Dreadlords Dance for all that we've been through

Threads open to all members of the Dreadlords group
It was easy to laugh at his words, and Livia stifled her snort behind her her hand as she placed her glass done to keep it from spilling onto her custom designed dress. She shook her head at him, grinning like a fool. "It is unladylike to think such impure thoughts, Rowley. My mother warned me about boys like you." Granted, Idella warned her of every other person in their social circles. Livia chose to forgo these tidbits.

She turned to look at the couples beginning the new dance, and Livia nodded towards them.
"The new dance has already begun. Perhaps the next if you are genuine of your offer?" Turning her head to look behind Rowley, she spotted a volunteer walking around with a tray of glasses. The way she caught their gaze and was able to smile and politely hail them down was just minor pulls of her magic. "I think I will go for a walk and get some fresh air. Just... do not drink so much that I must be the one to carry us both across the dance floor." She teased before polishing off her drink before the attendant reached them, moving to stand and take two more glasses with a murmured thank you. Livia placed Rowley's new drink on the table, taking a step to bend her knees a little and press a kiss to his cheek before standing upright once again.

"I promise to return for the next dance." Livia winked at him before departing from his seat, moving to make way to the front doors and slipping out through them.

There was no real goal for her aimless walk, only a means to address the growing headache once again.
"I swear... whatever I find, I am going to bury it for good." Her annoyance laced the mutterings into the wine glass, brows knitting together as her head throbbed stronger now that she was getting closer to whatever it was that called to her. Despite being able to harness the corrupted magic, there were times she was useless to the might it demanded of her. Whether she was awake or asleep, a headache could get as bad as blacking out until she was able to come to and be in possession of something lost. It was returning it to the rightful owner that often stumped her.

Rowley Stone
 
For Caeso and Alice, the night proceeded splendidly and along the track of Alice's desires. Caeso kept his word; he let the night be about Alice, allowed for her wants to take precedent—something she was hardly used to, but something to which she adapted quickly and gleefully enough. They danced for as long as she wanted to dance, and then when the vigor with which she threw herself at the act (such astounding energy, summoned suddenly, for one so reserved!) made her a bit tired, they took a break had a bite to eat, a sip to drink.

Livia's departure through the front doors prompted an idea in Alice.

"Oh, Caeso?"

"Yes?"

"May you come with me? There is something which I would like to give to you. It is outside, in my carriage."

Caeso nodded. "The carriage will have been parked by the stables. I'll lead the way."

And together they departed from the Hall, walking slowly and leisurely across the Academy grounds, neither in any particular rush. They spoke of things that were of public Anirian interest, the news of the day, as they walked; idle conversation, for each of them had more interest in the stars above and the feel of the other's arm within their own.

Alice's carriage was indeed parked adjacent to the Academy stables. The driver dutifully jumped down from the platform when he saw the Lady approaching and went to open one of the doors for her.

She stood by the door and asked Caeso, "May you join me inside? I should like a small moment of privacy for this."

"Of course."

Caeso helped Alice inside, and then climbed inside himself. The driver shut the door.

Sitting beside her on the same bench, Caeso watched as Alice picked up a small bag of personal items from beside her and set it on her lap. She opened it, reached in, rummaged around for what she was looking for and said as she did, "Since the Revolution and coming of age, I have had to endure suitor after greedy suitor, all those opportunistic men of whom I have spoken. To a man they spoke ceaselessly of themselves, of all the 'wonderful' things that they could do for me, and all the while never sparing an ear to truly listen to anything I had to say; with eyes glazed over with sickly-sweet politeness did they simply wait for their turn to speak again."

Alice found what she was looking for. "But you are not such a man, Caeso Diemut."

She pulled it out of the bag and set the bag aside. She cradled it close to her breast and looked at him, eyes sparkling with warmth and gratitude. She unfurled her hands and presented a silver sapphire amulet to him. "I would like you to have this, Caeso. This amulet once belonged to my father, and to his father before him, and even to my grandfather's father. It has been passed down so through the lineage of leading Crentor lords, and yet...now it has no one whose breast it may adorn. May you take it, and wear it, and in so doing be reminded of me?"

"Alice..." Caeso said quietly, feeling a bit overwhelmed, actually, by the magnitude of the gift, "...are you certain that this is something you wish to do? This amulet you hold bears great significance to you and your family."

