She chuckled at Cori's answer, which sounded a great deal like her sister was merely biding her time. Her eventual debut might grant her a little more leeway in traversing society, but it was not freedom in any sense of the word. In time, there might be - as long as one did not marry, of course.

It occurred to Porphyria that she had resisted such expectations rather spectacularly.

"As astonished as she would be at my suggestion to throw a ball," Phyri answered with a bark of laughter, "I'm not sure she'd trust me with it." She grinned - and it'd be no surprise if their mother had her doubts. Even if it was the one date one might expect her to show a little enthusiasm for, well - given the way she had just been not entirely jesting with Lycoris about doomed-soulmate-party-predictions - she wasn't certain anyone would leave her alone with it long enough to do anything appropriately outlandish. And perhaps Halloween was almost too predictable a night for it, after all: people who could only embrace the macabre for one night a year were made of the frailest stuff, and she did not care to know them.

"You know what no one in the world shall stop me from throwing, though?" Porphyria added dreamily. "My next birthday party. I'll be twenty-seven, and you know what that means..." She pulled a delighted expression, eyebrows raised high. "I shall at last be able to celebrate my official spinsterdom, and I'll be damned if I don't get to have the most cheerful wake for my eligible years imaginable!" Nor was she joking, indeed. She had been looking forward to to marking the moment for years.

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