~Closed - Yule Ball in Valhalla 2019 - VIP Lounge~
The invitation to the ball had caught Author and his wife quite by surprise. He'd always fancied a trip to Valhalla, but never thought he'd get past the guardian. It didn't take him long to get ready, he just threw on his ugliest Christmas sweater depicting the Grinch in a Santa hat. Kellie would be a lot longer getting ready and she had urged him to go ahead and she would be along.
He chatted with the angel at the door in perfect German before entering the main room. He was right at the appointed time, but apparantly most considered it better to be fashionably late. He looked over the menu at his table and requested the blood orange hot cocoa. He was pretty sure it wasn't going to be real blood, but one never knew, they had invited a vampire so perhaps they would be accomodating to his tastes. Actually, Author was a demon first and was housed in the realm in a vampire's body, but his dietary needs were the same as the usual bloodsucker.
He glanced at the tiny ice sculptures at his table, wondering how long they would last.
Author lifted his Blood Orange cocoa and nodded when Marah looked his way. "Seize the night!" he said with a smile.
Sean wasn't a social butterfly, but he wasn't going to let this invitation go to waste. He loved good food and drink. The Dullahan was not one for the cliche Happy Christmas-themed attire, though. Instead, he opted for a Jack Skellington pinstripe suit, black shoes and a black top hat with silver skulls attached to the band.
Once he arrived, he ordered a Blood Orange Hot Cocoa and some Bacon Wrapped Smokies.
Festivities were... not generally Julien's sort of thing. To put it mildly. Or rather, to put it as once might say, "Hannibal Lecter is not generally a children's party caterer." However. He understood festivals, party events, and he certainly understood that he had no interest in ignoring invitations to some place like Valhalla from some beings like the Elders.
If they wished to celebrate the end of the recent storm, he would celebrate with them. As elegantly as once he had ascended a throne.
The glittering white of the scenery suited his features and his fine, long hair. But for his occasion he'd dressed in a simple, Italian-cut black suit, with a red tie covered in intricate beaded bloodstones, and a dark green scarf hung loose over his shoulders.
His eyes traced the room, his spine as taut as it ever had been at court, thousands of years hence. Perhaps this was not warranted, but it was familiar. At least, he decided, he might peruse the wine list.
Author did a double take when Julien passed by. He hoped Julien hadn't quite noticed as he wasn't quite sure what he would say anyhow. He was familiar but long, long ago. Author tucked into his cocoa trying to figure it out. Whoever it was, Author wouldn't look the same now, he possessed a different body every trip to the realm. After some minutes he thought perhaps he had it, Author had possessed a minister at a royal court and this one was there. He smiled as he tried to recall details, so long ago...
The tiny little Witchling made her way quietly to the Yule ball in the Valhalla VIP room. She was in black leather pants with a soft green sweater that ended above her knees and a tiny black boots. She had her light brown hair swept up into a braided coronet on her head. Her hazel hues flecked with green looked about the ballroom furtively as she set her violin case on a table.
She took her violin gently from it' battered old case. She checked it over carefully and tucked it under her chin. She was here to play her violin for the holiday.
The strains of 'Silent Night, Holy Night were heard from the violin of the little Witchling.
Author had still been musing about Julien when Kellie came up behind him. He was startled, but then grinned from ear to ear. "Oh yes, each moment without you seems an eternity of torment." He rose and kissed her, changing at the last moment from the lips to her cheek so as not to smudge her carefully applied lipstick. He then pulled out her chair for her. "You are the belle of the ball for sure, Kellie. Positively radiant!!"
The music began and Author cocked his head and smiiled, "Stille Nacht* I think I'd add a bit more vibrato." He listened to the song a few moments then wrote something down on a cocktail napkin. "I do love Christmas, with all the celebrations, commercials, drinking, frenzied purchases, idiot relatives and high expectations that are never met giving way to disappointment." The smile left his face now, "I just hate it when the baby tries to horn in on it." He meant Jesus. "Excuse me," he rose and put on the table nearest Marina (so as not to disturb her playing) his napkin on which was scrawled:
Requests
Grandma got run over by a reindeer
You're a mean one Mr. Grinch
Thank you :)
He returned to Kellie's table and sat down with an impish grin.
*meaning Silent Night. (The piece was originally composed in German.)
