LAVISH MANSIONS, VINTAGE WINE | 4TH OF JULY PARTY

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It was common knowledge that both Genevieve and Margaery alike adored parties. The pair had grown up watching them evolve, partaking here and there in some of the most fantastic parties to be thrown around the world, well, ever. It helped as well that Genevieve was a twentieth century type of girl. In her early days of existence, when she wasn’t killing and murdering and feeding for sadistic pleasure, she frequented all of the best ‘shindigs’, drinking alcohol that was considered illegal and living the life of liberated woman. Pearls. Feathers. Sequence. The parties in her time were lavish and expensive and certainly nothing to take for granted, and as she gazed upon this attempt at a party, Genevieve found herself so desperately wishing that Bastilleprisoner had gone a little more Gastby-esque.

It was no matter though, she supposed. At least the poor boy hadn’t skimped them all on alcohol.

[color=#b14767]”I’m vastly older than America, why don’t I get my own holiday celebrating my birthday?” She faux pouted, a tail lashing. She helped herself to some bourbon before turning on a heel to grin at Bast. [color=#b14767]”So I get to meet our allies today, sugar? How lovely.” Margaery certainly didn’t care about all of them. Maybe she could convince some unfortunate soul to let her take a sip or two.