tampered | passionné grand re-opening party

passionné grand re-opening party

When; Tonight, Saturday evening.
Rating; All-Ages!
Characters; EVERYONE (including 4th-wallers)
Summary; It's time for the passionné fall show and party. Come one, come all!
Log;

Inside there are areas where charmed snow fell, only to disappear as it touched the guests, corners where strange breezes tossed fall leaves into the air only to have them fade as anyone tries to take one. The furniture has all been re-arranged and yet it’s as familiar to the shop’s regulars as it always has been - same fixtures, same seats, same intimate feel.

In the cafe the food has been spread out, from spiced cakes and teas to meaty morsels all designed to be pro-table and delectable. Staff wander the premises with champagne and mulled wine for the guests, refilling and retrieving glasses as needed. There’s music, played both live and through discrete speakers, in a variety of styles, but all in perfect taste.

And on hand is the Stylist himself, dressed so simply as to almost blend into the background. After all, it’s the wares, not the man who are on display tonight. There are dresses, and skirts and suits and more and all manner of fall fashion, but in the shoe section, there’s a display of particular personal importance. Arrayed on a display is a new line of shoes, titled simply, “Montenegro.” It’s a tribute to the woman who was responsible for inspiring not a few of the fashions seen tonight and the Stylist keeps an eye on who’s admiring the display on his muse’s behalf.

Employees are on-hand to encourage visitors, new and old, to relax and enjoy the lovely night. No sales will occur, but appointments can be made. Really, Cinna just wants everyone to enjoy themselves for an evening.

[ooc: The aforementioned Montenegro line includes designs like the following: HERE, HERE, HERE, HERE, HERE. The rose shoe, the centerpiece, has a sign below it that simply reads, "Not for sale or reproduction."]

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[Unlike the man of the hour, Angela stands out in her outfit, only because Angela doesn't know how to do anything other than be unique enough to catch attention. This is actually 'toned-down' for her, sticking to solid colors and neutrals while still bringing her style to the table.

Angela enters the shop and immediately begins wandering around, looking for that surprise Cinna spoke of earlier. Patience? She has none. Everybody knows this. Her search pauses in motion as she comes to the display of shoes labeled with a familiar name; her name. Her last name. The name that came to her long ago in a dream. Oh, he did not.]

[He sees her from a distance and waits before excusing himself from the conversation he's having. Walking up behind her, he places a hand on her hip and whispers in her ear.]

Surprised?

[Surprised. Shocked. Touched. Speechless. There are far too many words to describe the way Angela feels about this. This is proof of his art and his creations, the thing that he lives for and here he's honored her by putting her name on it. It's the highest honor one artist can give another and nothing will ever top this.

She's an utter mess, crying as she turns to him, patting a hand on her chest, trying to find words to describe her tumble of emotions. One thing is certain though: thank God for waterproof mascara.]

The man of the hour is walking around the party, checking on friends new and old and making certain that things are running smoothly and according to plan. He doesn't want anything to go wrong, especially since there are so many new people in the City.

With a drink in his hand, he pauses for a moment to take a breath, standing out of the way as he watches the crowd. In his simple attire (http://www.fashionfame.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/06/mens-fashion1.jpeg), he almost blends in, but those looking for him won't find him hard to find.

[He pulls out a handkerchief and touches it to the corners of her eyes before passing it to her. It's not... exactly the reaction he was expecting and now he's a little worried. Not that you can see it in his face, that remains a perfect mask.]

Darling, are you alright? I certainly didn't intend to reduce you to tears.

[All Angela can do is nod furiously, accepting his handkerchief and continue to dab at her eyes. Who is this man who's wriggled his way into her heart and soul and manages to bring tears to her eyes at the drop of a hat?]

I can't... I can't... [Believe it.] I thought it would be a dress or something, but this... it's beautiful.

[It's more than the shoes. It's the fact he thinks that much of her to do this.]

Then you do like it.

