(no subject)

[womanofvalue]

WHO: Peggy Carter
WHERE: #43 - The Vincennes
WHEN: December 27th - Evening
OPEN TO: All!
WARNINGS: n/a
STATUS: Open (Gathering Style)

---

When the gifts had arrived, Peggy had treated them at first with the same suspicion as anything else here. Things simply weren't that good to be true, but these gifts had people's names on them this time. With the exception of several that she couldn't begin to understand (such as that one from a man named Ivan, that she barely recalled interacting with), the rest were so kind and thoughtful that she soon found herself with a wealth of possessions she hadn't hoped to possess here.

The party had been borne of one single thought: I have nowhere to wear such lovely things and when she'd found the wine and liquor from others (including Tony, which didn't surprise her in the very least), she knew that she could change that. She'd posted a quick notice at the inn using some of the cardboard of a box and the lovely fountain pen Helen had given her, then did the same at many of the public buildings, inviting people to her home and inviting them to bring any food or drink they might like to provide, as well as suggesting this as an opportunity to wear their fanciest.

She set out her drinks (the ones she was willing to share) and made sure to tidy the home so that it was presentable. In her youth, back during her first engagement, she might have imagined entertaining like this on a regular basis, but that had been swept away by the war. Instead, Peggy was left hoping that such a gala would be acceptable and that she wouldn't simply be here alone tonight.

Setting her new record player (and her single record) down, she cranked it to begin playing the record that had come with it (a pressing of the Glenn Miller Band), and then she began to convince herself that there was nothing more that she could do.

Comments

[womanofvalue]

The dress had been the impetus for this whole thing. Silvers and golds with such lovely material that she longed to wear it instantly. When she'd found the stockings and the boots, Peggy knew that she wanted to wear it somewhere, but a strange isolated village didn't boast much of a social scene. It was why she had decided to create one. The boots were heavier than she wanted for indoors, but were at least more fashionable than those given by the village and as she wandered by the phonograph to give it a new crank and set it up for another play, she decided it hardly mattered.

It was close enough. She had her nails painted red to match the crimson shape of it on her lips and had pressed perfume to the pulse points of her neck after she had done her hair. In the mirror, Peggy Carter looked all the world like a woman who wasn't stuck in a strange village and was rather back in New York or Los Angeles or London; places with thriving culture and the option for dancing and living without feeling pressed under a microscope.

Once she was through cranking the phonograph, she made her way to the small wet bar she had established for herself, pouring a glass of sherry to sip on as she smoothed a hand over the chiffon of the skirt to tame it slightly, grateful for the high neck each time the door opened.

This time, she glanced over with her hand still on the bar, and met eyes with the person who had just entered. "Can I pour you something?" she offered.

[ex_assertiveness90]

Stella was not typically much of a party person, more than anything because of the fact that she was often simply too busy. During any given week, her work occupied the majority of her time, which, quite honestly, was how she preferred it.

Without her job to focus on, however, the story was entirely different. Stella needed something to do that wasn't the day-to-day drudgery of trying to make the small bungalow she'd occupied in the village fit for habitation, and this was Peggy Carter, whom she had to admit to herself she'd liked when she'd met her a bit over a month ago at the harvest feast. Why not. It was not like she had anything else planned.

There was little... all right, nothing she had that was appropriate party attire, but the blue jumper Finnick had given her fit her well and, at least, matched with the navy blue scrub trousers. With her peacoat as an extra layer against the outside cold, and her hair clean — actually clean, thanks to Allison Argent — and as styled as she could make it without product, she almost felt put together for once.

Stella paused, just a moment, on entering the house and seeing Peggy. It would have taken a blind person not to see she looked beautiful, though Stella made herself stifle the immediate feeling of being underdressed herself. She allowed herself a smile, crossing the room to stand nearer the other woman.

"What have you got?"

[womanofvalue]

"Actually, I think the best thing on this table is what you gave me," Peggy admits, lifting up the bottle of Sherry and then the glass that she'd poured for herself. She pours a second and offers it out to Stella, feeling relieved and grateful to see her, a warm smile on her lips. "I'm glad you came," she says. "I know I'm being somewhat selfish, but it was this or I was going to have to wear the dress while I was out gathering firewood and I really don't think it would have lasted very long, doing that."

The gifts are a new level of odd that Peggy is finding it hard to come to terms with. After all, she's more than grateful for them, but she doesn't think there's very much shopping around, so how is it that all these gifts arrived from the people she's surrounded by and where did they come from?

