2188/Met Gala: Mandate of Heaven

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Met Gala: Mandate of Heaven
Date of Scene: 22 June 2020
Location: Cloisters - Metropolitan Museum of Art
Synopsis: The Met Gala brings together the city and unleashes medieval artifacts far and wide!
Cast of Characters: Pepper Potts, Jane Foster, Mary Jane Watson, Kaminari, Achilles, Alison Blaire, Emma Frost, Dane Whitman, Tony Stark, Dick Grayson, Caitlin Fairchild, Henry McCoy, Albert Rothstein, Felicia Hardy, Sara Pezzini




Pepper Potts has posed:
The evening is here, it's finally here. It's a night of see and be seen, a night where the well-heeled come to offer up their patronage to the arts of the City, to not only maintain the collections, but to allow the growth and to widen its scope. This evening gives birth to a new chapter in the Museum's history, just as every year before, to bridge the gap between history and the present, and the future as expressed in art and fashion

And it's a beautiful night.

The stars are out in their brightest display, though slightly dimmed by the city's lights, even here, settled in the Cloisters. It's enough to know they are there, however, as the lights of the red (purple) carpet burn in order to give each arrival their best chance at looking spectacular in their fineries. Cars, limosines, horses and carriages line up on the entry to the museum; each vehicle bringing forth a supporter of the Museum.

The entrance of the Museum is astounding; truly no expense was spared for its patrons.

That red (purple) carpet is actually covering the long, wide stairway up to the Museum proper, with well manicured flowering bushes in verdant display of pinks and yellows lining the ascent. Along the way, photographers are positioned, reporters as well, carefully chosen from a small pool of trusted outlets. The aides, those helping along the sidelines are dressed as a cohort, that is, they sport the manner of English court; proper, but yet not ostentatious, with tunics with tabards for the men, and the women in long dresses with their hair plaited in long braids, festooned with flowers.

And, the moment each guest arrives, and their vehicle of choice's door opens, they are on display. Welcome to the Met Gala!

Jane Foster has posed:
The Met Gala: where $30,000 for a ticket invites access to the inner world of power, for less than six hundred people ever attend the bash that captivates fashion and media around the world. Perhaps beautiful things produce beautiful causes, or they naturally gravitate towards one another. The flashbulbs burst and break in waves outside against the backdrop of the parklike setting where the Met holds its favourite, ancient collections. Naturally sword-and-board or sword-and-sandal movies might pull Hollywood's glitterati, but there are plenty of other good reasons to be here as well. If not simply because of the French Michelin 3-starred chef behind the meals given a task of "go hogwild, the sky is the limit," then perhaps the performances promised from up-and-coming or established hot things is enough.

And being it is the month it is, the temperature is rather warm still. The party isn't quite in full swing on the top terrace where diners can gather together, taking the place of a much beloved summer cafe. A harpist plucks notes before the choir and string quartet get into motion, the sublime notes of her music tumbling down from on-high. Unseen sources give something of an otherworldly quality.

Rather the point, given one of the chairs is a Nobel laureate for cosmology. More earthly cares shimmer and shine how they will, but Jane is thoroughly ensconced by the wayside next to the postern gate on high. Benefits of organization include getting in early and watching the tides of famous people ebb, flow, and surge again. Fashionably late means no one late gets to see her tipple a glass of wine. In honour of the event, it's a red, staining lips like blood.

"Christian?" she asks the gentleman at her side. "Would you please assure no one starts shooting the targets -before- we've asked them to?"

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Mary Jane Watson would normally not even /think/ about making it to the Met Gala, but she's been a local star on the rise lately. Being Lady Macbeth at Shakespeare in the Park here in New York definitely seemed to help... and she did manage to pull a few strings and get herself an invitation. She's not famous enough to do a walk on the Red Carpet with all the stars and celebrities (yet), but she does know how to make an impression.

Currently, her gown is less flashy and more like actual armor. Metal gleams as the chainmail gown flows around her, armor bindings integrated into the sparkling metal of the 'dress'. Her red hair is bound back in a ponytail, mainly to keep from catching in the chain links of the dress. She seems to be playing up a character at the moment, as she walks along the entrance with a cool air of detachment, playing up the theme of the gala this year.

(OOC: For reference: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/ca/e0/4f/cae04f0f2965fd85192815a4d4146162.jpg )

Kaminari has posed:
Arriving on time is for staff and people who are actually punctual. Kaminari is neither of these things and thus arrives fashionably late. Fashion being the key word, the international rock sensation has had an entire team of fashion designers trying to figure out what she would be wearing for a month before the event. In the end though all of their ideas were discarded as 'too mortal' for the theme of 'The Mandate of Heaven'. Instead Kaminari has shown up in the last thing anyone would expect her to wear, her traditional courtly attire for the heavenly realm of Ama. In short she has shown up looking like the goddess that she is.

She is wearing a kimono of such a dark blue that it seems nearly black like the night sky during a storm. Patterns of dark clouds flow over its surface as well as almost lifelike bolts of lightning that seem to strike forth from them as the weather patterns of the garment shift and change with her every movement. In a further nod to the War aspect of the faith and war theme, hints of gleaming black Yoroi armor can be seem peaking out from beneath the kimono, a layer of elegance concealing the might of war.

The Goddess of Rock smiles and waves to everyone she passes in graceful celebrity fashion, though true to form she is also quick to procure a drink from one of the waiters. What is a party without alcohol after all.

Achilles has posed:
    Having lived a variety of ways, methods and lives, Angelo has amassed a sizeable fortune. He has invested a lot of it in ways to make it grow. But one thing he has done for a long time, is give to worthy causes. A number of reasons for this exist, not the least of which is networking. But there is also the contrition of a man who is still haunted by demons (and maybe PTSD) after three thousand years. Not that anyone is really aware of that age. Okay, maybe a few are, but it's not something that he advertises.
    Hency why he uses the pseudonym in the modern world. But either way, he has a collection of things that let him stand out from time to time. But..... arriving with Mary Jane Watson in her armored dress design.. that's the one time that wearing some of his old garb isn't going to jump out like some advertisement of his age. So he has on leather and bronze armor... a breastplate of bronze with leather fastenings, an armored skirt of leather with bronze fittings. Bronze greaves with sandaled feet, and bronze bracers. Now, when I say bronze, I don't mean just some dull old stuff. This is -celestial- bronze, if anyone can sense the power within it. It's not like it has powers of its own. It is just durable and self-healing as anything forged by Hephaestus does. Oh yes, and on his head is the ancient Greek style helm. And he arrives on the arm of the redhead because of course he does. "I think we -are- a good pair this evening." he says to her in a voice -barely- tinted with an accent that sound a tiny bit British.

Alison Blaire has posed:
What is a MET Gala without a Queen?

This instance it is a Pop Queen, and one Alison Blaire makes her way down the plush royal purple carpet, blonde hair swept up, powdered white, and adorned with curls and a golden crown with flashing diamonds and sapphires. Pale white skin is painted even whiter than normal, virginal pale, and it becomes clear that she's giving a clear nod to Elizabeth I in her choice of inspiration. The Virgin Queen herself. Although it's blue and gold instead of red and gold, pale colors in the dress that she's wearing. A tightly laced corset, and sweeping half-skirt over a pair of warm buttercream leather pants and knee-high armored boots with heels that are sky high. Around her waist is a belt and a jeweled sword that is probably a very good prop, because who would have a real sword, right?

