Florentin Octavius
Florentin was never a man that half-assed things. Everything, and he meant everything, in the dinner had to be perfect. The pool boy, the maids and the gardener dropped by earlier that day to make sure their respective areas were clean and perfect with dear old Sasha presiding over them and making sure they did their jobs properly. A few caterers came in later that afternoon to decorate the place, move stuff around and deliver food that took time to prepare, mainly the desserts. They brought in macaroons of assorted flavors, finely stacked and decorative in themselves, and several dozens of eclairs.
Florentin in general preferred simple but elegant, and the decorations were no different: The curtains were traded for rich, dark purple embroidered velvet and the long table cloth with his best white decorated linen. As far as the dishes went, he broke out the fine china, plates and bowls made out of shiny porcelain. There was a white ribbon around the stairway handle and several vases of preserved white roses. The lighting was dim, and there was a special pianist hired to play classical music all night to complete the ambiance of opulence. As requested, the mantle above the fireplace was cleared of most knickknacks for Octain's portrait. Everything was radiant, and absolutely perfect.
The most radiant centerpiece of them all was Florentin himself. He might be more distant from his parents nowadays, but that didn't change the fact that they taught him a great deal of useful things, with his favorite one being how to dress and carry himself like royalty.
There was a sort of on switch that flickered inside Florentin. Make no mistake: Florentin was charming everyday, but in these situations, he turned from rich heir pretty boy into something else entirely, more magnetic and intense, like a distant star zoomed in to reveal it was a bright, burning sun. He had a charm that demanded to be noticed, the kind that turned scrappy little boys into millionaires and valley girls into Hollywood stars. There was confidence in his posture and grace in his movements. As far as outfits went, he wore a simple but formal get-up of finely pressed slacks, a white dress shirt, a black tie, a black vest, and a silver ribbon holding his hair up. His own heirloom shone around his neck, beautiful and proud.
Florentin smiled like a million bucks and pulled Sasha down to his height, giving him a quick peck on the lips. For good luck, he thought. "Party's about to begin, my darling."
With that, Florentin left the kitchen and told security to open the gates through the intercom.
@"Dalamadur" @"mariosaur" @"Bowen" @"Porky" @"Sashi" @"Tom Marvolo Riddle" @"Trahnael"
Florentin was never a man that half-assed things. Everything, and he meant everything, in the dinner had to be perfect. The pool boy, the maids and the gardener dropped by earlier that day to make sure their respective areas were clean and perfect with dear old Sasha presiding over them and making sure they did their jobs properly. A few caterers came in later that afternoon to decorate the place, move stuff around and deliver food that took time to prepare, mainly the desserts. They brought in macaroons of assorted flavors, finely stacked and decorative in themselves, and several dozens of eclairs.
Florentin in general preferred simple but elegant, and the decorations were no different: The curtains were traded for rich, dark purple embroidered velvet and the long table cloth with his best white decorated linen. As far as the dishes went, he broke out the fine china, plates and bowls made out of shiny porcelain. There was a white ribbon around the stairway handle and several vases of preserved white roses. The lighting was dim, and there was a special pianist hired to play classical music all night to complete the ambiance of opulence. As requested, the mantle above the fireplace was cleared of most knickknacks for Octain's portrait. Everything was radiant, and absolutely perfect.
The most radiant centerpiece of them all was Florentin himself. He might be more distant from his parents nowadays, but that didn't change the fact that they taught him a great deal of useful things, with his favorite one being how to dress and carry himself like royalty.
There was a sort of on switch that flickered inside Florentin. Make no mistake: Florentin was charming everyday, but in these situations, he turned from rich heir pretty boy into something else entirely, more magnetic and intense, like a distant star zoomed in to reveal it was a bright, burning sun. He had a charm that demanded to be noticed, the kind that turned scrappy little boys into millionaires and valley girls into Hollywood stars. There was confidence in his posture and grace in his movements. As far as outfits went, he wore a simple but formal get-up of finely pressed slacks, a white dress shirt, a black tie, a black vest, and a silver ribbon holding his hair up. His own heirloom shone around his neck, beautiful and proud.
Florentin smiled like a million bucks and pulled Sasha down to his height, giving him a quick peck on the lips. For good luck, he thought. "Party's about to begin, my darling."
With that, Florentin left the kitchen and told security to open the gates through the intercom.
@"Dalamadur" @"mariosaur" @"Bowen" @"Porky" @"Sashi" @"Tom Marvolo Riddle" @"Trahnael"