[rangerbecket]

Raleigh doesn't have a suit or anything but he does have a pair of jeans and a nice sweater, something other than his damn scrubs, and he thanks the powers that be for granting him that gift before he has a party to attend. He dresses in them and uses his new shaving kit to do something with his beard (i.e. get rid of it entirely) and turns up at the party a little late.

As soon as he gets there, he sees Peggy, and since this is her party he has to say hello. She is stunning normally but in this, a party dress and bright red lips? She's a knockout. It's easy to see her commanding the attention of every man in a room.

"You look fantastic, Peggy Carter."

[womanofvalue]

Peggy can't help her delighted smile for the compliment. While hardly vain, she's still rather happy with the gifts that she's been given, because wearing the same navy blue scrubs day after day had left her feeling a little terrible. With actual soap, shampoo, and proper clothing, she feels like a brand new woman -- the kind that isn't trapped in a village for reasons she can't begin to understand. "You look lovely yourself, Raleigh," Peggy promises, setting down the bottle of sherry in order to greet him with a kiss to his cheek.

Noting the lack of stubble and hair, she raises her brow. "All shaved and everything! I hardly recognise you!" she informs him with a bright smile. "Now, what would you like to drink? Let me at least pretend to be a good hostess."

[paragon]

Regardless of whether Peggy had personally invited him to her party or not, Steve would've been making his way there this evening. But since she did, he'd made sure to wear the green suit he'd found amongst his own gifts; after all, she's the same woman who once dressed to the nines (or as much as one could, at the time) simply to make an appearance in a bar where she'd only lingered for a minute or so, if he's being generous. So it's the least he can do, for the kind of affair he guesses she's got in mind. He's a little self-conscious about how long his hair has gotten but figures she'll forgive him for that, at least; the facial hair he's been growing for the last few months, however, is a more deliberate choice in light of now having the means to get rid of it and clearly having decided against doing so.

He stops just a little short inside the door when he hears the music, listening for a moment and huffing out a soft laugh before catching himself, closing the door behind him. He removes his coat and gloves before turning at the sound of her voice. Within moments he's stopped short again; looking at her makes him feel the same as the music, held in place by familiarity and beauty and all the gratitude for her presence that he's ever had.

"Might as well," he says, a wry pull to the smile he gives her. She knows his tolerance better than anyone ever can or will. Even here he doubts it could make much of a dent. "I'll let you choose."

[womanofvalue]

For the briefest of moments, Peggy feels like she's gone back to a simpler time. If she closes her eyes, she'll hear Phillips ranting in the other room amidst the roar of the Howlies razzing Howard and giving her trouble for being amidst such a rowdy bunch. Of course Steve and Bucky are there, because for a sliver of time, things had been warm and bright in a dismal world. Of course, that had been then, and this is now. Now, where they're trapped in a strange world that she can't begin to explain.

"For you, I'll give you whatever on earth this is that Tony's given me," she says, pouring a tall glass of Screaming Eagle and holding it out to him. "I don't think it'll actually do anything, but the irony of the name is fairly amusing," she says, turning the bottle towards him so he can see the logo. For herself, she pours herself a few fingers of sherry, giving him a slow look.

"You look good, Captain," she notes with a look in her eye that says she's thought that for a very long time, even before Erskine's formula had taken effect. There's a reason that the one photograph she keeps of him is of Steve Rogers, that skinny little man from Brooklyn, who had heart and soul and fire worth a hundred men. "All that's missing are the medals, I think."

OTA

[zomboligist]

It's a rather lucky thing that Helen had been as good as she was to give Ravi a decent shirt that was perfect for an event like this. Unfortunately, the black scrubs trousers would have to do, but if you didn't squint too hard, it wasn't the most undignified thing in the world. He's also brought a bottle of absinthe with him because apparently Tony Stark wants to make him lose his vision and Ravi is more than happy to share that sort of trip with his nearest and dearest, because nothing says friends like taking an alcohol or drug trip together down a path of which no one wants to remember.

He'd already polished off the In n Out burger the moment he'd seen it, felt sick, and then had been immensely grateful for the herbs. It's like he's being given the message that he needs to be more careful about these gifts, which is why he's so ready to give some away. Placing his coat in one of the spare bedrooms, Ravi heads back inside and feels a little out of time -- more so than usual -- because the music is old, the scenery is even older, but the clothes are so modern and anachronistic that it's throwing him off, slightly.

And he hasn't even had any of the absinthe yet. Speaking of, he searches around and finds himself a glass to pour the slightest bit of liquid possible, stomach already turning. "All right, you can do this," he says to himself, beginning the long process of psyching himself up, "you've done utopium well knowing the potential risks, in the name of science, you can do this too."