Alison is all smiles and waves, pausing for the photo-ops like the seasoned pro that she is, waiting half way up the stairs, that smile never wavering as she just keeps moving forward at the snails pace of camera flashes.

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma Frost is resplendant this evening, in a costume that's half-medieval, half-fantasical. A tightly-bodiced white dress of silk and chiffon, with the tiniest thread-of-silver hand-embroidered stars scattered on it; the full, flowing skirts over layers of underskirts, with a slight train out behind her; hand-tatted lace along the hem and the edges of her sleeves and the top of the bodice, which reveals just enough to be coyly sexy but not enough to be tawdy. Her sleeves are puffed and slashed, with cloth-of-silver showing through the slashing. A fantastical tiara-halo made of silver, platinum, white-enameled steel, and diamonds rests on on her head, her long dyed-blonde hair braided back and twisted up in a fine but intricate knot... and a pair of white and silver feathery angelic wings (why let Warren have all the fun? but hers, sadly, are just for show) grace her back.

The White Queen seems to be the Mandate of Heaven herself, in this angelic garb. At least, that is quite her intention.

She's here solo tonight, unlike many of her recent showings around the city and at the Hellfire Club, but she seems in high spirits as she arrives. She deals with the photos with a polite smile... the young CEO of Frost International isn't usually one for the spotlight, but she can manage when she must... and makes her way into the Gala itself. The art is what she's here to see, afterall.

Dane Whitman has posed:
The benefit of being the cohabitating boyfriend of one of the Met's luminaries? You get to be +1 (though in truth Dane could probably afford the ticket). He thought long and hard on whether he was going to garb himself in something that blended fashions from the modern and from a far older timeframe that he happened to have firsthand familiarity with, and ultimately he decided he would keep things simple and understated. To wit, he's clad in a classic black tuxedo, the only perhaps-oddity being a spot of crimson upon his lapel. For those that get close enough to look it's an elegant pin of the same symbol as worn upon the Black Knight's tabard: A bird in flight imposed over an empty circle. Not something many will recognize offhand...he hasn't exactly made a major name for himself publicly yet...but perhaps a few, and it's meaningful for HIM, at least, to honor his ancestors by bearing their crest.

However, he didn't get in quite as early, so as Christian departs to do Jane's bidding, Dane replaces him, gesturing to the seat next to Jane and grinning.

"This seat taken?" He adds, leaning over to give her a brief peck on the cheek and murmuring "How's the anachronism stew tonight? Looked pretty thick on my way in." There's no venom in the comment though. Just a touch of wry amusement.

Tony Stark has posed:
Tony Stark's arrival can sometimes tend to overshadow others, as a surge of media pulses out eagerly at the approach of the STARK limo. Some of it is that Stark hasn't been chatty lately, due to injury.

One of the attandants moves to open the door, and allow Pepper Potts out first in her themed gala gown, with Tony Stark himself to follow. As photographers go for the costumed and in-theme Pepper, Tony has his own set of a media line to walk. Unalike some celebrities which head in directly on the stairs, Tony starts to the left, and just begins to work his way down the line of reporters. He won't be going inside for a /while/. Even those from afar can get a good glimpse of Stark, or snap a quick selfie with the purple carpet and Stark in the background. As a billionaire, and Avenger, and one of the group well known to recently battle Brainiac in a very public way, the demand on Tony's time is going to be heavy: and Tony doesn't avoid it at all, but embraces the whole of it, as if he might crowd-surf the whole of the exterior situation, on his own terms.

In particular, reporters react to recent sight of him having previously been photographed earlier that week wearing an arm-sling: injuries from Brainiac, and questions fly about the fact that he is not wearing it, and other items related to him and Stark Industries' involvement in the gala. Stark Industries holds a seat through the Maria Stark foundation after all, represented for the time being by Pepper Potts.

Tony himself is not specifically in costume; his tux is a fierce modern take, though the tie and accents have a sharp white-gold feel to them. It gives a tasteful nod to metal and shine without actually being a costume.

Dick Grayson has posed:
America has no royalty, but it has enough people that can spend like it does. Dick Grayson is his family's representative to the Met Gala tonight, and is taking a shot at being at least somewhat noticed. You do not spend that much on a ticket only to wear a tuxedo. It took time, and a little bit of money, but Dick was going to make sure he made an entrance.

The eldest Wayneling is riding a white horse while wearing a set of coat of plates, shining in the lights, and surprisingly historically accurate, though it helps he got advice from his little brother on this one. As he gets to the purple carpet, he dismounts and a family handler comes and takes the horse, who dutifully follows.

Once Dick is on the carpet, his full protection is visible. His surcoat is in good order and of silk, in black and gold over his armor. He does not wear a sword, but his hands have gauntlets on them, and he uses them to remove the helm from his head that he tucks under his arm. He gives a nod to some people he recognizes and makes his way down the carpet. Once he is inside, he will be able to remove most of the armor with ease (there were some designs built in for this) and under is a silvery tuxedo and a blue tie.

Pepper Potts has posed:
Stepping from a classic sleek-lined limo first is Miss Virginia Potts, known better by her nickname 'Pepper'. Holding a hand out for balance, one leather sandaled foot can be seen before her long tunica covers it as she rises gracefully. She's dressed the part of a later-era Byzantine lady; The dress that is worn is simply out of time, hearkening back to the times of the Roman Empire, by now transferred to the East, the Byzantine Empire. It is long sleeved, the ends of the sleeves tight against her wrist, festooned with cabachon jewels and pearls sewn on in 5 rows, rising to her just above her wrist. The dress is long, and formfitting, with the bottom cascading to the floor, again, with large panels encircling the bottom of the dress of gems, pearls and embroidery upon a background of brightly-hued emerald green silk. The neckline is conservative, that is, it sits upon her clavicle line, and the same pattern of gems and pearls mixed with delicate embroidery festoon her entire front, sitting upon her shoulders (very much like an Egyptian wide necklace) and down her upper arms, finishing just above the elbows. Red hair is set up in Roman fashion, her braids set in her hair with a light flow behind, with wide curls.

A step, two steps are take to make room for the next coming out of the limosine, and she's turned slightly to watch his exit from the vehicle before she begins to walk by his side, but it's only to be those two steps before Tony departs to play to the photographers and reporters. In years gone by, the photographers' flashbulbs would be going off, but in the digital age? There simply is no longer a warning that a picture's been taken for posterity. Pepper wears a smile, even as she begins to walk up the steps, taking each one as Tony makes his own way so, at the very least, they make it up and into the Met proper together.

Jane Foster has posed:
The Main Hall of Cloisters is small, just large enough for guests to receive a drink and freedom of the grounds to wander wherever they might possibly wish to roam. Such discreet instructions come from those used to purveying the needs and wants of the powerful or those directly adjacent; even guests hidden under a press pass, a corporately-owned table, or SHIELD's benediction receive the same attentive respect.

Should anyone wonder about the archery butts, they are concealed away on the West Terrace where trained soldiers assure no stray arrows settle age-old enmities. "Let those be spared for the dinner table," whispers one dark-eyed man to Emma before escorting her through the hall to the crossroads where she can select her own destiny.

