womanofvalue (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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sixthiterationlogs2016-12-27 09:49 am
womanofvalue) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2016-12-27 09:49 am
(no subject)
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.
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.
no subject
If the waltz he had just finished had been flamboyant, this one is much more personal and private; he holds Kate closer to his body, and the sweep he sends them in is much smaller, less exuberant, all so that he can focus more intensely on the girl in his arms and less on the motion of his body.
Benedict is, for all his reluctance as a pupil, an excellent dancer. He's had enough practice that leading comes naturally to him, so naturally that he doesn't have to think about it at all, and instead lets his focus rest on Kate, looking down at her with a small, private smile curling his lips as he lets his hand drift further down her spine until it rests quite boldly almost at the curve of her waist.
"You really do," he insists. "The most beautiful girl in the room."
no subject
It doesn't matter, at this moment. Because Benedict is sweet and a gentleman, and she chose to be here. Right here, in his arms, with him gazing at her and having it fill with her warmth instead of caution.
"And of course," Kate says, teasingly, "you are not at all biased." But it's gently said, spoken with pink cheeks and a smile. She's aware of his hand resting near, so near at her waist, even though her layers, aware of the steps she's making in response to his as she becomes accustomed to dancing in these shoes.
She's a good dancer; she catches on quickly. She also knows what they are showing, like this, with this quiet dance. An image of them, together.
She likes that, too.
"But if I may be bold, you're certainly the best dancer here."
no subject
She is a good dancer, if perhaps not quite as polished as the girls he's used to dancing with, and he's immensely pleased when they settle into an easy rhythm together, moving perfectly in tandem as the music swells.
"Well, that can't be helped, I'm afraid," he quips dryly, squeezing her hand as he sends them into a turn, a tiny bit disappointed that her lovely blue day dress is too practical for a big, flouncy skirt, if only because she doesn't sweep the way he's used to as they spin around together. "I think I have the most practice out of everyone, so it's to be expected."