Post by Erin Caulfield on Jul 18, 2017 20:24:27 GMT
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there's an old man sitting on the throne that's saying
that i should probably keep my pretty mouth shut
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The augete already knew her way around the place and knew she was free to wander as she saw fit, but the same could not be said about the rest of the Leviathan witches invited to Erin's apartment to prepare for the Silverwing Gala later that night. To be fair, it hadn't even been the enchantress herself who issued the invitation. It had been all Cass. But Erin was willing to let her best friend's failure to ask for her permission beforehand slide, if only because there was already a silent mutual agreement that they had to do each other's makeup and help each other with their dresses. What did it matter if there were two or three or an entire coven to add on top of them?
The foyer isn't long and it takes newcomers straight into her kitchen slash living slash dining room. She hardly thinks anybody needs to be guided to the half moon of couches in the middle of the wide room, but she supposes she ought to at least see them in for propriety's sake. Or—well, not really, considering the first words to come out of her mouth are no greeting, but rather a "What do you think?" that referred to her raven locks. They're just a couple of tones darker than her natural color, which perhaps Cass and Juls may remember from their MU days, though it would likely come as a surprise to anyone who had only seen her purple and pink hair until now.
Outside, the sun's still at its highest. Its light shines down upon a clothes rack, positioned farther inside, through the apartment's floor-to-ceiling glass windows. From this rack hangs a variety of shirts and skirts and suits and dresses that Erin specifically commissioned for the gala from her dear friend, weaver and designer extraordinaire Leila Gerges. As well as a few extras.
It's a quarter past ten
when Erin hears a knock on the door, and proceeds to completely ignore it. Her front door was enchanted to open automatically for her guests, but her newly dyed hair wouldn't dry by itself. A couple of incantations are mouthed in the meantime. Clearly, the enchantress had her priorities as straight as her hair. She stares for a good five seconds at her reflection on the mirror, before leaving the comfort of her bathroom to replace it for the foyer, where she expects to see a small group of witches waiting. She goes an extra step out of her way to pass by the studio, without forgetting to give a pointed look to the desk on which Cass had found those telling pictures of Dmitri Wisbane. They were gone today.The augete already knew her way around the place and knew she was free to wander as she saw fit, but the same could not be said about the rest of the Leviathan witches invited to Erin's apartment to prepare for the Silverwing Gala later that night. To be fair, it hadn't even been the enchantress herself who issued the invitation. It had been all Cass. But Erin was willing to let her best friend's failure to ask for her permission beforehand slide, if only because there was already a silent mutual agreement that they had to do each other's makeup and help each other with their dresses. What did it matter if there were two or three or an entire coven to add on top of them?
The foyer isn't long and it takes newcomers straight into her kitchen slash living slash dining room. She hardly thinks anybody needs to be guided to the half moon of couches in the middle of the wide room, but she supposes she ought to at least see them in for propriety's sake. Or—well, not really, considering the first words to come out of her mouth are no greeting, but rather a "What do you think?" that referred to her raven locks. They're just a couple of tones darker than her natural color, which perhaps Cass and Juls may remember from their MU days, though it would likely come as a surprise to anyone who had only seen her purple and pink hair until now.
Outside, the sun's still at its highest. Its light shines down upon a clothes rack, positioned farther inside, through the apartment's floor-to-ceiling glass windows. From this rack hangs a variety of shirts and skirts and suits and dresses that Erin specifically commissioned for the gala from her dear friend, weaver and designer extraordinaire Leila Gerges. As well as a few extras.
