A Holiday Celebration (Open)

Posted Jan. 13, 2019, 9:46 p.m. by Civilian Isaria zh’Thavos (Head of Education and Culture) (Trinity Fister)

Posted by Civilian Halai Cosgrove (Head of Science and Terraforming) in A Holiday Celebration (Open)

Posted by Civilian Isaria zh’Thavos (Head of Education and Culture) in A Holiday Celebration (Open)

Posted by Civilian Isaria zh’Thavos (Head of Education and Culture) in A Holiday Celebration (Open)
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!

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!

  • Aaron Purr. ]

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

It wasn’t a holiday she celebrated much, but Halai did have fond memories from the few times she had celebrated it with her Human grandparents during the Dominion War. She wasn’t able to on the ship with her father then, so he had sent her to Papua New Guinea to stay with his parents. There was something amusing about her English grandfather decorating a small wanga palm with garlands and small ornaments. Her grandmother thought it slightly ridiculous but Halai always thought she really did like it in her own way.

When her slider arrived, Halai moved to the door, juggling the dish in her hands carefully as she reached for the chime. She surprised herself by her wanting to actually go, but again nostalgia could be a good thing and she had had far too much of it lately that was quite the opposite. Time to shake things up. Her mass of corkscrew curls was twisted in small sections across her scalp and secured loosely with with a jewelled clip. Going the opposite of the Terran holiday theme and bringing a dose of Tyrellia to the party, she was dressed in a long silk dress that looked hand dyed with the dark blues, purples and greens creating a watercolour effect on the silver background. An elbow length black cape made of delicate shajvel wool covered her shoulders for warmth and wasn’t so long as to interfere with the pan of spiced cake she carried as her contribution to the feast.

She could only hope she wasn’t late, but the likelihood of that was small. Even away from a starship and shifts, the former Starfleet officer maintained a promptness that likely would never fade.

~Halai Cosgrove

For a woman who never had a true sense of time, ‘late’ didn’t appear in her dictionary. Isaria was much too busy tending to her tenacious feline, who was playing hard to get, than to be worrying about when people would be arriving. Pausing beside the threshold of the doorway that led to her bedroom, she rolled her eyes, brushing a strand of long, curled hair from her face. That very feline, perched atop the duvet which covered the comforter within, held a bracelet within his jaws, seeming to glare at her from his lair.

“Mister, you are in for some trouble,” She muttered, stepping forwards, gauging just how jumpy Aaron would be. Noticing how he didn’t move, she crept forwards, eyes narrowed just like that of her feline companion’s. Making her way to the bed, the cat stared her down, the bracelet secure between his teeth. Reaching forwards, in effort to snatch the cat, he scampered off, quicker than her Andorian reflexes could catch.

Sighing, she heard the chime and realized she no longer had the time to spare, chasing the feline around the house like some kind of Andorian gone mad. Throwing her hands up, she let it go, figuring she would find the bracelet turn up under a mat or behind a pillow, one of the coming days. Straightening non-existent wrinkles, Isaria ordered the lights to dim, as she descended the stairs, back to the communal level of her Villa. Hoping she wasn’t leaving the guest in the conditions for too long, she hurried to the door. “Coming!” She called, in effort to reassure the guest they hadn’t been forgotten.

Reaching the door, she tugged it open, wearing the smile that would seem odd upon the face of any Andorian, if they hadn’t been Thavos. “Hello!” She stood before the door, making room for Halai to step through the threshold, “Sorry about the wait,” She hummed, a sheepishness settling over her, for a few brief seconds.


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