baedalites: (Default)
baedalites ([personal profile] baedalites) wrote in [community profile] multiversallogs2012-02-10 06:39 pm

OPEN :: A golden bird was singing

Who: Everyone!
What: St Kelley's evening
Where: The Apache and surrounding environs.
When: Veerdi evening.
Notes:
(1) The topic threads are just suggestions; if you've got somewhere else that your characters simply must be, make your own thread.
(2) All mementos will appear overnight in some part of your character's apartment.
(3) Dance!




St Kelley's is one of the more sedate occasions in Baedal, at least as holidays go. It passes more or less unnoticed by the majority of the population as many of them feel it doesn't concern them. It's not their holiday; it's for the others. Those with severed ties and broken hearts. The temple and church preach that it's a time for reflection or for glorifying the generosity of the gods. It's one of the few days on which no one looks askance at first generation Citizens mourning their missing loved ones publicly.

As night rolls around and floating lanterns are set to sea, the Apache in Mog Hill prepares to accept guests from the newer cohorts. It's something that happens every year, making it a practical tradition. The alcohol will be cheaper for first timers, and the music will be kept at a reasonable level.
indiscreet: leaning in (☦ nor do you see)

Re: Lounge and tables:

[personal profile] indiscreet 2012-02-11 04:09 am (UTC)(link)
It's not as though she has anyone she's planning to meet, or even a boat to send. (Well, there had been some lingering thoughts of a certain Gangrel -- all that nonsense they had shared about mates and the like -- but it was so much easier to put it behind her.) But, to be honest, Anna has been really longing for a good party -- something to put herself back out into the world. She did get lonely without the other Chicago Kindred; Jones understood a great deal, but they could not and would never quite be of exactly the same sphere.

In any event, rambling philosophies of loneliness to herself was all well and good for the last hours before dawn, but they were dull during the night, and she had a new dress. And besides, all those little floating lanterns were bound to be pretty. So she had taken care of the irksome business of feeding in Mafaton, and was now draped prettily over the lounge, cradling an untouched glass of wine in one hand.
Edited 2012-02-11 04:10 (UTC)