The Forlorn Lady's smile matched her sorrowful name for a fleeting moment, and she said, "I am the last of my family, and so the Crentor name is destined to perish with me. It is all that I can do to see this amulet given a worthy home."

After a moment of deliberation, Caeso accepted the amulet and with great care put it on. "Then I shall strive to remain so worthy."

Alice, now glancing down with a fierce shyness, said with trembling nervousness, "There is...something else."

"What is it, Alice?"

She looked up, cheeks aflame. "I would like very much for you to kiss me."

Caeso felt his heart skip a beat in his surprise. And, as immensely difficult as it was for him to do the thing which he genuinely believed was right, that is, to exercise restraint in accordance with propriety and the respect a Lady's virtue was due from a man, he said gently, "Though we both burn for this, such a thing is not well suited for our first acquaintance. Let us then save it for when next we meet, that we may long for each other ever the more powerfully, and make of the occasion something truly momentous."
 
"Well..." Kristen said, feeling equal parts excited and nervous as the thought came to her, "...there is something which you could do now. Something which might bolster your skill, your confidence...and would be fun."

Last time, admittedly, it didn't turn out to be so fun. But! That just meant there was an opportunity here and now to make up for that. And tonight things were going far more smoothly than during the Ball.

So Kristen suggested to Alistair with a warm and encouraging smile, "Would you dip me? I could tell you how."

Alistair Krixus
 
Alice, though visibly disappointed, nevertheless came to accept Caeso's reckoning. Embarrassment came shortly thereafter. "You are right. I...I am sorry, I was being too hasty, too forward, some might even say greedy—"

Caeso held up a hand. "No, no, Alice, you were nothing of the sort. This night has produced for you much excitement, and is it not understandable? You have yearned for someone, anyone mayhap, to show you a modicum of care. I would not take advantage of this vulnerable state of yours, for at the very least it would be untoward to do so."

Alice, anxiously washing her hands in her lap, said after a moment of worriedly looking downward. "Do you...still like me?"

"Yes. Of course I do. For what joy you have found tonight, I, too, have found equal measure by simply being with you."

Alice smiled, immensely relieved. Then she held out her arms, beckoning Caeso into an embrace. "This, I believe, will be well enough for tonight, don't you..." Alice's eyes abruptly unfocused. She blinked. Once. Twice. A pall of fright drained the color from her face and her arms went timidly to her breast. "C-Caeso. Where are you? Where did you...?"

Caeso's brow narrowed in bemusement. "Alice? What do you mean? What has happened?"

Yet his words fell on ears now deafened, for Alice could now no longer hear nor see. And then dropped away her sense of touch. Her sense of smell. Her sense of taste. The sensory deprivation was complete—Joel's magic, mimicked, though Caeso could not know this.

"Alice?? What is it?" Caeso said, now alarmed, his hands on her shoulders but even to this she could not respond because she could not at all sense that they were there.

So focused was Caeso upon Alice's sudden plight that he did not yet see what was happening on the other bench inside the carriage. From beneath the bench where personal baggage could be stored, filtering out from the aesthetic curtain that hung from the bench's underside and touched the carriage floor, were silent grains of sand coming to coalesce. First they became feet and shoes, then legs and the skirt of a dress, then a torso and a fur-lined jacket, and finally a head with glowing and eager eyes. She sat then with two items in her hands across from Caeso.

And at last he came to notice. He looked over, the narrowing of his brow changing from bemusement to ire. His hands slowly pulled back from Alice's small shoulders and he sat straighter, facing the intruder head on. Inadvertently he came to echo their interaction during the Friendsgiving.

"You."
 
Kristen's own excitement was contagious, as it was enough to make Alistair smile. He was taken off guard at the next request, but he could not bring himself to say no, seeing the hope in Kristen's eyes.

"Uh, sure. I can do that."

Technically, he knew how to dip someone. He had read it in a book once or twice. He cupped his arm around Kristen to support her back before he dipped her down with a smile.

Kristen Pirian
 
Trix returned Salak's smile with a lazy imitation. Oh, she knew exactly how her casual manner could irritate and oh did she enjoy it. She watched him go with a theatrical sigh.

"Poor Zaire, he'll never have the confidence to ask Houri for a dance if he's sober," the way the poor lad was mooning at her across the dance floor was all the proof anyone in the room needed for who held the keys to his heart. Apart from their dear cousin, of course.

"Oh, I have all my toes so it certainly could have been worse," Trix flashed Maz a grin and then let go of him to fetch herself a glass of punch. "Very proper conversation for two nobles, you would have approved. Alas, I fear with you out of action any hope of a good dance is out of the question."
 
