cuddlecity | EVENT: A VERY NICE BALL.

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

( she's not embarrassed, per se, at the concept of getting caught — though present company certainly helps to tamp down any potential for embarrassment. this isn't the first time clary's come in to kimberly flush-faced and breathless, and it probably won't be the last. )

It's fine, ( breathed out as her fingertips work to tuck her straps back into their proper place, busying themselves so as to distract from the disappointment of no longer being where they had been tucked just moments before. ) He's an idiot.

( he did run away from a very willing girlfriend to avoid having to make eye contact with said girlfriend's roommate, after all. it was only fair. )

Are you having fun? Jace is actually dancing with you, right? Because I did threaten to beat him up if he didn't.

Definitely an idiot.

( She says it with amusement. Clary hasn't really had the opportunity to hang out with Kimberly's beau all that often, she mostly learns about him in snatched moments. As long as her friend is happy though, she doesn't mind all that much. )

And he's being the perfect gentleman. He even promised I could drag him into the photobooth later. ( Clary's smile is dazzling, her eyes sparkling helplessly. She's definitely enjoying the opportunity to do the typical, cliched couple shit. ) It's nice, I don't think I've been to a party like this before.

( She definitely hasn't. It feels a little bit magical. )

It's like... if you take prom, but make it so much better. ( she pauses for a moment, sincerity warming her voice. ) Having a good date helps with that, I guess.

( it is a little magical, even if kimberly's attempts to capture said magical feeling are a little less wholesome than clary's. but she's not opposed to family-friendly entertainment, and at the mention of photobooths, her grin only gets wider. )

Wait, there are photobooths? Where? ( doesn't matter where. they're going. ) Do they have cheesy props?

( it's not a good photobooth if there aren't silly hand props or accessories to drape on, after all. she has faith, though, that the entertainment will be just as fabulous as the food and drink have been thus far. )

( She's so glad that Kimberly's smiling like this. It's about time, and being happy is something she definitely deserves. It means Clary doesn't feel quite as guilty being helplessly in love and obvious about it. Now they can share the feeling without any lingering awkwardness. )

Much better than prom. The food isn't terrible, the punch isn't spiked with cheap vodka, and the band can actually hold their instruments. I haven't even seen someone trying to puke and rally yet. It's classy.

( Grinning at the talk of photobooths. ) I think so. Or at least, I hope so. What's a photobooth without terrible props? Unless we're going old school like they did in the fifties.

Honestly, the upgrade from cheap beer and bottom shelf vodka was worth the universe jump by itself. I've never felt worse than a post-prom punch hangover.

( football players, they were bad enough. small town football players with easy access to fake ids and a town that didn't care enough to stop them? worse. kimberly had long learned to mind her drink in the atmosphere of the cliche house party; the city's emphasis on consent and good behavior had created a place instead in which she could actually relax, enjoy a drink at her leisure, and just have a good time. that, too, was a major upgrade, and a major relief as well.

tonight, she hasn't had much. just a few glasses of champagne — not spiked, thank you very much, with that ever-present golden liquid — which was enough to give her a pleasant, cheerful buzz, but nothing stronger. she hadn't needed it. tonight had been sparkling, magical even, all on its own. add to that pleasantry the leftover warmth from her previous activity, and kimberly's aglow in a way she hasn't been in a long time. since well before stepping foot in cadelle, if ever.

at clary's reassurance of silly props and her own enthusiasm, she's all too glad to scoop the other girl's hand up as she rights herself for good, nudging her forward through the patio until they're passing through double doors and arriving back into the ballroom's east wing. )

If we leave here with any less than a dozen photo strips, this night is just not complete. ( a beat, and kimberly scans the room. there's a door that looks like it ought to lead to a coat closet, and another on the other side that's just barely ajar, but nothing that screams come take your picture here. ) Where are these things again?

For me it's being able to buy cute clothes without worrying they're going to be completely ruined with demon ichor. I would never have risked this dress if I was still back in New York. It would have made me cry when it got all fucked up.

( There's definitely camaraderie in her voice. It helps she knows about Kimberly's powers, that they have a similarity to them. They both know the hassles of being a bruised teenage girl. And they get to redo all the time that's been lost. )

Um. They're probably not going to be hanging around where people are dancing, right? ( They'll head to the door, safest bet. ) And I'm with you on that. I want so many pictures.

I guess that explains why you always wear black.

( the royal you, if you will. all of you. clary and jace and alec, the entity of their existence, the hunters of shadows. it sounds pretentious and ridiculous in kimberly's head, but no more ridiculous than the concept of superpowered teenagers in morphing armor taking on a basically immortal crazy woman hellbent on taking over the planet. so, whatever.

she shrugs a bit, and then lets the subject fall aside in favor of following clary across the ballroom, mumbling excuse mes and whoops, sorrys as they weave in between dancers and lingering wallflowers, hanging tight to the other girl's hand until they've crossed through a door on the other wall that leads into a room that looks almost like an afterthought.

there's photobooths along one wall, the old-fashioned kind where you slip behind a curtain and receive two identical strips of black-and-white photos afterwards. normally, she'd expect to pay a few dollars — or more than a few, these days — but it seemed like the party planners had taken care of the payment for the night, as evidenced by the quick cover of black tape over the card reader. )

Which one first?

( they're all decorated differently, but kimberly's not picky. )

You choose.

They have a motto! ( Kimberly, you think they're pretentious now, just wait until Clary enthusiastically delivers the following statement. ) Shadowhunters: Looking Better in Black Than the Widows of our Enemies Since 1234. ( A beat, to let that sink in. ) Actually, it's just Jace's motto. The real one is much more moody. ( Is she just here to cast aspersions on her boyfriend? It would seem so.

Dutifully, Clary eyes up the photo booths, making a hmming noise as she does so. ) This one.

( It just so happens to be the nearest, and therefore the easiest to tug Kimberly inside. The props are very nicely left in a bucket below the seat and she pulls them out with a grin. Foam mustaches on sticks and tiny hats. What good choices. ) Do you want lumberjack or french guy?

( there's nothing that can possibly be said that summarizes just how ridiculous that particular motto is — but the low, agonized groan that spills out from kimberly's lips, complete with an enthusiastic eye roll, should say it all.

luckily, the mood quickly shifts from dismissive to genuine as clary drags her into the nearest photobooth, a bucket overflowing with cheesy props serving as an excellent distraction from the tackiness of shadowhunter mottos. ) Oh, definitely french guy. Ooh la la!

( does kimberly burst into giggles as she catches a glimpse of herself in the reflection of the screen? maybe. but she can't help herself. they just look so silly, with oversized foam mustaches held up underneath their noses and ridiculously small hats perched at an angle atop their heads. what a great picture they'll take. )

You have to hit the button — my hands, they are le full, mademoiselle.

EVENT: A VERY NICE BALL.

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