[He finally smiles, a true smile that goes all the way to his eyes and heart as he presses a kiss to her forehead, careful not to muss her hair or make-up.]

They're no more beautiful than the woman that inspires them.

[He picks up one of the rose heels, offering it to her.]

After the party, these go home with you. Since normal flowers wilt, I decided something a little more permanent was called for.

I love it.

[Her usual flower of choice is the stargazer lily, but for him and what he's offering her, she'll accept this rose in a unique shape and form. After all, it was obviously crafted with affection and care. Angela hasn't been anybody's inspiration for a long while. She'd forgotten how good it felt.

She reaches out to touch him, smoothing down the front of his shirt against his chest to distract her from outright sobbing. A shy smile plays at her lips in between her biting them.]

I don't deserve you.

[He knows about the lilies, but roses make a much better statement and tonight is about making a few statements. There are things he can't say to her, things he won't let himself, but since his emotions go into his work, he hopes she can see them in this.]

You deserve everything.

[He takes one of her hands and brings it to his lips for a kiss.]

Have I mentioned you look ravishing?

[Those things don't need to be said. Angela can see them right in here in the display and in the shoe she cradles in the palm of her hand. Every bit of what he could never tell her is in the stitches that hold the flower petals together and they're just as loud as if he told her the words himself. She'll never want anything more from Cinna; he's given her everything she's ever desired from a lover. And more.]

Have I mentioned you do too?

Well that was a foregone conclusion, wasn't it?

[He teases, taking the shoe back for the moment and placing it on the display. Her arm he takes, tucking it around his as he leads her away. Now that she's seen the surprise, he wants everyone to get a chance to congratulate her.]

I'm glad you came, I really didn't want to have to carry that entire display home.

Cocky tonight, aren't we?

[She laughs softly, dabbing at her eyes again and trying to attempt to fix her appearance into something less like a walking bucket of tears and more like somebody who is about to be congratulated for something she never knew she was involved with.]

You could have taken a picture and I would have loved it just as much.

I know what I'm capable of. I know what I'm good at. It isn't ego if it's true.

[He uses a finger to correct a slight smudge and then nods, she's perfect. Always is. Always would be.]

I wanted you to experience it the way everyone here will. To see it as it's meant to be seen.

I'm still going to need a picture of it.

[Angela cranes her neck to watch the display a playful sight now that it's behind them.]

It can't stay there forever. Though, if you do get lazy and leave it there, I won't tell anybody.

I'll make certain you get one.

[He pauses long enough to let her get a last look before steering her towards the refreshments. She can probably use a good drink by now.]

The line stays until Spring when I change it to something new. Any ideas?

[At the refreshment table, Angela considers the options before selecting two flutes of champange. One for him, one for her. She's pacing herself these days. It's a slow process.]

Putting me on the spot? How awful of you. [She shakes her head lightly.] Maybe but you probably won't go for neon.

[He takes the champagne and holds the flute in a simple toast, clinking their rims together.]

I'm terrible, I know, and definitely not neon. Unless I find a tasteful way to use it as an accent. Which is doubtful.

[As a guest in the City, a complete stranger to fashion, and something of a hermit by nature, Justin does his best to stay out of the way and be invisible. Wearing too-short grandpa-khakis and an ill-fitting button-up shirt to a party focused on fashion, unfortunately, doesn't lend itself to invisibility.

Entering with Angela, however, does.

While Angela talks with Cinna--a man Justin knows primarily through word-of-mouth even though they had been in the City together for some time--the seventeen year-old feigns interest in the suits and shoes. They all look the same to him, but he's hoping to have something intelligent to say about them should anyone address him.]

You're always shooting down my favorites. I don't know why you keep asking me when you just rejected all my neony notions.

[She smiles at this, completely non-serious. From one artist to another, there will always be differences. When she has a moment to put her head together, maybe she'll submit something that'll pass both their approvals.]

[Cinna's not one to miss someone arriving with Angela, and some time after, when he's had a chance to greet some other guests and make sure Angela saw her surprise he seeks out the young man. He must be a recent arrival, one of those who are there just for the weekend, or else Angela would have outfitted him in something.

