Royal Celebrations

[MissusHow]

Ara didn\'t say anything for a moment, one eyebrow raising skeptically. "Is that so?" she asked demurely, perfering a safe answer. "And...what do you mean by that?" Ara murmured, her interest piqued, "I could make a few guesses, so as to make the game more interesting, unless you prefer not to be speculated about." She suggested, assuming he knew what she meant by the game, and expecting him to make something up if he didn\'t. It was a dangerous game she played here, and the ground she tread on was by no means steady...and yet she couldn\'t keep away. Oh no, never!

To give up the game would be like giving up life!

[Existentially Odd]

She laughed, genuinely amused by his thinly-veiled homage - especially since he was correct in his assessment. She turned suddenly on the bench seat to face him, sitting astride it and not caring that it was a thoroughly unlady-like way to sit. Her long skirts covered everything that might be offensive, and she was used to sitting like this atop a horse, anyway. Since a reference to her job was part of his comment, she figured he wouldn\'t be surprised by this position (though it was really a means to making her ensuing point).
 
"Ah, but I\'m out of uniform now," she grinned, leaning her weight onto her knuckles on the wooden bench between her knees, "that would make us even, wouldn\'t it?"

[Trillian]

"And you look lovely," he complimented, his hand straying up to hang in the air between them, as though about to stroke her cheek before he pulled it back to himself, as though remembering his manners and etiquette.  He didn\'t bat an eyelid at her unfeminine seating position, obviously unmindful of how she sat.  He did, however, play the scene as though he was chagrined by his own actions, and so he offered her an embarrassed smile before licking his lips and continuing the conversation.  "As even as the playing field is, m\'lady, I feel that we\'re on opposite teams."  After a moment he added: "I would love to play ball with you."
 
"Please, do let me know your thoughts," Dagger replied, giving her permission to make her guesses known, half suspecting that she might make yet another excuse.  Right now he was somewhat interested in how she would answer him, but knew that they couldn\'t have this circular conversation forever - if she could, then she would win, for he would tire of it very soon.

[MissusHow]

"Well it could mean many things." Ara began, trying to think like a merchant but finding it difficult with such a smart mind so near at hand. "It could mean you do not think of yourself as an honorable man," she paused, glancing at his face to see if she could catch a trace of sentiment, "Or it could mean you would prefer not to assossiate yourself with those who live in the palace," she paused again, looking for a trace of emotion, "Or it could mean more specific things. For example...it could mean that you have not been noble in how you\'ve acted of late," another pause, "Or perhaps that you are not the towering figure you once thought you were." she shrugged, scanning his face with a raised eyebrow.

"I used to work with a bibliophile. He told me thirteen definitions of \'noble\' consecutively, when we got in an argument. I\'ve learned not to get in arguments with him." she said, releasing her previous statements in good humour.

[Existentially Odd]

Wilson tilted her head, wondering at yet another intriguing phrase he\'d produced... and at that hovering hand.  He really did have an eye on getting close to her!  Of course, the gifts he\'d twice  given announced that loud and clear, but she was surprised that he wasn\'t able to make these overtures and then wait for them to blossom. Instead, he was impatient and she couldn\'t see what his haste was in aid of; it wasn\'t impressing anything upon her besides how disposable he\'d be.  No-one interested in anything long term or meaningful would venture all their cards in one hand like this.

"Thank you," she murmured, acknowledging his compliment but not focussing on it.  "Of course we\'re on opposite teams," she then grinned, wondering just how opposite they really were, "but that\'s the nature of sport, I suppose.  There is no contest without diverse thinking... and just which ball would you have me play with, pray tell?"

