12-19-2014, 06:08 AM
The invitation goes up on Ginger. A get together on the 21st. Everyone can come.
For some of them, the Awakened of Denver, it’s the first time the name Kiara Woolfe will be brought to their attention. A relative newcomer to their midst, only a handful of months worn in to their fold. It might stir memory for others, swim into hazy focus a face at the Cultist’s Thanksgiving party weeks before; the feeling of skin-stripped-bare-and-renewed; dark eyes set into a heart shaped face with the bold slash of red lips.
For others it’s a more personal token, a text sent from the woman herself —
hey, throwing a party on the 21st. starts @ 8. feel free to come hang out. bring people and a sense of adventure. xo -k.
— a flirtation in so many characters.
However they hear, whatever brings them to the Bank and Boston Lofts and apartment 422 they find a small but modern space with white washed walls, polished floorboards and large windows that overlook the corner of 17th Street below. There are plates of food strewn over the coffee table between thick bayberry candles, everything from dips to slices of fruit for the solstice and tiny, complicated canapé. There’s glasses of wine and bottles of beer; flutes of champagne lined up across the sleek marble counter while twisted and wound across the exposed ceiling pipe and window sills there’s ropes of the evergreens of the Yule season — pine, holly, mistletoe, rosemary, bay and juniper.
There’s a potted fern by the window spilling over in all directions in a brilliant display of verdant green architecture wrought by Kiara's hands.
The walls of the Verbena’s apartment are also strewn with artwork. Canvassed abstracts in slashes of crimson, black and white, some bearing shapes, forms, the twist and spiral of figures while others feel senseless, yet they invoke; insistent as they are on the eye; invasive to the mind; something brutal; something visceral and unapologetically raw. It’s not an ostentatious home by any degree; built on the corner of the complex; the entrance hall opening up into the kitchen and living space; bedrooms tucked away into left and right corners; furniture pushed back to allow space for mingling.
And of course - there’s their hostess, the dark eyed pagan, barefoot in a sleeveless white dress that hooks around her neck and leaves her back and shoulders bare, flowing loose around her legs as she greets all who come. She's the embodiment of the solstice; the renewing cycle; the Sun returned after the longest night. The atmosphere is festive, relaxed, easy. A composition of Awakened and Sleeper. The music is mellow and unobtrusive and of course at some point — something gets broken.
Tis the season.
[OOC: So, I'm still planning to try and RP the actual party out on Sunday but this is just so everyone knows IC and/or those who won't be around can chime in if they wanted their PC to stop by. Check my gallery for visual reference on the aforementioned artworks!]
For some of them, the Awakened of Denver, it’s the first time the name Kiara Woolfe will be brought to their attention. A relative newcomer to their midst, only a handful of months worn in to their fold. It might stir memory for others, swim into hazy focus a face at the Cultist’s Thanksgiving party weeks before; the feeling of skin-stripped-bare-and-renewed; dark eyes set into a heart shaped face with the bold slash of red lips.
For others it’s a more personal token, a text sent from the woman herself —
hey, throwing a party on the 21st. starts @ 8. feel free to come hang out. bring people and a sense of adventure. xo -k.
— a flirtation in so many characters.
However they hear, whatever brings them to the Bank and Boston Lofts and apartment 422 they find a small but modern space with white washed walls, polished floorboards and large windows that overlook the corner of 17th Street below. There are plates of food strewn over the coffee table between thick bayberry candles, everything from dips to slices of fruit for the solstice and tiny, complicated canapé. There’s glasses of wine and bottles of beer; flutes of champagne lined up across the sleek marble counter while twisted and wound across the exposed ceiling pipe and window sills there’s ropes of the evergreens of the Yule season — pine, holly, mistletoe, rosemary, bay and juniper.
There’s a potted fern by the window spilling over in all directions in a brilliant display of verdant green architecture wrought by Kiara's hands.
The walls of the Verbena’s apartment are also strewn with artwork. Canvassed abstracts in slashes of crimson, black and white, some bearing shapes, forms, the twist and spiral of figures while others feel senseless, yet they invoke; insistent as they are on the eye; invasive to the mind; something brutal; something visceral and unapologetically raw. It’s not an ostentatious home by any degree; built on the corner of the complex; the entrance hall opening up into the kitchen and living space; bedrooms tucked away into left and right corners; furniture pushed back to allow space for mingling.
And of course - there’s their hostess, the dark eyed pagan, barefoot in a sleeveless white dress that hooks around her neck and leaves her back and shoulders bare, flowing loose around her legs as she greets all who come. She's the embodiment of the solstice; the renewing cycle; the Sun returned after the longest night. The atmosphere is festive, relaxed, easy. A composition of Awakened and Sleeper. The music is mellow and unobtrusive and of course at some point — something gets broken.
Tis the season.
[OOC: So, I'm still planning to try and RP the actual party out on Sunday but this is just so everyone knows IC and/or those who won't be around can chime in if they wanted their PC to stop by. Check my gallery for visual reference on the aforementioned artworks!]