[hawkeyesniper]

"Psyching yourself up? It's a party, I didn't think it would take that much to convince someone to have a drink," Riza observed.

She'd been standing against the wall for some time. Watching people come and go. It was a little tame for a party, but she imagined some of them were still reeling from the events that transpired around Christmas. She was grateful for the little distraction, even if normally she wasn't much of a party person. She had, at least, dressed up for the occasion, wearing the new light blue dress she'd received from someone she barely knew and her hair falling over her shoulders to cover the tattoo on her back.

She reached over and grabbed a second glass, "Would you care for someone to join you in that?"

[zomboligist]

"Riza, you look lovely," Ravi praises when he turns to look at her, bowing his head to give her the proper respect? Is that a thing you do? Where's Liv when you need her for proper party etiquette. He feels like that's the sort of thing she'd know, brains or no brains. He lifts up the intensely green drink in his hand, wincing as he does. "Someone did the unfortunate deed of gifting me absinthe, which is something I've never tried before," he explains.

"I'm not entirely sure this one is without hallucinogenic properties or not," he says. "Hence, the risk."

Re: OTA

[notsocommon]

"You at least have something resembling an actual set of clothing to wear," Helen said, giving Ravi a quick once over. She only had the scrubs she'd been gifted with upon arrival, unfortunately, but she'd paired them with a lovely cashmere scarf gifted her by Stella and decided to make a real go of it.

"You know, I wouldn't have been caught dead at a party in my old life wearing less than my best. My, how times have changed."

[zomboligist]

"As if you aren't already beautiful enough," Ravi says critically, but then he remembers what side his toast is buttered on and offers a far kinder smile, leaning down to press a welcome kiss to her cheek as he gives the shirt a little tug, spinning like a model to show it off. "What do you think? I don't know what prayers you sent up to whatever gods are up there, but clearly it worked, I look incredible."

"Besides, once people drink enough, no one will even remember what anyone is wearing," he promises, holding up the absinthe. "Now, can you tell me if this is going to kill me," he says, seriously.

OTA

[71st_victor]

The note makes her think of all those elaborate, extravagant, ridiculous parties in Panem, but it's not like Johanna is going to show up at someone's house and be set upon by the President and Gamemakers, Capitol flunkies all trying to get her to be something she's not. She doesn't dress in anything other than her red scrubs when she goes, mainly to sate her curiosity, and doesn't for a second feel bad for it. She's been dressed up like a doll so often in her life that allowing herself to be casual and far from refined feels like a treat in itself.

She acknowledges her status as a guest by not bringing any weapons to the woman's home, but that doesn't mean Johanna isn't still completely on guard and keeping an eye on things. Just because she's not armed doesn't mean she's not ready for a fight and it's the first step over the door that she takes that makes her wonder what the hell she's walked into.

It's definitely not a Capitol party, it's far too sad for that, but at least it's got a small bar going for it. Heading straight to it, Johanna starts mining through the bottles, trying to figure out which one would make Haymitch the most proud if she drank, settling on something that smells very old and very expensive.

She feels out of place, but hey, doesn't that just mean Johanna's doing what she does best? Drinking a shot back of the clear liquor, she grimaces and starts to pour another for herself, thinking that being halfway drunk now and all the way drunk later is the best thing she can do to ignore the fact that she's stuck here.

Re: OTA

[notsocommon]

"It's something of a miracle we even have alcohol now." Helen found herself drawn to the other woman wearing scrubs since she, too, hadn't anything else to wear and seeing the bar laid out for them, she decided that a drink might be in order as well.

Of course, she'd been gifted her own liquors as presents and contributed that bottle to the cause, some sort of ale, and grinned at her companion.

"What shall I try? Is there a scotch anywhere?"

[71st_victor]

Strangers usually know better than to just talk to Johanna, especially those who are generally older than her. She's a firecracker, after all, prone to going off and damaging people around her with her snide remarks against the people in charge. She raises a brow at the woman who speaks to her, not entirely sure why she's bothering making small talk. God, Johanna hates small talk.

"There's pretty much one of everyone, including something to strip your walls," she says, sipping some of that without blinking. There's no smile on her face, though, too tired to play nice (she'll leave that for Finnick and Annie, who are much better at the whole 'making friends' bit than Johanna ever was).

"What are you drinking for?"