Her eyes twinkled as she attempted to decipher the odd comment, putting her own interpretation on it - even if it might be a tad more wicked than he\'d even intended.  She knew of a few games involving balls but they were children\'s endeavours and surely not what he was getting at now.  She rather enjoyed the fact that he might be inferring she play with his balls - it certainly fit with his brashness.  Oddly, it would also allow her the luxury of a swift decision about him.  Such crassness could be accepted or easily walked away from, depending on her mood at the time.  Whichever way she went, it would be perfectly within her rights, for such extreme boldness should naturally result in an extreme response.

The way her feelings were fluctuating, her reaction would be anyone\'s prediction; even she didn\'t know what she was capable of when feeling this raw, weary and vulnerable.  Perhaps it would be better to head back into the ballroom for a dance, after all - it might clear her head and shape her actions to ones more appropriate to her station.

"The one going on in the other room?  Is this your round-about way of asking me to dance, again?" she teased, laying the groundwork for an exit, at least.

[Trillian]

"Thirteen definitions or thirteen other words that mean the same thing?" Dagger asked, this last comment of hers attracting his attention. He chose not to address her guesses which, in his presence or in the presence of any other person of nobility, were downright rude. He was allowed to question nobility, and even so was she, but to question him specifically as a noble... well, she was lucky she was talking to him for his tolerance of such things was a great deal higher than most of his lackeys and peers. She\'d even brought up royalty (and whilst in the palace, no less!), which had nothing at all to do with nobility, and that betrayed her ignorance of such things. It was her ignorance that Dagger could be patient with - if she\'d knowingly insulted him, she would find herself in a more dire consequence. "I can blurt thirteen different words that are associated with nobility as well, but then, I am well read." In such times as these, it was an achievement.
 
"I would not wish to face you on the opposite," Ridley declared, though they were on opposing teams now, for he was a breaker of the law and she was its protector, but he was talking on a more physical level. "I would prefer to be facing you, not facing off, to strive together toward the same goal that would bring us both glory and be bonded together." He smiled. "Sport."  He ignored her comment about dancing.

[MissusHow]

"Thirteen definitions." Ara said dreamily, seeing she had captured his attention. There was actually only about seven that she knew to be true, her friend may have been making up the whole thing for all she knew. "But wait, you said you were well read?" Ara asked curiously. "What kinds of things do you read? Histories? Stories?" Her feet moved in time to the music and she turned again, her skirts swishing a little. Having only just aquired the ability to write (and hardly legibly) she found it amazing that any human would take the time to write a whole book.

[Existentially Odd]

"Bonded together in glory?" she murmured dubiously, aware that she hadn\'t misinterpreted his intentions, for they were becoming more obvious the longer she toyed with him. He definitely had no long term goals, of that she was certain.  Was she such a prize, though?  She certainly didn\'t feel it - not enough to warrant this attention, certainly, no matter how limited his intentions were.

She looked him over pointedly, an eyebrow lifted haughtily and her glossed lips twisted deviously.  "So; glory is what you offer then, is it?  Nothing less?  You\'re that confident?"  She looked at his mouth, wondering what it would be like to kiss him and finding herself hesitant about it.  As much as she enjoyed the word games and as handsome as he was, to submit to that would be akin to surrender and she wasn\'t keen to give him any ground whatsoever.  The thought of a kiss was therefore almost distasteful, without a whole lot more verbal negotiation passing.

[Trillian]

Ridley smiled, though it wasn\'t an egotistically broad smile, rather a careful one as he met the challenge of her words.

"Why wouldn\'t I be?" he countered.  "I\'ve never had to look at disappointment," he declared, but was worried about how she might take such a bold response.  She\'d given him a bold question though, and now the whole sport context had become closer to the truth of what they were discussing.  "Hesitation isn\'t nearly so appreciated," he added, though he might just be unknowingly reminding her of a hesitant young man that she had appreciated, though not in the most complete sense of the word.

Lord Dagger on the other hand, noted the fast change of subject and perceived it as surrender.  She was no longer using wordplay and he was better off without it himself.  At her question, the music changed, and instead of answering right away, he led her off the dance floor closest to the exit, for they\'d ended up on the opposite side of where they\'d begun.