Not that Cinna minds what the boy is wearing, exactly, but he's fairly certain anyone who had time to dress the part would have.

Moving towards him, Cinna notes that he's looking at the suits, but not really seeing. Looking the way Katniss usually looks at things, come to think of it, but he's not insulted. He can't expect everyone to have his taste, after all.]

A friend of Angela's I take it?

Perhaps I'm hoping against hope for the day when you abandon neon for saner color palettes.

[It doesn't stop him from wishing she'd choose colors that weren't physically painful to look at in large batches. Really? Who could wear all that and not go blind?]

[ In her typically silent way, Katniss eases up beside Cinna, her arms folded lightly in front of her not in defensiveness as often is the case, but this time more as a default. She's been so long out of a public eye that she's gotten dangerously comfortable with just being as she pleases, for which she knows she should be grateful.

Briefly she nudges his arm with a slight lean before standing straight again. ]

Taking a break?

[Justin is somewhat surprised to meet Cinna, dressed quite sharply and rather animated as the other man is. After all, talking to people after analyzing their scissor-gouged corpses on a cursed train is slightly awkward even months after the event.

He thinks he'd best not mention the train.]

A--yes. Justin Pendleton.

[He nods vaguely towards the nearest suit.] Your designs are... [surely there's a suitably vague adjective to use here] ...different.

[Justin has given up on trying to understand what makes the suits unique and moved on to the Montenegro line of shoes. They are proving to be equally perplexing.]

He named shoes after you.

A well-deserved one I might add.

[And it may be the champagne he's already indulged in, but he wraps his arm around her in a brief hug. She looks, as always, a little uncomfortable, but she's here for him and that means more to him than she realizes.]

You look fabulous, as always. I think we did exceptionally well this time.

[Cinna's worked very hard to forget that little train-ride, so if there was any name recognition, he buries it. Some things shouldn't be dwelt on any longer than necessary, and tonight? It isn't necessary.]

It's a pleasure to meet you, Justin. Just in for the weekend, I imagine? I could arrange the loan of some clothing if it's necessary.

You too. Angela talks about you.

[He nods. Cinna's generous offer, however, is met with equal parts disbelief and confusion.]

You...? Is there something wrong with what I have?

Never. Sane is boring. Do you want your clothing to be boring?

[Lucky for him, Angela has a penchant for autumnal colors and jewel tones. Besides, neons are for summer. He wants spring. He'll get spring.]

[She's still staring at the display, letting her fingers trail on the sheepskin of one of the boots.]

Yeah. It was very sweet of him.

[Angela's fascination with these shoes? Also perplexing. He almost understands the appeal of the pair meant to look like roses, but otherwise...]

Is it flattering? Being the inspiration for footwear?

Never, that's why I light it on fire.

I'm tempted to ask what she says, but I won't.

[He chuckles lightly. There's nothing wrong with it, exactly. It certainly isn't to Cinna's taste, but they aren't his clothes so it doesn't matter.]

Not at all, I was offering in case you didn't want to have to stay in that all weekend. In case you wanted something for tomorrow.

For what it's worth, it's all good.

[Ah. This is a sensible--and extremely generous--suggestion.]

That would be--I mean, I can't pay you anything, but I would appreciate that.

Nonsense, you're a friend of Angela's, it's no trouble. Let me take you back to the stockroom, we have the summer leftovers there that will be on sale next week - you can help yourself.

[He motions for Justin to follow him as he winds through the crowd towards the back.]

Thank you. I'll try to return them if I can, or leave them with Angela...

[Justin follows Cinna with some trepidation.]

Don't worry about it, really.

[He shouldn't worry, there's plenty of casual wear to choose from. Jeans, cargo pants, t-shirts and button-downs.]

If you're sure.

[He's immensely pleased to see clothes that look like things he can imagine wearing.]

Do you give clothes away often? It can't be good for business.

