WHO: Open to Glibt, Media, George Washington, Lady Columbia, Uncle Sam, Lady Liberty, the Democratic Party, the Republican Party, the Black Panther Party, the Marijuana Party (+Marijuana and Heroin), Johnny Rebel (+Emo), the Tea Party, Billy Yank, Feminism, African-American Civil Rights, Harvey Milk, and Figure Skating (+Classical). WHEN: Monday evening, June 28 WHERE: The roof of Media’s penthouse WHAT: Glibt’s birthday party. WARNINGS: TBA
Buildings could absorb the nature of their inhabitants; homes could reflect their owners and given who and what inhabited and owned the penthouse, it was hardly surprising that it could change past the point of recognition at the drop of a designer hat. For the moment, Media felt modern. Clean, sparse lines in grays and ivories better show-cased the riot of purples and pinks in the flower arrangements, the warmth of light in the candle display, the variety and beauty of the food. By request, she’d kept elements of the menu simple and had everything laid out with an eye for pleasing the eye as much as the palate. But that was dinner, and dinner was over and out in the fresh air of the rooftop, she was more than ready for the show to being. As with the penthouse, the roof was relentlessly modern with flat ivory beds at even intervals and a reflecting pool that split the open space into two equal halves. Again, candles flickered bringing some warmth and fire into the cold new design while Media moved among her guests, ghost-smile on her lips to match the way her eyes reflected secrets as she passed them each by. Even when not inclined to share, there was little point in knowing when no one else knew that she was in the know. And if anything, it never hurt to remind with a wink – it prevented the unpleasantness of reminding with a blow.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” her voice carried; she never raised it. “If I may have your attention for a moment, the fireworks are about to begin.” Under more normal circumstances, Media wouldn’t schedule a display so close to the Fourth – no point in stepping into Columbia’s domain – but this was Glibt, his birthday, and the first party since his engagement to Mark; fireworks were required. And for anyone else, Media might have chosen something rather more demure to than pink and purple for the display, but it was Glibt and, truth be told, Media was rather sick of demure. So anyone who paid attention could notice – and perhaps wonder – how it was that each explosion perfectly mirrored the shape of the flowers arranged in her dining room; except, perhaps, for Glibt, who knew her well enough to see her power shape each spark of light in the night sky.
From her vantage point near the pavilion – a charcoal gray affair made from wisps of shadows – she could see all her guests while the riot of cascading light was imprinted under her eyes, in the same sense that saw words as they were written; it meant she only watched the guests, taking in the tilt of a head, the start of a smile or a frown, the set of shoulders and the patterns of movement as conversational partners were exchanged. The party was going well; she could see that in those micro-expressions that flitted across faces and allowed herself a softer, more genuine smile. Slipping inside the open structure, Media ignored the soft chairs in ivory and the long table filled with desserts, no larger than petite-fours, which spanned the visible spectrum of colours and were arranged in a smooth line of gradations from red to orange to yellow to green to blue to indigo and ending in deepening shades of violet. Silly, perhaps, though each dessert was a delicacy, but she couldn’t help her pleasure at the effect; in another goddess, the feeling might be almost maternal. Media laughed to herself, softly, and took a champagne flute from one of the small round tables that held alcohol which spanned the spectrum from high priced wines to good beer and everything in between. She never did anything for only one reason, not even a birthday party, but for the night – perhaps – the smile of her sort-of-son could be all the reason needed. For the night.
[[ooc: No posting order, feel free to start sub-threads and generally go nuts interacting with anyone in attendance. Media will be moving through the crowd, so if you’d like to talk to her, just toss up a start and she’ll reply. One thing though, there’s a thread just for gifts so if you could reply there – even with just a link – that would be fantastic. Have fun, guys!]