"Oh my goodness, you look incredible," hisses an excited aide hastening to Alison's side. This one happens to be a French noblewoman styled after Queen Sibylla, if Queen Sibylla could afford Alexander McQueen or a host of other very expensive designer wear. It's actually a model of high fame, but that isn't -Dazzler-, okay? "This way, you need to fall under the light so everyone can admire that.

One one has their own retinue, adding to it really isn't necessary but nonetheless, Kaminari gets that treatment as she is shown up the stairs and given a special note where she might find the medieval instruments. (And more wine.) Alison or Kaminari isn't going to be left to just anyone either, though Jane can hardly descend herself to meet either of them. Her place is to be the Byzantine chronicler of all these matters, Porphyrogenita in every sense she wears the imperial colours: stained Tyrian purple and the gown lined around its hems by the porphyry so utterly and totally beloved of that fallen empire.

Still, in the meantime, there are flashbulbs aplenty and aides to hasten forward to the flashbulbs. Tape on the violet carpet -- forget red! -- gives those spots where photo opportunities are sanctioned and exactly no further. Somewhere around here is the Vogue editor, doing the rounds of greeting each and every last person of importance once he or she sails up that wine-dark sea.

Which leaves Jane free to glance askance at Dane, her partner in crime. "I swear, Anna was going to stick it with roses in the park and say leave the interpretation. Ms. Potts did so much of the magic," she asides, giving him an affectionate smile and watching with glowing eyes. "Now, now. You save the pointed pen for me. I'm likely to be flung in the Hellespont any time now."

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
Mary Jane Watson glances over at Angelo, giving him a wry grin, "Well, I'm glad you were able to pull a few strings here. Dare I ask where you managed to get /that/?" She looks a bit amused, looking at the man, particularly that helm, with a warm expression.

She casually glides along with him, probably drawing more attention with her avant garde representation of Joan d'Arc than a Greek hoplite might. Her eyes flicker over towards Dane and Jane, and she inclines her head towards them in a slight nod, recognizing them amidst the crowd.

Achilles has posed:
    Specialists may note that Angelo's armor is similar in style, but not precisely Hoplite armor. Hoplites were of a later era, and originated in Sparta. His armor has some stars here and there on it, and has some of the same protection. But it is not Hoplite armor... just very close. It's like Hoplite armor's Grandparent.
    But Angelo shrugs and says, "I've a lot of acquisitions in my collection. This is just another of my collection. But it was the closest I had on hand to what seemed thematic for tonight's event."
    Nevermind the fact that he wears it like it was fitted specifically for him. What? But either way, he sweeps his gaze over the others and lifts a brow under his helmet. "Many interesting looks here tonight." he says to MJ. "Would you care for a drink though my lady?" he asks as he gestures to the bar and indicates that he would be only too happy to go acquire said drink for the woman on his arm this evening.

Dane Whitman has posed:
Dane winks at Jane, moving to claim a seat beside her, "And me without my swim trunks to fish you out." He replies to her joke, then catches sight of Mary Jane as he moves to sit, lifting a hand in greeting to her and smiling in that direction before he settles comfortably into his seat. "You look great, not-so-incidentally. I hope the night's agenda doesn't leave you just as an onlooker, though."

Tony Stark has posed:
Tony Stark continues to chat with reporters and get his picture taken. This is one of the playboy billionaire's favorite things, and he doesn't go in very quickly. However, he /does/ notice that Pepper has made it nearly to the doors, and steps back from the press, to blow two kisses (one from each hand), to the group, to grin at them, and then prove his current health level by smoothly heading up the purple carpeted stairway to rejoin the other representative of Stark Industries, Ms. Potts.

"Lead on; I know you know where the best spot is, having helped with this extravaganza," Tony suggests to Pepper, palm on her upper arm as he joins her in going inside, using his other hand to remove his high-tech shades he'd had on during the picture-fest outside and put them away.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin Fairchild would be considered 'fashionably late' if she weren't just, y'know.

Late.

The redhead almost falls out of one of the carriages, which was not built for someone of her frame or height. And the sort of footwear expected at these events is NOT something Caitlin's completely comfortable in. She manages to get her balance on the red carpet and un-twists her dress, a floor-length dress in lemonade pink that hugs her curves without being immodest. It's bunched in a single line that runs from her sternum to the split just above the knee; the train doesn't quite scrape the floor, at least not the sandal-style heels she's in. Cait's sop to the formality of the event includes clip-on silver earrings and a single bracelet on her left wrist, with her hair done in a Grecian pile atop her head and allowed to spill down over her shoulder.

The Titan smile and waves awkwardly at the papparazi and makes the best pace towards the castle she can, one hand hitching up her dress a few inches so she can step out more quickly.

Caitlin discreetly touches the communicator in her ear. "Richard, I am so sorry I'm late. Please tell me you're here," she mutters, almost subvocally.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
MJ chuckles softly, "Ginger ale, if you please. I want to make sure to keep my aim sharp and true for the archery contest. Though it has been a little while since I've used a bow." With the setting and everything, MJ might be letting Sonja ripple a bit closer to the surface.

The warrior maiden feels a bit discomforted in this setting, content to let Mary Jane guide the social navigation for the moment. On the one hand, her aceing the contest would be pretty easy... but then it might get a new recruit of SHIELD into trouble by showing off.

Decisions decisions...

Jane Foster has posed:
Spotlights flick upwards to wreath one of the entranceways towards the southern end of the main hall. Here the Late Gothic Hall is full of drama of an age of wonder, a time of splendour. The dying light of the sun mingles with the glimmer and adds a shimmering quality to the metal stage placed there. It's about to be Alison's hour.

Kaminari has posed:
Kaminari accepts a second glass of wine as she looks over the various medieval instruments. She is quite familiar with most of them and their lack of electric oomph doesn't particlarly seem to bother her, the Goddess of Rock has her ways.

Without a performance demanding her immediate attention, that comes later, for the time being she moves among the other beautiful people, some she has met before and some she has not but hopefully they all at least enjoy wine.

Pepper Potts has posed:
Pepper watches and waits patiently for Tony to greet the reportage; it certainly does endear him to them. She's more than aware of how this is done, and she's not looking as if she's a bride left at the altar, nope. She's simply waiting for him to finish before he returns to her, and they finish the progress up the few steps left and into the Met proper.

Once there, Pepper's looking around, her smile and nods for those she recognizes on the staff of the Met and she whispers back, "Out there. Drinks. I want to say hello to Jane. She's done an amazing job with this, and I need to let her know we're here."

Henry McCoy has posed:
It's been a while since Henry McCoy has been seen in the spotlight - not since back when people were transforming into dinosaurs and simians! He arrives, stepping out of a limosine, dressed in an impeccable recreation of a Union Civil War general's uniform. Historians might recognize it as one associated with General William Tecumseh Sherman. The brass is shining, the boots are polished fabulously. He pauses as he gets his hat on, just so, allowing for photos with a smile.

For those familiar with the Doctor, his appearance has changed dramatically. Gone are the simian-esque features, now replaced with a decidedly more feline appearance.

He brushes some non-existant fluff from his sleeve, then makes his way along the carpeting - assuming that's the way to go!

