tampered | First of Spring Party

First of Spring Party

When; Monday, March 21
Where; The Palace Gardens
Rating; No higher than PG? Just good clean fun for the whole family.
Characters;

primrosella and any of the ten million people she talks to! (Yes, this means you.)
Summary; It's Rosella's ~~Oh-Boy-I'm-A-Spinster~~ 20th birthday! And it wouldn't be a proper birthday without a party.
Log;

It only seems fitting, really, that a party celebrating the first day of spring (and, coincidentally, a girl named after a flower) should be held in a garden.

Tucked away from the omens and turmoil outside the Palace walls, the garden is perhaps best likened to a small spot of sunshine on an otherwise cloudy day. The decorations are simple, but tasteful: clusters of fresh flowers, white tablecloths, a garland or two for effect. To one side of the area sits a buffet table fairly covered in all sorts of treats and favors, with tea, coffee, and punch available as beverages; nearby, a scattering of tables and chairs wait at the ready for any guests interested in sitting down for a snack or a chat. For added effect, and to cater especially to those guests who, like Rosella, have a renowned sweet tooth, a handful of chocolate fountains also decorate the tables, each with its own small bowl of fruit and skewers at the ready.

On the other side of the garden, a portable dance floor waits for eager guests to put it to use. The music for the occasion is an eclectic mix, largely thanks to Sam Witwicky's influence (and the fact that the stereo and most of the CDs used to be his). There is, however, plenty of room nearby if a set of live performers should conveniently happen to appear; Rosella may not have planned for them, but as it turns out, Rosella's not the only one planning this party.

...Which is likely why a good-sized table seems to have miraculously appeared a short distance from the dance floor, gradually collecting colorfully-wrapped presents that could only be intended for a birthday, and why all of the simple, manageable preparations Rosella has made for this occasion mysteriously seem to have been cranked up to eleven. But whoever could be behind such a thing? How wonderfully strange.

Welcome, guests! Welcome, spring! And joyeux anniversaire, Rosella. ♥

[OOC: It's a birthday party! Feel free to assume you received an invitation if you've had basically any contact with Rosella before, and mingle, threadjack, shenanigize--tl;dr, have fun!]

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Cain, meanwhile, has just arrived himself and is putting on rather a bit of a show of looking for Rosella.

Behind him there seems to be someone dressed, well, a bit like a baker or a pastry chef, following along patiently, waiting for a word.

Really, the City is just set out to ruin a person's day with its ridiculous omens and burning books and whatever else it can think of, but today is Rosella's birthday. Angela still doesn't know her too well, but a party is a party and a girl only turns twenty once, so screw all the bad stuff for a couple of hours.

Entering a half hour after things get hopping, Angela quietly places a wrapped gift on that mysterious gift collecting table before heading into the thick of things.

And just as planned, she wastes no time camping out by a chocolate fountain, dipping all the strawberries she can find into the sweet flowing liquid. This was the best idea ever.

At some point, well into the afternoon, Rosella finds herself persuaded (not that it took much effort, really) to open up a few of the presents waiting for her on the gift table; equal parts embarrassed and flattered, she finds herself a seat by the table and proceeds to oblige, reaching for a few of them in no particular order.

One of the boxes she happens to choose is rather large, clothing-sized, and wrapped with a pretty pink ribbon, and she settles it in her lap as she looks for the tag. "And this one is..." she begins, tilting her head with a slight frown as she realizes there is none to be found. "...well, I suppose it's meant to be anonymous, then. Well, thank you, whoever you are!"

Making short work of the paper and ribbon, she carefully lifts the lid to find a leather jacket (http://i669.photobucket.com/albums/vv60/Fortunes_Wings/Polychromatic/Birthday%202011/alexander_mcqueen_powder_blue_leather_biker_jacket.jpg), which brings a sudden smile to her face as she holds it up for crowd perusal. "Oh, it's a jacket! And a modern one, too, thank you so very much! Really, it's just lovely."

