Post by Soren Forberg on Dec 8, 2011 23:42:29 GMT -5
((Screw exams I'm in a Christmas-y mood so here's a lil somethin' somethin' we can fool around with I'm sure ))
'You have been cordially invited to Windfall Manor on the eve of December 22nd for an evening of festivities and friends. Rooms will be provided for any who wish to stay the night. I hope to see you there and I give you my fondest well wishes for the holiday season.
Regards,
Soren Forberg'
~
Windfall Manor was alive in a way it never had been before.
A testament to the grand celebrations that were once held at the ancestral home of the Forbergs on the Kanto mainland the grand estate was decked to the nines in what most were calling Soren Forberg's oddest flight of fancy in years. The wrought iron gates that barred the front of the property were festooned with lights and garland, making the cold metal barrier look far less intimidating than it normally did. The lawns were covered by a blanket of snow, as were the peaked roofs of the manor, giving it a very fairytale like exterior as more of the white stuff continued floating down from the sky. The massive Victorian estate had lost much of its imposing air, exchanging it for a joyous atmosphere never seen before. Every window was glittering with light, the columned porch was wreathed with lights and garlands and cheerful chatter floated down over the grounds. Rapidash drawn carriages and sleighs were the most favoured means of transportation tonight, steadily clopping up the drive to pause before the grand double doors where a servant dressed in a fine gilded coat would greet guests and lead them inside whilst the cabman drove the carriage off.
The interior of the manor was even more festive if possible. Wreaths, garlands, lights, holly boughs and mistletoe were in abundance. The main foyer was filled with elegantly dressed people chatting to each other, greeting old friends before drifting off to the parlours and sitting rooms or going through the main hall to the small ballroom like area where a small ensemble were playing jazzy Christmas tunes and a few bolder guests were already up and dancing.
Soren Forberg stood at the top of the grand staircase, hands on clasped behind his back as he glared at his long time friend and retainer Nathaniel was enjoying himself immensely, dressed to the nines and looking every inch the stoic head butler he was directing servants left and right whilst cheekily pinning up mistletoe in every available spot. “Nathaniel I told you to stop hanging up that dratted stuff! It's in every bloody doorway!”
“But Sir, it's tradition!” Nathaniel fired back with a good natured smile that became wholly mischievous when he dangled it above his head and a young maid passing by kissed the old butler on the cheek with a giggle before returning to her work. “And it's quite a lot of fun.”
“For you may be,” Soren chuckled. “Just keep working, everything is going splendidly. I haven't seen you wear that coat since I was a lad.”
“It's a special occasion Sir,” Nathaniel grinned. “And you look rather dashing yourself Master Forberg – now if you'll excuse me I need to talk to the cooks about sending out more hors d'oeuvres. Oh before I go I should tell you, the mainland family has arrived, so have the Rommels, the Rathbones, the Stricklands and the Mastersons.”
“And what of Professor Verity? Tobias Clark or Ignus Draco?”
“Not here yet I'm afraid, but the night is still young, plenty of time and before you ask, yes we've posted guards at the gate to keep out those pesky reporters. Now if you'll excuse me I have to light a fire beneath our cooks I think!”
Soren chuckled as he watched his longtime friend descend the staircase and vanish out of sight. He didn't know about dashing, but given the occasion he had broken out his more formal garb. A knee-length coat of hunter green with heavy silver braiding and embroidery was worn over a crisp white shirt and waistcoat of the finest black brocade topped off with a deep wine red cravat, black trousers and polished riding boots. The gentleman gym leader caught sight of his reflection in a gleaming shield on the wall and chuckled. His daughter had insisted upon helping him pick out what to wear this evening and to complete the look, as she'd called it, she had woven in a bright sprig of holly into the silk bindings that tied his long sliver hair back. “I look mad as a march hare!” he laughed as he descended the stairs in time to greet his cousin and her family. “Rosie! So glad you could make it.”
“Well I'll be, the rumours are true – you really have gone moony this winter!” Rosalind Simmons laughed as she and her cousin shared a tight embrace. “You haven't called me Rosie since we were kids!”
“What can I say? I'm in the spirit of the season,” the master of the manor replied with a broad wink as he looked down at the twins. “Sarra's in the west wing parlour if you're looking for her.”
The two children beamed and immediately took off amidst the quiet laughter of the adults. Rosalind looked around her with an expression of awe. “Soren this place is amazing! You really did a fantastic job! By Lugia it looks just like old Fenmoor Manor at Christmastime.”
“It looks like home for a change,” Soren said with a rueful smile. “I'll catch up with the two of you later – Rosie I demand at least one dance from you this evening!”
“And you shall have it after I raid your stash of Pinot Noir!” she giggled as she linked arms with her husband and disappeared into the gaggle of people. Soren chuckled and shook his head.
“She's right I am completely mad,” he laughed as he went to greet more of his guests. “Sophie Belcher I haven't seen you in years! Andrew pleasure to see you again old boy, I do hope you'll be in town for a while. Bethany Oxford you little Hellion get over here!...”
