The Grand Ficly Ball

I take a flamboyant bow to the applause, pressing a hand firmly against my chest to ensure my heart doesn’t pound through my purple jacket. I’ve just finished reading a Ficly I wrote to commemorate this first gathering of Ficly authors, and descend now into the crowd of well-dressed writers, quite glad to be out of the spotlight.

The evening has progressed nicely so far, full of dances, music, and conversation, interspersed with Ficly readings like the one I just finished. A few congratulatory hands pat my back and I excuse myself with a smile, retreating to the punch bowl as a dance of the same name commences.

Each sip calms my residual nervousness as my eyes rove the flashing, excited crowd. What a festive mood! The decor was kept simple, with low lights and a curtained stage. Offset by black, red was the color of choice, which comes to no surprise since the gathering was organized than none other than RoseTone.

Speaking of whom, I have yet to meet her face to face and thank her for the event.

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