Posted Dec. 25, 2018, 7:07 p.m. by Civilian Isaria zh’Thavos (Head of Education and Culture) (Trin S)
OOC: This isn’t intended as a real sim, simply something a little festive for the season. All are welcome! And to those who celebrate, Merry Christmas!
IC:
Parties. Isaria had never been the kind of girl to care much about them. Then again, who was she to pass up decorations and a good amount of baking? Okay, yes. It was a bit weird seeing an Andorian put together gingerbread and masterfully fail at the production of their houses.
Although, it was all a matter of experience for the woman who found herself almost to the point of obsession with the culture of various planets. Perhaps it was the anthropologist in her, or maybe it was just the vast curosity she had somehow bestowed upon herself.. It didn’t much matter. Regardless of her own cultural background, she knew a good number of the occupants (whom she was aquainted with) were human, or celebrated winter holidays. What better way to embrace the diversity than with a gathering?
Determined to make this a good one, she sent out invitations to a fair number of people that resided on OED.
[ *Dear OED resident,
You are hereby invited to a festive gathering at Ms. Isaria’s residence; this Saturday, at 5pm. Feel free to being food or drink, but you’re only required to have fun!
The address and other information will be attached below. We hope to see you soon!
The signature of her cat was not originally intended. Although, with a great deal of pestering while writing up the invites, she decided it would be a little fun to have him on the invitation, rather than her. Not to mention, he was a rather adorable creature, and he looked ravishing in the bow she had plopped on his head.
With less than an hour to spare before people would, hopefully, be arriving, Isaria was racing to make certain that everything was perfect. Well, close enough to it. Her vila was decorated with various implications of the festive seasons, from small ornaments hanging in various patterns upon the wall, to the garland that lines her counters and railings (which Aaron had found a blast to toy with).
She knew, however, many of the humans might have been accustomed to a tree, as a sign of the festivity in the air. While it was a last minute revelation, she managed to pull it together and simply decorated one of her plants, placing it on a slim table in the middle of her living room, right before a large window overlooking the backyard.
Adjusting one of its many leaves, Thavos grinned, tapping an oranament, the distortion of her reflection eliciting a small laugh. She couldn’t remember much of anything about her childhood, so a part of her was enjoying this for that child she never recalled being.
Beep! The sound shook her from her thoughts. Rubbing the back of her neck, she pressed her hands against her knees, rising up to her feet. Humming to herself, she found her way through the living room, up the steps and into the kitchen, where the oven whined at her to remove the contents inside. Grabbing hotmits, she slid open the oven, pulling out the casserole dish which bore prime rib.
It was the last of her items to finish cooking, leaving an assortment of foods plated upon the large island in the center of her kitchen. From human cheesecake to roasted Andorian redbat, she had an assortment of cultures put together to form a buffet of diveristy for any of the people who decided to come.
It had cost her a night’s worth of sleep, and she couldn’t ensure that everything tasted good, but it pleased Thavos to know she had been able to contribute to the holiday season in one way or another. Sliding the caserole dish onto a small rack, just in between the roasted asparagus and brussles medley and the Plomeek soup, she ran a quick inventory of what she had.
Satisfied, the tired Andorian tossed the hotmits into the sink, rubbing her face in disappointment, when she realized there was still a pan filled to the brim with water. “Well, they needed to be washed, anyways.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, untying the apron that hung about her waist. Tossing it into the washroom, as she passed, she headed to climb the stairs, which led to her bedroom. She had to get ready, before people showed up to the house of a woman covered in flour, and a wide assortment of several different spices and juices.
Within thirty minutes, Isaria had managed to clean herself up, pulling on a slim-fit, pearl toned dress, which matched the frost of her hair. Curled locks hanging about her shoulders, onyx earrings were only just visible through it, accompanying in necklace which hung about her cerulean neck. Brushing the feigned wrinkles from the hem of her dress, she descended the stairs, keeping a close eye on the famous hiding spots of her feline companion. Checking the chronometer, she knew she had only a few minutes to spare.
“Time to pop out the wine,” She laughed to herself, heading directly for the fridge, where a few bottles rested. Perhaps she was the most Andorian of Andorians, but at least she had their same keen taste for alcohol.
Isaria Thavos
Head of Culture
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