"Whatever is bound between the pages, or hidden beneath the scrolls," he replied smartly.  "Would you like some fresh air?  The gardens are beautiful at night, and patrolled by Palace guards," he told her, should she worry about being in his presence alone, though he had the impression that she might not accept his offer for a variety of reasons.

[MissusHow]

Ara smirked at him, resisting the urge to roll her eyes and letting her feet follow him off the dance floor. My he was quick witted tonight, wasn\'t he? He asked her to join him in the guardens and her stomach churned. She nearly panicked and almost jumped out of her role as girl who was new to the palace. Guards? There were /guards/ outside?! Instead of jumping and running away as she so instinctively wanted to she smiled, "Of course! I\'ve never seen any other gardens than the vegetable gardens...are the guards close by?" she asked delicately, leaning her hand on his arm, but not hanging on it.

She winced internally, wondering if she\'d have to lead him into a more secluded spot so the guards would not spot her. Then again, even if they did it could be beneficial. She bit her lip unconciously and smiled up at Dagger. "Always on the ready, I suppose." she said lightly.

[Existentially Odd]

"Never had to look at disappointment, hmm?" she smiled suspiciously, doubting the veracity of his claim but unsurprised by it - what man would own up to having had failures when he was trying to bed a woman based on his sheer skill alone?  She didn\'t feel any overwhelming chemistry for Ridley, after all; he was certainly a pretty face and an appealing body but she found she\'d preferred him at least pretending to be shy and humble (and deliberately didn\'t think too long on why).  The braggart role settled far too easily on his shoulders and she had numerous doubts about his character.  Still, he was a distraction and all memory of her former misery had gone now.  She owed him something for that.

"That certainly sounds promising," she grinned, tilting her head and playing the coquette a little herself.  "Though I hope, by dismissing \'hesitation\', that you\'re not ruling out... warming up... altogether?" she murmured, raising her eyebrows.  In so saying, she walked her hands up the bench between them and used them as a pretense to sliding herself up closer to him.  She was very well toned and flexible; her thighs were spread at right angles to the seat beneath the concealing ruffles of her dress, butting up against his knees (though she could have wound her legs fully around his, if she chose) suggestively.  Her hands were left, palm down, touching naught but themselves, on the wood very near his crotch, causing her to be leaned forward, her eye level below his and her upward gaze challenging.

[Morwen]

\'No, no no no, I need to go sit down now, not everyone can dance constantly.\' Lady Estel tried to escape from her latest dance partner, the name of whom she just could not remember, even if she tried. He was not bad looking, but awfully clingy and not such a good dancer.

Estel was still slightly overwhelmed by the richness of her surroundings. A single setting at the table they had all eaten at would have cost her almost all the money she had made by selling those spices. Even with the tithe given to Ara, she had still made a pretty penny, and (she liked to think) a new friend too.

In fact, in the short time since her successful attempt at smuggling, Estel had had enough money to buy several very fancy things, including an invitation to this party, and the dress she was wearing. It was sweeping, and made of a simple, light brown cloth that went very well with her eyes and hair. Its light fabric was made to flutter around her rather than trail behind, and was perfect for dancing, which is what she had been doing most of the evening.

Stopping at a table to pick up some more wine, Estel took her glass to a comfortable looking bench on the wall and sat, listening to the music with half closed eyes.

[grey]

Waldhramm was doing what he did best: watching. His stolid grey eyes brushed past the world in bland amusement, really finding nothing all that exciting in parties except for how the human race earnestly seemed to enjoy basking in—nothing all that exciting. Functions such as these were dreadfully boring, to say the least. But then again, for the perpetually bored-minded, this was no new discovery to give much contemplation towards.

