[closed] harvestmere is for lovers

[heirring]

WHO: Val, Wysteria, & A Bunch of Rubes
WHAT: A perfectly uncontroversial fundraiser
WHEN: The first day of Harvestmere
WHERE: The Asgard Estate in Hightown
NOTES: If you received one of Wysteria's invitations at the beginning of September Kingsway and your character would have agreed to show their face, then here's what they signed up for. With thanks to Ceeeee/Eppy/Beka for the NPC profiles; if we run out of comedy NPCs to match up with, ping me at prosodi and I'll cram in a few more.

Per certain written invitations judiciously dispensed in earlier weeks prior, on the very first day of Harvestmere a bizarre conglomerate descends upon the Asgard Estate in Hightown. And while it's true that the state of the household might be somewhat controversial—it being appointed in a very Tevene fashion in accordance with the taste of its proprietor—, for almost a full hour it seems the evening will proceed in the manner that similar benefits must: doomed to be somewhat stilted, punctuated with rather too much polite laughter and the occasional tactless question, but generally inoffensive for all involved. While the members of Riftwatch and the invited would-be benefactors mingle over respectably appointed boards of hors d'oeuvres and various (entirely optional) dances are led under a string quartet's guidance, Wysteria plays at the role of host in an effort to see that everyone is acquainted and in good spirits be it emotionally or in the liquid sense.

However (for there must be a however), the evening takes rather a sharp before dinner.

At some point, the music recedes and everyone is ushered into an adjacent room where a series of chairs are arranged. One might be expecting someone to play whatever charming instrument is near the front of the room, but alas. Instead, Miss Poppell gives a very charming introduction to the evening's main event - a small auction, the lots of which "You should all be well acquainted with by now, but will secure your seating arrangements for dinner," - and surrenders the floor to Monsieur de Foncé so that the bloodbath may begin.

Each attending member of Riftwatch (excepting Val, Wysteria, and Leander who somehow landed being Wysteria's personal guest rather than a victim of their machinations) will be called up in turn and introduced either very faithfully according to a description they provided or one written for them, and auctioned to the highest bidder. Very stealthy members of the company (or indeed a selection of especially mortified guests) may have an opportunity to slither out a side door once the bidding starts, but it may honestly be less embarrassing to just go with it. Surely everyone's had enough to drink by now to ease any potential sting, correct?

Once the bidding ends, everyone will be shown to dinner where everyone is arranged according to the auction's results so that the "lot" is seated to the left of whomever won their bid and forced to either endure or enjoy their company for the duration of the meal. Afterwards, the party—or whatever remains of it, given various escape attempts or whatever surprise pressing business or headaches might have been claimed in an effort to beat a more polite retreat—retires back to the first room for dessert and drinks, a few rounds of cards, and the last exhausted dregs of conversation before at last winding to a close.

Entertaining? Debatable. Gauche? Perhaps more than one might prefer. But no one dies, so it hardly can be called a disaster as far as Riftwatch interacting with the public goes.

Comments

Val de Foncé | ota

[degenere]

i. mingling.
--Or at least, mingling while maintaining an air of casual and expert aloofness that is inexplicably attractive, the sort of attractive one is afforded when one does not care. Valentine de Foncé has been to thousands of excellent dinners. His manners are very good, his jokes clever, and he is managing not to bull the conversation too terribly, unless someone gets something very wrong about one of his pet topics, and then of course how can he help himself.

His arrogance is hardly an act. For when one scans the list of guests which Mademoiselle Poppell had curated--well, Val is a snob in his heart. Surely, he has said (both to himself and to others, aloud) the mademoiselle did her very best, with what she was given. But he always says it very warmly, so that it sounds a compliment.

All of this would be rather difficult to swallow, except he is very good at this behavior, and he looks very good besides, in a coat of deep blue cut in a most fashionable way, and a very fine shirt with a casually loosed collar, and an elegantly knotted cravat. And no mask, of course.

Frequently he can be found leaving the throng of partygoers with a purposeful yet mysterious air, to stand outside in the garden with a glass of wine in his hand. What can it mean?

ii. auction.
When it all really begins, Val is standing beside the door to listen and observe in amusement, and to drink more wine. It is suitably decent, a nice contrast to the house itself, which is entirely too Tevene in its outfittings.

This puts him in the perfect place to intercept anyone trying to leave the room. As the furtive escapee approaches the door, Val sidesteps in, blocking the way, and puts a friendly arm around the shoulder or a gentle hand upon the upper arm.

"But it is only beginning, you see."

iii. post-auction.
Oh, that's right, Val recalls mid-bite of dinner. He does not like parties very much.

Everything has been very good, if a little awkward, which had only added to his personal amusement, of course--and certainly there would be money raised, which is very good, the project demands a certain amount, and his poor dear solicitor will be very glad to hear that he is not shouldering the burden entire--but this is the part of the party where Val remembers that he quite likes attending parties and not hosting, because an attendee can simply leave when he feels the need to.

Then again, he is only semi hosting, and Mademoiselle Poppell--in her delicate gloves, laughing her very fine and false laugh--is the real hostess, and she is quite distracted, and so Val turns from the conversation he is having on his left with Monsieur Causey, with a parting, "You are wrong, monsieur," and to the person sitting on his right, he says, "Take this man."