tampered | Just curve away ♕ ONGOING

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!]

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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.

"B, your legs are gorgeous," she insists. It isn't a lie at all. In Serena's eyes, Blair is every bit as flawless as she aims to be, and she feels terrible that she can't make Blair see it. "I'd kill for your eyebrows," she adds, and it isn't just an attempt to boost Blair's ego. Eyebrows are the woe of any blonde, and Blair Waldorf really does have perfect ones.

Blair raises her eyebrows at her in slight doubt, but she isn't about to argue. Instead she grins with amusement at the comment. "With the Serena watching over my eyebrows, I guess I don't need to take out that insurance after all."

She makes a point to survey her best friend's outfit, noticing that she can afford to show off way more. She thinks it must take a lot of effort for Serena to keep from stealing the spotlight, and while not completely successful today, she is not doing very bad at it. "What's with the Plain Jane costume?"

Recalling the few times it was suggested that she get her hair insured, Serena rolls her eyes. Are you serious? was, is, and will be her only answer to that. "I'll guard them with my life," she laughs.

Being in or out of the spotlight isn't any concern of Serena's. Just because she can dress up– or would it be down?– doesn't mean she has to. There are no constant eyes on her here, and covering up helps keep it that way. Besides, there's no one to impress. "I like it."

Edited 2009-08-11 03:34 (UTC)

Yes, S, very serious indeed. Although Blair herself would never insure her own eyebrows or any of her body parts. Unless one day she becomes a film star. It was good enough for Grace Kelly, wasn't it?

Blair looks skeptically at Serena in response to her answer. Attention is just like wealth, after awhile you get used to them but it's only when they're not there that you miss them. She does not believe for a second that Serena is alright with the lack of attention she is receiving here. The novelty mustn't have worn out. "But only half of the room is staring at you. How can you stand that?"

Eyebrows raise at the comment, and Serena stares at Blair, frowning in disbelief. A few things cross her mind at the moment. The first is that, by that description, Serena could be made to sound like a whore for attention. The second is the fear that Blair might actually see her that way. Third, the fear that others see her that way. Finally, and last but nowhere near least, is the fear that it's true.

Serena runs a hand through her hair, something that close friends will note as a fallback gesture when she's nervous or uncomfortable. Both, in this instance.

What she says: "It's not that bad."

What she means: "I didn't come here to show off."

It takes Blair several moment before realizing that Serena has fallen silent. The hand through her hair is easy enough to read, but the reason for it is still hidden from her. She raises her eyebrows inquiringly. She really isn't the most sensitive of people, but she knows that it must have been something she said.

"Don't tell me you're getting used to the anonymous life," she rants. Then, reminded of something, she turns to Serena with brows furrowed. "Do you think that's what's gonna happen when we get to college?"

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