Toga Party

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

Atop a long table in one corner of the bar sits a row of punch bowls containing ladles and various cocktails: from margarita to plain screwdriver. These are accompanied by several bowls of ice, some containing various bottles of beer. There are stacks of plastic glasses, paper plates, napkins, and a large pile of ivy wreaths at one end. The drinks are buffet-style at this party, so help yourself.

There are plates scattered over the residual tables in the area, some overflowing with huge bunches of grapes, others containing savory fare such as chicken legs, hunks of bread, olives, cheese or humus dips.

To try and give an impromptu impression of a Roman/Greco theme, the tables have been topped with white tablecloths and chairs and surfaces strewn with ivy. If there had been a way to fashion columns or import colonnades in twenty four hours, Indy would have tried it. But ivy will have to do on short notice. At least its not poisonous.

Comments

[balletrat]

*Meg giggles.* I'm exempt, *she says, serenely.* Since it was my idea, and all.

[skjaldmeyjar.livejournal.com]

Svava laughs. "Alright. ... Though what's the idea behind wearing these sorts of things?" She fiddles with the skirt for a moment.

"... had a dress once, not quite like this, but they both aren't all complicated like the other ones..." Vaguely, thinking for a moment.

[balletrat]

*Meg shrugs.* Well, you know, Indy wanted a theme for the party, and so I suggested togas off the top of my head, and it stuck. They're sort of Roman.

[skjaldmeyjar.livejournal.com]

"Ah. They're from a much earlier time on your world. Built Florence, and even some parts of London." Which is most of what Svava knows of Romans.

"Why would they be a theme, though?"

[balletrat]

Because . . . Indy thinks it's funny to see people running around in sheets? *Meg offers, with a grin.* I mean, he was going for leather straps until I talked him out of it -

[skjaldmeyjar.livejournal.com]

"Togas were a much better idea, Meg." Svava agrees quickly. "Very much so, thank you."

[balletrat]

*Meg giggles.* See? Knew you'd see it my way. And I wouldn't think togas are that different from what you wore in Valkyrieland -

[skjaldmeyjar.livejournal.com]

"Asgard, Meg." Svava laughs. "And the clothes were a bit different from this. But compared to other things I've worn? This has been closest, so far."

[balletrat]

*Meg, who has sort of a vague idea of all ancient-ish civilizations lumped into one, nods wisely.* Back when they first invented textiles and all -

[skjaldmeyjar.livejournal.com]

Svava staaaaaaares at Meg. Then starts giggling.

"Oh dear. Meg? They were weaving even before I recall. Honest. There was clothing long before I was around."

[balletrat]

. . . oh, *Meg says, rather sheepishly.* Well. I don't know, it's all, you know, prehistorical -

[skjaldmeyjar.livejournal.com]

Svava giggles, and pokes her.

"Prehistoric is the great nothing before the worlds were formed, Meg. We had clothing! And boats, and trading and metal and livestock. Granted, no ships, or cars or computers, but it was a far cry from nothing."

[balletrat]

*Meg squeaks and giggles, and pokes back, because that is clearly the best solution in this situation.*

I just thought prehistoric was, you know, before actual written records. And you guys didn't have many. So there.

[skjaldmeyjar.livejournal.com]

"Sagas and Eddas, Meg. Stories that got told. Bards and Lorekeepers, so there." Svava giggles, and ticklespokes back.

[balletrat]

*Meg pokes, cunningly, on the undefended other side.*

Yes, but the bards and lorekeepers could hardly tell them to us, could they?

[skjaldmeyjar.livejournal.com]

"Well, look at what happened when someone did hear them!" She giggles, and grabs for Meg's hands. "Wagner happened, so maybe its safer to not tell them."

[balletrat]

Well, that's because he heard them wrong, *Meg points out innocently, deftly darting her hands behind her back.*

[skjaldmeyjar.livejournal.com]

Which leaves the ballerina open for tickling!

"Or just wrote them wrong. So, find the right sort of people who will write them right, and we tell them!"

[balletrat]

*Meg squeaks some more and sneaks a hand over to retaliate.*

Well, we do have some composers in here -

[skjaldmeyjar.livejournal.com]

"Yrael. He'd do a better job and I could tell him what really happened."

Svava squeaks, and retaliates!

[balletrat]

*Meg withdraws, tactically, a few steps.*

Well, yes, but he couldn't get it published in my world -

*pouncetackletickle -*

could he? *she adds, rather breathlessly.*

[skjaldmeyjar.livejournal.com]

Laughing, Svava falls back to the floor, and reaches to keep tickling Meg.

"He knows how to write in engish! So we could take it there, and find someone to make it into a show!"

[balletrat]

*Meg rolls over and away, poking Svava in one particularly ticklish spot in her side.*

It'd be hard - to get producers to back a not'cat -

[skjaldmeyjar.livejournal.com]

"Don't have to say-" Giggling, and sitting up to reach and keep ticking back-

"That he's sometimes a cat but not really."

[balletrat]

He probably would anyways -

*Meg squeaks and dives for the soles of Svava's feet, to try tickling there -*

just to be perverse, you know -