Subject: Urato was certain to have a good time.
Author:
Posted on: 2024-12-16 05:36:25 UTC
Prior to his arrival, he had simply thrown together a "costume" from the first articles of clothing he could get his hands on: a red tracksuit top and a pair of swim trunks, nothing more – not even footwear. This turned out to be a perfect decision, as he could at once put his sculpted legs on display and not have to worry as much about sand getting into shoes.
In lieu of actual snow, the ground of HQ Courtyard is carpeted in stark white regardless – a bed of sand that would almost certainly get into the shoes of any poor soul treading upon it. Situated at the yard's center is a Christmas tree reaching slightly higher than the ground floor, decorated down to the trunk with a varied assortment of HQ residents' missing socks and strings of lights that refused to turn on. All around are tables full of food – gingerbread, candy canes, mulled wine that is neither mulled nor wine, eggnog-flavoured turkey, turkey-flavoured eggnog. Under the tree is a mound of purely decorative presents, wrapped in paper of red, green and grold.
All HQ residents are free to join this party to socialize, sample the foods, dance to annoying mall Christmas music, and most importantly, parade their best costumes around for other partygoers to make snarky (or not) remarks about them.
Please reply to this post in-character as your PPC character(s), and be sure to note what costume(s) they are wearing (this can be done with description or illustration). Then, others may reply to your comment with in-character remarks from their characters or you may reply to yourself with remarks from your other character(s), and you may carry on the conversation from there.
"I hope I'm not too late."
She was dressed in an ill-fitting pumpkin costume, which looked as if it had been sown together from several unmatching shades of orange. Since no one had deigned to answer her, Mina sighed and headed for the turkey. Hopefully it would be at least edible this year.
--Ls
In which the lowkey aestheticist author can't resist the urge to describe something pretty, as always.
This was, in his opinion, nothing short of the best Taishō lolita attire he had, and he'd been waiting for a chance to wear it again since that one Christmas event at his university. It was one immaculate bespoke ensemble: a brocade kimono top of long sleeves, striped in rouge and sappanwood red, worn over a white shirt; a white cravat at his throat; a pine green skirt reaching his calves, its shape held by a petticoat. A veiled fascinator, red lipstick and green eyeshadow, his dark hair draping loose down his back. Dolled up and confident, he was ready to party.
His mood was partially doused as he ended up ankle-deep in sand, feeling the coarse grains through his socks as they snuck into his Mary Janes.
"Ya gotta real nice garbage bag on yer head too."
Prior to his arrival, he had simply thrown together a "costume" from the first articles of clothing he could get his hands on: a red tracksuit top and a pair of swim trunks, nothing more – not even footwear. This turned out to be a perfect decision, as he could at once put his sculpted legs on display and not have to worry as much about sand getting into shoes.
Jiwon was complaining quietly the entire way to the party. “I thought there’d be actual snow. Didn’t one of the tech people say on the forums they were working on weather devices a few months ago?”
“Maybe it’s not done yet,” suggested Charlie with a grin. They weren’t from anywhere World One-adjacent and knew little about its holiday traditions, but what they did know was the music. Their most recent fixation had been a particular cover of a particularly infamous song, which was why they were dressed in a solid red dress, trimmed with white fur at its neck and sleeves, along with a black belt to complete the look. Jiwon had convinced them not to go with the wig.
Jiwon hauled up his oversized tail, gave it a single shake, and watched as what looked like enough sand to fill a bucket drizzled out of the fur. He hadn’t felt like paying too much for his costume, so he’d settled for tying three belts along his tail, each one lined with cheap ornaments, bells, or small figurines of smiling elves (the last one was Charlie’s suggestion). He jangled as he walked. “This’ll take forever to clean, you know. Remind me why I agreed to come with you again?”
“I forgot.” Charlie took him by the hand and guided him to the snacks table. “Hey, let’s get some good times to balance it all, how ‘bout?”
looking round at other party-goers. He had arrived to the party barefoot – much less sand-based irritation to worry about.
Thalia dragged her unenthusiastic partner into the Courtyard; a trail of red and green glitter following behind them from Thalia’s poofy glittery dress. Doom had vehemently objected to dressing in anything other than his usual black although Thalia had strung some tinsel around his hood when he hadn’t been looking. It was Christmas, she thought to herself, and Christmas involved shiny things and lights and eating way too much sugar all of which were awesome and fun! Only boring people didn’t like Christmas.
The lion-like alien from Finance hoped he'd gotten decently close to a Santa costume, between a red baseball cap (modified to let his ears through) and a red uniform liberated from a noncanon Starfleet vessel when they weren't looking.
He looked around and waved at Midnight, his attention grabbed by the glitter.
Her garb was excellent: not only was her dress sporting the most eye-burning shades of red and green, her skin was also riddled with paint splotches in the same colours.
"At this point, I couldn't care less what you wear, but you could have bothered to wash all that paint off."
Fáelán was not much of a party person, but the choices were not many when his quirky pixie friends were attending. Without him to keep them in check, who knew what sort of Pixie-Dust-coated disaster the party would become?