This is the legendary Grand Foyer of Beckett Manor. Coats have been shed and guests have been greeted. This is the area for those more interested in conversation than dining or dancing. A place for the peacocks to preen without mussing their hair with the effort dancing requires or their face with food or drink. Even for those accustomed to opulence, the scene is breathtaking. Not that there has ever been a year where the Beckett Gala has spared any expense, but this year, in particular, the young hostess seems to have gone all out. There are caterers circling the foyer with trays of champagne for the older guests and sparkling cider for the designated drivers and younger guests.

There's a string quartet playing softly, and as the night goes on, the center of the room fills with couples dancing. Decorations adorn the walls and banisters of the grand staircase. There is a room off the side for younger children or those who aren't ready to deal with so many people (family member NPCs you don't feel like RPing the entire time). There also happen to be ice sculptures of swans that are enchanted to gracefully fly about the room. All in all, the ball is the epitome of luxury.

{Outfits - Art & References}

___The opportunity to attend a gala had become something of a scarcity for the Dralt family.
It was not a matter of inadequate authenticity, nor was it due to a lack of connections. Their shipping company, which specialized in the transportation of magical and exotic wares, enjoyed a steady success. Their lack of invitations was certainly not due to an ill-repute regarding manners; this was a family possessing qualities which straddled the line between antiquity and modernity, a cooperation of traditional etiquette and contemporary sensibility. Like many purebloods, they gave the impression of a people cut from another time and superimposed upon the present, particularly with their eclectic appearances and heirloom comportments. Any ostracism towards the well-mannered, well-to-do name was hardly based upon some social crime they had committed. It could be credited to the fact that the lord of this household was a member of the undead.

Now, that was not to say that Isaac Dralt succumbed to his separation from society, hermiting himself away. He was, however, painstakingly polite with the matter of his presence. He would not be seen flashing his fangs about, nor sipping suspicious contents from a gothic goblet, or any other sort of dramatics. His claws were carefully concealed in a set of silk gloves, and he did not shed his sherwani for servants. Instead of allowing himself to be attended, he behaved as his son's shadow, silently ghosting behind Pericles. This was, after all, something of a debut. Everything had changed since his completion of one year at Hogwarts. Where before the family business was something he saw from the outside, it was now incorporated into his life on a near daily basis. His father conducted lessons on trade routes, relayed information on maintenance or alterations to their vessels, and ensured Pericles internalized this information by springing questions on him throughout the day.

In preparation for official occasions, the heir had been tasked to study their heritage. He was provided a locked tome documenting the lives and accomplishments of his ancestors. It was expected that Pericles comprehend the lineage leading up to his birth, the means by which they thrived in modern times, and what roll he would play in the fleet's future. It was an awful lot for a twelve-year-old to be carrying around in his head. He had just begun embracing the fundamentals of his magical heritage over the past year, learning to cast magic, fly a broom, and making friends for the first time. "Overwhelming" didn't quite cover it. But he had a responsibility, and he wasn't about to lose it all over a gala. Not if he could help it, at least.

Mind swirling with rehearsed lines, standards of etiquette, and many a distracting disruption- how many students would he recognize here? had any of his friends arrived? would he be allowed to go play socialize?- Pericles paused in the entryway. Having handed their brooms off to an attendant, Isaac rejoined him, curling a set of eerily long fingers over one of the boy's golden epaulets. Peri peered up. The strange duo did not speak, though the lord gave a slow encouraging nod, and at that the boy managed a strained smile. They seemed to have an objective in mind, for with that they cut a decisive trail towards the main event.

Exiting to the Ballroom.

Entrance Post

It was rare, he thought, that he went anywhere with his parents.

Alexander Baron stood half a step behind Emerys and Silvia, standing tall in the space left between them. His shoulder were square, soft smile already planted on his face, but his mind swirled with a whirlwind of thoughts.

In all honesty, there was no need for them here. Alexander was fully capable of handling something as mundane as a gala himself. In fact, if they hadn't come, he could've avoid the trip around London his mother insisted on taking and bruising his toes on one too many unleveled streets. He could've spent considerably less time sweating in a suit jacket and fitted pants. He could've entered through the Floo Network like a normal wix instead of walking up to the door like a heathen. That was what his uncle would've done. It was what they ought to be doing. But no, here he was sandwiched between them, electric blues fixed on the door before them. It was getting very hard not to sigh. Ah, well, nothing he could do about their presence.

With that in mind, he stepped through the threshold. Drinks, music, ice swans. How typical. How boring. Alexander strode through the foyer, mindful to keep just behind his parents. He was nothing but the model child after all, well-mannered and loving. The smile on his face sat unwavering, even as his critical eyes roved around the room. The decor in itself was... fine, he supposed. He could live with the gaudiness—it was some display of wealth, he figured, and there was nothing inherently wrong with flaunting what one had. Still, there could've been an effort to make it more—lively.