Achilles has posed:
    Giving MJ a smile from under his helmet, Angelo turns and strides to the bar. Once there, he orders a Ginger Ale and a pale ale because... he's not really big on hard booze, but he does like a drink now and then. HE lifts his helmet as he orders because... well let's be honest, you try to drink through one of those. Yeesh.
    The helmet is actually lifted to rest on his head at what appears to be an awkward angle, but is how it was done back in the day. It's a habit that he doesn't even think about. The faceplate resting on top of his head as the main part angles backwards.
    But then he comes back over towards Mary Jane and nods, "Archery has never really been much of a thing for me." he says. And well compared to his close in skills, it's not -precisely- a lie. But if it's a weapon, he's good at it.
    He hands over the Ginger Ale and says, "I will be happy to cheer you on my lady."

Albert Rothstein has posed:
Albert Rothstein ended up getting an invite handed down to him from some family. He shows up in a 1970 Mercury Cougar. The big man climbs out of the car handing the keys to a Valet. He has a bit of a secret identity but he is also 7'6". His signature mohawk is pulled back to a pony tail. He reaches up to tug lightly at the bowtie he wears. His tux is custom but it would have to be. He moves to join the party looking about to see if anyone he actually knows is here.

Alison Blaire has posed:
Alison walked in, same as everyone else, but after taking a turn upon the catwalk, and standing in the lights like the aide suggested, she vanished. It'd be very hard to miss her if she was still milling about. So her being gone is...obvious. If people are paying attention.

Jane Foster has posed:
"Nothing quite like watching a hundred of the most powerful people in the city roaming around looking beautiful and possibly contemplating the reshaping of empires," Jane adds with an undertone of delight to Dane's statement. She brushes her lips to his cheek while he looks away, and proceeds to act as though nothing at all is happening. A friendly wave to Mary Jane and Angelo spark a wider welcome as she rises from one of the many tables scattered about. "I don't know about you, but I think you should take a look at what we did to the nave. Besides, this will hardly counts as me being an onlooker. Who else is going to bring the heavens tumbling down to Earth? Stars fall in half an hour. But for now, we have an /actual/ star coming out before it gets too dark."

With that promise on her lips, she moves past Dane in a tumble of radiant stones that so much resemble chips of light in motion, the illuminating shimmer-dance on the dress poured over her like a twilight sky. She ventures forth to be swept into Pepper's presence, magnet seeking its pole.

Felicia Hardy has posed:
Ms. Felicia Hardy, of the Hardy Foundation, is pretty late to the party. Honestly, she looks a little harried, and is wearing black-framed glasses that most people probably never realized she needed.

Because she doesn't.

She looks a little annoyed, however, because her imaging system is picking up a lot of interference, and she didn't have time to test the system before the gala tonight. She honestly wasn't even going to be here, but... What if it really is the grail?

Looking a little bewildered as if her glasses are the wrong prescription or she isn't used to them, Ms. Hardy walks awkwardly into the Met past the reporters and paparazzi, wearing...very, very little. She's dressed as Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love, and her toga is, honestly, only just barely socially acceptable. Lots of cleavage. Lots of leg. But she mostly just looks really irritated at something, constantly touching and adjusting her glasses as she saunters in.

Dick Grayson has posed:
"I'm here," Dick says over the comm to Caitlin, "Glad you made it!" He stays where he was, having since handed his armor off to a family staffer that was ready for it. He sees some familiar faces and gives a few waves again, especially those of his age group at the Hellfire club.

Tony Stark has posed:
If Felicia Hardy has any intention of potentially MAYBE not being directly noticed by Iron Man, the attire she chose is not the way to get that. Tony Stark absolutely looks directly at the barely socially acceptable dress. While it boarders into staring, it doesn't come with any leer. Attention grabbed. "Quite an array of costumes," Tony comments, tone upbeat.

Alcohol is also a thing, though, for him. "You had me at 'drinks," Tony agrees with Pepper, dragging his attention to where she's indicated, and is relatively easy to herd towards the drinks. "Plural. Where's Jane?"

Distracted temporarily by some other guests that are greeting him, Tony moves into some handshakes and words with other patrons.

Mary Jane Watson has posed:
MJ laughs softly, then notes, "Practiced move with that helmet, Angelo." Because while Mary Jane wouldn't have noticed, Red Sonja is all too familiar with battlefield practices, taking the ginger ale and raising it towards her date in appreciation, before swallowing a good portion of the bubbly drink.

Then she looks wryly around, "Your dedication and favor would be most welcome, though I suspect the archery contest is going to be very interesting, indeed." Her lips quirk in a bit of a wicked smile.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
It doesn't take Caitlin long to find Dick-- with her height and his presence, she makes a beeline towards him. The redhead tries as she can to apologize to people in her way, but really, who tells a 350+lb amazonian woman about right of way?

"Holy cats, Richard, I'm sorry I'm late," she apologizes, and grips his arm apologetically-- and for a little balance. "I lost track of time in the lab, and I had to do my hair, and then get over here from my condo. Total nightmare." She touches her hair self-consciously and steps close to Dick with a nervous look around. She's clearly a little uncomfortable in such high society and she shelters herself in his unflappable social graces.

But one familiar face-- Caitlin spots her two bosses, and stands on her toes (quite redundantly) and waves at Pepper and Tony with an enthusiastic smile.

"Did I hear something about an archery contest?" Caitlin inquires of Richard. "Who's arching?"

Pepper Potts has posed:
It's hard to miss Aphrodite, and it's like prescience; Pepper knows that men will gravitate toward her like moths to flame. Even if they don't, all conversation will sound as buzzing in the ears because it's hard to pay attention when someone is dressed like //that//.

Pepper doesn't even try to keep Tony's attention, though she's honestly pleasantly surprised when she does actually //regain// it, and gestures in the direction of where she espies her 'twin', as it were, though Jane is born to the Purple and wears it well. "Over there."

Reaching the other woman means she closes for the briefest of hugs, followed by a light kiss on the cheek for a greeting if allowed. "Jane, this really is amazing," is breathed. "It's lovely, and I really think it's surpassed last year. What it means, though, is that we start planning for next year, next month."

Henry McCoy has posed:
There's a nod from Hank to those he knows, public Avengers and what not. There's a wave to Dick as well, a smile of familiarity. General Henry then decides to step into the gala a bit more, facing the overwhelming sounds and sights bravely! Glancing around, he looks for the servers and the drinks - something to take the edge off his nerves.

Achilles has posed:
    Hand lifting to his helmet, Angelo shrugs a bit. "Well, it seemed the way to do it." he adds. But he just steps back and gestures forward with a flourish, "Well my lady, I am sure that you will demonstrate fantastic skill with the bow but... you know this is not a test of skill so much as a test of character, right?" he asks with a smile.
    And then his green eyes traverse the room and he spots the Aphrodite themed Ms. Hardy. He tilts his head a bit and wracks his brain. Is that how she really looked way back then? He doesn't -believe- so... but hey, it's all in fun, right?

Felicia Hardy has posed:
Taking off the black glasses, Felicia Hardy stares at them in exasperation, whispering to herself very quietly, "Oh my goddess." She blinks a few times as her eyes adjust to not having them on, and she gives a shake of her head, sending her toga, her jewelry, her bangs, and her luxurious mane of silver moonlight hair moving in various shakes of celestial-themed light. Her laurel crown sheds a leaf in the process, and she watches it go, catching the borderline staring of Tony Stark in the process.