OTA

[hawkeyesniper]

Riza was not usually one for parties. Sure the military elite had held their parties, but it was usually less for soldiers and more for the politically minded. Mustang had worked his way into a few and she had attended in kind, but she'd never enjoyed them because she'd gone as his right-hand. Even in Manhattan, when she'd been stuck there for a year and people like Giselle and Miwako had insisted on various events to keep up morale she'd only gone because, well, everyone else was there. It had helped, however, to be in a gathering with others that meant she could try to forget, for just a little while, that she was trapped somewhere she didn't want to be.

So Riza had arrived wearing one of the only pieces of clothing she'd received during the impromptu Christmas, a dress in periwinkle blue. She wasn't even sure who had gotten it for her, but she was going to try and not read TOO much into the fact she'd been given a dress. Unfortunately, she didn't really have any shoes or jeweler to match or accessorize with, but she figured everyone else would have an eclectic style here anyway. She'd elected to wear her hair down, the brush and clips making it less ragged, but she never felt comfortable exposing her back and the dress's lace covered her tattoo but only barely. Her long blond hair did the rest and made up for the fact that she lacked proper jewelry or accessories.

Also, she'd take it to her grave, but she was actually wearing the nice lingerie that had been gifted to her as well. While on the one hand she wanted to smack whoever had thought that was an appropriate gift to give, she also felt this was the one time she felt like she had an excuse to wear it. It felt wrong to wear the everyday stuff she wore with her scrubs when she had this set available.

When she arrived, she was glad to see she wasn't the first. She decided to do what she usually did in this situations: grab a drink to blend in and then find a spot to sit or stand and watch. It wasn't the most exciting, but as mentioned before she wasn't exactly used to the whole 'party scene.' Maybe she'd find someone to talk to once others arrived. It wasn't like there were unfamiliar faces when you lived in a village with a small population and your room was right above the inn.

Re: OTA

[rangerbecket]

For some reason, Raleigh didn't figure Riza for the fancy party type so seeing her in the blue dress was something nice and unexpected. She was lovely and it was like seeing a different side of a friend you knew pretty well (or as well as you could in a place like this.)

"So, it looks like someone gave you a dress for Christmas," he says, grinning at her. "It looks very nice. The dress is lucky to have you."

OTA

[warriorborn]

Benedict is not drunk.

He's close to drunk — tipsy would be a kind word for it — but he is still perfectly steady on his feet and his voice is not slurred when he turns to the center of the room after perhaps an hour of being in attendance and moves to fling out his arm dramatically, abruptly missing home with a fierceness that almost takes his breath away. Gwen would have been aghast at the small, modest little party they've managed to cook up thanks to Miss Carter, but after her initial horror, she would have dived straight into it. There was no one who enjoyed a good party as much as his cousin; Benedict would know, having been forced to attend countless such events with her throughout their lives. She would have made it her solemn mission to make sure that this little gathering, as small and pitiful as it might be compared to the high society balls they're used to, is as successful and diverting as possible.

"Right!" he exclaims, after making sure that he hadn't just tossed his drink on whoever was unlucky enough to be standing behind him and slightly to his left. "It has become quite clear that nobody knows how to dance. This will not stand."

Gwen would never forgive him if he allowed a party to go by without dancing, and she'd tease him endlessly for not at least attempting to dance with his sweetheart. In order to do that, however, it would seem he has to instruct the rest of the village in how to dance. "We will begin with a waltz. I need a partner to help demonstrate."

[womanofvalue]

Peggy has been watching from a mild distance with her head bowed down so as not to let Benedict see her delight with his outward nature, his inebriation clear to her (if not to everyone else), yet he's not crossed over to being the sort of loud and annoying presence she'd seen so often in New York during the later hours of the night when the bars let out. When he asks for a partner to waltz, her smile turns sadly fond. All those years of insisting on waiting for the right partner and what did that get her? It got her to no dancing unless she was on a mission or hallucinating and that was simply sad on a level Peggy disliked.

Setting her drink down, Peggy offered her hand to him. "If you step on my toes," she warns, "I'm going to start leading."

[lastofthekellys]

After he waltzes with Miss Carter, Benedict will find Kate there, smiling and offering her hand. She's sparkling. Yes, the stars and sparkly flowers in her dark hair help, but she's always had a sparkle to her when she's in a good mood. A charisma which lights her up.

"On the contrary, my dear Mr Sorellin-Lancaster," she says, "I know how to dance very well. Might I beg the next set?"

Her dress is a day dress, a nice day dress, so it won't swish as much as one of her normal dresses or even one of her skirts here, but still. That doesn't matter. She's dressed nicely and so is he, and no one has died today. She'd like to dance.

