Just curve away ♕ ONGOING

[oshutup.livejournal.com]

When; SEVEN IN THE PM on the TENTH of AUGUST...not that you couldn't...tell...by the date this is posted...oh and taking place AT The Blue Light
Rating; You can't curse in a Disney film, mate. Never mind that Poly Territory =/= to that. PG-13 and under, lalala...yes.
Characters; If you're not Jadis, it's probably okay...and she's not here so...yeah. Anyone Caspian invited...anyone Lucy or Susan might have invited, anyone Reepicheep might have invited............and anyone wandering into the Blue Light at that time who wouldn't cause a ruckus XD AGAIN it was a surprise party, and you can assume he was very surprised....yay, success!

Summary; It's not a surprise if they tell you ahead of time.

Log;

The Blue Light is always lively to Peter, whether he is working or not, but tonight it is particularly layered with sound and movement. From the good music--no karaoke--to laughter, from the shuffle of many more pairs of feet than he would have anticipated had he seen this coming to the intertwining of conversations, it makes for a cheerful atmosphere to say the least, and he is enough over the shock to be smiling more casually--as opposed to the sort of startled upward curve of his mouth from the first moment people started pooling in, like there must be some mistake. There isn't of course, and it's a simple enough thing to go from Peter Pevensie to something that resides more evenly between the schoolboy in England and the High King of Narnia--gracious with an earthbound kind of humor for the unexpected, and he doesn't doubt who's behind it all either.

He doesn't mind, but even that sentiment leaves something to be desired.

Grateful might be a better way to put it, and he is that too.

No matter how understood family can be, no matter how much of a given, these kinds of gestures, these joint efforts reinforce what even the proudest and surest of people can sometimes question, if only because they depend on it so completely. When the music lends itself to something of a waltz, his expression softens, because there is something about that traditional quality that makes the bar and dance floor seem wider, grander, older. It might all be in the back of his heart of course, and in the end it's too hard to tell for certain, his hands lightly tucked into the pockets of gray slacks that make for a most boring if practical match with a long-sleeved blue button down. He isn't dressed to the nines--a surprise party being...well, a surprise-- but this isn't the sort of affair that calls for that, because the people who set it up know better. As much as he fell in love with the ceremony of kingdoms, Peter tends toward simple things, including his attire.

Fitted t-shirts are adventurous, if you were wondering.

In any case, after a day of imagining his brother in this place and that place--wishful thinking or a curse, but either way he has brushed it off as much as he can--a party is actually quite relieving, quite ordinary, and he can settle himself quite familiarly amidst the cheer of celebration when he is so inclined. Tonight, he is, and he nods at some who wish him well, exchanging words here and there, often gravitating back to his sisters or the other Narnian royal present, but it isn't conscious, this habit of finding himself with his hand on Lucy's shoulder from time to time or his eyes going sideways to share a look with Susan, and so on. It's barely been an hour, and it could go on for quite a while--so he realizes--currently with his back pressed to the bar, drawing his arms up to fold lightly across his chest, taking in the scene.

To anyone not near enough to be heard over the music and conversation, he waves and mouths thank you and he means it, ever aware of how every moment should be paid its credit and attention, lest it slip away and a person walk away going I wish I had or I should have and the like. Even happy events call for this attention to detail--especially happy ones, so he grants it with a smile and a grace that belies the years his face no longer clarifies, the exception perhaps being his eyes that travel the breadth of the room, drawing a blue line between sharp and intrusive, keeping to the former side of that line.







[ooc: Please mark in subjects if you want it open to anyone or just open to....one person. Sigh. /eyes this opening tag of doom... Yes...really VERY SORRY ABOUT TL;DR IN A POLY NEAR YOU...I...seem to have a problem with logs...orz. THIS IS UP EARLY, CLEARLY since I'll be at work later at the actual time...real time, whatever we call it. Okay that is all!]

Comments

OPEN;

[miss-waldorf.livejournal.com]

Blair knew this isn't the sort of affair that requires dressing up, and in her defense, this isn't her dressed up to the nines anyway.

Today she woke up feeling under the weather. All her clothes just didn't fit right, everything made her look fat. But parties were like work days to a budding socialite, a blue day should not keep you from attending. Besides Peter is a good enough friend though she thinks she should have talked to him more. Regardless, she knew that there would be Caspian here, and the other Pevensies, and Arthur and Anne, possibly. Blue and Nate must also be here somewhere, but she hasn't seen any of them yet.