Adopting a *very* amused but very subtle smirk, she gives him a faux-scolding *look*, and sloooooowly bends down to pick up the laurel leaf that fell to the ground.

Her mood restored for the moment, she merrily trots toward a waste bin, still regarding her glasses idly as she pokes at them. Noticing that the feed has suddenly cleared up, she ohs quietly and slips them back on, looking all about for the scanner as she tosses the leaf.

Dick Grayson has posed:
"Not a problem," Dick says calmly to Caitlin as she approaches "Besides, fashionably late is a thing." He gives a wave to Hank as he goes by, gotta be polite. He then looks back to Caitlin, "But yeah, there's going to be a contest, and I'm probably going to join in it, too. You're gonna have fun."

Sara Pezzini has posed:
A police detective's salary is hardly adequate for a silk and lace garnet gown sewn with matching pearls but having friends in the Garment District wanting to make a name for themselves helps. Elizabeth the First would have been comfortable with the ruff that encircles Sara's long neck. It frames her handsome face and upswept dark hair that hangs in ringlets hearkening back to the 16th Century. The square-cut, daringly low neckline made modest by a thin veil of silk and the bodice stiffened like the gowns that inspired it, swirls into a long skirt. The Witchblade that resides discreetly on her wrist seemed happy with her choice. Its red gem glints with the same accents of garnet as her gown.

Late and alone, she hands her invitation to the ushers at the door to stand hesitantly in the doorway before raising her head and sweeping into the room. Memories of other times, other places flit through her thoughts, giving her courage as she looks at the crowd hoping to see a familiar face.

Jane Foster has posed:
Drinks are wonderfully easy to acquire! They happen to be just about everywhere, and short of 12th century Spanish sack, drinks can be found. Endless flows of armagnac, white and red wines, and even curious little sorbets flavoured with a citrus spike are available to those who wish to cool themselves. Besides, they're served in exquisite cups marked with the shields of the great houses in the Crusader Kingdoms. Fleurs-de-lis and crosses aplenty dance on the.

One of the archers from outside, dressed in a slitted tunic-style silk dress reaching her knees and wearing translucent boots, circulates among the crowd. "Get a token for the archery contest, top prize a Van Cleef and Arpels parure featuring necklace and earrings or a stunning Chopard men's ring," she murmurs, discreet about encouraging anyone to participate. "You need not be an expert marksman to claim your prize."

Alison Blaire has posed:
The lights of the stage go up...before they go down. Which is a strange thing, right? Don't they usually go down only to come up?

Not tonight. As the lights go down, the music goes up, and it's a heavy, slow beat of a drum. Steady as a heart-beat.

It goes on for a half a minute, just beating out that steady, pounding sound, fully designed to get as much attention directed towards the stage as possible.

Jane Foster has posed:
Jane might be responsible for finding local celebrities or internationally-statured heroes to guide them along with the grace of someone completely untroubled by anything less than an angry, one-eyed god sending a raven to speak about said displeasures. (Really. Fake it til you make it.) Her blithe smile radiates a complete contentment with her surroundings. Pepper is well within sight, though, the other bejewelled Byzantine whose era stands a few phases earlier than her own. Thus it falls on a princess to meet an empress, caught in that singular shade of purple so intimately entwined with Eastern Mediterranean royalty and thus the terror of Rome.

She opens her arms to enfold Pepper and thus bus both her cheeks, in kind surrounding with a laugh. "It rather is. To think we had the opportunity to put it together, and no small thanks owed to you and Mr. Stark. Such a privilege to meet everyone. Have you met Dane Whitman?"

She waves in a friendly fashion to Caitlin and Dick; and then, in kind, opens her arm at her side to include Dane in the greatr circle. "We have Alison about to--" And there it is, the one beating summons of the music against the Gothic hall. It purrs with the very promise. "Curtain's up."

Henry McCoy has posed:
Yellow eyes glance towards the stage, Henry giving a wide, if not feral, grin at the performer. He gives a nod to Dazzler, though likely unseen from her position on stage. A drink is swept up into his hand, carefully - he's still getting used to his new digits.

As the archery contest is mentioned, he takes a sip and heads in the direction of the one who announced it.

Albert Rothstein has posed:
Albert Rothstein looks around and thinks maybe he should have payed more attention to the invite and came as a spartan, but hey he can be a warrior, Bond James Bond." He moves to get a drink. He looks over and seeing a few folks his height or near it, he seems surperised.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Catilin purses her lips to suppress an eye-rolling smile at Dick. "Hope you've been practicing," Caitlin tells him. "I put in a few hours this week with Hawkeye's new bow while we were building it. I just hope they've got one that fits me."

She accepts one of the offered tokens when the woman slips past, and then turns to Richard and gives his sleeve a tug towards the little whorl of movement around Pepper and Tony. "C'mon, I gotta go say hi to my boss," she tells him. "Also, I see Dr. Foster over there. She's prety swell, it'd be nice to say hello," she suggests, and starts moving towards the crew. Once she's close enough she leans into Pepper's line of sight and waves quickly with a bashful little smile, mouthing a 'hi!' at the other woman. Caitlin's too polite to simply insert herself into a conversation without an invitation.

Tony Stark has posed:
Tony Stark disengaged briefly to get the alcohol thing covered; relishing the use of his left hand again, which had, until earlier that day, been far more injured. But now, it can be occupied by two martinis.

Tony pauses there, taking in Felicia's deliberate look at him and the show, and gets a shameless grin and lifts of glass to her, and her interest in keeping the carpet clean, it seems. A brow flicks upwards, but Pepper did find Jane, and Tony has a duty there too, attention drawn back to greeting Jane. It also comes with handing one of the martinis to his assistant Pepper (though if she's meant to just hold it for when he wants a second one or to drink it herself might be unclear to a casual observer).

"Glad to help out here; you're most welcome. Hi, Dane," Tony greets the other man, with a relaxed handshake offered in casual greeting.

But then, the show begins, and Tony's among those that look in interest to what Alison Blaire is going to create vocally.

Pepper Potts has posed:
Pepper is happy in the embrace, her expression lit which easily reaches those green eyes. "No, I haven't. Mr. Whitman, it's a pleasure. I think you both know my boss, Tony Stark." Who is.. just coming back with the martini. That's her boss.. yup. Still, the way she walks by his side, whispers in moments, it's obviously a close working relationship. After all, she's his Girl Friday. To Jane's continued comment, Pepper shakes her head within the conversation and laughs, her head rolling back ever so slightly. "I can't wait to see what else we can come up with together."

As Tony hands it to her, Pepper is taking it as her own and lifts it first at Tony, then the others before she makes a soft 'mmm' noise to turn and look at the stage.

Dane Whitman has posed:
Dane sweeps along behind Jane, mostly keeping to himself as perhaps mercifully he attracts little notice beyond his physical appearance and the fact that he's the famous Jane Foster's date. For the most part he's content to shadow along as Jane works her magic, though when introductions are made he doesn't hesitate to extend a hand and a smile to Pepper, and then Tony, "A pleasure, Ms. Potts. Looks like you and Jane have outdone yourselves." And then after he clasps Tony's hand he chuckles, "I doubt you'd remember, but we've met before, albeit only in passing." He adds with a bit of a laugh in his voice, "Don't worry, no hard feelings or ruffled feathers. I just used to work in your Directed Energy Weapons department a few years back."