[ex_assertiveness90]

After her impromptu swing dance with Peggy earlier, Stella has kept mostly to herself, occasionally allowing herself to be stopped to talk to someone but more content to observe the party than participate. At the moment, she's propping up a wall not far from the rest of the group, nursing her second — and probably last — glass of alcohol, more relaxed than truly inebriated.

Benedict, on the other hand, has plainly had a bit much — but he's so composed it wouldn't show were she not paying attention. Stella lets him dance with a handful of people before she finally speaks up.

"Enjoying yourself?" she says, raising her voice just enough to be heard over the music and the muted conversations of the small crowd. A slight smile pulls at one corner of her mouth.

Stella does not exactly ask for a dance, but she does stand away from the wall, closing the distance between them by a couple feet.

Kate Kelly | OTA

[lastofthekellys]

Kate is tipsy, but this time, not just on alcohol. She's tipsy on merriment, drunk with delight, because this all is fun. Fun to have some music, fun with people dressed up as much as they can (with varying degrees), fun because this is a licence to have fun and so people are. Including herself.

She's dressed in the utterly lovely blue dress Miss Carter has given her. A day dress, yes, but this is the kind of occasion where such distinctions do not matter. It's lovely, and it fits her like a glove, particularly when wearing the fine corset Odair had given her. Her long, thick, dark curling hair is piled on her head, held in place and decorated with hair clips and pins from Jensen's gift. Pink flowers, silvery stars, a charming blue butterfly.

Normally, she'd be in the midst of the dancing, and dance for hours. But, so far, she is paying head to her ankle by sticking to the outskirts and socialising.

So far.

Give her maybe another ten minutes, and she'll forget. Even in these hiking boots - so much more solider than the ones she'd wear at home - she can dance well. There is not much else to do in the country, and she's part of a proudly Irish clan. She can ride horses, and she can dance.

[thecatinahat]

The clips in her hair look familiar, like the kind Jensen's niece would sometimes wear after soccer practice and Cougar has been bribed to weave them into her braid. It's that he thinks he's staring, but also trying to place what this gift means, as if that will somehow give him a clue what Jensen is thinking when it comes to gifts in general. He clears his throat and gives her an apologetic nod for staring, gesturing to the pins in her hair.

"You are very ... sparkling," he says, thinking that it's the word that Jensen would use. No, no, he knows better. The word Jensen would actually use is bling, but he refuses to repeat that out loud.

[treadswater]

This is not the first time Annie has made an effort with her appearance since arriving here. She's long braided her hair to try and keep it neat, tried washing out the white uniform once she and Finnick came in from the woods. After getting some soap from Helen, that helped, but her clothes were a mess and her hair had been missing the care she normally lavished on it. Then, during the blizzard, she'd dressed up in some of the finery gifted to her. This is, however, the first time she's made a serious effort for socializing, and she actually looks put together.

Her hair is out, washed and combed and hanging in long, red curls around her. Her green eyes are ringed with black, thanks to some soot, turning them dramatic in her pale face. Annie isn't wearing a dress, although she's received two recently, but the white jeans, the sweater from Byerly and the gorgeous coat from Finnick. Grey gloves, which she shoves in her pocket as soon as she walks in the door, and a green scarf with orange fish on it from Riza. She's cold, and she appreciates the warm clothing - just as she appreciates the warmth of Peggy's house.

But looking put together doesn't mean that her behaviour has changed. She's still shy, still inclined to let Finnick take the attention and the focus. There apologies to make, because she's heard whispers of what she gave most people, and that always makes her nervous.

But she's here. As much as she's lingering around the edges of things, she's here, and she's tried to look pretty. She hopes that'll count for something.

[repressings]

Annie is pretty.

Of course Annie is pretty--she always is, and it's that captivating green in her eyes that Credence sometimes wishes he had instead of his ugly brown. Annie is not unlike the waves, a shifting, moving, powerful force underneath a haunting guise.

Credence shows up and doesn't dare get anything himself to drink. He has no concept of parties, no actual clue of what to do other than shrink further and further into himself. He's actually contemplating going home until he spots her, and then spends the next few moments wondering how he couldn't see her in the first place. She looks warm, and that coat has so many colours and patterns that Credence feels a funny sort of dizzy feeling when he looks at it, pleasant and strangely soothing.

He waits until Finnick is away, charming people with his dazzling smile and airy composure, when he approaches Annie. It's an awkward sort of walk, but he wants to thank her for the gift--the suit he's wearing right now, that fits him and makes him feel more comfortable than he's ever been. The only problem is that he's not quite sure how to start the conversation. He looks her in the eye, and that's a start at least, and wills himself the courage to say hello in this crowded place with its soft music.

"You look like stardust."