Serena has gone on her merry way, spreading sunshine and laughter everywhere she went. Not that Blair was all doom and gloom in her little corner. She had managed to put together an outfit that made her feel slightly better about herself, a backless (http://i137.photobucket.com/albums/q231/ephemericon/45494_bk_dl.jpg) dress (http://i137.photobucket.com/albums/q231/ephemericon/willow.jpg) by Willow. If nothing else, she liked her headband (http://i137.photobucket.com/albums/q231/ephemericon/52321_in_dl.jpg). She hopes it is shiny enough to attract all the attention away from her thighs.

[treadingdawn.livejournal.com]

When Caspian sees Blair his first thought is that she must be cold because she has nothing covering her back and barely any fabric hanging off her shoulders. Then he remembers who he's looking at and how this is the way Lady Waldorf presents herself. There are many who sacrifice comfort for finery, Caspian is no stranger to that concept, but the sacrifices ladies make seem beyond that which a gentleman would. Another thought is how were she Susan Pevensie, surely a pair of blue eyes would burn holes in any man who looks at her the wrong way or just too long in general. However, she isn't, therefore it isn't Caspian's place to judge one way or the other. After regaining what little composure he lost, the Telmarine dressed in fairly simple black trousers tucked into boots under a form fitting (some people call this adventurous) button down shirt approaches the Queen of the Upper East Side.

"Good evening," he smiles, hoping to surprise her from behind a draped shoulder.

[miss-waldorf.livejournal.com]

Blair quickly whips around, protectively clutching her bag in front of her as if she has just been ambushed, which she sort of was. She had been deep in thought, musing about Chuck and the little game they made for themselves. He was right. Chuck and Blair Blair and Chuck were all about the games and without them they would be nothing. So she needed to keep playing, but more and more it seems that no one is winning.

Now staring at Caspian for a few moments, she is reminded of something else he said that day. The device spelled 'Caspian troubles' and then Chuck claimed to have sent a friend to the hospital. It must not take a genius to put it together, but denial sure does wonders. Chuck is good to his friends, she tells herself, but it may have been a mere accident. She thinks better than to ask the man in front of him.

"Caspian," she smiles gracefully, "it's a wonderful thing you did for Peter."

Re: OPEN;

[theserenashow.livejournal.com]

Having, as Blair would put it, spread sufficient sunshine and laughter around the room to last for some time, Serena makes her way back to her best friend. She has a Diet Coke in tow for Blair and a Regular for herself, aware of Blair's calorie obsession of late. Hyperaware, even, and she's taken to dissecting everything Blair says or does for any clues or tell-tale signs. Years ago, Serena took a workshop at Blair's clinic to kill time, and she still remembers everything she learned. To put it simply, she is worried.

The UES environment doesn't allow for any obvious or crude display of emotion and Serena is well learned in how to hide what she's really feeling and project something else entirely. When she reaches Blair, she's all smiles, holding out the drink and asking, "Having fun?"

OPEN;

[miss-waldorf.livejournal.com]

"Mmhm~" If anything, Blair is just as learned in putting up appearances as Serena is. All smiles, though obviously not as blinding as her best friend's, she takes the Diet Coke from her, taking a sip using the straw. She shifts her weight to one of her legs, throwing a glance around the room.

"Have you talked to the birthday boy yet?" She could bring up the subject of Caspian, or Chuck, or something else entirely, but she would rather not. As good as they were at acting like proper little ladies, bringing up such topics could be the cause of another fight. That would be very unfair to Peter and Caspian. She just needs to have Serena around right now, no matter how much her friend may disagree with whatever she is doing.

[oshutup.livejournal.com]

Though they haven't spoken much--especially of late--Peter has not forgotten Blair Waldorf even remotely, and really, who could? Despite her own insecurities of late--unknown to him entirely--the flair that she has in the way she carries herself to the way she presents others is abundantly evident. That aside, a couple of things have her held in a closer esteem to Peter, one being that he remembers her asking what Lucy preferred on her birthday--lots of points there--and that she has been friends with Caspian--an unasked for voucher of confidence. His attempts to become closer to Serena has also brought Blair more sharply back into focus, but that is neither here nor there.

Among the familiar faces, hers is an easy one to spot, lovely with that aristocratic sheen that settles itself around her, if a little bit fragile, an impression as opposed to confirmed facts.

"Hello," he greets, his approach to her more straightforward than others, not inclined to sneaking up on most people--save for family members when mischief can be called fair play in a contradictory way. The space between them makes itself minimal with all of the others around them, some walking by and others just clustering off in their own conversations, and he tilts his head at her slightly, smiling. "It was good of you to come," and that's true too, but this polite conversation is a genuine means of making time for her, not because he has to, but because he wants to--chooses to.