Touch.

Such a simple thing often freely given and yet something the girl had been starved of for far longer than she had been starved of food. It had taken months for her not to flinch at a casual brush on her arm or stiffen at a hug from one of her siblings, expecting the harsh backhand of a Dreadlord or the sting of a belt. Once the fear had gone it had left behind a hunger she was too scared to sate in the way she needed. She could only ask so much of Maz, and Jiya lived in the city.

So when Silas slowed their moves with the music she did not say no. Instead Houri gave a quiet sigh of relief and felt that hunger grow smaller as she was pulled against his chest. Her eyes fell shut and she allowed herself to rest her head against his shoulder as they swayed to the music. At some point during the song she tugged her hand free of his and let both arms drape around his neck. It felt as though she had been swimming in a harsh sea for weeks and had finally found a shred of float board to cling to to see her safely home.

Houri pulled back reluctantly as the music ended but before drawing away completely she hesitated before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered, the words feeling too small for what he had given her this night. Then her eyes caught those of Zinnia and she fully stepped back. Enough.

"I've been hogging you all to myself and Zinnie is dying for a good dance, you best go rescue her before Albert makes a move," an unlikely situation. Albert was more shy than Zinnia herself. "Don't leave it a whole year this time, Silas," with a courtesy she swept from the dance floor.
 
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A small shift of her footing, a little slide of her arm to better support herself with Alistair's upper back, and much of her weight was compensated for. Her hair was mostly bound up in a tight bun, but her two bangs dangled on either side of her face as gravity took them. Beyond Alistair's gaze were the hundreds of floating, radiant candles, yet for all their beauty these were but mere stars to Alistair's sun.

Her eyes were wide with shimmering excitement, belying the demure smile and showing clearly just how much she enjoyed it.

"Who said you couldn't dance?"

Now she needed only to be raised back up.

Alistair Krixus
 
The tense stillness did not last long.

Caeso lashed out with his magic, seeking to crush Soleil against the carriage wall and fracture her imitation body all the way down to its constituent legion of sand grains and pin them there. But Soleil was prepared. In her left hand she held the spent Mimic Stone which she had used to steal a one-time instance of Joel's magic; the carriage driver, her accomplice in this and heavily disguised lest he be identified, had provided this Stone to her. But in her right hand, she held the device which Mr. Green had given to her, this device created and magically infused for this very purpose now.

Caeso's Force magic was completely countered, nullified, and he suffered the intense whiplash of arcane feedback. He jolted back in the bench as if physically struck by a man as strong as he, indeed the whole of the carriage rocked lightly on its axles because of it. He sat there, dazed. A stream of blood began to pour out of his right nostril like a waterskin with a slash in its bottom, dribbling down ferociously from his chin and spattering on his fine trousers. Through his supreme disorientation and stunned stupor, a singular thought pervaded in Caeso's mind: that he had felt this kind of feedback before.

Soleil wasted no time. Each second was now precious.

Her arms detached and floated toward the windows on the carriage doors and pulled shut their privacy curtains. Her arms came back and reattached. She reached back under her seat-bench and pulled out a black cloth bag. Opened it. Dumped out a set of vials, two sets of metal cuffs, thick earmuffs, and a small length of rope into her lap. Soleil went to work mixing the liquids of the vials as she had been instructed; an alchemical recipe used in many city underworlds to keep a target docile through a debilitating stupor. And the fresher it was, the better and longer it worked, hence why she had to mix it now. But Soleil had always been good at imitating, mimicking, remembering and following instructions, and getting all the proportionate mixtures just right proved no issue for her.

She leaned forward and forced open Caeso's mouth. Normally, she'd never have the strength for it. Caeso tried to fight back, dully raising a hand to feebly slap at her, but she just allowed for the hand to pass through her face, the sand reforming effortlessly. She started to pour the concoction into his open mouth. Little. By little. He coughed and sputtered, spitting some of it back up...but most of it he helplessly swallowed.

"Good boy," Soleil said condescendingly. Long had she waited for this moment, and for what was to come.

She grabbed one set of metal cuffs. Shackled his wrists. Grabbed the other set and shackled his ankles.

