(Anyone)<div style="text-align: right;">Current Attire: <div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">(http://s28.postimg.org/sl67p0lhl/dress.jpg) (http://postimg.org/image/sl67p0lhl/)</div></div></div><br/><br/>Elizabeth was very nearly late for the beginning of the festivities. She always made an attempt to be present from the start of social occasions because in her mind it was what a good hostess did. But the Devil really was in the details and she had been briefly delayed by last minute emergencies; like the caterer getting stuck in traffic on the expressway because they had left ten minutes later than they ought to have. Traffic on the expressways in Orange County were positively murderous, especially during peak hours (morning commute, lunch time on weekdays, evening commute, and Friday night commute to Las Vegas). She was simply pleased that the mistakes had not been on their side of the planning, but rather someone that was from the outside.<br/><br/>Yet, at last the caterer had arrived and she had ushered them into the hall and kitchen where they could set everything up. That had all occurred at just before 11:00. It was much too close for comfort but, at least it had come together before any guests had arrived.<br/><br/>Now she stood in her dressing room, her dark eyes watching as she wove the golden cord of her belt through the loops that linked it together so that it would hang at exactly the center of the lower half of her torso. The dress was made mostly of satin with an orange top (her nod to the encroaching holiday) and a figure-fitting flat gold skirt, the two joined together by the broad shining gold of her belt. Her hair was platinum blonde, almost white, and very long. She had most of it swept up and pinned in loose-falling curls, and let the rest fall in a long stream down her back. The only make up she ever wore was a thick black mascara that she used to enhance the night-time darkness of her eyes and a lively blush on her cheeks.<br/><br/>At last she was satisfied with the look and so she turned from the mirror so she could sit down and put her shoes on. Once that task had been completed, Elizabeth abandoned her dressing room and entered the main portion of her bedroom. It was a charming room that showed she had a taste for warmth due to the colors she had chosen - browns, golds, and a splash of burgundy - and she enjoyed classic art.<em>Here there was a large painting of a little girl with flaxen curls in a white night dress. She had wandered into a field at night when she was supposed to be sleeping and therefore couldn't see the yawning hole that was obscured by the tall grasses. Behind her there was an angelic figure a look of concern on their face and they were pointing towards the hole in apparent hope of warning the little girl.</em>Ironic, perhaps, but she had it there none-the-less. She admired it in the familiar way that anyone who had art in their homes did when they had already seen it a hundred times before as she sprayed a subtle mist of perfume between the "v" shaped split in her neckline.<br/><br/>Finally Elizabeth exited her room and shut the door behind her. She smoothed her hands over the soft, warm fabric of her skirt as she began to walk down the stairs, one hand rose and came to rest ever-so-gently on the banister as she made her way down. She could smell the food the caterers were finishing up. Such smells had no appeal to her any longer, they hadn't in a long time, but when one opened their doors to all creatures, one must make preparations to provide for them all. Stepping onto the landing, she took a moment to fuss with one of her earrings as she let her eyes sweep over the expanse before her. It was a vast change from the ancient, stone fortresses in Europe. The oldest building in the United States was perhaps barely as old as she was. There were many differences in every facet imaginable between the two continents. Admittedly, Elizabeth felt she missed it all so bitterly. But one must flow with the winds of change or risk being left behind when it was all said and done.<br/><br/>She didn't really like Americans. That was a broad and perhaps unfair sweep, but they were spoiled, selfish, nosy, and many of them could not form a coherent sentence without tossing in some vulgarity or another. It would take time and patience. Elizabeth had plenty of it to spare.  For now, she turned her attention to plucking at little details as she waited for the guests to begin arriving.