[miss-waldorf.livejournal.com]

A smile blooms on her face as soon as she catches a sight of him. It is expected, required of her. He is the guest of honor after all. But even aside from that, she does quite like him. He is a quiet one, but there is something about the way he carries himself that betrays the fact that he is no mere teenager. She knows nothing of his actual title, but she knows Peter isn't someone she should walk over on her way to the top. His very presence demands respect.

"You're a friend," she replies sincerely. "And Caspian refused to tell me your age. He told me to ask you yourself. So here I am."

She has a present for him, but she is still debating on whether or not to give it to him.

OPEN;

[lionesssejant.livejournal.com]

A pleasant turnout for Peter's birthday! Susan wore a purple sundress with reasonable heels for dancing. What was a get together at the Blue Light without dancing?

Oh, and didn't Blair look lovely. That dress was very short. She must feel comfortable, why else would she? Miss Waldorf certainly was not that sort of lady, Susan mentally asserted. She wore the outfit very well.

OPEN; lol susan!

[miss-waldorf.livejournal.com]

Peter does have a lot of friends, even despite his being an introvert. Plus he is nice enough, and not fake like most of the people Blair has met. She likes him, so here she is celebrating his birthday party.

Susan isn't one of the Pevensies she is close to. She has heard much about Lucy and Peter from Arthur, but she has hardly spoken to Susan or Edmund. But perhaps she should. A smile ready on her face, she walks over to the other brunette.

"Hi. Lovely shoes!" Compliments are always a good conversation starter, but she actually does mean this one. "Susan, right?"

open & peter;

[7thborn.livejournal.com]

Up until Harry's birthday a few weeks ago, Ginny Weasley had almost forgotten what it was like to have a proper celebration without fear of it getting cut short by an ambush. Her brother's wedding was probably the last time she had been to a venue filled with lively music, dancers and decorations. So when Ginny steps into The Blue Light that evening with Luna, the redhead has to pause to simply take it all in; a smile isn't far behind. They'd done a splendid job and she grins as much to Luna.

The young witch then tells her Ravenclaw companion that she'll just have a look around and disappears into the throng a moment later. She nods to the few faces she recognises, but this is the first time she's been to a party largely apart from the people from her own world. She isn't terribly dressed up—she doesn't have much and shopping for something new was out of the question—but Ginny is accomplished with charmwork: a few spells here and there and the bottle green dress she's wearing could have been brand new. It certainly does set off the famous Weasley hair nicely.

Ginny cocks her head as the familiar beat of the waltz starts up. It's one of the few partner dances she knows, thanks to Bill's wedding as well as the Yule Ball in her third year. The wedding feels like so long ago, and, she realises with a private chuckle, it's been a year for her now. The first of August. It's odd to think of the passing of time in the City; her brother's first anniversary, her seventeenth birthday tomorrow—what would they be like in England? Would the war still be going, or would it be over? But Ginny shakes her head and scans the room for Peter. Now isn't the time for thoughts of the war. She did promise Caspian, after all.

[treadingdawn.livejournal.com]

A promise is a promise is a promise, but honestly Caspian isn't the sort to enforce something so seemingly silly upon a friend...Peter on the other hand will not get off so easily but that's neither here nor there. He notices Ginny at the start of the music and wonders if even a brief interception will ruin the opportunity for her to entertain the King of Narnia--er...to enjoy a waltz with the High King, that is. So for now he just waves to her from across the floor, his smile bright for the way this evening is turning out. Which is to say splendidly.

He also does his best to not look suspicious at all should Peter's gaze happen to wander this way. Hehe.

[7thborn.livejournal.com]

Ginny's bright brown eyes pause as she catches sight of someone waving to her. It takes her a moment to see who it is—the littlest Weasley didn't exactly inherit her father's height—but when she finally sees Caspian, she grins and waves back.

He looks rather pleased, doesn't he, she thinks with some amusement.

[oshutup.livejournal.com]

He spots her first, or before she posts him maybe---except that she spotted him earlier while talking with Caspian, while Peter was...well, whatever he was doing at the time---and makes his way toward her.

"I'm glad you could come," he says as he walks up, leaning down a little toward her, the smile subtle but no less authentic for it. Though flying lessons have been interesting, what stands out the most to him about Ginny Weasley are the conversations regarding family, and he finds--to his mild surprise--a soft spot for her that he somehow managed to miss until this very moment. He wonders how often she thinks of the brothers not here, and empathizes--especially today, but that's his own trouble, having no place at a celebration like this.