[ Katniss can't help but be surprised by the hug, but this is Cinna - one of the few people she seeks out even here where she could seek others but in the end never can, doesn't honestly care enough. Cinna she cares about, cares about and worries about because of the things she doesn't know, the way he evaded inquiry that day with the epitaph which all but told her the things she was concerned about were justified. People had waved it off as just a curse, a what-if, but Katniss oscillates from too practical to flying off the handle at a moment's notice. She thinks people have no problem telling you if things will be fine but a much harder time saying so if things end badly and she knows if it does it will somehow be her fault - even if Cinna himself wouldn't say so.

Not for the first time, she thinks he's really too kind but he's shrewd too and there's a toughness beneath it, just as there is a distinct structure beneath all of his designs whether glowing coal or jeweled sun, or - though she doesn't know it yet - a mockingjay from the ashes.

Her arms slip around him as she returns the embrace in one of her rarer acts, even tightening them a little to draw him to her because she can feel him pulling away and then it's done. Focusing on his words is easier than dealing with the stir of worry that clambers into her chest like an unreliable heartbeat every time she comes close to saying tell me what you're hiding, too afraid that knowing will somehow make no difference at all.

Instead of asking, she beams at him if a little drily. ]

You mean you did 'exceptionally well'. Or I do.

[ Hooking her arm through one of his - the one free of champagne, she then adds, ] It's really something...you can make whatever you want, can't you?

[ And she knows he'll understand as if she hadn't said it at all - that he doesn't have to make them for the Games or for narrow and biased Capitol clientele or under the iron whim of President Snow.

This place, more real or less, has given a freedom Panem does not seem likely to promise any time soon. ]

It's not so much about the shoes. It's the honor of being somebody's inspiration in general.

[It's hard to describe the feeling that comes with that to somebody who isn't of an artistic persuasion. Though, on second thought, Angela comes up with a great comparison.]

Think of it as somebody being inspired to write the Great American Novel by you.

You light it on fire because you're insane.

No one would write--

[The light bulb comes on. Good analogy.]

Oh. He must really care. About you, I mean.

I light it on fire because no one expects that.

Only on special occasions.

[He shifts a few things aside on a storage rack, pulling a few items out to hold in his hands. A couple of shirts, some pants.]

Turn for me once.

[He doesn't even conceal the surprise at the the returned hug, that his closed-off little "protege" actually returned his affection. Will wonders never cease?]

Ah, but clothes are just hollow fabric until they have the person they're meant for to make them come alive.

[Nothing he designed would have been half so effective without her face and her story to illustrate them. Even if she hasn't lived it yet, that wedding dress would have meant nothing without her to turn it to flame. And if those he's trusted keep their word, the other things he's designed will remain secret until she chooses to bring them to life. He life, her choice, to bring his final designs to fruition.

But those are maudlin thoughts for a party, and he with such an attractive young woman on his arm.]

I can make whatever I want, yes, but I still have to make what they want and that's no different from home. My genius is my ability to blend the two together.

Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition either, but that doesn't make it a good thing.

[Watching him over the rim of her champagne glass, Angela smirks, knowing he won't get the joke.]

[She nods, not in any mood to argue down whether or not anybody would write anything about Justin.]

It's how he says it without saying it.

[Cinna can't--or won't--say those three words everybody is longing for somebody else to say to them, but actions speak louder than words. And for actions like this, Angela prefers them.]

That's wise.

[Strange request, but he does as asked.]

What purpose did that serve?

[That's probably a good move.]

Mm. Words don't mean that much.

[He almost--almost--looks like someone about to crack a joke.]

I guess he's good enough for you.

I can see you all the way around and make sure I'm pulling things in your size. As well as things that will move with you, not against you.

[He hands a couple thing over.]

There's no one back here but us, you can try these on over there.

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passionné grand re-opening party

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OPEN

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OPEN

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once morrrre ;3;

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after that up there sometime

/wibbles

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/holds onto

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Re: /holds onto

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