collective date: november 24th, 2022 the allies gala, after dinner @msgallo
The councilwoman clapped, along with most of the rest of the room, as the band finished their song and this round of dancing came to an end; her smile wide. She added an extra round of applause as the wife of her current conversation partner-- a diplomat wearing a smart looking Collective pin on her lapel-- came to rejoin their little group.
Amala had wasted no time since arriving to the gala earlier that evening in making sure that she surrounded herself with a mix of faces that she knew, and ones that she didn’t. Yet. Networking had always one of her strong suits, and this show of friendship and unity was like a gift from the gods of old. But as she turned to complete the circle, she caught eye of a face she had only once known, many moons ago, and only barely recognized now. She wasn’t surprised to see her here, not exactly. As the niece of a sitting councilor-- practically a daughter, really-- she had more than every right to attend. Some might have even expected it. Judging by the surprised element to her smile, Amala wasn’t one of those people-- certainly not with the woman looking like that.
She politely excused herself from the small group of diplomats, and crossed the room. The approach was slow as Amala allowed herself the time to properly admire the dark dress the other was wearing (and the form beneath it); her eyes following the thin crisscross of fabric cutting across her otherwise bare back.
“Celia Gallo.” She started with a nostalgic lilt, her eyes darting back up and settling on the gathering of curls instead. Her smile grew as she waited for Celia to turn around. “Seas, it’s been ages! Look at you; you’re a vision!”
