tampered | Just curve away ♕ ONGOING

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Edited 2009-08-10 23:30 (UTC)

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?"

Edited 2009-08-10 23:43 (UTC)

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.

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."

"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.

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.

None of these things occur to Caspian who has already put the incident at Victrola behind him. He doesn't think about the implications of Chuck's trade or how it could have been prevented then. He believes, and will ensure, that it doesn't happen again. That's all that matters, and these things are taken on a case by case basis. There's room for diplomacy and most of all Caspian has some faith in those he considers friendly acquaintances. Friends, even. Now as for the clutch to her bag...well he is tall but one look at this face ought to do away with all insecurities. Right?

"Oh, I know," he grins, priding himself on the surprise to end all surprises, for Peter Pevensie anyway. "Are you having a good time?"

Yes, well. That face indeed. Blair has a weakness for pretty faces and Caspian's is one of those.

She mirrors his grin, glancing over at where the birthday boy is standing. Whatever thoughts or feelings may be running through her mind, Blair keeps up her charade very well. So well, even, that she herself is often fooled. "Yes," she replies with mischief dancing in her eyes, "but a dance would make it better."

So far he can't detect anything out of place or off the mark yet. Once, his intuition noticed Blair in lower spirits, but was it not a dance that brought a smile to her face too? However brief? Playing along, Caspian blinks once, twice, then looks around the dance floor again. Seeing no other gentleman nearby--and were there one well he just has to wait his turn--the Telmarine places a hand to his own chest.

"Is that a request, Blair? It would be my pleasure to oblige but I do not wish to presume."

"Not yet," she says over her own straw before taking a sip. Their lives are never truly void of drama, not even in the City, but tonight is probably the most inappropriate time to bring any of that up. Instead, she glances over her shoulder to wherever Peter is standing, wondering when would be best to present him with his gift. There may be a part of her that is eager to see the look on his face, just a bit.

Another sip. "I can't stop thinking about how different this is from home."

Blair giggles, the way she does when she is delighted, especially by someone very pretty. She has her loyalties despite her current status, but thinking about him makes her sad and miserable. They do say you know it's love when it hurts. But there is no fault in enjoying someone else's company, especially when it is purely platonic, right?

Oh, if she only knew what really happened.

She offers him a hand, raising an eyebrow in a sort of challenge. "I hope that's you presuming, otherwise I don't think I'll ever get a dance."

"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.

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.

"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."

"You must be joking. Who wouldn't want to dance with you," he asks, possibly opening himself up to having another gentleman cut in by that remark alone, but compliments must when they are well deserved. She is beautiful, charming, and charismatic, with or without pearl adornment. Caspian can recognize this. Why else would a King of Albion devote himself to someone not only lovely but worthy of being a queen? But Caspian has no intention of actually mentioning Arthur. It isn't his business and they are all the better for it.

"Although, I am first in line," he declares, offering his hand to her.

"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.

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?"

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!"

The offer of a coat would be more embarrassing than anything else for Serena, who often forgets that so many of her friends are from such vastly different backgrounds. Dressing down is something of a freedom to Serena, and one she is only allowed within the City's confines. In Manhattan, there are certain things expected from her, and that manner of dress is among them. There, she is under constant surveillance. Here, there is no one to impress...unless she sets her sights on a cute guy, but as of now, the coast is clear.

Peter's gift isn't as creative as Caspian may be expecting, although it did take a lot of thought, and there was some creativity in action. Fashion doesn't just happen. Serena knows clothes, and after his experience with Guitar Hero, Serena isn't sure Peter will ever want to try something new at her suggestion again.

Looking around herself, Serena smirks, picturing the expression on Peter's face as he holds white and royal blue pants up in front of his guests. "I got him clothes, although he probably won't ever wear any of it."

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)

"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?"

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Just curve away ♕ ONGOING

OPEN;

open & peter;

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OPEN;

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swoon... (.///////.)

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bwahahaha

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End of the Party//Open to Narnians

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