A Yule Ball was not the sort of celebration Virelai was used to during this time of year. Though she had celebrated the dark season with a dance and a feast for many, many years, it had not been in this festive manner. At this time, were she still contained in her gilded cage, she would be partaking of The Hunt and the spoils that came with it. She had even contemplated holding such an event by invitation herself before she had heard about the Ball. To maintain the tradition of it or rather, to revive and reconstruct that tradition. The trouble was that things had been particularly quiet recently and though she had taken over Wahnsinn it was perhaps that she was lacking the necessary skills to persuade people to participate. It was true she wouldn't know if she would be successful if she did not attempt to make it a reality. But the truth was that she had reservations – mixed feelings – about doing so. After all, the Winter Solstice was the day of her birth, though it had been countless years since it was celebrated as such. And celebrated was not the way she would describe the occasion. That being the case, she chose a compromise and decided she would at least take the time to see the celebration of the season that was hosted by the Elders of the Realm. She dressed simply in a floor length scarlet and gold gown, her long silver hair swept up and pinned in place with red flowers appropriate for the season. As she stepped into Valhalla there was a sense of nostalgia for something she had never experienced. The glow of lights, the lavishly decorated room, the faces of those she did not know smiling and eating happily, the sound of the strange music filtering through the room. She took it all in at a glance from the entrance and then stepped into the room alone, gliding across the floor like a ghostly presence, an apparition come to haunt the festivities. As she observed the room, Vir realized that it wasn't true that she did not know anyone there. She recognized one person among them, though she couldn't say that she knew him exactly. Their encounter had been brief but the information she had gathered from it had been meaningful. And so it was in his direction that Vir headed. Appearing at his elbow, she lifted her gaze to smile up at him mischievously. “Julien.” His name danced from her lips, laced with amusement. “As dashing as ever I see. I did not expect to find you at such a place. Did you come to mingle?”
For Julien's part, he had also noticed something familiar among the first guests. It wasn't that he recognized anyone, but there was a curious familiarity to the energy, something hard to place. Because it reminded him of long ago, it put him slightly on the defensive. On the one hand, it was always pleasant to meet someone else for whom a century was a drop in the bucket: they looked upon time and upon patience quite differently to the young. Yet, an aura that felt so familiar probably belonged to someone who had known Darkness, and Julien was not recovered enough even to pretend at being his old self.
He was about to approach the bar, liquid courage being an excellent solution to the question of whether or not to seek the source of this accord. But instead, the purring tones of his new name caught his ear. He turned and a smile touched his lips, executing out of pure instinct a bow that suited his current attire far better than the abbreviated version he had given her when they first met. "Mingle? I? Of course not. You look especially fine this evening." The soft French name he used now was somewhat belied by thoughts of the past, which had enhanced the usually faint accent, archaic and yet distinctly Welsh, that colored his words.
Virelai watched the man's movements as he turned towards her and bowed. His every movement was elegant and poised, fitting of someone used to making such gestures. The number of people she had met to whom the old ways clung so tightly were few and far between. It was comforting in a way, though it still stirred something vicious and dark within her if she was not careful to remember that this man, and those few, were not her enemies. His words drew a peal of tittering laughter from her lips a mixture of mist and silver bells ringing softly. “You are too kind.” Vir shifted her gaze briefly to glance around them before meeting his eyes once more. “It seems you have arrived without a companion this evening. Certainly not unheard of, since I too came alone. Would you mind terribly if I joined you until someone more suitable arrives?” She flashed her teeth in a conspiring grin. “I could use a drinking partner. Else I doubt I will be able to bear such a peaceful and glittering evening.” Julien reminded her of times long past. They were unpleasant and lonely memories in most ways but the nostalgia of this time of year weighed heavily on her. After all, there had been a time when she innocently and naively enjoyed the life she spent with the spirits who watched over her. And she had never had the chance to interact with any of her own kind when those spirits – who were neither mortal nor Fae – were her only companions. It was nice to be able to speak to someone who perhaps could at least vaguely understand why she was the way she was. She was hardly the porcelain princess her father had intended her to be. The obedient tool he had required had been warped by the very instincts that were given to her simply because she was born exactly as he wished her to be. Those same instincts told her that this man was not only one of some standing but that he knew of the darkness of their shared people. That alone was enough to pique her interest and attempt to foster some sort of friendship.