Then Soleil turned her attention to Alice, still completely insensate from Joel's magic and frightened into a tiny defensive huddle. Soleil took the rope and bound Alice's hands. Easy. She took the earmuffs and strapped them to Alice's head, covering her ears and muffling all that she would hear once Joel's magic wore off. She then took the black cloth bag itself and pulled it over Alice's head, drawing its cord tight around Alice's neck and tying a knot.

All done. Soleil made a fist and banged twice on one of the carriage's doors. The signal that they were good to go.

The driver hopped back up onto the driver's platform. He took the reins and gave them a snap. It wasn't long before the carriage approached the gates of the Academy.

"Lady Crentor makes her departure," the driver announced to the attending watchmen. Within a minute, the gates of the Academy began to swing open, and the carriage slowly, as if all were well and routine, began to roll leisurely out and onto the northward road.
 
"I like to think all good mothers warn their daughters about someone like me." He quipped back with a toothy grin.

He was glad they weren't dancing, yet. The current dance looked obnoxious, almost impossible to avoid looking dumb with something like that. Besides, why would he dance like that, when another drink just magically shows up in front of him?

"I await your return with rapt attention."

Rowley happily went to downing this newest arrival. Hmm, he may need to call for another drink if he keeps all of this up.

Livia Quinnick
 
A shift of her weight and Kristen felt weightless in his arms. Her eyes looked back up at him, and a shiver ran up his spine. Kristen had a way of making emotions bubble up to the forefront of Alistair's mind. Something that he had spent most of his life making sure did not happen.

He pulled up and kept her close, wanting to give her a chance to get her feet before he relaxed. It did not hurt that he got to keep her that close for those few moments.

"It's easy when I have no plans on letting go."

Kristen Pirian
 
A blink was given in rapid succession at Proctor Evangeline's offer. He'd not even been aware she was capable of such things, "Thank you, Proctor, I will ... certainly keep that in mind."

In fact, he thought to himself, he would see to it come morning and potentially following every Taskforce session thereafter. This could prove to be a major boon to his training!

Poor Zaire, hell never have the confidence to ask Houri for a dance if hes sober, the way the poor lad was mooning at her across the dance floor was all the proof anyone in the room needed for who held the keys to his heart. Apart from their dear cousin, of course.

Oh, I have all my toes so it certainly could have been worse, Trix flashed Maz a grin and then let go of him to fetch herself a glass of punch. Very proper conversation for two nobles, you would have approved. Alas, I fear with you out of action any hope of a good dance is out of the question.
The mention of his sister was all he needed to lift his gaze from his cousin to scan the dance floor for Houri. Though a powerful Dreadlord she would make and a strong woman she was, Maseno was not privvy to the torture she'd been put through as he'd never pressed the girl to speak of it. Glad enough for her safe return, the altering of her personality had only been one of many seeds planted in his mind to take on the role of protector. He'd promised himself he'd not let her get hurt again, as silly as such a promise sounded from a Dreadlord to a Dreadlord.

Couldn't help the clench of his lungs either when he did not immediately find her graceful figure as hidden behind Silas as she was. But a slow turn of their dance and there she was, beaming like a full moon in a clear midnight sky. Maseno raised his brows at this, noting the way she looked at Silas and kissed his cheek.

"Zaire?" he questioned, but Trix had already moved the conversation along. Maz shifted on his crutches in disquiet. Perhaps he'd taken a few more hits to the head than he'd initially thought. Tired ambers shifted back to her and her grin - pretty as a pearl in a seashell and yet deadly as a shark in the water. The dichotomy of the two never failed to discomfort him.

"Is that so?" he managed a smile and deep chuckle of amusement at being told he would have approved, though it faltered at the reminder of his present state, "Yes ... I should have liked to treat a dance with you and many others this night, but I hardly think I qualify as the only good dancer in attendance. I thought I saw a few - not to your standards?"
 
The night was still despite the festivities she could still hear coming from the Hall, not one sound that signified the hour. There was no wind, no insects making their presence known, and no one else in sight. Odd, Livia thought, pressing her fingertips to her brow where the headache throbbed, I expected more Initiates out here making mischief. She had seen Caeso and Alice sneak off after her, but she had broken away from the pair much earlier.

