WHO: Lothíriel and Éomer WHAT: Discussing the party, and politics WHEN: Backdated to last night WHERE: In their apartment WARNINGS: TBD STATUS: Closed/Ongoing
Since the Elf-queen had announced that there was to be a ball at the Elf-palace, Lothíriel had been barely able to contain her excitement. It had been years since she'd been to a proper ball, and she'd never been to one at an Elf-palace! She could only imagine that such a thing would rival (if not exceed) the beauty and elegance of the balls at Minas Tirith. From the first, she had been thinking of her dress, deciding upon what she would wear, how she would do her hair, and how much she would enjoy her first ball among the high elves.
It was terribly, terribly exciting.
So exciting that even within this hot and sticky apartment, with the windows open as wide as they would go to let in the breeze, she was still sitting at the table, looking at pictures of formal dresses in a magazine she had found at the supermarket. Yes, she had her bare feet sitting in a bowl of water, her hair pulled up into a ponytail and clubbed to keep it off of her neck, and she was wearing but a thin, gausey-white nightgown with only a pair of panties underneath, but the lack of electricity and the fact they were rather high up meant that her skin glistened with sweat. She would take a bath soon - not caring for the moment that the water was cool - but she hoped to find a dress first, or at least get some ideas in her mind. Nothing seemed quite perfect enough for the upcoming event.
But that...
She smiled, removing her feet from the bowl of water and crossing into the living room where Éomer was.
"What do you think of this dress, love? Is it too revealing?"
She liked revealing, she was finding. But this was also a fancy dress ball, and there were standards.