[OOC: Police force muns, here's your doomjacket thread! Go nuts. ♥]

Rosella, for her part, is standing near the center of the garden, surveying the grounds with both wonder and bemusement. Yes, this is the party she'd planned, of course, but there's something bewildering about the whole business--did she really arrange for this many flowers, and all those treats, and all that...well, everything? Where did that extra table come from? Are those balloons?

What in the world is going on here?

Of course Edmund is there, and he's currently holed up next to the desserts, because he loves sweets, for one, and secondly, it's not as though there aren't enough for him to eat until he gets a stomachache. There will even be leftovers for everyone else!

He dropped off his gift at the gift table and so it's not as if he totally neglected Rosella's birthday, of course.

The chocolate fountains were a great idea, and it's clear that Angela isn't the only one who thinks so; it seems Rosella can't go more than ten or fifteen minutes without ducking over to one and spearing herself a strawberry or three to snack on as she mingles. She's been doing her best to spread herself out, though, so as not to monopolize any one fountain, and when she notices Angela enjoying herself by one of them, she decides she might as well kill two birds with one stone and make that one her next target, herself.

"Hello, Angela!" she says cheerfully as she heads over, delighted to see a good idea put to great use. "Happy first of spring! And how are you today? Enjoying yourself, I hope?"

"Rosella," he called, hurrying up to her in as dignified a performance as he could put on. "There you are. I was stopped at the gate just as I was coming in. There's a delivery for you."

And of course, if Edmund is staking out the dessert table, then it won't be long before Rosella encounters him, since it's not as though she can keep herself away from all those sweets for any particularly long period of time. But she waves when she sees him, trotting over with a smile on her face to say hello.

Angela holds up her right hand, palm facing Rosella, as she devours another strawberry. Talking with your mouth full is rude, but even worse, this dessert is far too delicious to take a break from.

"Don't you mean happy birthday to you?" Angela replies with a mischeivious smile as soon as her mouth is free. She has to give Rosella credit for attempting to throw herself a party without actually throwing herself a party. This girl is smart.

"A delivery?" she repeated, brow furrowing slightly as her attention turned to Cain himself. "But I thought--everything's here already, isn't it? And even this much of everything is..."

She paused, unsure of how to express the problem without sounding utterly foolish in the process. But after a moment of absolutely no inspiration, she shook her head with a sigh and shrugged the whole matter off. For the moment, at least. "Well, in any case, I suppose I can't very well keep the delivery waiting. It's down by the gate, you said?"

He smiles when he sees her, giving her a good natured wave first, before he consumes a piece of cake. It's just the way these things go, and he approaches her with a smile. "Happy birthday," he says, first, as if to get it out of the way. "You certainly do know how to throw a party, don't you?" He gestures to the cake table.

There is nothing more important than cake.

"It is. Perhaps you ought to know--it's rather large."

Five tiers large, in fact, and rather covered in sugar roses...

Rosella, for her part, abruptly flushes pink at that, both from the look on Angela's face and from the fact that she's been found out. "I suppose I'm not as good at hiding it as I thought, am I?" she admits, smiling sheepishly. "But I'm afraid you've found me out, just the same. It's our birthday today, yes--mine and my brother's."

"I did try not to make a great fuss about it being my birthday, you know," she answers with mock exasperation, because she's well aware that she's been found out and has long since given up maintaining the pretense that it's all still a secret. But her expression brightens a bit with his gesture, her smile turning genuinely pleased. "And really, I'm glad to hear you're enjoying yourself! This is the first party I've ever really tried my hand at, so...well, I'm just delighted that it all seems to have come out so well."

Edmund laughs. "I'm not saying you did! But what will your family think, turning twenty without so much as a ring on your finger? You're the oldest princess to not marry in the entire legion of worlds. Is that why you didn't want to make a fuss?" It's a joke, really, because of course Edmund isn't being cruel about something that might actually be serious. He knows exactly how important getting married is to royalty (oddly enough, considering none of his own family has gotten married.)