((aaaand anyone's free to enter, a Gala at Windfall is generally a pretty public event lol ))
'You have been cordially invited to Windfall Manor on the eve of December 22nd for an evening of festivities and friends. Rooms will be provided for any who wish to stay the night. I hope to see you there and I give you my fondest well wishes for the holiday season.
Regards,
Soren Forberg'
~
Windfall Manor was alive in a way it never had been before.
A testament to the grand celebrations that were once held at the ancestral home of the Forbergs on the Kanto mainland the grand estate was decked to the nines in what most were calling Soren Forberg's oddest flight of fancy in years. The wrought iron gates that barred the front of the property were festooned with lights and garland, making the cold metal barrier look far less intimidating than it normally did. The lawns were covered by a blanket of snow, as were the peaked roofs of the manor, giving it a very fairytale like exterior as more of the white stuff continued floating down from the sky. The massive Victorian estate had lost much of its imposing air, exchanging it for a joyous atmosphere never seen before. Every window was glittering with light, the columned porch was wreathed with lights and garlands and cheerful chatter floated down over the grounds. Rapidash drawn carriages and sleighs were the most favoured means of transportation tonight, steadily clopping up the drive to pause before the grand double doors where a servant dressed in a fine gilded coat would greet guests and lead them inside whilst the cabman drove the carriage off.
The interior of the manor was even more festive if possible. Wreaths, garlands, lights, holly boughs and mistletoe were in abundance. The main foyer was filled with elegantly dressed people chatting to each other, greeting old friends before drifting off to the parlours and sitting rooms or going through the main hall to the small ballroom like area where a small ensemble were playing jazzy Christmas tunes and a few bolder guests were already up and dancing.
Soren Forberg stood at the top of the grand staircase, hands on clasped behind his back as he glared at his long time friend and retainer Nathaniel was enjoying himself immensely, dressed to the nines and looking every inch the stoic head butler he was directing servants left and right whilst cheekily pinning up mistletoe in every available spot. “Nathaniel I told you to stop hanging up that dratted stuff! It's in every bloody doorway!”
“But Sir, it's tradition!” Nathaniel fired back with a good natured smile that became wholly mischievous when he dangled it above his head and a young maid passing by kissed the old butler on the cheek with a giggle before returning to her work. “And it's quite a lot of fun.”
“For you may be,” Soren chuckled. “Just keep working, everything is going splendidly. I haven't seen you wear that coat since I was a lad.”
“It's a special occasion Sir,” Nathaniel grinned. “And you look rather dashing yourself Master Forberg – now if you'll excuse me I need to talk to the cooks about sending out more hors d'oeuvres. Oh before I go I should tell you, the mainland family has arrived, so have the Rommels, the Rathbones, the Stricklands and the Mastersons.”
“And what of Professor Verity? Tobias Clark or Ignus Draco?”
“Not here yet I'm afraid, but the night is still young, plenty of time and before you ask, yes we've posted guards at the gate to keep out those pesky reporters. Now if you'll excuse me I have to light a fire beneath our cooks I think!”
Soren chuckled as he watched his longtime friend descend the staircase and vanish out of sight. He didn't know about dashing, but given the occasion he had broken out his more formal garb. A knee-length coat of hunter green with heavy silver braiding and embroidery was worn over a crisp white shirt and waistcoat of the finest black brocade topped off with a deep wine red cravat, black trousers and polished riding boots. The gentleman gym leader caught sight of his reflection in a gleaming shield on the wall and chuckled. His daughter had insisted upon helping him pick out what to wear this evening and to complete the look, as she'd called it, she had woven in a bright sprig of holly into the silk bindings that tied his long sliver hair back. “I look mad as a march hare!” he laughed as he descended the stairs in time to greet his cousin and her family. “Rosie! So glad you could make it.”
“Well I'll be, the rumours are true – you really have gone moony this winter!” Rosalind Simmons laughed as she and her cousin shared a tight embrace. “You haven't called me Rosie since we were kids!”
“What can I say? I'm in the spirit of the season,” the master of the manor replied with a broad wink as he looked down at the twins. “Sarra's in the west wing parlour if you're looking for her.”
The two children beamed and immediately took off amidst the quiet laughter of the adults. Rosalind looked around her with an expression of awe. “Soren this place is amazing! You really did a fantastic job! By Lugia it looks just like old Fenmoor Manor at Christmastime.”
“It looks like home for a change,” Soren said with a rueful smile. “I'll catch up with the two of you later – Rosie I demand at least one dance from you this evening!”
“And you shall have it after I raid your stash of Pinot Noir!” she giggled as she linked arms with her husband and disappeared into the gaggle of people. Soren chuckled and shook his head.
“She's right I am completely mad,” he laughed as he went to greet more of his guests. “Sophie Belcher I haven't seen you in years! Andrew pleasure to see you again old boy, I do hope you'll be in town for a while. Bethany Oxford you little Hellion get over here!...”
((aaaand anyone's free to enter, a Gala at Windfall is generally a pretty public event lol ))