paradisa | HAPPY NEW YEAR!

All that clamor from the lion dance prancing down the halls should be enough to draw attention to the party, even without actual invitations. If not the noise, then perhaps the delicious smell wafting under every door and leading back to the ballroom.

The castle is vain, if nothing else. It has decorated the ballroom in the deepest red and brightest gold with auspicious greetings in the common language tastefully posted about the hall. May your happiness be without end, one says, while another goes May all your wishes be fulfilled. Small order, all things considered.

Round dining tables (with the turning glass part) are set up in the middle of the hall, each with about ten chairs and piles of food fit for a whole village. There are two more lion dance teams hopping about the hall and making a racket while occasionally nabbing that dumpling straight from your chopsticks. That should the least of your concerns, however, with many residents still aiming to settle their grudges before the new year.

Watch your back.

[ ooc; IC mingle log for Lunar New Year plot, feel free to make your own threads! ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Boldness ain't a thing to apologize for on most days. Not this one, at any rate.

[Seriously, look at the decor. It's a party.]

[ Oh what horrible English. Well, what's to be expected of a...what is he? She still can't say for sure, other than he's obviously no noble. ]

As you say, though this is not a day I have ever celebrated before. Shall we toast to it, then?

Nor have I. [But sure, a toast is rarely a bad idea. He lifts his cup.] To bold ladies and unusual occasions.

[ She's heard worse toasts! She'll drink to that. Although truly, almost every day here is unusual. ]

Does the bold lady have a name?

[ Her cup is moved to her left hand as she nods and holds out her right hand. ]

Anne Boleyn. And you, sir?

[James stares. His eyes narrow. Lucrezia Borgia and Anne Boleyn in one castle? What are the chances?

(About the same as his chances of being here, probably.)

But he'll play it cautiously, taking her hand and placing a kiss on the back of it.]

James Kidd. A fitting name you've got.

[ Kidd. Hadn't she heard of some Kidds living in Suffolk and Norfolk? Nothing really noteworthy that she can recall, at least.

At his commentary, her own gaze clouds over just a touch, the change in stance subtle but more guarded as she lowers her hands. The smile remains, of course. ]

Really, why do you say?

You wouldn't happened to have been wed to a Henry, would you?

[His joking is pretty much him saying he's pretty sure he knows who she is. Borgia daughters, Assassin Mentors, dead queens. James is glad he's practiced at keeping his cool.]

[ Her lips twitch somewhat. A Henry? Is that how kings are addressed? Oh well, he's not meant to be polite company. ]

I am Queen Consort to His Majesty King Henry, yes.

[Bloody hell. Well, that answers that.]

Apologies, then.

[For your crazy ass husband.]

[ SHe just assumes he's apologizing for his flippant nature, which she'll nod off. It's a party, she's still learning not to drop into a weeping mess at the thought of her destroyed marriage and family, so everyone's got their fun challenges this evening.

She takes another, larger drink. ]

Worry not over it. I am in costume, am I not? I can be anyone.

[Don't worry, Anne. The Assassins kill Mary and your daughter becomes queen!]

Who do you want to be right now?

[ Nothing would make her happier to hear, probably. She knows of Elizabeth's reign, her brilliant daughter outshining them all, but she never did hear just how Mary dies. She was satisfied enough to hear that she does.

The question brings Anne to glance down at her dress and robe. She knows sorry little of this culture, unfortunately. ]

Mayhap an Eastern princess. Or a traveling seamstress, seeing the world for it's beauties and discovering the finest of silks to bring home.

Seamstress Anne sounds the more interesting of the two.

[Because fuck royalty.]

It is not as outstanding a thought as one might first assume. I had best get back to work as soon as the festivities are over, then, for a lone woman must work thrice as hard for her fortune and safety.

Aye. But make the right friends and you might not have to worry too much about safety. [In the physical sense.]

[ Her smile is as vague as her gaze for the moment, taking another sip before responding. ]

All friends become enemies. Even the Seamstress has learned her lessons well.