the only octavius o. pepper (dinglealltheway) wrote in valesco,
@ 2013-12-27 17:11:00

Entry tags:

adian rosenberg, adrian mattias, andrea johnson, anneliese jugson, bertram aubrey, bess fawcett, bianca aubrey, billie trimble, caden flint, cassandra parkinson, charles spinnet, charlotte sweeting, drystan fawcett, edward pennifold, elizabeth fortescue, elliot alderton, elphias doge, estella flint, ethan jordan, flynn wright, franziska dolohov, gabriel corner, galvin gudgeon, glenda prewett, graciela pennifold, greta catchlove, group, henry wadcock, howell williams, iwan quigley, jake bexley, jeremiah whitehorn, kalista borgin, larkin whitby, louis bonaccord, mackenzie goldstein, magnolia mattias, mattie scarpin, max fancourt, melania comstock, michal conway lynch, miles lufkin, mirabelle jasper, miranda frobisher, nicodemo penrose, nicola scarpin, nora peakes, octavius pepper, odette boot, oliver comstock, orion sinistra, penelope fawcett, phoebe smethwyck, rachel corner, ralph frobisher, remus lupin, rose knightley, rupert brookstanton, saoirse mullet, savannah davies, sebastian goldstein, seth wadcock, therese bonaccord, west sumpter, william jugson, winnifred llewellyn

New Year's Eve Masquerade! For Tuesday

Octavius believed hiring someone to organise an event for him meant they would actually organise an event for him. Unfortunately, that notion proved to be a false one when the organiser left him high and dry in the middle of the month, but Octavius persevered. With the help of himself, Mira, occasionally Lottie Sweeting, and an army of lackeys, the night of the masquerade had come together as beautifully as possible.

Lottie had, for once, actually done her job, and at either entrance of the grand foyer were attendants handing out beautifully crafted half-masks to party-goers, and collecting them as people left. The ballroom was majestic and shimmering, the music was softly thrumming, the drinks were pouring, and the mood was infectious. All in all, Octavius thought, it was a satisfactory night to end a rather satisfactory year. After the chaos and excitement that had chased him all throughout 1983, he was rather happy to have had a (comparably) quiet year.

"Can you make sure Miss Warbeck is ready to begin?" he murmured to an attendant nearby who then scurried off. The Wizarding Wireless Network had, after all, promised a wonderful surprise at midnight! Octavius needed to ensure everything went perfectly.

The flash of a nearby photographer made Octavius scowl, annoyed was he at even the few press witches and wizards who had paid handsomely to be at the charity event tonight. The publicity was good, no one could deny that, and the masks concealed everyone's identity at least marginally so there was no grievous intrusion on privacy, but that didn't mean Octavius enjoyed their presence.

He rolled up the sleeve of his dress robe to check his watch, then his eyes darted back to the stage. It was five minutes to midnight! What, for heaven's sake, was Celestina Warbeck taking so long to appear onto an already dressed stage? Shaking his head agitatedly, Octavius cut through a path through the brightly coloured bodies in the mingling crowd to check on his star performer.

OOC Read this for questions, or ask me! Fluid time, so feel free to thread before/after kisses. Again, the "compulsion" to find your kissing partner kicks in 5-10 minutes before midnight and could be anything from thinking you should walk and get some punch to being mystifyingly sexually attracted to the masked stranger at your side. HAVE FUN! GO WILD ♥ AND HAPPY NEW YEAR'S MY GORGEOUS GALS.

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catchthislove
2014-01-07 12:32 am UTC (link)

Greta often felt she walked a fine line, being a reporter for The Daily Prophet and attending social events without her press pin. As she was an investigative reporter, and not one who covered society or gossip (at least, not since she had been assigned a feature some years ago), people ought to have felt more comforted when they learned a reporter was in their midst.

Unfortunately, particularly amongst crowds with Quidditch players and other rag-attractors, anyone who wrote about anyone else for a living was generally iced out, despite the fact that, meaning no offence, Greta would find a handful (and that was generously speaking) of people here relevant and interesting enough to garner headlines in her particular line of work.

But, strangely enough, telling people that offended them even more!

Having a date to attend functions with generally eased the awkwardness, but Greta had flown solo since the last New Year's Eve gala, come to think of it. She had accompanied Miranda and Ralph, but they were so excited about their newest member of the family (and who could blame them), that Greta quietly excused herself so they could celebrate in peace.

It was close to midnight, and she flitted aimlessly amongst gaggles of people, some she knew from work, from school, or some lingering acquaintanceships formed from when she dated Ludo Bagman. Greta felt lonely, thoughtful, and quite a bit tipsy, playing with the edges of her mask and not quite knowing what to do with herself.

When hands wrapped themselves around her, she felt fervor, rather than fear. When lips touched hers with boldness and ownership, she felt satisfaction rather than outrage. In fact, her hands wove themselves around him, and she pressed as close as was physically possible, still unhappy with the distance. How had he known just what she wanted, just when she most needed it?

She drew back with a wide, knowing smile. "I know those lips," she said tapping her masked man's cheek.

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