Private Tales All In

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
"Salud," he bowed his head in response to her verbal jab, unphased by it.

"You... came here not knowing that?" Simon wore wry mirth over his features, "Oh, dear me, you're just testing me, eh?" And he winked at her.

His silvered gaze scanned the crowd, "After the gala when everyone has gotten their fill of drinking and dancing."
 
"Yes, you caught me. I was testing you since I know you are not here for bidding," she smiled sweetly again.

Elodie scanned the ballroom with a soft sigh. She did not really want to wait until the end of the gala but she had to. It would be much easier to get to the items after the gala because right now they were extra guarded. Once they started to be picked up by their new owners, the security seemed to thin out around the main holding room to help the owners get safely to their rides.

"I suppose I should get a drink then," the mercenary voiced absently. It was like the servers had magical powers because one appeared shortly after she spoke and she grabbed a glass from the tray with a thank you.
 
Wordlessly, the steward offered a glass to Simon, to which he refused with a raised hand.

"You should be careful, Elodie," his rich Cortosi accent dripped from his tongue like nectar, "Wouldn't want to get drunk and miss out on the festivities."

Looking out across the partygoers, Simon quietly snorted.

"Ah, look at these people dance. So stiff, flavorless. Like stale bread."
 
Elodie let out a huff of derision as she brought the glass to her lips.

"You should know that one glass does not put a mercenary on her ass, Simon," she quipped back at him.

She would hardly be getting drunk. She had things to do tonight. That did not mean she was incapable of drinking and keeping her wits about her.

His comment about the people dancing made her raise a single brow in his direction. "Oh? And you can do better?" She asked and took another drink from her glass.
 
"Oh? Big str-" suddenly recalling the last time he'd made such a jab, Simon was quick and smooth in adjusting himself, "That's because you only drink this Allirian swill."

He turned his gaze to Elodie, who peered at him over the edge of her glass. Rolling his eyes, he scoffed.

"Of course, I can. In Cortos, they teach us to move with elegance. Swing. Passion!"
 
A single brow rose as Simon started. He quickly adjusted his words and she had a sneaky suspicion that he was about to say something about her being a big strong woman or some shit. Some shit that would get his throat slit. The man is learning, she thought with a smile.

"Sorry, I forgot that everything is better in Cortos." It was not that he ever said it outright but his comments definitely let everyone know what he thought of his home.

She took one more drink as he answered her question. "Riiiiiiggghhhhtttt," she said, drawing out the word for emphasis.
 
"You catch on quickly," he said with a winsome smile.

Which quickly fell.

And rose back up into an impish smirk.

"You don't believe me? Then," he cocked his head towards the ballroom floor, "how about a dance?"
 
As soon as that evil little smirk of his crossed his lips, she knew she was in trouble. She should have known that he was going to have to prove her wrong and she was going to be the dance partner he proved it with.

Unfortunately for both of them, Elodie did not know how to dance. She had never had a reason to but she would not let Simon win.

She just shook her head with a small smile and finished her glass. She placed it on a passing tray and held her hand out for him to lead her to the dancefloor full of stiff dancers.

"Of course, Simon," Elodie said in the sweetest voice possible.
 
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"Great," he said and extended a hand to her. Gold rings, some inlaid with colorful jewels, adorned his fingers. "Your hand, then."

And he led Elodie to the floor, guiding her hand-in-hand until they were exactly where they belonged—at the center of the room, and the center of attention.

Suddenly, the Cortosi pulled her close by the small of her back.

"Relax," he cooed into her ear, his hand smoothing over the gap in her dress between her shoulders, then he took one hand in his. The other found her waist.

"Just follow my lead. Lean with your body, and let your feet catch up. Short steps."

Proving a point had nothing to do with embarrassing her. No matter how Simon acted, it was never his intention to make a fool of Elodie. So when the music kicked up to a tempo favorable to the style of dance—a stroke of luck—he slowly guided the mercenary into the rhythm and, with their bodies tightly together, danced in a simple pattern of steps and turns.
 
Elodie took Simons hand and walked with him to the center of the dancefloor. The center. Elodie was all of a sudden nervous. She, of course, did not show it. Well...she didn't show it until Simon pulled her close to him. His hand holding her in place. Now she was nervous or was she excited?!

"Relax."

That was easier said than done as his hand slid over her bare skin. Her breath caught for a moment as he positioned his hands in their proper places.

Follow his lead. Follow his lead. Lean. Short steps. I can do this. I can do this. He won't let me fall. I hope...

They were off before all the worries and instructions had finished running through her mind. She was so close to him that she swore she could feel his heart beat against her chest. That was ridiculous though. It was her own heart hammering away as they danced.
 
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