September Event - Guest Appearances

[pumpkinhollow]

GUEST APPEARANCES

Ignition

September 20th is the Autumnal Equinox. Many places across the world of Concorde celebrate the first day of fall. While various nations and regions have their own cultural practices surrounding it, nature is god everywhere. And so the inception of Mother Autumn’s domain is universally recognized, even if the names change from place to place. But on a little island named Marrow, in a little town called Pumpkin Hollow, there is another reason to celebrate.

The birth of Dahlia Leeds is not so important an event that it supersedes Celestine herself, and neither Dahlia nor anyone in town is foolhardy enough to claim as much. In fact, after the events on this very same day last year, one might argue that perhaps her birth at least started out as a bad thing. But she is certainly the wealthiest person in town. It is through the combination of substantial wealth and a generous heart, two things that are very seldom found in the same place, that we end up with a soiree where the birthday girl would rather spoil everyone else on her day than herself.

The doors to Leeds Estate, which presides proudly over the town upon its throne at the crest of Founder’s Hill, are flung wide open. Large sums of Brass are paid to caterers, florists, and seamstresses to make sure this place is decorated to the nines. Some businesses labor all year, just to prepare for the handsome payoff they’ll get from this event alone. And you, dear neighbor, are invited. Not only are you invited, but you are dressed for the event in whatever your heart desires, completely at the birthday girl’s expense. Dahlia ensures no cost nor conflict stands in between anyone in town and a much-needed break. She is determined for this birthday of hers to be a good night.

Or else.

Incipience

{ The timeframe between ignition and the peak of burning, where a small, contained fire spreads and grows gradually into an established flame. All it takes is a spark. }

The whole town is abuzz as preparations for the gala begin. From the moment people begin to wake up for the day, the air throughout Pumpkin Hollow just feels electric with excitement. After August, people have been needing this lift in morale, and after how last year’s gala went… well, there’s a lot riding on this one. And Dahlia seems much more in control now.

Speaking of being in control, the whole lead-up process has been incredibly organized. You wake up to a delivery--- your outfit, perfectly tailored and completely paid for. Accessories are included. She truly thought of everything.

It’s noteworthy that Dahlia’s invitations this time included another name beneath her own. “Suzanne Marie Dyneax,” it said. Most people don’t know the name, but gossip gets around in a small town like this. It’s not hard to pick up on the fact that this probably refers to Susie, one of the teenagers that Dahlia recently moved into her home, whose own birthday was ruined by Seemingly’s attack. Gift baskets have been delivered to others whose days were in proximity to the disaster--- Zivia, Capochin, even CT. Wine, fruit, and sweets, along with a birthday card. Dahlia has said in the past, “my birthday is your birthday,” but never has that felt more true.

With businesses mostly closed for the celebration, you are left with the majority of the day to prepare in relative peace. For many of the women in Dahlia’s inner circle, there is even a pre-party group dressing room set up on the third floor of her home. Only those who received her special invitation (Susie, Noelle, Fever, Cassandra, Anya, Alice, Patty, Melanie, Basira, Elsie) are permitted to join, but any friends or partners are gladly invited to wait at the bottom of the stairs for the girls to make their grand entrance.

The food is laid out, flowers placed, dresses laced and buttoned. The clock strikes 6pm, and the fun begins.

FLASHOVER

{ The moment when a blaze reaches its maximum size and heat, and the radiant heat in the space is such that all combustible materials ignite at once, allowing the flame to steadily and freely burn for the rest of the night. }

By the time it reaches 6:15, the ballroom is already flooded with eager dancers and hungry dinner guests. After all, the whole town is invited, and everyone’s excited to see Dahlia’s beautiful new ballroom and take a load off.

The music is elegant, played by a rotating cast of musicians who join the party when their act is over. The food is extravagant--- Dahlia and two of her partners are some of the biggest foodies in town, so this is expected. There is talking and laughing and the swirling of ballgowns, and all is well.

But there is a guest you do not recognize in the corner of the ballroom. An older man with white hair, strong features, and a dour expression. You can see Dahlia eyeing him, then flitting over to him, then talking to him. Her expression shifts from anxious, to annoyed, to resigned, before at last she sighs heavily and leaves him to it. Whatever it is that’s going on, clearly it’s something Dahlia is willing to begrudgingly tolerate in order to get back to having fun.