( OPEN )

[theserenashow.livejournal.com]

Parties in the City are nothing like the extravagant affairs they are at home, and Serena is starting to prefer it this way. At home, she would glide across a room on four inch heels to greet old family friends and acquaintances whose names are long forgotten and who, quite honestly, mean very little to her. In New York, invitations go out on basis of status and obligation. Aside from a few close friends, Serena often finds herself making polite conversation with dozens of complete strangers. In the City, everything is these events are far quieter, and, as a result, much more personal.

That said, Serena van der Woodsen will never deny herself an opportunity to dress up. Despite the platform heels and shorter-than-average skirt, her outfit (http://www.blakelivelyweb.com/pictures/albums/Appearances/2009/PippaLeePressConf/009.jpg) is sensible, appropriate. At least for her. At any rate, it's a far cry from what she would be wearing (http://www.blakelivelyweb.com/pictures/albums/Candids/2009/OnsetofGG072509/001.jpg) if she was back home.

Serena makes her way gracefully through the huddles of people standing around, stopping every now and then to greet anyone she recognizes. It's nice to be able to hold a meaningful conversation at a party, to discuss something other than her future at Brown and what her eccentric mother is up to.

( OPEN )

[miss-waldorf.livejournal.com]

Blair suddenly comes up to Serena, linking an arm around the blonde's, a half-full can of Diet Coke in the other hand. They are both in their element when it comes to parties, but Blair actually likes climbing that social ladder by greeting only the people that matter. Knowing that they are the important people gives her enough drive to pull of her Mary Sunshine act, now there's just-- not enough motivation. So she claims.

But the guests here are nice enough, and the party feels like something that Serena or Nate would throw, but definitely not what Chuck or Blair would even consider. But a party is still a party, and hanging around Serena always helps with the sunshine factor. "God, your legs. I'd kill for them." She said off-handedly.

[treadingdawn.livejournal.com]

If he ever saw what she would be wearing were this New York City, a place Caspian would like to visit one day, he really might have some sort of heart problem. Not that the King of Narnia has never seen women in states of more undress...it's just different when said woman is a friend. In Narnia he would be in the right to offer her his cloak. Here, a gesture of chivalry might be deemed limiting to her rights...that's what he thinks Karolina's told him anyway. Of course it's a non-issue when Serena isn't in such a 'gown' (a slip is more appropriate word).

That aside, he has no problem approaching her till he's right at her side. Dark brown eyes glance left then right, to make sure Peter is outside of hearing range.

"I know usually we wait for the guest of honor to reveal his own gifts, but I must ask what...what did you procure for our good man Peter," Caspian asks, grin on his face. He has been privy to the knowledge that Serena teaches Peter how to play the guitar (sort of) on occasion. Surely her gift would be as creative.

[oshutup.livejournal.com]

The future is something ever on the tip of his mind, the edge of his sight, the forefront of a thought that glimmers between where he is now and where he once was. It confuses him in ways, because once the future was a simple thing--as simple as futures go anyway--where knights were knights and a point in time when thirty was thirty. On the other hand, he can't help but think of it every now and then, between all of the time and never, but tonight he finds himself oddly carefree. Some would say it's expected, but for the High King, he doesn't feel that's necessarily true. Everything, he would argue, is rather case-specific.

"Serena," he greets her with her name, the first of the night, rubbing the back of his neck, a little sheepish suddenly for reasons he couldn't begin to explain. "Seems you lot do a fair job of keeping surprises...surprising," he half compliments, half just talks to her, and with half a turn he is standing at her left side, almost shoulder to shoulder, watching other people whirl by in tones and colours that will stay with him forever.

[Open]

[lionesscouchant.livejournal.com]

Lucy is too excited to really sit still, and perhaps the two sodas that she has already consumed aren't doing much to help, but she's bouncing around the Blue Light in a manner that make most people annoyed with children. However in her hand is a bag, and in the bag is a present for one of her very favorite people in the world because it is his birthday and he deserves it.

And even though she should calm down, she can't. She can't find any reason to calm down tonight.

She buzzes about and tries to be friendly with everyone, because tonight is special, truly special. She cannot describe why, precisely. Perhaps it's just that she loves her family more than she is able to bear.

She wonders if the Tianzi is coming, and after a moment, she manages to sit in a chair, for a second, before getting back up and darting about once more.

[treadingdawn.livejournal.com]

"Stop!"

