ringing in the new year

[beastkeeper]

For the most part, the beginning of every new year on the block is the same. There's the party, held down in the common room (barely distinguishable from the lobby, but hey, who cares), and the reminders that go up in the week prior, telling people to bring food to share (not that everyone does — the witch provides more than enough, anyhow). There are, of course, smaller parties, held in the apartments upstairs or on the grounds, and the combinations of creatures always rotates (more or less), but the overall air remains the same. The end of one year and the ushering in of another is cause to celebrate.

Comments

[survey]

[ And Sophie's in his kitchen, having arrived earlier, her first stop after making her rounds in the common room downstairs. It's quieter here. More relaxed. Nothing loud or sudden to distract her—and she does get distracted easily, be it by bright colors or flyaway movements or the tiny, unseeable things in the cracks in the floor or in the air—so she cherishes the places where she can focus back on one thing at a time, and Theo's place is just that: calming, and centered, like her own.

Her hands are busy placing an array of crackers on a plate, a table knife held in her fingers, spreading Brie over water biscuits; a tall-stemmed glass of wine near her elbow, half full. And when Sophie's done preparing her collection of snacks, she turns around with the plate in one hand and the wine in the other; a minute later finds her sitting comfortably down on Theo's couch, nursing her drink and surveying the activity, limited though it is. ]

[wellmeant]

[ It's a matter of moments before she has company. Theo, carrying a glass of wine (and the bottle the wine came from) stops by the couch, nodding once at the open seat next to her. (Truth be told, there isn't anyone in the block he feels more comfortable around. Sophie's company is one thing he'll never turn down, not when the block is run the way it is, each day lived in a sort of routine but all subject to the whims of the witch.) ]

You mind company? [ It's his apartment, yes, but there's no harm in being polite, and besides, she did sit first. ]

[survey]

[ Sophie smiles when she see him coming, small and genuine, the curve of it hidden by the the rim of her wineglass; when he arrives, she sets it down on the coffee table, welcoming him openly, eyes crinkled, sparkling warm and familiar. Theo's been a close companion for several years now, always a sincere and steady presence, willing to listen—not that she often speaks at length—and when she does, it's usually out of concern for their fellow blockmates, or perhaps out of some kind of sudden or cultivated fondness, like that she feels for Theo. He's a good friend, and she's glad of that, something stable in the midst of such a myriad of different (and sometimes destructive) personalities. ]

Not at all. [ She turns her head up to look at him, amused that would ask, but understanding why; politeness never goes amiss, even among friends. She pats the place next to her. Scoots up on the cushion attentively. ]

Has it been a good day for you?

[wellmeant]

The year's off to a good start, [ Theo tells her as he sits down, careful not to let his glass tip too far.

When it comes down to the line, Theo, although extremely sociable, isn't the type to talk if it's not necessary. He understands what comfort there is to be had in silence, in knowing that words are superfluous and in knowing that one doesn't have to put up a pretense. It's with this in mind that Theo offers up a smile, a little of the exhaustion he's been feeling evident in his features, although it's a content kind of tiredness. He's happy, not necessarily to still be in the block, but to be spending the holiday in good company. ]

And you?