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WHO:

threadthefire and EVERYONE!!
WHERE: passionné (along with cafe satiné and salon lustré, of course)
WHEN: Saturday evening.
WARNINGS: Not a one, unless Finnick decides to strip. Then it’s anybody’s guess.

It’s opening night at passionné and everyone’s invited. There are models wearing Cinna’s latest fashions mingling amidst the guests, answering any questions the attendees may have about the gowns and suits they’re wearing. Pastries and hand-made drinks from cafe satiné are being passed around as are flutes of champagne and glasses of wine from a local source. Music, played live by local musicians, fills the air as guests wander the boutique and look at Cinna’s wares in the intimate spaces.

And should anyone be so moved, they’re currently taking appointments for consultations, fittings and commissions in the salon area.

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Dulcie shows up pretty early to the event, since she heard there would be free food and she doesn't have much on anyways. She at least decided to dress up for the occasion a little (http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=30808962). Her tights don't even have any rips in them!

Dulcie snags about three different kinds of pastry immediately upon arrival and maneuvers her way into a corner, being careful not to knock anything over with her wings. She manages to procure a glass of wine at some point as well, and is enjoying it all happily on her own.

He's never felt more exhausted or accomplished in his life. Well, that's not entirely true. Sitting in that audience, watching Katniss walk onstage and just waiting for the perfect moment, that moment when she'll spin and spin and everything Cinna feels about the Games, the Capitol, the abuse he fears and the desperate hope he has will be displayed for all that have the eyes to see it. That was the pinnacle, he knows he'll never feel that way again. Which is probably a good thing.

This night entailed a lot less fear. After all, he's fairly certain was won't be hauled off and killed when the night is over. ...He hopes he won't be hauled off and killed, around here there are no guarantees. But still, he feels good. Everything is going well and people seem to be enjoying themselves as he wanders around, saying hello to those he knows and introducing himself to those he doesn't.

All in all, it's a very good night.

[ooc: He's wearing THIS (http://a.abcnews.com/images/Entertainment/ht_justin_timberlake_090217_ssv.jpg). Excuse the Timberlake and come say hello anyway. CREW AND FRIENDS: Cinna, aka his mun, did not have time to make/Google you anything, but he left a few suggestions, drawings and notes on what you should be looking for. So unless you specifically asked him for help (which you can assume) you were on your own. Please don't embarrass him.]

Edited 2011-05-01 02:14 (UTC)

It's the wings that get his attention, because if he's not mistaken, they're actually a part of her and not some fashion accessory. And because he's who he is, his mind instantly turns to what an interesting design challenge it is. Walking over, he has a smile on his face as he extends a hand.

"I don't believe we've met, I'm Cinna."

"Hi!"

Except that Dulcie had just crammed about half a chocolate eclair into her mouth, so it comes out slightly more muffled. She wipes her slightly powdered-sugar-covered hand on the edge of her dress and downs the rest of her eclair with a rather sizable gulp of wine. Once she's acceptable (and classy!) she stick her hand out.

"I'm Dulcie! Cool place, huh?"

For her part, Katniss is here to see Cinna's labors realized into the thing he wanted them to culminate as - an impressive establishment, not that she expects anything less from him at this point and, for that matter, not that she thinks he would accept less from himself. One of the really compelling things about Cinna's work is that it's, as appropriate for the name of his shop, his fervor, his passion, whatever equivalent. Katniss not really having a talent she looks around with the distance of the aesthetically challenged, grateful that Cinna at home had helped her to construct a false one with his own work (which she aspired to, no less as went the cue cards).

Finding Cinna, he'll he glad to see that she isn't actually as challenged as she might be had he not left hints and suggestions for the rest of them in plain sight. It's a dress he made for her quite some time back for something else she attended which she now does not remember - since these things aren't important to her, save for this one in the context of Cinna himself. Even her shoes are event appropriate and by now she knows how to walk in them too.

"It looks good," she says, sort of appearing at his side at some point in her silent-approach way, her hair the only 'untended' part of her but it's not in a braid either, just left to hang as long as it's gotten down the slightness of her back.

Suppressing a wince at the casual way she wiped her hand on her dress, Cinna gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

"It's nice to meet you, Dulcie. And I'm glad to hear you think it's... cool. It's mine."

Dulcie's eyes get slightly wider over the rim of her wine glass.

"Seriously? That is totally awesome! Do you, like, own the whole business?"

