Haute Couture had followed his his mother's lead in arriving fashionably late, but had decided on making his own, spectacular entrance. He swept down out of the sky, caroling "Allo, everyone!" as he circled the gardens. He tried to turn and slow himself into a ground landing, but he'd picked up too much speed - it looked like he was going to crash!
Fortunately, his father was well used to saving young pegasi from over-ambitious flight plans. With perfect timing, Negative got his arms around the little french missile, his added weight and inertia helping to bring the colt to a stop.
"Thank you, papa," Haute said, covering his embarrassment by pretending that it was all part of the plan, like a cat that had fallen off a chair.
His father was also used to this.
What he was not used to was being among a group of people as large as this party's proposed guest list, despite being brought to a few soirees by Noel. He'd been present for a fair bit of the planning of this event, and as the list grew and grew, so did his apprehension. Despite all of the guests supposedly being family, in some vague way, Negative wasn't at all sure who almost any of the people on the list were.
Happily, he was excused from getting out and mingling by virtue of commandeering the grill. The extent of his social interactions that day would consist of exchanging niceties as he served people their food, or they helped themselves off the platters on a nearby table; and small announcements like "Hotdogs're ready," which he called over the crowd after setting down his son with an absent pat on the head. He turned back to the grill, mouth already watering at the thought of the steaks he'd be cooking next.
Haute, for his part, moved to his mother's side with a walk that wasn't quite a prance. He'd hover around her for a while, he thought, until something more interesting presented itself.
"Bonjour, tata Scent," he said pleasantly as he fell in beside his mother, steeling himself for enthusiastic affection.
Astraea Pandora
Byagane319