The reason for the disturbance becomes clear in short order, but by the grace of Celestine (and perhaps Eligos), it isn’t a reality bending nightmare or an attack by some monstrous beings. It is simply more guests.

A lot more, in fact.

Those who were on the island in September of the previous year will recall the Visitor’s Center, which appeared briefly just past the beach and served as temporary living and meeting quarters for visitors from the homeworlds of current residents. It would seem that this is a repeat incident. For the night of the gala, one to two “plus ones” have been invited for the vast majority of offworld residents. Most of them are friends or family who are happy to see their guests--- but this is ultimately a working of Eligos, so naturally, this is not always the case.

At the very least, Eligos seems to have been generous with his own granddaughter. As she turns away from him, she very nearly runs into someone much shorter than her. A dark haired human man with dwarfism. He laughs at the accident, grinning up at her as she stares back at him, utterly baffled. Then, petticoats billowing out, Dahlia sinks to the floor and embraces him as tight as she can, head pressed to his chest with little regard for her carefully-styled hair. Even those across the room can hear her shout his name. ”Jonah!”

Within the hour, the ballroom is packed with nearly double the people originally expected, turning the party livelier than it’s ever been. Tearful reunions, laughter, dancing, mischief, romance, sparring, cruelty, and even proper, righteous violence. Truly, this Leeds Gala will be one for the books!

--------
[ OOC reminders: each apped-in player character is entitled to one or two guests from their homeworld. This can be former selves, family, friends, enemies, and they do not have to be from the character’s exact canonpoint. They can be from the past or the future. You may play them yourself, ask another member player to do it, or recruit a non-member player to do so with moderator approval. Non-member players are permitted to join the Discord server while they’re active in this event! Threads you write for your own guests are eligible for AC for the character they’re there with, and threads you write for someone else’s guest can be used on the AC of a character of your choice. Just make sure to mark them as guest threads. After the gala, guests will be allowed to move freely about town, stay the night on Saturday and go home Sunday, or leave right after the gala if preferred. And last but not least, characters played in the gala can be apped directly from this event, rather than going through the normal arrival process. Let a mod know if you have questions, and have fun! ]

Smoldering

{ The decay of a flame as available heat, oxygen, and burning material gradually diminish. Eventually, the flames will recede entirely into glowing embers, glittering like orange starlight amid the ashes of what once was. }

The party rages well into the night. It’s not typical for residents of Pumpkin Hollow to stay out this late, with everything around here that goes bump in the night, but eventually party-goers begin to find their way out. They move in small groups, huddled around lanterns, may they ever stay lit. Perhaps the surprising bit is that their guests can go with them. There are even reservations made for board overnight at the Oak & Iron, all under the name “E. Rex”.

But alas, these reservations are only booked for one night. And by the time the sun begins to set on the darker half of the year for the first time, an unfamiliar black boat is moored at Jack's Marina. One that the guests will recognize as the vessel on which they arrived. They must leave by the time it becomes dark.

Or must they? Perhaps for a select few, they will fail to feel the call which draws them home. It is unclear why. There are many that Mortanne would have allowed residency for, if she could. But for some reason, all but a small few feel the pull. Perhaps Eligos has simply abandoned them here. (Or maybe none at all end up marooned and everyone goes home? That all depends on you, dear reader.)

When the sky goes dark, the aptly named Heavy Heart shoves off, with only her crimson sails hanging suspended seemingly in midair in the moonlight. The black ship is otherwise consumed by the night. And soon, even those flashes of red vanish into the distance.

Moments recede into memories, like a dying fire settles gently into glowing embers at the bottom of a hearth. The festivities are over, and the guests are gone. Life in Pumpkin Hollow resumes as before. But maybe just a little warmer and brighter.

“My birthday is your birthday,” as Dahlia often says.

Happy birthday.

References to the appearance of Leeds Estate can be found here!

Comments

fever (dark urge) | baldur's gate 3

[abhorrently]

girls' night.

It's the first time Fever thinks she's ever been invited to something like this - she's used to getting ready for the occasions back in her own apartment, figuring out the fussy parts with mage hand and asking no one at all if they approve. But after everything they've all been through recently, it feels perfect to come in and make this a communal thing. A moment of joy, to balance out how much despair they were asked to endure.