There isn't much Finnick will shy away from doing if an occasion calls for it, stripping included; that much is undeniable for anyone who knows him. However, this evening the occasion calls for style and charm and a healthy dose of mingling--and really, his clothes (http://www.zefron.com/gallery/albums/0000001/Photoshoots/2009/049/025.png) are designed to such perfection that it'd be nothing short of a crime to take them off and mar the effect. So he's here tonight with a few motives in mind: first and foremost, because this is Cinna's night, and Finnick truly wants to see it be a rousing success. But there's also the potential to meet and mingle, work the crowd, put himself out there, and see what there is to see--and what secrets might slip as the wine and merriment loosen the guests' tongues.

He's got a drink of his own, of course, but it's more for show than anything else. He holds it to his lips exactly as frequently as one might expect of a guest drinking socially, but he's careful to conceal the fact that the amount of champagne in his glass isn't lowering much at all as the night goes on. He's here for the party, but he's not here to party--a subtle difference, but a significant one. And so he weaves and drifts through the crowd, smiling and chatting with the guests, performing as always.

If there's anyone else he's happier to see at the opening, you wouldn't know it from the smile on Cinna's face as he sees Katniss from across the room. Quickly excusing himself from the person he was talking to, he heads over to greet his would-be protege.

"Katniss, dear, you look wonderful." Which she does, although he makes a note to teach her some basic hairstyling. It looks striking, cascading down her back, but the girl does have some options.

"Along with several investors, but I'm the primary owner, yes. And the designer."

And he's not too ashamed to admit he likes the reaction. Cinna's happy to see that people are impressed, it bodes well for business.

"It's the dress," she replies with a grin of her own. (Returning a smile, she finds, is easier with Cinna - and at other times with Peeta and certainly Rue, sometimes against her better judgment, Finnick.) A second passes and she moves her glance from Cinna to the distinctly lively crowd. It is a crowd, a nice turn-out as far as Katniss can gauge.

Brushing a stray section of hair behind her ear, she tilts her focus back toward her friend - a man who started as a stylist she was surprised to find herself predisposed to liking and who then, soon after, she genuinely did like. Still does.

In his own way, Cinna is a kind reminder, that in spite of her less than sunny nature, among other things, Katniss has him as her friend. It's more comforting than she likes to admit.

"Are you happy with how it turned out?"

"Very cool! You've done a great job with the place! I love that dress that's hanging on the wall over there, it's very Elsa Shiaparelli."

Dulcie turns to point out one of the mannequins, but in her excitement she turns around a little too quickly, so that someone behind her gets a face-full of angel wing.

"Oooh, sorry! Good thing I didn't get one of the waiters!"

Settled in a softly lit spot sits a young auburn haired woman; her slim fingers easily sliding along the barely visible strings of the small harp situated in her lap. While she's been going back and forth to a larger harp that's been made available, she always seems to find herself settling back down with her own little one. It isn't a show of favoritism; it's merely something she's used to.

A passerby catches her attention as she plays on, leaving her nodding a silent hello to them as the soft light catches on what looks to be a glint of silver curling around the cuff of one ear.

[ooc: Here (http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v618/weissgrrl/?action=view&current=PromGirl-609194309.jpg) is what she's wearing~]

"Thrilled beyond words. Have you seen it all?"

He motions around, knowing she's seen some of it, but perhaps not the salon or the cafe. She's been up to his office, but wasn't sure how much exploring she'd done.

"I have no idea who that is, but I'll take it as a compliment."

Trying not to laugh, Cinna motions to her rather unique appendage. "Is that part of your body naturally, or did you have it surgically added?"

"You look and sound delightful, Menolly."

Cinna approaches with two glasses in hand, one for him and one for her. She's been playing for quite awhile and he feels she could do with a bit of a break.

Holding the glass out, he chides her gently, "Come, you can't play all night."

[ooc: Your choice as to what's in the glass.]

Others might miss the volume of Finnick's glass, but Cinna's known him long enough now, despite his teasing, and he's almost certain the other man's putting on a show. And to be honest, Cinna's pleased to see it. He can't be everywhere and he knows that sooner or later, Finnick will give him a rundown of the evening's chatter.

But after awhile, Cinna decides it's time to say hello himself and he saunters up to his friend, a glass in hand. "Enjoying the evening, I take it?"

Edited 2011-05-01 04:39 (UTC)

"I didn't go into the salon," she admits a little sheepishly, though she figures Cinna could predict that answer coming at him a mile away. All in all it is the office and main boutique she's familiar with, but she paused earlier in the evening in the cafe portion just to get the full effect. It's all very Cinna - defined without being overdone, elegant without trying so hard, something almost innate or maybe that's just her familiarity with his taste at this point. She's not sure which but either way it amounts to the whole thing coming off very well.

