In the apocalyptic mode

You may remember that the family Sycorax has some rather eccentric holiday traditions, not least of which is the (bi-)annual celebration of Solstice in a serious of elaborate theatrical party-rituals.  There are rules: you may want to review them.

This year's Solstice bore a particular burden, as it was also the Mayan End of Days.  The Apocalyptice, so to speak. The Party to End All Parties.

Things you would have heard chez Sycorax in this year's Solstice crescendo:

Mère Sycorax:   Oh! D! Would you like to wear this monocle?
D:   Um.... Probably not?

Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;
snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,
in the bleak midwinter, long, long ago.

(Some time later....)

Ariel:   Do these peacock stockings look OK?
D:   Yes.
Ariel:   They don't look ridiculous?
D:   You're about to put on horse-head-shaped eyelashes. Why are you worrying about the stockings?

 D was clearly channeling  Man Ray  when he took this photograph.

D was clearly channeling Man Ray when he took this photograph.