So she's there, drinking in the atmosphere, offering her hands where people need buttons or hair brushing or a supportive eye looking over their outfits or perhaps words of heartfelt encouragement that they really do look stunning. At present, she's not dressed yet - she's saving that until they're closer to actually descending - choosing to instead stay in her underthings for safety's sake. She's also happy to offer to do anyone's eyeliner who wants it, whether they want as heavy a look as Fever herself wears or if they would prefer something more subtle. And, for those who want to keep sparkling, she's brought a glittering creation that can be applied to the hair for a temporary shimmer that will shine in the myriad lights and reflections of the night.

She's happy, and even those she doesn't know that well are given open arms and a smile. The past weeks have been for enduring and rebuilding, but tonight can be for a break from it all.

conflagration.

The event proper is underway, and Fever dives into it with enthusiasm. She's chosen to wear the same dress as she did last year, and practically glides around draped in the night sky. Even her hair subtly twinkles to match, and she feels confident and beautiful - and reassured by the multiple blades she has concealed in her underpinnings. Given last year, one can't be too careful about things, as well as all the new faces showing up. But wariness won't override joy, and one must take it where they can find it. She looks for friends to marvel at their looks, to catch up, to take to the dance floor after dinner and barely want to sit down. And of course, there's everyone new to meet and greet and introduce herself to. Friends of friends, newcomers to town, all the rest. The same giddiness that had flooded Fever at the fairy circus is back, and the seasons keep turning.

Fever can't be up and about forever, of course, so occasionally she's at the side, sitting down with wine, and later, water, gazing at the festivities and trying to listen in on what gossip might be traveling about. Her table has open seats, and if you look like you need or want to rest, she's content to wave you over, gesturing at the chairs.

Very occasionally, she's out in the side garden, taking in the air and letting herself settle back down when everything starts to feel like so much that a headache starts to build behind her eyes. At those moments, if she's not leisurely walking around, she's found a wall to lean next to with her eyes closed. Just because she's quiet doesn't mean she's asleep though.

smoke rising. (feat. guest!)

Of course, not everything can go well. Eligos's presence makes her unsettled, despite how he's doing nothing amiss - she knows those eyes, that crushing energy, and Fever does her best to not stare. There's the absolute misery of seeing Number 2 back among them, wondering what in all nine hells anyone is playing at with him here. Wretched fucking asshole, the moment he thinks he's safe, he will not be, and to those also concerned, she's all too glad to try to think of a way to disentangle him from Mulcahy. They beat him once, and they will do it as many times as they have to.

And, rather personally, there is the matter of the skulking fiend that's appeared at the party. There's a face she never wanted to see again, and the moment she heard that sniveling voice call out "Milady! Oh raptures!" she had pivoted on her heel and nearly dragged the being outside. Their discussion is fierce, kept in low whispers while Fever's expression grows darker and darker, and those that draw near get hit with a fierce glare and a gesture of the head. This is private, and she'll thank them to let it stay that way.

Later, she's returned to full form, while the fiend mopes about the edges of the party. With his mistress's not-quite-dismissal, he can stay alive, but to be so rejected and cast out? Woe! Misery! He'll drown his sorrows in wine, and start looking for another blackened soul who might be yet in need of his particular faithful talents, because what is a butler without serving? That's like a funeral without a corpse! Those who are pulled to villainy, souls tainted with evil, may have someone shadowing them, closely observing to see if they might take up the mantle that has fallen. And if Sceleritas dares to come close to Fever again, she casts him a dark glare and a simple shake of the head to send him scurrying off. No. He has his life, such as it is, but it would be easy to revoke.

wildcard.

(have a different idea? go ahead and hit me with whatever - seriously! I'm also open to writing custom starters for those who'd like something for them.

if you'd like to interact with Scleritas Fel specifically, just drop a note in your header - he'll be independent at the event, but ultimately end up lingering near Number 2 for a long while. tl;dr - he's Fever's imp butler from her evil era, and has no idea how to process her on the path to reformation. perfect for all your devoted henchman needs!)

Conflagration (Outside)

[when_december_ends]

Dess recognizes that look.

