tea party } watch out for those rabbit holes

[graveflowers]

Happy Happy Birthday, Baby- Elvis Presley

WHO || Violet and OPEN
WHAT || Tea party out in the garden
WHERE || Knights HQ, back garden
WHEN || Sunday, May 26th around 3pm and onward.
HOW || Actionspam, get yo' threadjacking on babes.

When Violet throws a party, she is, surprisingly, classy about it. It's a garden party, with tables out in the garden and the flowers all in bloom. There is tea and mimosas on the tables and little cakes and vegetarian sandwiches. Music is playing on her phone -- the most eclectic mix of modern and retro, and a truly astounding amount of Elvis. Don't judge, she doesn't know why she likes him so much. Off to one side there is an area of shade, a construction of twigs and branches making quite a fine shelter, flowering vines interwoven between the branches to cover up any holes.

She sends invitations the day of, though send might not be the word for it. More like... she duct tapes the invitations to every door she sees before knocking and scampering off to the next door. Does she know you? Maybe not. Does she care? Definitely not. You get an invitation, you get an invitation, everyone gets a humpback whale!

It's just an everyday party in the garden, or so the invitation claims. Except it's her birthday, or the one she and Charming chose for her, and she wants to celebrate turning twenty six! She just doesn't want to be the center of attention.

Come one, come all, mix, mingle, nibble. Violet will be around, coaxing flowers into bloom and trying to remember where she put her shoes when she came out here... Whatever. Barefoot it is.

Comments

[graveflowers]

Oh, no, oh no. I only said strippers, you took that and ran a four minute mile with it, bucko. Do you seriously have strippers on speed dial? Seriously?

[That look would be incredulous.]

[isisagent]

[He meets the look with equal, if not greater incredulity]

...Do you not?

[graveflowers]

No. My speed dial is the front desk and the Chinese take away. Strippers, oddly enough, don't come up a lot.

[isisagent]

[He stares at her for a long moment]

So, Chinese takeout is, somehow, less offensive than strippers? I mean, if you're craving Milo and Otis for dinner, I suppose it would be.

[After careful consideration of this point, as well as his love of Milo & Otis, he now eyes her warily]

...You stay the hell away from Babou II.

[graveflowers]

Wow, what part of vegetarian did you not get? I will not ever be eating Milo or Otis. Though Milo is totally superior.

[isisagent]

You're damn right he is.
Dogs are horrible, terrible, despicable creatures.

...So wait, you're Vegetarian?

[Long Pause]

I suppose you could meet Babou II then, if you play your cards right, Mauve.

/t-threadjack

[technophobic]

[ well this seems like the perfect time for a party crasher to arrive. as in, violet would spot the heavily plated sir lanston clanking his way up the garden path, looking around skeptically at all the cute decorations. he hovers at the food table, picking up one of the vegetarian sandwiches and sniffing it, making a truly dissatisfied face and flinging it back down like so much trash. it flops on top of the pile, ingredients spilling out, and he looks around in evident suspicion at the set up. ]

Re: /t-threadjack

[isisagent]

See Tinman knows what I'm talking about.

[Archer raises his hand to high-five the approaching knight]

Up top Rusty.

[technophobic]

[ continuing a pattern archer is starting to notice around here, lan just stares at him rather than return the high five, although there's a level of obvious judgment in his face that wynn was polite enough to restrain from. ]

What sort of feast day is this supposed to be?

[graveflowers]

It's my birthday, actually. So it's the feast of Violet.

[And wow, rude, you know she made those damn sandwiches herself. Rude. Though, to be fair she would have invited him if he didn't live in the Unabomber's house.]

[isisagent]

Indigo Indigestion, more like.

[Hand still raised] Come on medieval times, don't leave me hanging!

Hey! Someone get my friend here some oil - his arm is stuck!

[He chuckles at his own cleverness]

[technophobic]

I see you hired a fool to entertain. He seems to have forgotten his motley, however.

[graveflowers]

Yeah, I did not hire him. Wynn did, and not for my birthday,

[isisagent]

Though, for the record, I do accept payment in the form of mimosas.

[And with that, he scoops up another one]

So, you lose a bet or something gramps... or is platemail just in this season?

[technophobic]

Some of us take our duties and training as Knights seriously.

[isisagent]

Well, I'm glad you take it seriously enough for the three of us... I think you're safe though - the palette around here seems pretty monochromatic, from what I've seen.

[graveflowers]

[popcorn.gif]

Want a drink, Lan? I can find you an... ale?

[technophobic]

Now we're getting somewhere. Where are the ale wenches?

[graveflowers]

This isn't a ren faire, sweetheart. They're called women and you have hands to get it yourself, just saying, I am being nice. Don't kill him.

[And she is going to disappear to the kitchen to find that friggin' ale, okay. She'll be back.]

[isisagent]

Ale Wenches!?

Now you're speaking my language, old man!

[technophobic]

Sir Lanston Charles Montgomery Wingates Wellington. Not 'old man' or whatever other foolish titles you see fit to bestow.

[isisagent]

That name come with a commemorative plaque?... Or... is the length just compensating for something?

[technophobic]

A name tells a lot about a man. What's yours supposed to be?

[isisagent]

Sterling Malory Archer. Codename: Duchess.

[technophobic]

Duchess? [ a deep scoffing laugh ] Did that name come with a lovely ruffled frock, as well?