2013 Sutter Medical Charity Ball

[Miach]

Much like last year, Dr Jonathan Blyes was standing at the bar of the Sacramento Convention Center, a cocktail in hand and a bored look on his face. Money, money, money was the order of the day, and all the hospital counted of department lead were expected to attend the Sutter Foundation's Charity Ball to extol the wonderful work that was done at Sutter's. And he was no exception.

Looking around, he couldn't help but wince at the expensive furnitures, the classy adornment. All this money spent in hope of garnering more by the end of the night... the Acanthus prayed it wouldn't be in vain, because he was loathe to consider what equipment could have been funded and would be cut otherwise...

He took another draught, and sternly reminded himself that he couldn't even afford to get drunk. What a pain !

[Miach]

Looking around, Miach was starting to worry. There were more doctors than donators, which didn't bode well for the financing of many much-needed projects. The evening was only starting though, so hopefully it was merely that being late was the latest fashionable trend.

[Miach]

Real Name

Could you remind me how you know Miach's Real Name, please ? I know it's been somewhat publicized, but he hasn't told it to you first hand, to the best of my memory ?

Miach was having his fifth mojito, and looking forward to a headache tomorrow when he recognized one friendly face, at last. "Hey, Vincent. I'm great, as you can see." he said, making a show of the emptied glasses behind me. "How about you ? How's the eye ?" he asked, with a somewhat more somber tone. He couldn't do anything yet about the man, but it was on his to do list, and he did keep track of it. If something could be done, he would.

[Key]

~

Reverb was there when miach was shot and he obviously reads the paper.

[Martha Villiers]

Charity! Not only was it a Cardinal Virtue, but it was also a place Martha hoped she may find and mix with wealthy social and political elites. Although eager to help charity, she was also dwelling in a fertile and ruthless political realm...it behoved her to mix with powerful Mortals.

There was bound to be more than a few here this evening

To prepare for the evening Martha had made a real effort to dress up. She wore a tastefully long red satin gown; she'd added a red shawl, long black opera gloves, a red clutch bag and a dab of ruby red lipstick and blusher. Her raven dark hair is piled in a very elegant Gibson Girl style up-do. Making certain of her Blush of Life there's a fresh aroma of minty toothpaste which follows her around. Red high heels peek from under the hem of her gown as she walks. Entering the Ballroom with as much grace as she could manage, she used her simple metal walking stick as little as possible.

This promised to be a fascinating, perhaps even useful, evening...she shared a small and sweet smile with Dillon as she paused to survey the scene.

Martha's Blush of Life = active! -1 Vitae

With Martha sure to make a beautiful little crimson splash, Dillon can't possibly risk overshadowing her with anything too flashy. That's just bad form. Instead, he wears a simple,
classic black tux designed to compliment rather than contend for attention. Broad shouldered and tall, he wears it well.

With a sideways glance to the little lady, he can't help but be reminded of the Midsummer Masquerade at the River View Marriott a few years ago. It had been one of Dillon's first encounters with the tiny Herald, and his flirtatious streak had been in full swing. Those were nights when he had no specific responsibilities within the Domain to consider, with every move he made, or syllable he spake.

Of course, this time, Martha's hair is raven black, among a few other small differences. Always an admirer of black accents with a red dress, the Reeve most certainly approves. As far as his own attire is concerned, this time his tie is tied perfectly. He is not making a special effort to draw attention to himself. No statement about a wolf in sheep's clothing.

"As before," he says in a low voice with a slight bend toward Martha's ear, "I think it best if you choose our direction."

Martha nods and smiles in gentle, if silent, reply...pondering that very direction...

[Miach]

"Well... blame the drinks, I say..." Miach tried to plead while finishing his more than half-full mojito in one go. He then tilted his head as he looked at the empty glass in sorrow, and with a twist of his hand ordered two more of the same.

"Still, I'm sorry I couldn't do a thing about your eye, but... perhaps that too may change. Someday..." it sounded more like wishful thinking than a true declaration, though, but there was genuine determination in the Enchanter's voice, at least.

That was when he spotted the red-dressed lady with an artificial leg ( Chrisie ), and he winced further. If only I could help her too... By the sweet smile she gave to the man with her, he wanted to hope that she had overcome it, and was finding pleasure in her life anyway, such as it was at least. To enjoy oneself was the point of life, after all. One of them, at least.

[October Davenport]

Toby had missed last year’s ball due to work, so she was excited she actually had the night off. She selected a blue gown for the evening, and left her long hair down, but with a little curl in it.

She enjoyed giving back, and hoped they would raise a good amount of money this year. She enters the room, her eyes quickly scanning those already present, and finding Miach with Vincent, and waves at the two, not sure if they wanted her to interrupt or not. She figures if they want the company they would motion her over.

[Princess]

And so came the elite to pretend to be nice. Well, some were genuine. But working in Finance made it more than obvious when people were really asking about how they could pay the least taxes. And that was one of many reasons she left the tax law to others. Hers was not to question why - her's was but to make as much money of whatever situation happened to be present. Not to mention, a financial genius who officially had a debilitating illness might seem remiss in her social life were she to show not even a passing interest with hospital benefit events. And maybe she'd rub shoulders with some more practically minded clients, as well.

Dressed to the tens, because the nines were for "Ninety-nine Percenters," she strolls in a flawlessly chosen wine cocktail dress and black heels, a tower of elegance with tasteful accents in silver and a black olive clutch. She, of course, had made sure her makeup, naturally applied as well as the blush of blood, was perfect before she even approached the main event. And the way she swaggered ever so slightly was a dead giveaway that she knew she was, indeed, perfect.

And damned if she didn't recognize another across the room who has settled upon a similar color scheme. And the other was familiar was well. Had she seen him at court? Or was he just a dinner guest?

Her eyes wander the crowd as she walks about the room with an arc from right to left, contemplating who the fascinating people might be. Doctors are interesting, but I fear it looks as though they are wanting for financiers. I don't recognize enough of the crowd. Hmm.