow, stepping closer to open her purse while trying to not laugh at the poor man that's soaked from head to toe. Sprinklers? A bad date? Claire's not going to assume too much.

She fishes out a cigarette and pack of matches. Only one happens to be missing from the book. She's not much of a smoker, but she's decided to carry them around with her just in case others are. Seems to be working in her favor.

They're held out to him.]

Bad night?

[Vasquez is running his fingers through his soaking hair, watching as water droplets fall onto the tips and then to the ground. Grimacing, he reaches out for the cigarette and leans forward in the hopes that she'll strike a match, thinking that if he even tries, he'll soak the whole book.]

It wasn't so bad until suddenly water came out of the ground.

[Who does that? What kind of place would have this? Vasquez is even more annoyed than before, which is why it's a relief that he's got something to smoke.]

I needed some fresh air and I walked for a smoke when they came on. Now...

[Well, now, his shirt is see-through, his pants are sticking to every bit of skin, his matches are ruined, and he's probably not welcome back inside until his shoes stop leaking.]

It's a bad night now. What about you? Why are you outside? If you want to run through the water, I think it's still on back that way.

[Hint taken. Obligingly, Claire readies a match for him, holding it out so he can light his cigarette. Once done she shakes it out before dropping it on the ground.]

Sprinklers? [She assumes, anyway. There goes her attempt to not look amused. At least she keeps it to a smile.] They really should have turned those off for the ball.

[When the conversation turns to her and her reason for being out, she gives a little shrug.]

Fresh air. I'm really not one for things like this.

[He inhales with the satisfaction of a man who is completely addicted and won't ever admit to it, but he still really, really likes it. Letting out a content sigh, he gives her a confused look at the word, wondering if his English is that bad.]

Pinche sprinklers? Is that what they were in the ground, making me wet?

[He wonders if anyone would take offense if he comes back later with his guns and starts shooting. This is what happens when he doesn't have them on him.]

It's a lot of people. More people than I've ever seen in one place.

They're usually intended for watering the grass and flowers, but you were apparently in need of it, too.

[Claire might object to the violence.]

Really? Never been to a big party before?

This party has more people at it than people I've ever seen in one place.

[Maybe his brief stint in Kansas City would rival it, but only just, because it's not like they had all grouped together but for town meetings and Vasquez didn't like to be around with great big groups of Americans. Things tended to go very bad.]

If I'm thirsty, usually I prefer tequila over water, guapa. Where do you come from, then? Somewhere where big parties are very normal?

I lived in Paris, for a time. If that means anything to you. [She's sure no matter the world or century that has Paris, the name alone gives imagery of lavish parties and balls like this one. And then she gives a small shrug.]

And the place I was in sometime after... they held events like this. Usually when new people came, but for Christmas and days like that, too.

I know Paris. Never been. Never met anyone from there, but I know it.

[It's a far off place to him, something that he only has heard about and that isn't really real, not to him other than a place in his imagination. He imagines something like she's talking about, shaking his head. Taking a few deep puffs of his cigarette, he's not sure he can relate.]

Christmas, we had maybe the family together, if we were lucky. After I was fourteen, not even then. You had to travel to work, you couldn't get back.

[She might be able to more than she suspects. She tips her head to the side, paying attention, listening.]

Where were you before all this?

Rose Creek.

[It's said with the doubt that she would have ever heard of it, seeing as he hadn't even heard of it before he got dragged to nearly die in the town.]

Maybe a hundred? That's being generous.

[He also knows that their population doesn't reflect that anymore, not after Bogue.]

Where's Rose Creek? Assuming our worlds have similar... countries, I suppose.

[ It's a good question and one that he's not even totally sure of, if he's honest. That whole time had been a haze of violence and drink. ]

I think California? Or somewhere close to it. It's a farming town with a mine, but I only spent a week there.

And then you came here?

[For whatever reason.]

People say that there were wishes, that somehow I wanted to be here? I don't know if I believe this, do you?

[Because yes, of course he's safe, but it's not the safety he thinks he would have chosen, if given the option.]

[Claire hesitates, then shrugs.]

I was in a place like this before. They made promises, but when they got what they needed, we were sent home. I thought I'd get my wish, but... well. I'm here, aren't I?

If I got my wish, then I'd never go home. It's a problem, like that.

[Unless, magically, the bounty on his head is taken off, but he doesn't see that happening anytime soon. Vasquez snorts at the thought of his problems melting away, choosing instead to think about here.]

Maybe there was more to it? Something even you didn't know?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

EVENT: A VERY NICE BALL.

vasquez | ota

smoke break

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