She tries not to think about how nice it would be if Cinna could have this kind of thing for real, something without the constraints of the Capitol politics banging down on all their doors.

Saya arrives a little later than everyone, dressed all in red, and completely comfortable in her surroundings. She doesn't normally go to these kinds of events - first off, they tend to be a bit too much for her in terms of noise - but she likes Cinna, mostly because she appreciates his sense of style and the fine quality of his clothes.

She finds a place to stand, carefully, still, and watches.

"Well, then, we should fix that." He offers her his arm, pleased that she was wearing heels and actually walking in them with something approaching grace, but still aware that she doesn't like them. If she wants to, he's more than to give her an excuse to lean on him a little.

It still takes him by surprise, how protective he's become of her. How close and he's happier than ever about the promise he extracted from the growing revolution - although he holds no illusion about them actually keeping it, or about he being there to make sure that they do.

But this isn't a night to dwell on those thoughts.

He's been maintaining a fair distance from Cinna for the better part of the evening, but only out of a conscious effort to keep from stealing his friend's thunder; Finnick's well aware of his knack for drawing attention, and this is first and foremost Cinna's night.

But he's glad for the chance to chat, and he offers Cinna a winning smile as he approaches--one that's slightly warmer than Finnick's usual, a touch more friendly than the one he shows for cameras. "I always have fun at parties," he answers nonchalantly, which they both know is partially a lie, before following it up with a kernel of truth: "But this one's better than most. And everyone looks suitably impressed by your genius, so I'd be willing to call it a success."

A quick smile lets him know she's heard him but, as any good musician would, she finishes the song before carefully settling the harp on the floor. Truth be told, she loves performing, but he's right. While the scarring that mars her palm is well healed and stretched, prolonged playing can still make it stiff and sore the following day.

Chuckling, she takes the offered glass and takes a quick sip before absently smoothing a hand along the soft fabric of her dress.

"It's easy enough thanks to the wonderful surroundings."

Ariadne arrives with Eames at passionné an hour early, as per Cinna's instructions the day before -- a little curious and a little anxious, as well as a fair share excited to see exactly what the shop is like. In fact, she arrives an hour early and then some, if only to accommodate whatever poking and prodding would undoubtedly come when she gets there and wants to see everything at all angles. There's a strange disconnect between her and what she finds there, a space that she can very well see herself designing, but of which she has no recollection of doing. Looking around corners, taking in the ceiling -- she gets a sense that she's eavesdropping in on someone else's conversation or peeking into memories that don't belong to her. (A familiar sensation, to say the least.) She can guess (maybe) at where Cinna's made changes or where compromises have had to been made because there are bits and bobs here and there that ring like a buzzer in Ariadne's mind (no, not quite, try again).

The dress (http://images.nymag.com/fashion/fashionshows/2011/fall/main/europe/womenrunway/eliesaab/images/24.jpg) that she and Cinna ultimately agree upon is exponentially nicer than anything Ariadne's owned before or has even wore (and that's counting in dreams). It makes her mildly self-conscious to wear, if only because Eames had expressed concern -- however passing -- at acts that could easily be considered 'favors'. But ultimately Ariadne isn't wary of the loan if only because the dress is insignificant compared to the shop itself; if she were to owe Cinna, it'd be for the opportunity to build, not because he'd played fairy godmother to her wardrobe for a night.

Ariadne spends the party with Eames at her side for most of the evening, though on occasion she finds herself on her own (having wandered off to explore new angles or as a result of Eames doing the wandering instead). It's in those moments that Ariadne's curiosity turns inwards and meditative, a hand absently pinching the fabric of her skirt and rubbing it between two fingers, like she's testing the veracity of it. She's only ever truly built in dreams. Did this qualify?

Usually at any fancy shindig, Angela would be working the room, chatting up complete strangers and perhaps going home with a handful of their phone numbers. But tonight is Cinna's night, his time to shine, his moment in the spotlight, so Angela plays her part and stays off to the side, nodding and smiling at the people milling around. She politely waves off a waiter offering some champagne, choosing instead to nurse her glass of sparkling water.

Every so often, somebody asks about her dress and Angela's amused as they run a finger along the fine stitching and silky fabric. She doesn't hesitate to toot Cinna's horn about it tonight; if she doesn't, who will? Maybe him, but a little extra won't hurt.

"People seriously get wings added surgically? Would they even work?"

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open | mingling | also wearing a sport coat, despite what the link suggests

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open | in one of Cinna's dresses

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