He'd thought the young heir of the Beckett manor would impress him. Evidently, he'd been wrong.

A few minutes of standing and fraternizing and Alexander was already bored. If he wanted to do this, he could've done it at any gala in the world. And he could've done it without his parents, smiling and laughing and oh so fake. People were so easy to please sometimes. Could no one see the tightness of his father's jaw, the unnatural twist of his mother's body? Could no one catch the way their eyes flicked about, calculating and cautious? Alexander could hardly suppress a scoff. Truly, if they were trying to put up a front, they ought to try harder. Someone might catch them. But then, nobles were idiots.

He smiled gently at the woman who greeted him, tilting his head in her direction. She cooed, patting him on the shoulder and praising him for something or other. He thanked her with a tinkling laugh, eyes soft as she departed. Complete and utter fools.

Alexander ran a hand backward through his hair. If he was to stand here the entire night, could the music at least be decent? He could play far better than this, and he was only thirteen. He expected more out of trained professionals, something complex, something—

—his eyes drifted towards the small trickle of guests heading to another room. Hmm? Was there another room to this infernal gala? Alexander smiled, bright and wide. Maybe that would actually be worth his time.

"Father, if it's quite alright, I'd like to go off on my own," he spoke, cutting neatly into a break in his father's conversation. His eyes flicked over to the other doors, suggestive in their nature. Emerys Baron gave him an unreadable look and then smiled, a perfect mirror of his son.

"Of course," he nodded, turning back to his partner as he smiled, "Children must have their fun, after all." Alexander bowed along with this assessment and left as quickly as dignity would allow him. Children. Truly. He smiled, cold and cruel under his pearly whites. Now this would be fun.

Roleplaying as Beauxbatons iNPC

Interacting with: Nobody in particular
Mentioning: Alexander Baron @Mars T'ien
Status: Open for Interaction!

English: #6C4971
French: #AE989A
German: #5A7189
Mandarin: 2A3C54

Post tracker: [x]

Viola entered the ballroom with one of her parents on each side of her. On her right stood her father, formally dressed with a black bow tie and golden shirt studs and cufflinks. On her left was her mother, dressed in a floor-length pink dress, golden hairpin along her naturally ombre hair. Viola herself was dressed in an elegant purple dress, golden ankle tie shoes and golden lipgloss.

The Tempetes always had an air of superiority and elegance surrounding them; in many events, this made them intimidating. In this event, it made them normal. Although Viola often enjoyed large events such as these, this one gave her a bad feeling. She had to make sure her face did not show it. The only sign of emotion on her face was a polite and formal smile and mild disinterest as her eyes scanned the room.

Soon after their arrival, a caterer approached with glasses of champagne and cider. Her mother and father both accepted their glasses, her mother looking insincerely sweet and her father formal and cold, as per usual. Once the caterer approached her, slightly bowing to get at eye level- which was infantilizing and made Viola want to vomit- she smiled formally, continuing looking directly ahead to assert status and superiority, as was appropriate and spoke.

"I would rather not, although I thank you for the offer."

I thank you for the offer? It was sparkling cider, and she was not uncultured. She kept herself from rolling her eyes as the caterer shrugged slightly and left to bother some other poor family.

Soon, Viola spotted someone she actually recognised, for a change, out of something other than previously studied family records. Alexander Baron, in the flesh. She supposed it was not surprising he was here. She watched as he spoke to two adults nearby him, those who Viola presumed to be his parents, and took his leave into a different room. As much as Viola was enjoying condescending caterers thrice her age and acting all high and mighty, she would certainly enjoy a conversation with someone closer to her age.

"Father, Mother, may I please excuse myself to what appears to be a ballroom?"

At that, her mother and father exchanged silent glances, and finally her mother spoke.

"If you must. It is not as if you are putting yourself to much use here."

Viola bowed her head respectfully to her parents and began making her way into the room.

Perhaps this night did not have to turn out so dull.

Action: Exiting the Grand Foyer into the Ballroom

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Open to Interactions
Post Tracker: X
Bolded Text: French | Regular Text: English | Color: #BF4040

New Year's Eve was finally here, and Florian and his parents entered the Beckett Manor in a grandiose fashion. Father and son were both wearing rather loud golden velvety suits, and the mother was in a floor-length fitted gold gown. Quite the trio. Florian, of course, didn't realize they were going to match. How old was he? Four? His parents always coddled their youngest son, including forcing him into going to this ball, while all four of his older brothers were out enjoying the festivities with their own friends. To make matters worse, he wasn't even sure if he knew anyone at this ball. He didn't even have a date, as he was accustomed to having. Now he would have to follow along after his parents like the doting little puppy-dog son he was to them.