In his right hand he brandished an obsidian ring in the light of the hall as his fingers drummed passively against the jaded surface of a wine filled goblet. He liked how it caught the light and made a game of trying to see how many people he could get to notice him with the absence of eye contact. Catching very few glances, he took to staring blankly at the passerby with his soft lips parted in a hypnotic sort of gaze over his wine and succeeded magnificently in making each too uncomfortable to not seek out some sort of company on the far side of the dance floor.

He had partaken in a fair number of ‘conversations’ over the course of the evening despite the fact that he had no one to introduce him, and felt the urge arise again after watching a young woman desert her dance partner to sit by her lonesome. To be honest, he had no particular motives planned for the evening, but feigned interest might prove to be a little fun… As he carried himself towards the bench, stalking movements like that of a large cat, his luminescent orbs contracted around the pupils in a means to center is line of vision on his prey.

With a swish of black fabric, intricate silver on lining the cuffs and collar, he swayed back against the wall and leaned on his shoulder, at first making absolutely no suggestion of acknowledgement. Silent for a time, and then, “What’s wrong? Don’t take to men with stumps for feet?” His voice, deep, throaty, and laced with a hint of Germanic influence, brusquely cut over the music as an obnoxious noise does over a dream.

[Morwen]

At the sound of a dark, foreign voice next to her, Estel jumped. Carefully moving her skirts just in time to miss the wine she spilled, she glanced up at the man who had startled her. Somehow, he had managed to sit right next to her without her noticing a thing. True it was loud, but still the only explanation could be that she had indeed had too much to drink tonight, or that he was an extremely inconspicious person. Or both, of course.

Smiling up at the man, Estel felt a certain oddness about him, that wasn\'t just due to his foreign manner. He seemed slightly off in a way she couldn\'t describe. It was intriguing. \'No, I find them utterly dull and not fun at all to dance with. And when they step on your feet, the pain can spread from one\'s brain to one\'s feet at a speed that would quite astound local mathematicians.\'

Feeling a bit sloshed, she put the half empty glass of wine under the bench where it would not tempt her to drink further. As she straightened up, she brushed back her hair, as the long fringe had quite typically fallen into her eyes yet again. \'I don\'t suppose you would like to show them up, would you?\'

[grey]

Drunk little girls should beware strange men... somewhere his conscious cooed. He had not been looking at her as he spoke, leaving his mind in tune while his eyes lost focus on the far wall, yet the tremors of her jump tickled his senses and the sweet reek of alcohol on her breath played to the inner depths of his nasal cavity. A few choice ideas emerged from a not so distant surface. Wonderful, pleasing, invigorating ideas that caused his eye sockets to bulge and contract in one rapid motion. He turned his head towards her, tilting up his chin so that his sleek locks fell away from his face and the perfect circles of his irises gleamed down the bridge of his nose. The surface of his own wine had made not so much as a ripple in response to this action, as if it had not really happened at all.

“The lady fancies herself a dancer. How admirable…” he purred dangerously. Her smile and colored cheeks awakened a new excitement in his gut, one he had not felt in a long while. It was a type of those cold and glacial sensations one feels advancing up between his stomach and liver, often interpreted by others as nervousness or fear. But in Waldhramm, the meaning insinuated something else altogether.

His face remained still and blank, his skull did not move an inch, even as his eyes swiveled around to watch her stand. Pretty girl. Pretty inebriated girl. Yes, that’s fine. He smiled an empty smile, one that looked alien stretched out on his features. “Oh I daresay I would pale in comparison to my lady’s… affinity with dance.” He left his leaning position and spread his arms, leaving the stem of his goblet settle in the crook between his middle and forefinger. “But should the lady wish to dance, perhaps I have no choice but to oblige.” He accented his words oddly when he spoke. A foreigner’s trait or more likely one of a man who found subtle humor is his tacit jokes.

His lips pouted in a slightly condescending manner. “Surely your drink is lonely left in exile like that. You wouldn’t be so cruel as to… leave it there—would you?”