Caspian points at Lucy despite knowing it's supposedly considered rude to do so, but how else will he catch a sugar queen's attention? His intention is only to say hello, maybe share a cupcake, maybe dance, maybe laugh a little at the way Peter's face presses into a line whenever Caspian waggles his fingers at him. You know, the usual.

[oshutup.livejournal.com]

Lucy is a light in the middle of light, a brighter spot in the midst of brightness, the Valiant from start to finish whether a bouncing ball of excitement or someone composed who presides over fixing the wounded and giving counsel to the sometimes impulsive. He doesn't have to look around to know where she is, something intuitive about their connection that has him able to simply know if he turns to the left she will be there, close enough for him to reach a hand out and place it on her shoulder to keep her in place, to himself, just for a moment. It is his birthday, he would insist, and asking for a moment spared isn't so presumptuous.

"Lu," he almost laughs. "What's gotten into you?" It isn't accusing or judgmental, just the opposite in fact, and all he has is love for her, waiting for her to turn to him and answer, seriously or not.

End of the Party//Open to Narnians

[justredemption.livejournal.com]

Edmund was very confused as to how he'd gotten to this strange place, which didn't seem to be England or Narnia. He saw some rather strangely dressed people walking around, but they seemed to pay no attention to him. Ed figured he'd need to ask someone where he was, but didn't want to approach a random stranger alone on the streets.

He could see one building with the lights on, which made sense this late at night. Most buildings are closed by now. Putting his hand on the handle he hesitated for a moment. Blue Light? It looked a bit like a pub and he was - physically, at the moment - too young to be in one of those. But Kings could go wherever they liked, the thought, Kings in need of assistance even moreso.

He opened the door and looked around. Seeing the rest of his family inside, he breathed a sigh of relief, "You guys could've waited for me, you know. You had me worried sick!"

[oshutup.livejournal.com]

After the initial everything that comes hand-in-hand with being floored by the image he had convinced himself slowly over the day was nothing but an illusion, Peter can only smile at his brother, every inch the fool's image that he doesn't personify in reality but details are details. Right now, he can't be bothered. Presumably having gotten a moment to themselves in the middle of the remaining excitement of a party all on its own, he turns to his brother and stares, blues boring into every specific of the Just that settles him more clearly in the blond's memory.

Don't leave again, he thinks, though he can't quite bring himself to say it aloud.

"Took you long enough," is what he opts for, knowing full well it hasn't been his brother's fault, but the joke is there, from days when they could do nothing but argue. Now is different though. They have time again, time to grow in ways that have nothing to do with years and everything to do with moments. What it means to Peter, for the four of them to be reunited, he would actually verbalize if he could, but he can't. Words won't do and no particular action of respect for this privilege comes to mind except to be gracious with it.

Don't waste it, he reminds himself mentally and blinks, as if jolting himself back into a more useful state of mind.

[treadingdawn.livejournal.com]

Cleaning up afterward is the part of the party no one really ever wants to do, but because this one was Caspian's idea, he's obviously pitched in to help the Blue Light not look like a mess for later. It's a good way to enjoy some downtime too, honestly. The excitement that swelled upon Edmund's arrival is still coursing through the Narnians who remain here and no one can blame them. Now the Kings and Queens are complete, their family whole. It is a good way to end the night. A good way to celebrate Peter's birthday.

"Edmund," Caspian greets for the second time, now that he miraculously has a moment without his brother or sisters.

End of the Party//Open to Narnians

[lionesscouchant.livejournal.com]

Lucy hears him, and it takes her a while before she wakes from her sleep in the sofa that is in one of the Blue Light's rooms. She thinks, for a moment, that it is part of a dream - a wonderful dream, but a dream, nonetheless, and she's not ready to wake up and see the truth. She makes a noise, to signal that she's waking up, and she turns.

It takes her another moment of her eyes opening, quietly, to see that the shadowy profile that looks like Edmund doesn't fade when her eyes are completely open, when she knows that she's awake.

"Edmund?" her voice is quiet, questioning at first, but then she almost sits straight up on the sofa. "Edmund!"

End of the Party//Open to Narnians

[lionesssejant.livejournal.com]

It only takes a glance to know that it's her brother. Relief from a worry she wasn't aware of carrying so long makes her feel even lighter on her feet coming closer. "We have been waiting." They would have kept on waiting, she wants to say. They would have waited forever. Yet Edmund knows that. One way or the other, they'll all be together again.

The impulse to grab him and pull him into a hug is for now set aside to just appreciate him standing there, knowing that it is true. The clock is far from midnight so this can't be a curse.