She leans against the short stone garden wall as well, a foot or so from Fever. "It's loud in there, huh? And bright." If Fever looks to her left, she'll see a deer girl. Though she's taller, and her hair is short and dark, the resemblance to Noelle is uncanny. She also reeks to high heaven of an herbal smell that Fever likely finds familiar, which seems to be coming to the leaf-packed "cigarette" in her hand. "Want somethin' to take the edge off? It's suuuuper not a good idea for me to smoke this whole thing myself."

cw: drug use for this whole thread

[abhorrently]

She remembers that from the midst of the ship, and also recalls how quiet her mind got at the time. One of the decent memories from that entire shitshow. Nodding, she reaches over and takes the joint. Not too much at once, she knows, or you're just asking for a coughing fit.

"Thanks." She looks a lot like Noelle, Fever thinks - sisters, perhaps. Hopefully it's a happier reunion than not. "It's not bad loud or bright. Everyone's having a good time, it seems."

It's just sometimes, your head feels like it's stuffed too full, and you need a minute to breathe. The joint is a bonus. Besides, like the stranger's said, it'd be bad for her to smoke the whole thing alone.

Re: cw: drug use for this whole thread

[when_december_ends]

"Yeahhhh, but it can still make your brain hurt. Breaks are good for ya." She offers a furry hand--- brown, with black-tipped fingers. "I'm Dess. I'm here with Noelle, if ya know her. You?"

for valdis.

[abhorrently]

There's been a lot to do - a lot of new people, a dinner to have, butlers to threaten within an inch of their miserable little lives - so it makes sense that she gets held up. Both of them, really, with the ebb and flow of people there. Still, she knows Valdis is coming, since she asked her about it, so Fever isn't worried when she doesn't see her at the beginning of the night.

Time enough has passed when Fever turns and does spot her, and she beams for it, picking up her skirts and hurrying over.

"Oh, you look fantastic!" Like a pink rose, and is that Max matching her over there? It is. Fever's delighted. "Are you having a good time?"

[redlightgreenlight]

As much as she doesn't want to be, Valdis is on guard from the moment she walks into the ballroom, even more so when people she doesn't recognize show up. None of them appear to be for her and most of them are unthreatening, so she does her best to relax, not allowing any of her concerns to show on her face or in how she moves.

She turns when she senses Fever coming, a smile lighting up her face as she sees how beautiful the woman is.

"Max insisted I try a new color."

Valdis twirls for her, laughing lightly.

"And I suppose so, as long as it stays this way."

She hasn't forgotten the last time.

[abhorrently]

"Here's hoping. If not, ask me for a dagger, I've got three."

She gives Valdis a deep curtsy in exchange for the twirl, sinking and rising and twinkling the whole time, before she comes to link their arms and let the general giddiness this place inspires in her continue.

"Find anyone special out in the crowd tonight? We have quite the secondary guest list."

And so far, her only problem has been dealt with. So far. She's keeping her eyes open for another doppelganger from the past to emerge.

for number 2.

[abhorrently]

It's not the woman who had stared him down with such hatred so long ago that creeps close - no, if she cannot forcibly remove him from the premises, she has no desire to be in his vicinity, because it will only enrage her to the point of recklessness. Instead, it is a lowly servant that follows behind, debating his approach. This one - the vile corruption in his soul is most admirable. While he assuredly runs closer to the sons of Bane than that of who he'd prefer to serve, for villainy, there is simply not an adequate comparison.

Find someone else to serve, had been his mistress's order, and so, ever accommodating, he will do so.

Eventually, a moment arises, and the commotion around the man - Number 2 is settled enough that he can speak.

"Respectable sir, may I beg a moment of your time?"

[number_2]

Number 2 frowns down at the hideous creature. His first instinct is to shoo the thing away, but he reconsiders on the grounds of, frankly, this being one of the few people so far who has bothered to show him the respect he is due. Fine, he'll hear it out.

"You may, but make it quick."

[abhorrently]

Quick he can do. Cut it down to basics, even though he would prefer a little more time, but a gentleman like this is being accosted from all sides. What time would 2 even have at all?

"Then I shall make my point upfront. Do you find yourself in need of a servant to aid and abet you in your dealings, schemes, and general business on a daily basis? If so, it would be my great honor to take up that position for you, as I have recently found myself...underemployed and discontent to stay such."

No task beneath him! No scheme too unsavory! If he had a resume, it would come with excellent references!

conflagration / flowers in our hair.

[cyansoldier]

"Sleeping standing up? That's new."