"Did you make any of these yourself?" he asks, eating another one.

"What in the world could..." She trailed off, shaking her head again. "I'd better go see about it, anyway. Really, I wonder if there hasn't been some sort of mistake, I'm certain I didn't plan for all of this, did I?"

And with that, she set off for the gate, intent on discovering just what new complication had arrived for her to manage. (Little did she know.)

Cain, meanwhile, will set off to see the rest of the partygoers and conspirators, secretly sneakily slipping away (and likely dressing himself up a bit better as he goes, flower on his jacket and all--this is more of a party than she intended and it deserves to be treated as such).

The joke is more than obvious in the delivery, but it doesn't stop Rosella from folding her arms over her chest and shooting Edmund a mock glare. She's far from insulted, and certainly not hurt, but she can't help being a bit miffed just the same--because of course, it is something that's bothered her before, getting so old with no marriage prospects whatsoever, and just because she's generally come to terms with the idea doesn't mean she can't be a little bit indignant at being reminded, just the same.

"If you must know, my mother will have an absolute fit when she finds out," she says in playful retort. "Really, I wouldn't put it past her to marry me right off to the first eligible young man she encounters the next time she visits, even." She pauses. "Which means I'll have to take care not to introduce the two of you, I suppose."

She hides a smile as she reaches for a treat of her own, one of the glasses of chocolate mousse. "You don't recognize the brownies and the carrot cake? Really, I know I've made them for you often enough."

Edmund grins, with no restraint or remorse whatsoever. "Oh, I'm sure your mother would much prefer you to marry Peter. After all, he's the High King. So you should take care not to introduce them, and I'll just be happy to play second fiddle and speak to your mother about your many childhood misadventures." To a certain extent, it's true. Peter is much more the catch than Edmund ever was.

"Well it is a little odd to bake for your own birthday party, you know."

Cain doesn't have long to wait, as it turns out; shortly thereafter, Rosella comes dashing back, recognition sparking in her eyes as the realization finally dawns. When she finally reaches him, she looks like she's wavering between righteous indignation and just breaking out into laughter.

"You did it, didn't you!" she exclaims, gesturing aimlessly with one hand as the smile she can't withhold any longer begins to appear on her face. "Are you the one behind all this?"

"Of course she would. He's much handsomer," she teases. "And I'll have you know there weren't many childhood misadventures, thank you. Only a few at best."

She takes a spoonful of her mousse, smiling with pleasure at the taste. "It's a little odd to put on my own birthday party, too, isn't it? But it's quite all right. I'm a little odd, myself, so it all fits quite well."

"If you prefer blonds, I suppose you could say that," Edmund says casually. "Your children will have the biggest heads imaginable, though," he adds after a moment.

Edmund shrugs now. "You're really not that odd."

"I don't, actually. But I suppose you do have a point about the heads." She grins. "I suppose I'd better keep my mother away from the both of you, in that case."

She pauses, then casts him a reassuring smile. "I have my moments, I should think. But it doesn't bother me nearly so much anymore. It did, once, but I've rather gotten used to it."

Edmund looks at her a little sideways for a moment, as if he's trying to puzzle out what she means by 'I don't' or maybe by the assertion that she is, in fact, odder than most, but shrugs it off. "Honestly, once you've met one queen aching for a marriage for her spinster daughter, you've basically met them all." And Edmund has met quite a few.

"Ugh, and there's something I doubt I'll ever get used to--being called a spinster. Or even being old enough to be a spinster. Honestly, I was only seventeen when I first came here, did you know? And now to think I'm twenty already, it's...really something else." She takes another spoonful of her mousse, the look on her face thoughtful. "Really, I ought to at least have my own kingdom and a few good adventures completed by now."

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First of Spring Party

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Gift-Unwrapping | Open to Police for Doom!Jacket Shenanigans

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sob I am all over the place with my verb tenses, sorry.

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