She groaned, scrunching her eyes shut as a particular throb of her head pained her eyes. Livia dropped her glass to the grass below without another thought, hands clutching her head as light flashed behind her eyelids. Images blurred, the fast pace too much to keep up and only caused an agonising pang to cripple her entirety. Hissing through her teeth, Livia pried her eyes open as soon as a location materialised in her mind. What the fuck did someone lose at the outhouse? One foot in front of the other, she changed course and made a bee line for the location, gritting teeth so hard that her jaw began to ache. Even with the headaches soothing as the lone structure came into view, Livia wore that disgruntled expression that would elicit her mother to warn her about wrinkles. She was annoyed for such a gift, frustrated with what corrupted magic did to it and no amount of time nor focus could allow her total control of wielding it.

Enslaved to the beckoning of the outhouse, Livia stared at the closed door for a moment, contemplating whether she wanted to know what she may find inside.


"Hello?" She tested, keeping as quiet as the night so as to not miss any sound that may come in response. When she heard nothing from within, Livia raised a hand and sent out a small wave of her magic. Growing up with older brothers meant she was used to pranks, and it often was not a terrible idea to test anything else these days, especially the horrible hazing she had endured since her first month of arrival here at the Academy few years back.

What she had sensed was a larger object than she expected given the location. Confusion crossed her face, and Liv exhaled the weight of air that filled her lungs.
"You have three seconds before I open that door." She warned, hoping whoever was inside would finish their business and reveal themselves so she did not have to witness anything she did not want to have burned into her eyes. No other response came and so she began counting down in soft whispers.

Livia was too caught up with counting to notice the hairs at the back of her neck raising, the unsettling silence of the night an ignored indication of what may come.

Magic struggled at her palms, almost resisting to answer her call to power. The door swung open with force as Livia rounded to stand before it and peer inside with apprehension. She froze, seeing Joel simply sitting there with such an odd expression unmoving. Thankfully, she was not subjected to anything that would have her blush and avert her gaze, but the stillness of the Initiate commanded her full attention.

Seconds passed before she understood what it was she had found. The tug of her power was a familiar one, and most notably the night she found her father lifeless at the gates of their home, rain pouring down upon them. Unlike that time, Liv did not scream. Turning away, she pushed the image of Joel and memories of her father from her mind, not wishing to dwell on it any further. Her face was gaunt, eyes staring with determination upon the ground as she hurried back to the hall. She was falling into her role, making her way back to report what she had found to those that knew what to do with such information. Livia had been pulled to many missions for such a task, and this night was no different.

She definitely should not have had that wine. Her stomach felt as if knots were twisting into complicated formations as she slowed before the doors to the Hall, and Livia had to allow herself that moment of privacy to compose herself. She recognised the body. That was enough to raise the panic within her, her hands tingling as they shook. Control, her eyes shut again, take a deep breath and control your breathing. Livia repeated this a few times, not caring if anyone were to see her doing so.

Slipping back through the doors, Livia could see the lively dances continued without her. Nerves threatened to make the young Quinnick stumble in her steps as she walked over to the gathered Proctors, but her upbringing to maintain grace and poise took over. Livia came to a pause a few feet from the Proctors milling about the punch bowl, hands fidgeting before her before she tore them apart and gripped her skirts of her dress.


"Might I have a word?" The smile strained on her lips, twitching at the corners at the force it took to keep it up as she met the eyes of those around her.
 
The conversation and dance continued on around Evangeline, and she kept up her vigilant watch as it did, half tuning in to Maz and Trix'. She held a quiet, polite smile the entire time. This dance, at least, was progressing much more smoothly than the last. These young men and women were being allowed to enjoy being human for a few hours, and for that Evangeline was thankful.

That momentary satisfaction couldn't last, however. In her peripherals, Evangeline saw Livia approach. She turned her head to the girl as she did, heard the words, and already could feel a pit opening in her gut. A quick look at the girl was all Eva needed; her body language spoke volumes, the tight smile on Livia's lips even more so. Evangeline frowned.

"Miss Quinnick...of course. Beatrix, Maseno, if you could stand watch a moment..." the proctor more ordered than asked. She pulled Livia aside as calmly and subtly as she could, and spoke in low tones. "What's wrong? Has something happened?"
 
Stressed as she was, Livia could feel an easing to her worries as the Proctor pulled her aside and spoke softly. How many times had she have to tell her mother over the years the bad news? A broken vase here, a torn page there... even getting grass stains and dirt in every dress she possessed... of course, childish behaviour simply was not held in the same regard as to her news now, but Livia was taught the art of deception. To those that would look upon the two, Livia's nerves would be acknowledged first, but what was once a strained smile now a coy one. Her eyes would drift to see where Leander went, not a hard task given his height. "I honestly do not wish to cause any worries on this night, but.... I am most afraid of what I am to report."