A cool voice travels on the back of cool night air, belonging to the throat— the woman— branded by lightning. Carolina leans with her arms crossed, draped in a relatively simple garment; sun-kissed skin set against midnight, scars and soldier's bulk on display where silk hems. Her hair is pulled back into a braid, bangs curtaining her features. She likes the lack of fabric hugging her underarms. She likes not making a fuss. Into the garden, away from the noise, surrounded by flowers— and she likes that too.

So, it seems, does Fever.

Carolina admires her silently, quickly, the way a soldier is trained not to linger on things can kill you. Pale skin and stars and velvet night taking the shape of a person; view she might have seen through the Mother of Invention's fore windows.

She shoulders away from the wall.

"Let's walk."

[abhorrently]

Fever's eyes crack open, and she huffs something like a laugh. She hasn't hid the truth of her headaches in the past - one cropped up during training, and she was candid enough about it. I get these spells sometimes, like my head wants to split open. I've got medicine, but sometimes they just hit me out of nowhere. It isn't something vulnerable, merely a fact of life to contend with, and while she never won't be upset and irritated with them, they know how to go away. Speaking of medicine, hers is starting to actually work, so a walk sounds perfect, and she nods, willing to follow where Carolina might want to head.

"You look stunning, by the way. If you haven't heard that at least twenty times tonight, I don't know what the rest of the town is thinking."

The compliment comes with all the ease of someone who means what she's saying, no self-consciousness to mar the shadow of it, mere fact that Carolina should carry with her like her own cloak of stars.

"And it's good to see you attending one of this town's better moments, when all's said and done."

Not everything that happens around here is awful. But sometimes a reminder is desperately needed.

[cyansoldier]

The headaches, she's told, are an unfortunate fact of life. Treated by medicine but never cured. An inconvenience to training— though one Carolina unflinchingly accommodates when the need crops up. We'll take ten, and together they'd sit, chug water, talk. I had a friend who'd get headaches like yours. We called him Maine, but really his name was Jude. I think he would have liked one of those tiaras.

"Thanks. You're actually the twenty-first." She spends a beat looking a little more freely at her. "Blue looks good on you. Brings out your eyes."

Not that she's biased to blue, or anything.

"For a minute there, I didn't think the weather would break. I've got some patching up to do because of it—" an egregious understatement; her house needs major rebuilding, but who would she be if not dismissive of hardship? "—But the break's nice. Takes your mind off things."

conflagration

[hadnoright]

Daisy drops into one of the open seats like it's personally offended her, somehow, energy in direct contrast with how dolled up she is for the evening and with the fact that nothing's horrible has actually happened this evening. Honestly, it's more comical than anything.

She nods at Fever over the rim of a glass of wine that is, as usual, doing nothing for her. "Sure is a party."

[abhorrently]

"A nice party. Even with the man over there lurking around."

A little nod in the direction of Eligos - he's not doing anything amiss, and frankly, later she'll consider that him watching the fuckery that will go down is perhaps why he showed up in the first place, but at present, he's not intentionally trapping everyone in the worst theater ever created or making everyone hallucinate, so he's clearing the low bar.

"Run into any familiar faces? I haven't seen your former pain in the ass again."

Re: fever (dark urge) | baldur's gate 3

[cornyjokes]

A lady with a cute, painted-on-looking face comes over, carrying a very full plate and a big glass of wine in her thorny arms, of which there are four. They spill vine-like from the ivory shawl paired with her olive-colored empire waist gown. A wreath of leaves, tied off with a cute matching necklace, bloom upward from the neckline.

She sees a place to sit, and a friendly someone waving her over, so she happily takes the offer.

"Well hi there!" Cobigail grins. "Thanks fer the seat! Food's always better in good company, doncha think?"

[abhorrently]

She's unfamiliar, but that hardly matters at an event like this, doesn't it? Fever's never been the wallflower type, not from her first day on this island, and so she falls into conversation without hesitation. Besides, this woman's look is incredible.

"Absolutely. All of my favorite meals have always had people to share them with."

The potluck when she first arrived on this island, the dishes served on some of the holidays, waking up blearily in Pyotr's apartment and eating a real meal for the first time in days. Any time she manages to put together something to eat for someone else she cares about, or shares snacks just because she can.

"And it's good food to start with as well. You've come by on the social event of the season, after all." She heard someone else call it that, and has been dying for a chance to use the line all night.