They entered, handed the staff their large winter coats and brooms, and stepped into the center of the magnificent grand foyer. His father immediately spotted someone he knew and strode off to begin the idle chit chatter that adults tended to make. 'Ugh. Time to follow after them.' He hoped that this night would end quickly. Florian was about to start heading after his father when his mother turned to step in front of him and said, "Ah, my petit garcon, run along now and make some new friends! Your Papa and I have some business to discuss." She bent over and gave Florian a kiss on the cheek, smiled, and headed off after her husband, no doubt preparing to talk about the family's extensive horse racing empire.

However... that meant Florian was left alone. In this huge manor, knowing... most likely no-one. 'Perfect.' He thought to himself as he rolled his eyes. He managed to flag down one of the caterers to grab a glass of cider, hoping it would make him look more sophisticated... as well less lonely. He stood for a moment to watch the string quartet as he debated on the best course of action. The Beckett's were known for their beautiful garden, but he knew there was a large ballroom as well. Perhaps he could find a way to blend in there?

He quickly squeezed through the crowd, his glass of cider in his hand, and made his way into the ballroom.

Action: Exiting the Grand Foyer into the Ballroom.
Stats: Stamina: 5 - Evasion: 7 - Strength: 4 - Wisdom: 9 - Arcane: 4 - Accuracy: 6
Abilities: Foulplay

Entrance Post

Cade Darkbound was dreading coming to this evening's gala. It was a whole entire different feeling being outside of Hogwarts and seeing some fellow students. For one Cade made a lot of strange relationships with the pureblood students in his year. And he would hate to see how those individuals would react to himself and his parents. So the Darkbounds arrived into the foyer of this grand venue. Cade was impressed with the decor and opulence of it all, living in a humble townhouse could do that to a pureblood wizard.

Cade followed his parent's example and tried to look well mannered and groomed. It wasn't hard, he already was a decent and polite wizard. His mother, Peggy, kept messing with his hair making sure his bangs weren't too wild. Cade wished she would leave him be. He had to somehow get away from her as soon as he could. Cade wished he could be at home snuggled up in a blanket with a nice book. He didn't like dressing up fancy and he didn't know much about dancing. He knew he should be at the very least thankful for the invitation. Not everyone got to attend these sorts of events. Cade would easily have switched places with some of his friends just for the evening. Although he dreaded his existence at the moment, Cade was curious to see who else was here. Pulling his parents along, Cade and the Darkbounds exited the foyer and came into the ballroom.

Action: Exiting the foyer, Entering the ballroom

The young @Pericles Dralt and his father enter, a pair that is is seldom seen at events such as this. Without exchanging a word of mindless small talk, the pair moves to the ballroom. Next enters Alexander Baron(@Mars T'ien), accompanied by his parents. He is less than impressed, especially as his companions begin to engage in the aforementioned mindless small talk. He too continues to the ballroom. The next family to grace the foyer is the Tempetes, with an air of elegance and perfection. Viola Tempetes (@Autumn Ivy) has an interesting interaction with a particularly moronic caterer, before also departing for the main event. The next group is hard to miss, with their blindly golden suits and gown. Florian (@Starlee Kennedy) opts to break up the matching set and makes his way to the ballroom. The final group to enter within the first hour of the Gala is the Darkbounds. Unlike some of the previous guests, @Cade Darkbound sticks with his family as they enter the lions' den.

The gentle ebb and flow of chatter is disturbed for a moment by the sounds of the majestic clock near the doorway, notifying everyone around that it is now 8 pm, already an hour since the gala commenced. Caterers glide about the room, offering an entirely new selection of hors d'oeuvres and drinks.

Round Actions
@Pericles Dralt moves to the Ballroom.
@Mars T'ien (as Alexander Baron) moves to the Ballroom.
@Autumn Ivy (as Viola Tempete) moves to the Ballroom.
@Starlee Kennedy (as Florian Yves LeRoy) moves to the Ballroom.
@Cade Darkbound moves to the Ballroom.

No one of any importance enters in the next hour, nor does anything particularly worthy of remark occur. An observer might notice the hostess's aunt and uncle looking spectacularly uncomfortable as though they believe it ought not to be a fourteen year old hosting such a party, but of course, they wouldn't say so. A few caterers pause to appreciate how callipygian some of the Beckett statues are, but all in all, nothing truly important happened between the hours of eight and nine. At least, not in the Grand Foyer.

