I've got another confession to make

Look what I found!

If all else goes well, der Hut des Jaegers in Winterfell Absinthe will open tomorrow. Tacitly, I'm out of world, but for this? I will find a way for limbo to release me. How'ver, I haven't heard anything from Frau Lowey on the Stormhold wine shipment.

IF it happens, it will likely be an event somewhen between 5 and 7 pm SLT; if it does not, we'll try to get everyone more notice of the actual opening time.

[[Much later insert, as I actually started writing this entry this morning: we won't be opening tomorrow. Drat, the death of Prohibition will have to be celebrated next year. In the meantime, we will be opening soon! Ish.]]

Grab bag of fun links to start out with.

May I first present the Bronto-Blaster Express. Can't be too careful, after all, in the dinosaur-infested distant jungles of....wait, did they say Venus?!?

Boy, they aren't kidding, but just look at those details...

Steam Laboratory Goggles! Many different options! Customize and conquer!

For some reason, that makes me think of the doctor's latest difficulty...What with the Sixth Son actually being the Seventh Son for at least part of his life, and the Seventh Son now in the Sixth (but actually Seventh) Son's body...

*eyes glaze over while she hums "I'm My Own Grandpa"...*

And don't ask me why, but this is still just amazingly lovely...

And want to know more about Caledon's plans for expansion? Look no further.

And apparently anything can be made into a horror movie. (Thank you, Mr. Allen...I think.)

And I have just staggered away from Free For Fae, arms mayhap needlessly burdened with a wealth of free fae furnishings, clothing and wings....but I couldn't not at least look at everything! Unseelie, hello! And phouka!

And shifter besides. I had to know. LETTUCE LEAF WINGS!

Anyway.

Dancing! A ceilidh was held in the snowy heights of Loch Avie!

For those who don't know, a ceilidh is a Celtic gathering of the like-minded, to dance, to sing, to tell stories, and in general, have a great amount of fun. We honored that tradition to the letter, with much in the way of bizarre results.



My camera failed to work through much of the event, and there was the by-now obligatory crashing of the Em en dance, but...afterwards, things seemed to pick up. I know somewhere in this image can be seen Lady Christine, Edward being magnificently DJ-ish, Miss Mitsu Figaro (is it Figaro?), Miss Neome, Lunar, Fawkes, myself in the red braids, and I do believe that's Colonel O'Toole behind me with the rather large stabby thing.

Oh, and Kintyre's resident Chaos influence, Mr. Trun Yosuke, rather more missing and female than traditionally seen. We'll just skip past that right now.



SO many people came to the dance. We easily had forty avatars--not all at once, but just over the course of the first two hours! Again, some people I know, some I don't--Lunar, the tall white-haired one with the well-turned leg, Edward dancing next to Lady Christine and Miss AutopilotPatty Poppy, I think, Mr. Hotspur O'Toole again, and off in the distance, Baron Wulfenbach and his attaché Frau Annechen Lowey...in the, err, ehm..."traditional" tartan of...Europa.

*blinks*

Moving on.

[Later insert: I am corrected, it was apparently a sett especially commissioned by Baron Wulfenbach for the Harvest Festival earlier. Now, because of color variation, I'm not sure whether it's Auld Lang Syne or The Great Scot from the universal setts, but I'm sure that can be confirmed with a question, if necessary. But yes, I now have knowledge. All knowledge is of use.

[However, I do know that the lovely Drowess in red towards the bottom right of this photograph has been identified as Miss Teleri Davies Nightfire. Thank you again, Baron!]



Baron Wulfenbach and Frau Lowey, showing us how caber waltzing is really done.

What?

Mr. Iason Hassanov looks on, baffled yet again as he tries to process another strange custom of the human sorts.



The sheep begin to gather, drawn by the smell of wet wool--it was snowing, after all, and we were dancing next to a fire--and the Perpetual Motion Machine (the cat with the piece of buttered toast strapped to its back) was in full rotational swing.

I do wish I could remember her name, but look at the dress of the lady on the far left of this picture--we don't see much in the way of traditional high-waisted Edwardian attire on the grid. I'd love to know where she got it. If anyone knows who she is, do let me know? I'll ask.

[Later insert: Miss Eladrienne Laval to the rescue! That is Miss Diamanda Gustafson, fellow Radio Riel DJ--"Lady Whoop-Ass" to her faithful listening audience, in fact--and the sharpshooter who is most likely to save Radio Riel in Penzance from a fate worse than...worse than...um...being savaged by a vicious vorpal snow bunny. ...No, really.

[...

[...so I will ask her! Thank you, Miss Laval!]



More spinning under the splendidly full moon. Edward looks tired. Maybe he's getting ol--

*coughs*

Moving on.



Sheep are not as stupid as they look at times. This one discovered the very real truth: engine-driven sound equipment generates heat. Standing under the table on a cold and snowy night? Keeps one warm. Smart thinking!



We really had a great time. The music was wonderful, we never minded the chill--moving through the third hour, honestly, we never even FELT it--and even though a couple of the sheep went, err, missing...next to the fire...and the, err, spit...it was a glorious, thrilling ceilidh.

And afterwards, I only got hit once in the face with a snowball! Bwaha.



Pity I didn't get a better shot of the Radio Riel sign, this would've made a fun ad....I will give the Duchess this, she knows what she's doing, she's hired amazingly fun talent who seem to share a genuine appreciation for nearly all musical styles, and who also share a deep love of Caledon. Which is as it should be.

Also? I should point out my gown came from Pearse'd and Cut, along with so many of the gowns seen at the St. Andrew's Day events...fortuitous timing, that, coming out with a new line of kilts and tartan dresses...just before St. Andrew's Day.

Kudos on that, Edward.