[skeletonkeay]

Towards the beginning of the party, there’s a man in all black wearing with long dark hair who approaches Fever. She’s probably seen him around, though by happenstance they haven’t chatted much. He’s the owner of the bookbinding shop, and the one who prints the newspapers.

“Mind if I borrow you for a dance?” he asks. “My mother is here and I’m trying very hard not to give her an opportunity to talk to me, or shit my pants.”

[abhorrently]

She knows of Gerry, and he does enough in her vicinity that she'd call it friendly civility. So when he approaches, it takes nothing at all for her to offer her hand out. She's happy to be a distraction from any number of mothers you don't want to talk to.

"She'll shit your pants? That's impressively advanced magic. I don't even think I could do that."

The grin attached to that says she knows how ridiculous it sounds, as they take up their positions on the floor.

wildcard

[not_the_last]

At some point in the evening's festivities -- probably fairly soon after the guests arrive -- Fever will hear a friend's voice calling her name from a little ways away.

And, turning, she will see Cassandra about as bright-eyed and delighted as she's ever seen her, arm in arm with a white-haired, bespectacled young man who's looking about in bemused interest.

"Percy," she's saying to him, "this is my dear friend Fever. Fever," and she's practically beaming, "may I introduce you to my brother, Percival Frederickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo."

[abhorrently]

Hurrying over, the vague memories of a puppet Percival vanish to be replaced by the man in front of her, who she offers a warm smile considering everything. Cassandra's joy is infectious, after all.

"The famous brother himself. It's truly a pleasure to have you here with us tonight, and to get to meet you in person."

for number 2....2!

[abhorrently]

Earlier in the night, before an odious little creature creeps into 2's view, there is one who sights him from across the room and cannot bring herself to be subtle about it. Cutting across in the straightest line she can make - he stands alone, but she doesn't need a memory book to remember that face.

"You're a braver man than I recall, to even step foot upon this isle."

When enough people here know him, and none of them were ever fond.

Re: for number 2....2!

[number_2]

Recognition flashes in his eyes like white-hot fear. This one is here, too? What kind of dirty trick is this? Leave it to a demon to let him go in unaware. Well, never mind. She can't hurt him now.

"Obviously your estimations of me were too low," he harrumphs.

"Managed to slither back up onto land yourself, I see."

Conflagration!

[maidenjustice]

Monica hadn't known what to expect after fifteen years, but she shouldn't have expected much. She and Stefan had split to opposite sides of the gala, fuming. She had a reporter's nose for a story, but she barely needed it to tell there was something big her brother wasn't telling her. Whether or not he'd come clean, she was going to get to the bottom of this.

And she wasn't going to neglect her job either. Whatever else was going on, this place really was a spectacle all on its own. It was bizarre enough that she still hadn't figured out her angle for reporting on it at all. How would she get some proof that the public would accept, or her dad for that matter? Rudy Richter was an editor fearlessly willing to print what the other papers wouldn't, but he always demanded quality reporting from everyone, especially his own daughter. They'd almost lost the scoop on the first automaton bank robbery in Shroud City to the rival papers because of those principles, and Monica wasn't about to let this one fall through.

She doubted this island was on any map, but obviously somebody knew the route. She'd have to dig up more information on the boat that brought them in. The crew certainly weren't getting her back to Shroud City without a statement. Until then, she'd piece together what she could - about who the big players were here, and about what was wrong with her brother.

She approached another guest sitting on the sidelines, holding out a gloved hand. "Hi. Monica Richter, Shroud City Free Press. I'd introduce you to our photographer, but I only had the one ticket." It was Joe Grisham's night off, but now she was regretting not calling in a favor. "Do you know anybody who's got a camera?"

[abhorrently]

The guest she approaches is finishing off her dessert, wiping her mouth after a delicious treat before she realizes she's being spoken to and takes the hand to shake. Her grip is strong, ungloved, and her eyes are bright while her dress sparkles in the night.

"Not of their own, but someone's taking portraits over on that side of the ballroom, and we have a few artists who can whip up a sketch if they're not otherwise busy. It's good to meet you, though - my name's Fever."

She gestures to indicate the other chair's free if Monica wants to sit, or she'll rise and follow her accordingly.

"You've come to visit us on a perfect night for it. Have you already had a chance to look around?"