Livia turned her gaze back to Evangeline, a woman Liv gathered to understand was much sharper than more Initiates at this time, enjoying themselves with a moment of freedom after the grueling exams. "The outhouse. I had a feeling..." Clearing her throat, she dropped her head to stare at her fidgeting hands before her. "I thought someone had left something behind... but... oh, goodness..." Her shoulders tensed, and once her olive eyes lifted to meet the Proctor's, there was a slight glistening to them. Others may think it was simply the lighting in the hall, but those unshed tears were being held back. Even the lump in her throat was no difficult obstacle for her to maneuver. "I hope I am wrong. Opening that door, I swear on my very life and that of my family and faith that Joel Schmidt sat there dead. I saw his eyes, Proctor. I know what the eyes look like when one departs the living...."

This time she did things right. She did not lift the head of the deceased and cradled it in her lap, screaming up to the heavens raining down upon them. She did not wail and froze herself to illness, until her lungs had no more air to expel and her throat hoarse. This time, she found someone to take care of it. Someone that could bare the burden of it all while she continue her night of pretending she was the best of friends with her fellow Initiates of her class. This was not her burden, but it threatened her conscience enough to begin her hands to shake.

Evangeline
 
"Not really," Trix shrugged as she watched Livia timidly pull Eva away. What was that all about? The girl looked as though she might sick up. Which, of course, could mean anything with this particular year group of initiates. Especially given how much they've been guzzling the wine. Speaking of...

With both Proctors gone she sidled up to the punchbowl and threw Maz a mischevious grin.

"Besides, I think we can have far more fun here."
 
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A pity she would not give it a chance, but Maseno had always known Beatrix to have exceptionally high expectations and a taste for the creme de la crop. He supposed that was her right.

"Mm," the younger cousin hummed at her in thought, finding in that moment that he would have quite liked to be sitting as the fatigue of the last few days hit him in earnest. Though he was not let to linger on the feeling long as she moved from his side to tempt fate with the punch bowl. At first his brow knit upward in mild confusion, but then he quickly put 1 and 1 ...and 1 together. Trix's powers, an unguarded punch bowl, and her penchant for mischief.

"Beatrix," Maz's brow then flattened over his eyes as all hint of humor was replaced with wary concern, "don't..."

Don't you dare, he thought to himself, eyeing her.
 
And up she went. A tinge of nervousness had found home in her at the suggestion of a dip, the recollection of the feeling of laying there on the Ballroom floor last time all too tangible if the memory was explicitly summoned, but everything went well.

It's easy when I have no plans on letting go.

Very
well. Could there have been a more perfect punctuation to the dip?

"Alistair Krixus," Kristen said, beaming, "you alight within me such a delightful fire."

Gods, she couldn't wait until the slow songs began!

Alistair Krixus
 
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Alistair just smiled back at her. He couldn't think of anything more perfect to say, anything else would make him sound like an idiot. It was best to just let this stay perfect.

He did have to focus back in on the dancing a little, otherwise, he would ruin the moment by stepping on her feet. Instead, he just tried to let himself enjoy the dance, even if he was not good at it. With Kristen in his arms, he could let this be the perfect night.

A fire? Is that what he did to her? For him, it felt more like some kind of geyser that threatened to bubble up emotions and words that would make him look like some bumbling buffoon.

Kristen Pirian
 
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They danced slowly to the swooning melody in the air for what must have been mere minutes but felt like hours. Their initial dance had been a show of agility, skill, and coordination. This was so much different, this was... Silas had never danced like this with anybody, and yet it felt so natural.

The longer they spent pressed to one another, the further they fell into place. Her arms found their way around his neck, and so too did he feel the heat of her breath as she nestled her head into its crook. His own hands held her at her hips, sliding further around to link at the small of her back, more hugging her now than anything else.

The movement of his feet was not his own, they came of their own volition as he carried her slowly across the dance floor. When finally she pulled away, it felt as though he'd come out of a drug-induced stupor; a gradual return to reality from the other world she'd pulled him into, an all too sudden end to a journey he'd been relishing. He blinked, clearing the dream-like clouds from his vision to focus on her as she leaned in, pressing her soft lips gently against his cheek.

"Thank you,"

Artesto smiled softly, no longer ashamed of the warmth he felt. The urge to hold onto her was immense, but he knew that their time tonight had ended. As certain as he was of that though, he also knew now that there was more. More to whatever he'd just felt between the two of them that he wanted to explore, when the time was right.