Once more, the gentle ebb and flow of chatter is disturbed for a moment by the sounds of the majestic clock near the doorway, notifying everyone around that it is now 9 pm, already an hour since the gala commenced. Caterers glide about the room, offering an entirely new selection of hors d'oeuvres and drinks. Any remaining light from the sun has long vanished, not that anyone would notice from the inside of the brightly lit manor. Most of the caterers seem to have migrated to the ballroom or kitchen, so the foyer, save for a few, is rather empty at the moment. All of this is a spectacularly verbose way to say - nothing happened.

Round Actions
N/A

Another hour has passed with nothing remarkable in the foyer. It is now 10 pm.

Round Actions
N/A

| @Xailah Alptraum |
Arriving from the Ballroom

After absorbing his very first cup of coffee, Pericles was being rolled about by a tumbling sea of symptoms. His eyes darted, pulse pounded, fingers twitched, speech prattled. The boy had been launched out of his typical sleepy state, invigorated to dangerous degrees of caffeination. His cordial composition was dashed, and in its place, that rush of thoughts and feelings he often did so well to hide was now running away with him. He snorted again, an unattractive albeit boyish sound, when his good friend commented on the height of his parent. "I would be in terrible trouble if father was any taller," Pericles speculated. "He is six-foot-three, and mother is five-foot-three. I hardly know a thing about her parents, but taking the Dralt genes into account, I've estimated I will grow to be somewhere between five-foot-nine and six feet tall. Any taller, and I would be susceptible to those tedious jokes about weather which the heightier portion of the population must endure."

Heightier. Was it a word? It pinged off of the tongue with ease, so if it wasn't, it should have been. He was enjoying talking. There was a great deal which letters simply couldn't say, and he had been quiet since the break began, partially for fear of slipping and telling his parents precisely what death-defying feats he and his schoolmates had performed. Now his friend was here, someone privy to all of said secrets. He could tell her anything, and so, he told her everything at once. Naturally, Xailah needed clarification in the wake of his ramble, though the trouble was, he had forgotten what all was said. Those thoughts and revelations had been thrown about like leaflets. He didn't have the concentration to go gather them up again, and so scrunched his nose in a visible effort to remember the most significant morsels. Slowly this time, if a bit breathlessly, Pericles reiterated while he walked: "Well, we flew here from Plymouth... and Opeila Winters is my cousin!"

A bright smiled was flashed. "By technicality, my great-great grandmother Evangeline was the sister of Opeila's great grandmother, Sandra, which is to say she is my third cousin once removed. D'you think she will allow me to call her 'cousin'?" The smile was diminishing for something more fretful. "When will I know it's alright to? Maybe I ought to stick with 'Opeila', in the case that she doesn't want to be obligated to uphold any sort of familial familiarity. We Dralts are meant to place a principal on aiding all relations. That's what this means-" he jabbed a finger to the family crest sewn onto his vest pocket, "-Speramus in Sanguinem, We Trust in the Blood. It's all something to do with a feud between two of my ancestors, who realized their mistakes and willed that their heirs would never fight amongst each other again." Abruptly aware of an earthy aftertaste, Pericles stopped speaking long enough to scrape his tongue against the roof of his mouth, then declared with some annoyance: "Dreadfully hot here. Another drink?"

There wasn't any blatant reason as to why he found the foyer uncomfortable. There was nearly no traffic now, save for a family or two loitering on the sidelines, as the bulk of the party now populated the ballroom. Attendants gathered outerware at the door, others transferred food and drink between the kitchen and what looked like a sort of children's lounge. Xailah claimed Pericles had already enjoyed enough drink, and capped the comment with a pet name. He puffed a small sound of amusement, snickering "'Nibblet'" under his breath, only to consider her comment with a quirked frown. The hand to his arm at least made him slow then stop. He patted it with a palm, both comforting and dismissing, trying to insist all was well before tugging at his collar to alleviate heat. "Hostess' Choice," the heir explained, turning to talk eye-to-eye, now trying to look firm; "which was, in Lady Anastasia's instance, coffee. Now I feel as though my heart is a little bird fluttering about a cage. I should like another cup, but all at once, I should like never to drink it agai- look!"

The word was blurted in a burp of volume as Pericles pointed over Xailah's shoulder. One of the animated ice swans, which had enchanted him entirely, had drifted down and- as if gracefully landing on a tranquil pond- glided on its belly across the floor at the edge of the entryway. With all the intensity of a solider rallying his comrade for a race across the battlefield, the eaglette reached past the hand holding his sleeve, cupping the cub's elbow with a wildly serious stare. "Xailah: if this night ends without we two seizing an opportunity to examine an enchanted ice sculpture, I'm afraid our entire evening will have been wasted."

Action: Absolutely zooming.