Dick Grayson has posed:
Dick also takes a token and gives a nod of thanks, taking a chance to be polite to a few people as they walk by and as he is recognized by a couple. He's not on his home turf, but the Wayneling is not entirely unknown. "Oh please, I can hold my own!" He chuckles and follows Caitlin, "Yeah, we should speak with her some time, seems pretty interesting. Could try to get an introduction later, though sure, let's meet your boss!" With that, he continues following towards Pepper and Tony.

Emma Frost has posed:
Well, Emma's attention is on the stage, where her friend is performing. She'd say she was there for moral support, but honestly, Ali's done this so much that... well, she doesn't really need it. But Emma is taking a small break from looking at the artwork to pay attention to the other reason she's here: for the music! She filters over closer to the stage and grins up at the lights.

Alison Blaire has posed:
The lights remain down. Many would need to have a spotlight, need to have that artificial light pin them in the darkness, and illuminate them. But Dazzler is a light show all her own.

The tone of the music shifts, and begins to form a song that is not one of Dazzler's own creations, but instead one familiar from the late 1980's.

With each beat there is a flash of light, here, there, breaking through the darkness on the stage before Dazzler is illuminated in a glittering display of starlight as she steps forward. Gone is the dress that she was wearing earlier, and instead she's opted for a tight black dress and the familiar habit of a nun as she lifts her voice to begin singing Depeche Mode's well known song, Personal Jesus.

This IS a gala in honor Faith and War, afterall.

Felicia Hardy has posed:
Felicia Hardy was scanning the Grail's containment cell, frowning a bit as she regards the odd thing. Surely it's a fake. Right? Right??? Her glasses are still analyzing the thing, and its containment case, trying to break down the underlying systems that are linked into it. Her backside shifts her toga around when her hips tilt, and she folds her arms impatiently like the goddess she's dressed as.

Then the lights go down, Felicia blinks, and she turns towards the stage. Catching sight of Dick, someone she knows from the Hellfire Club, she lifts a hand, starts to smile, and suddenly recoils when Dazzler lights up. "Ah!" Whipping the glasses off her face, she blinks down at them, suitably dazed and dazzled as the imaging system briefly turns the performer into a nova of light wavelengths.

Kaminari has posed:
Kaminari moves in the direction of the stage to watch, holding her glass of wine easily in one hand as she drinks. One could call it professional interest, but she seems to genuinely take pleasure in Noise in all of its forms, basking in the sounds that emanate from the stage. She does take a moment to admire the pagentry of it too, before drifting in the direction of the archery competition. She's shot a few bows in her time afterall.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin sneaks up behind Pepper and Tony; everyone's plenty distracted by the music, after all, and she gently touches Pepper's arm to get her attention. Fingers wiggle and she mouths a 'hi' at Pepper, smiling enthusiastically. "Ms. Potts, sorry I'm late. This is my friend Richard Grayson," she says, gesturing at Dick. "Richard, this is Pepper Potts and Tony Stark," Caitlin tells Richard. "And this is Dr. Jane Foster, she's an astrophysicist. It's nice to see you again, Jane," Caitlin tells Foster with another beaming smile.

Achilles has posed:
    The pulsing bass. It's not like a club where it tries to rattle the windows for five blocks. But the bass -can- be felt through the soles of ones shoes... or in Angelo's case, sandals. He feels the throb in his blood, in his bones. And then almost like it was an announcement for more, his green eyes sweep almost as if he had a sudden feeling that something has come up that he is required to take notice of.
    That is when he spots Detective Pezzini in that dress there. He stares blankly for a long moment before saying to Mary Jane, "Please forgive me. I am afraid that I am a poor date tonight. It seems that someone who told me she might not make it... managed to do so. Best of luck with the contest." he says to her as he waves a hand to the bartender, orders a flute of champagne.. and once he has it in hand, he begins maneuvering throught he crowd towards the door.
    But yeah, in his gleaming celestial bronze, it's not difficult to see the tall man moving. He merely approaches Sara from dead ahead and holds out the flute with his left hand... his ale having been forgotten on the counter over yonder. He doesn't actually -offer- the champagne just yet... but with his right hand, reaches to take her own hand and pulls Sara into a quick embrace with a brief but lingering kiss before he presents the flute of champagne and lifts his brows.

Pepper Potts has posed:
Pepper turns around at the touch on her arm, and her brows rise, a smile relighting upon her face. "Caitlin," she begins, "You look.. absolutely lovely." Shifting slightly, the red-headed PA reaches a hand out in greeting to meet the newly introduced, "Mr. Grayson. A pleasure." Before she can say much more, the strobe effect comes on, and the music rises.

Once she retrieves her hand, she's taking another sip of the generous martini. It only requires that she lean in a little to be heard by Caitlin and the newly introduced Richard, "How are you enjoying it so far? Did you look at the exhibits yet?"

Dick Grayson has posed:
Dick flashes a smile as he approaches Pepper and says, "Call me Dick, glad to meet you!" He takes the hand and gives a polite shake. He then looks as the music rises and snags a flute from a passing server, "Haven't had a chance to see the exhibits, yet. But definitely looking forward to it, not too often do these collections see our shores." He is in a pleasant mood, tonight, but then again, it's a party.

When Dick sees Felicia he gives a polite wave of recognition, but then turns to Pepper, "I hope you also have been enjoying yourself? The Met outdid itself. Which is /definitely/ saying something."

Jane Foster has posed:
The crowd is thrown utterly into the music. Those not up on the rooftop terrace or dancing in the hedge maze, however, but they have the pleasure of the music and projects of Dazzler stirring up the crowd in her glittering, arresting display. Cries of delight and strains of singing radiate down through the old building, warming the stones and stirring up the soul.

What is a Mandate of Heaven if not camaraderie and hope? What is faith if not belief in community, war an assault on the senses? There are producers and one very well-heeled media mogul dancing away beside their tables, or boogeying their way into the chapel where the treasures stand guarded by knights in their armour and the crucified Jesus in earthly sorrows while the Madonna turns her palms up to Heaven in mute offering.

A delighted young woman passes by to hand Sara a white stargazer lily, the scent heady. "Peace of the night upon you," and she curtsies to Angelo before heading on her way. Time to go bestow presents upon Kaminari!

Henry McCoy has posed:
Once he's received his token, Henry keeps it in hand and takes a sip from his wine. He steps over towards the procession that is greeting Tony, Pepper and Jane - awaiting his turn to greet what he presumes are the hosts.

All the while, his booted foot is tapping to the song that Alison is so adeptly performing.

Albert Rothstein has posed:
Albert Rothstein moves towards one of the walls, and helps hold it up. Yea the big guy is a bit of a wall flower when he is in new places. He does enjoy the music as Allison starts to play. He continues to people watch here and there. He files away a few faces, never know when someone might need to hire a helicopter pilot, and the people here might be the ones who can afford it. He runs a hand over his hair, as he tries to take the place in.

Felicia Hardy has posed:
Felicia watches the counter rise slowly, 97 percent... 98 percent... She sighs a bit, keeping her back to the stage, even as she nods her head in time to the beat. Putting the glasses back on carefully, she waits for what seems like *minutes* for 99, and mutters quietly to herself, "Who makes this junk, Justin Hammer?"

