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

[miss-waldorf.livejournal.com]

"You mean the lack of our moms ushering us to every socially-advantageous acquaintances? --Wait, that's only my mom," she rants, then taking another sip of her drink. As surprising as it may sound, Blair doesn't really mind the lack of social ladder in this place. Aside from the fact that she can immediately lay claim to the empty top rungs, it is less tiring not to have to fight for every inch of her territory.

Blair shrugs before turning to Serena with a smirk. "I kind of miss ruining Nelly Yuki's life."

[theserenashow.livejournal.com]

"And my grandmother," Serena adds. Let us never forget the utter tragedy that was their cotillion. Being Serena van der Woodsen meant an automatic spot reserved on the top rung and so Serena never really had a need to concern herself with the ever present social ladder. That said, she is still in denial and will probably refuse to admit this truth for years and years to come.

Skeptically: "Why is that?"

[miss-waldorf.livejournal.com]

Utter tragedy? Blair rather thinks that it was a success in its own way, though not in the way she would have liked it. A cotillion was supposed to be a proper ceremony celebrating the coming-of-age of the new generation of elites, not the brawl that it turned out to be. She still remembers whose fault it all was. "Oh, Cece. She'd be lovely if she wasn't so in love with Cabbage Patch," Blair replies with an amused grin. The preference for tortured artists really does run in the family.

"Oh, you know, witch hunts are my Valium," she says with an unnervingly sweet smile.

[theserenashow.livejournal.com]

Serena herself fondly recalls her tampered debut, courtesy of the always incorrigible Carter Baizen. Her fairytale ending was perfect, at the time, and even though they aren't together anymore, it was definitely one of the highlights of their relationships. Say what you will about Dan Humphrey, the boy knows how to pull off a romantic gesture. Still, anything that involves drama amongst the Rhodes women is bound to end in chaos, as their cotillion certainly did.

That smile. Serena knows that smile well, and unfortunately so. That's the kind of smile that makes her fear for anyone in the City who might happen to get on her bad side. "Ah, but you forget– in this city, actual witch hunts are possible."

[miss-waldorf.livejournal.com]

Dan and Carter, two people that Blair thought she would never touch with a ten-foot pole. She touched one because she wasn't in her right mind then, but the other one is from Brooklyn. Enough said. Funny how their tastes in men are so different, but thinking back, it would be better that way. They have had enough reasons for epic feuds even without the addition of a tug-o-war for a boy. Dan is off-limits for Blair, and so is Chuck for Serena. It's perfect.

"Yeah," Blair replies wanly, her mind thinking of an actual bitch hunt she is about to start. But she quickly regains herself and turns to Serena. "Are you still hung up on Humphrey?"