Then, ding! 100 percent complete. The Met's floorplan suddenly zooms out into augmented reality space and she ohhs, seeming to look up at a Byzantine-era painting of the seige of Constantinople. "Wow, nice stuff." Her hands on her hips, the barely-clad, not-quite-Greek goddess could just be commenting on the painting, but she's actually taking stock of the place's security systems.

This might be the first real tough nut she's had to crack in...a while. Like, a long while. She whistles softly, and continues to nod her head to Personal Jesus blasting behind her.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
Sara simply does not recognize Angelo in full regalia. The doubling of images from the past that the Witchblade carries laid over the present fools her into thinking he is an apparition. A few steps away his smile tells her who he really is. She reaches for his hand, a warm smile animating her handsome face into beauty as they touch. After their embrace she takes the champagne with a faint laugh, shaking her head at Angelo.

"I really didn't know it was you. I thought /it/ was playing tricks on me with tonight's theme. Thank you for inviting me." Linking her arm with his, "Are you in costume or...?"

Tony Stark has posed:
"Grayson," Tony repeats, also greeting Dick as he's brought over to both Tony and Pepper. "Of the Bruce Wayne family, right?" Tony asks, with a flash of smile. "Hi Caitlin. Glad to see you're representing us well. Late, ehhhh," Tony shrugs, a flippant smirk following. He doesn't mind, and is often late himself. "...Seems like you didn't miss much."

Tony works on his drink, but his attention gets pulled to the side by a group of businessmen, and he hands off his emptied glass to a member of the waitstaff with an order for another. Tony wanders for the moment, to do his business schmooze... which will probably evolve into other types of general mingling as the drinks increase, no doubt. But it's a party!

Achilles has posed:
    "I have broken out collectors items from my collection so that I might be in theme for the evening. After all, it is all for a good cause, yes?" says Angelo as he steps in close and reaches for Sara's free hand with his. Not quite -claiming- it so much as just desiring to be in contact if only with the hands.
    "And if you did not realize it was me, you still kissed a total stranger? For shame." he says totally in jest as he tries to keep a straight face and... he fails epically as his mouth widens with a boyish grin at his own joke.

Pepper Potts has posed:
There's nothing wrong with a bit of shmooze, and Tony's called away briefly, his attention pulled by a whispered word. Pepper watches the interaction and is drawn back to Jane, Dane, Caitlin and Richard soon enough, her face absolutely animated in the evening. She's in her element and is enjoying this a great deal.

The music is perfect, and Pepper not only praises it to those around, but makes a quick whispered note to Jane that they should put something of a bonus in for thanks. It's been a trying time, after all! She still has to lean forward in order to be heard in conversation with the others, so it seems a smaller, more insular group than it actually is.

To prove otherwise, however, Pepper catches Dr. McCoy on the periphery, looking as if he's on a sort of reception line, and she greets him with that animated smile and a nod to welcome him. "Good evening," is given to the feline Hank. "I'm so glad you could make it," is almost yelled above the music.

Jane Foster has posed:
Jane is there, really, with her hand seeking Dane's and falling into his orbit as such the spin of planets demands. The endless delights of introductions -- or reintroductions -- is a source of plenty of joy, ascribed to absorbing some of Pepper's vibrant energy and Caitlin's warm welcome, then reflecting it back with equal delight. "I look forward to it, you must know. Mr. Stark is lucky for letting me borrow you, given you have to be next to indispensible. Dane has been the relentless pillar of support, otherwise I might be hiding in the planetarium still." Speaking of stars, she warmly nods to Caitlin. "Richard, Caitlin, it's a pleasure to meet you. I hope you are enjoying yourself so far."

She gestures with a delicate roll of her shoulder towards Alison, the whole of the hall radiating her voice in a rare and unique quality. "That was the one thing this place cried out for: music." It's a point of smiling grace that she turns to see Angelo and Sara over there, and nods warmly to them.

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"It's gorgeous, Pepper, it's really great," Cait tells Ms. Potts. "I wanna go over and look at stuff once the party dies down a bit. Some of them are authentic holy relics and I wanna pay them proper respects." A little silver cross dangling below Caitlin's collarbone suggests a deeper emotional attachment to the exhibits, and why she's staying firmly on the 'party side' of the house instead of wandering over under the visage of the Holy Mother and the divine features of Christ overlooking the exhibits.

Caitlin beams at Jane. She doesn't abandon Dick, either, making sure to keep close to her friend. "Jane, I don't know if you've met Richard. Richard Grayson, Jane Foster." She hasn't met Dane yet, not formally, but flashes him a warm smile all the same. She's got that sort of sincerity that speaks of a genuine enthusiasm to make friends with people, albeit an introvert's shyness about crowds of strangers.

Henry McCoy has posed:
As Pepper addresses him, Henry grins and nods. He steps a bit closer, perhaps to avoid too much yelling. "Miss Potts! A pleasure to see you. Lovely affair here, truly." The man offers a proper bow, true to form to the Civil War era outfit he's sporting.

Henry glances to the stage then back to Pepper. "Quite the vocalist, too. How are things?"

Sara Pezzini has posed:
"I see you're known," Sara inclines her head to Jane. Tapping her finger on his arm, "And, if you're not careful wearing such valuable armor someone from Christie's is going to roll you in an alley and try to sell it off to a museum." Her eyes sweep the knots of people. "Show? Exhibit? What would you like to do?"

Dick Grayson has posed:
"Good to meet you, Mr. Stark!" Dick says cheerfully, "And I am!" He gives a nod as Tony departs, fully understanding the man is busy.

Dick flashes a grin and looks to the arrival of Jane and Dane, while taking a chance to whisper to Caitlin, "Looks like you are getting your wish!" He nods to Jane and says, "Dr. Foster, the pleasure is all mine. Tonight has been an unmitigated success." Dick offers a hand to Dane, "Good to meet you, Dick Grayson."

Achilles has posed:
    "Oh, I have full confidence in the NYPD's ability to keep my couch potato self safe in any situation." says Angelo absently as he leans in and bumps Sara's shoulder with his tricep. "Shall we make the rounds?" he asks. "Or would you perhaps like to test your skill with a bow?" he asks with a gesture towards the contest going on.
    "Or perhaps would you like to dance? It seems that the music here is fantastic." he says with a gesture out onto the floor.

Felicia Hardy has posed:
Felicia Hardy turns and starts to trot merrily from the event. She looks quite happy with the evening's events even though she really hasn't been here that long and mostly stared at a stone cup and a painting, while fidgeting with her glasses. But now she's heading for the exit at a quick pace, looking excited.

Jane Foster has posed:
Archers! The lady in the slitted tunic swanning around waits until the completed performance allows for an introduction. She clasps her hands together, microphone at her cheek to gently break into the sussuration of conversation and applause. "At the present time, we are welcoming all participants in the archery contests to join us outside on the West Terrace. One round of shots will determine our winners. If you would be so kind as to join me now?"

Dane Whitman has posed:
Dane, not being surprised that Tony is swept away by the social current, turns his attention to enjoying the concert for a little while, grinning wryly at the initial choice of song, but enjoying it nonetheless. Though in that lull between songs when Dick and Caitlin draw near, Dane extends the hand not entwined with Jane's to Caitlin and Dick in turn, "Dane Whitman, pleasure's all mine." He smiles politely but sincerely, giving each a firm handshake before his attention is drawn by the announcement of the archery contest, "Do we want to go watch?"

Then he sees that both Dick and Caitlin intend to compete and adds with a laugh, "Well now we /have/ to go watch, don't we?"

Sara Pezzini has posed:
"Both? All? Introductions to the people that are important to you if that's appropriate. Who nodded to us?" The announcement for the archery competition cuts across her words. "Really? Archery? You'd think that they wouldn't let real weapons be used in this setting. Well, that's interesting. Surprising even." Sara cranes her head to see who is moving toward the competition.

With a pat on his arm, "I think that might be more your forte. I haven't done that since girl's PE in high school so not tonight. Dance? Or shall we watch the archery?" She leans on him a moment then pulls them to a stop so she can take a drink from her flute.

Pepper Potts has posed:
Pepper always knows where Tony is, and she keeps an eye to make sure she doesn't have to give him a reason to leave an unwanted conversation; not that he'd need her assistance anyway. It's not to the point of distraction, anyway, and it's easy enough to focus on conversations at hand. This time, with the good doctor McCoy. Her smile brightens further at the courtly bow from the man in uniform, "She is," is readily agreed. "And things are going so well. Have you gotten a chance to see the new exhibition coming through? I would highly recommend it. This will be the only time you'll be able to catch it without fighting the crowds. I think it's going to be one of the more popular shows on the circuit this season."

Achilles has posed:
    Laughing softly, Angelo shrugs, "I find it easier to keep a low profile if I don't show off at every opportunity. Besides, it is for charity, so half of the fun is being terrible at it." he offers to Sara.
    Then he follows her gaze and smiles, "A co-worker of mine. Would you like to meet her? She is a very intelligent young woman, and a fantastic ... co-worker at the office if you take my meaning."
    And either way, he starts directing Sara in Jane's direction... for archery or introductions... or both?

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"It's swell to meet you, Mr. Whitman," Caitlin says, and shakes his hand. For her size and the absolute lack of give in her grip, she proves to have a very gentle and congenial handshake. "How do you know Ja--" She's tapped on the shoulder, and lifts a hand. "Oh! 'scuse me, I'll be right back," she informs the group.

Caitlin's pulled away by the archery contest. Before she goes, she crosses her fingers hopefully at her friends. "Wish me luck!" she remarks, and heads over to the range.

Much like Kaminari, Caitlin's face falls in dismay when she picks up the bow. It's meant for a Saracen, for a rider on horseback with human strength. Caitlin tries to draw in the classical style that was in use back when Thrace was a world superpower, held overhead and brought down to eye level; muscles stand out on her bare back arms with the motion. But the draw of the bow is simply too short for someone of her stature. Moreover, most Amazons wear a half-plate chest piece for good reason when they arch. Caitlin's clearly forgotten hers. When she looses, the bowstring bounces off her chest and the arrow shanks in midair and goes cutting sideways. She 'eeps!' more in surprise in pain, and casts a fearful glance around that someone might have seen her faux pas. With no witnesses coming forward, she hands the bow off and hustles back towards the party while giving her dress a discreet and worried once-over for damage.

"Guess I'm not as good as I remember," she informs her friends with a wry face. "I need to spend some time brushing up on fundamentals. I coulda thrown the arrow better than that."

Kaminari has posed:
Kaminari looks askance at the bow she is given when it is her turn to shoot in the archery competition. "What is this toy?" she asks them and after being assured that really is the bow she is expected to use she starts testing it a little and makes a face. Assuming a proper stance she places an arrow on the bow and using only her pinky attempts to bring it to a full draw. Even still with no resistance behind the string it's quite hard to guage and like an adult using a child's toy just when she is about to release her shot there is a cracking sound from the bow. Somehow the arrow still manages to go into the archery but, two over from the one she was supposed to be aiming at, even as a large crack has appeared in the arc of the bow. Hopefully they have another one...

Dick Grayson has posed:
Dick nods to Dane, "Well, Dane, I hope you have fun tonight!" He then hears the call for the contest and says, "One moment, please!" With that, he joins the other shooters, but first takes off his jacket and sets it on a chair to allow him better movement, as well as rolling up his right sleeve, knowing full well how much he needs to protect his left wrist.

Fortunately, Dick's shoulder has since healed and he watches as the others compete and keeps calm, wanting to observe and take his time. While he was not a trick shooter in the circus, to say he knew nothing of archery would be a lie and when his turn comes he goes over and sends his arrows into respectable spots. Silently, and internally, proud of himself, he breathes out and says to Caitlin when he returns to the group, "You did fine!" He offers a polite and sincere grin.

When the prize is presented, or at least the options of them, Dick takes a moment and selects the watch, "Thank you, again!" he says to the presenter.

Sara Pezzini has posed:
It takes a beat for Sara to follow Angelo's meaning. Oh. /That/ office, not his company. A passing waiter receives the empty flute as Angelo guides her toward Jane and the archery.

"What kind of bow is that? It's tiny!"

Straight faced, she quips, "You mean you don't want to show your prowess to the ladies?" She knows perfectly well that he is long past showing off which makes the tease all the more enticing.

Kaminari has posed:
Shortly before showtime Kaminari disappears from mingling wine, and misadventures with arrows. When she reappears again it is on the stage with one of the medieval instruments from the Met's collection.

Kaminari is rarely one to be outdone, they don't just call her the Goddess of Rock because she actually is one.

Kaminari's music does not just seek the audience's attention, it demands it. The Goddess of Rock rises into the air no strings required, or microphone for that matter, as her singing voice is clearly audible for all to hear. The medieval mandolin she procured from the MET's collection of instruments that is accompanying her singing manages to produce sounds a mandolin should not even be capable of. There is most certainly some divine trickery at play here as she manages to use the medieval instrument to do a modern rock interpretation of an older period ballad from the Crusade era in question.

The music seems to bounces off the walls and surround from all angles reverberating through the gala in a manner similar to thunder. Whether it is to an individual's particular taste or not it is hard to question the talent and skill behind her performance, something about over 1000 years of practice, which combined with the divine presentation puts on quite a show. She even bring her own lighting effects with arcs of lightning dancing around her as she sings a ballad to the Crusaders of yore.

Henry McCoy has posed:
The Beast grins to Pepper. "I have not, not yet. I had intended to compete in the archery." A glance over his shoulder to where the announcement is made. "It was a pleasure, Miss Potts. Perhaps another time?" He offers, again with a bow. "I'll certainly check out the exhibit after the arrows have been cast." A wink, and the dapper-dressed Henry heads out to the West terrace.

As he approaches his turn to fire, it appears he's been given an English Longbow - tall and strong. He holds the weapon gingerly, feeling the heft of the armnament. The string is plucked, testing the strength. He takes up a firing position, seeming to be able to naturally gauge the form of such.

He makes it look natural - but the firing is all but. He tugs the string back - too easily. Perhaps a bit unfamiliar with new-found strength, he pulls a bit too hard. The bowstring catches on his claw, snapping as the arrow is pitifully limped forward, laying several feet in front of the target.

"Drat and bother." He grumbles, looking sorely frustrated with himself.