"The way you have me feelin' now, you're lucky if I don't track you down tomorrow and ask for another." He quipped as she pulled away, his arms staying extended for a moment's breath, as if expecting her to return. As they dropped back to his sides, he spoke softly, in a low tone. "Thank you, Houri. I've... been kinda lonely lately. I needed that." With a bow of his head and a rush of embarrassment at the admission, Silas too absconds from their dance.

If Silas was being honest with himself, he'd come to this dance for the wrong reasons. He'd hoped for a chance to show off at the expense of others, to distract himself, maybe even hunt for an easy lay, but...

That dance might have been all he'd needed.

Now, he turned his attention to Zinnia, walking over to the punchbowl with a troubled look about her face. As he'd expected, the dance with Zaire didn't likely go too well. Poor girl, that was no way to start a night, and even though he'd teased her a bit, he'd been serious about that dance.

Well, time to make her night.

"Hey Zin!"

Artesto slid up beside her as she walked, leaning forward to get a good look at her face as he gave her an award-winning grin. "Can't help but notice you're free, and it just so happens I am too." He snickers, taking a step ahead of her to spin around and face her. "I was serious earlier, you know. You look amazing, and I'd love a chance to dance with you tonight. Maybe make up for Mr. Botanist back there." He nodded his head towards Zaire.

Extending a hand, he gently took hers and raised it to his lips.

"Would you give me the honor? Promise you won't regret it."
 
I hope I am wrong. Opening that door, I swear on my very life and that of my family and faith that Joel Schmidt sat there dead. I saw his eyes, Proctor. I know what the eyes look like when one departs the living....

The proctor's jaw set and her heart began to pound. No...no, no, no, not again. What in the nine hells was going on? She had to deal with this, of course, but she also had to prevent a panic.
"I...see. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Livia. Try not to worry, I'll take care of everything. Please, stay here where it's safe, alright?"
Evangeline placed a hand on the girl's shoulder as she made that resolution. It was the bare minimum she could do. These students, these children, were mostly accustomed to death, but if they were aware that someone or something had caused one of their peer's deaths on the very campus they lived on...

The morbid thought occurred to her that this likely wouldn't actually faze them all that much; after all, the proctors of the old ways had been killing them for generations. Kress, that made her feel ill. She stowed the feeling, smiled at Livia, and stepped away.

It was subtle, but Eva did apply some of her acceleration as she moved through the room. Salak was still seeking out Zaire, it seemed, but far more pressing matters called. She appeared on his coattails and tugged at his arm.
"Proctor Salak, if you would be so kind as to lend your assistance, we have something of an emergency to deal with in the outhouse. And no, it is not what you might think."
 
Waiting for punch had been less than stellar. Seemed like someone had begun spreading a rumor that the bowl had been spiked and now a line had formed. Which didn't make sense, because Zinnia had been with Zaire the whole time. Why didn't the initiates intent on getting messed up just dig into the wine? There was plenty and it was...honestly kind of unregulated. Oh well.

"Hey Zin!"

Zinnia half jumped, half perked up, barely suppressing a surprised yelp. Kress, she hated how easily startled she was. She knew that voice though. Turning on her heel she was met with the familiar face of Silas.
"Oh! H-hey again!" That dance between him and Houri ended much more quickly than she was expecting. Not that she was complaining, but the two of them had seemed like they were quite enjoying themselves.

Oh dear, he was quite close. Why did she suddenly not know what to do with her hands? Folded in front of her, that was fine.
"Um, yes, I'm f-free! I, uh--"

He thought she looked amazing? No, but wait, Zaire wasn't that bad, just high and--wait, what was he doing with her hand?

Without warning, a literal puff of steam shot from behind Zinnia's ears as her magic manifested involuntarily. She was beet red, but at last she breathed in, then out, then smiled and looked up at Silas in her demure fashion.
"I would honestly...r-really, really like that, Silas..."
 
When the tug came Salak whipped round like a spinning top. Alert you the unexpected contact like a scorpion ready to strike.
But it was Evangel... Proctor D'Amour. She required his assistance.
Upon hearing her request he became puzzled but trusted she was not taking him on an idle walk or jape. He had come to expect perfect and reliable seriousness from the good woman. Which he found boundlessly reassuring.
"Of course, Mistress D'Amour. Lead the way."
He followed her out dutifully. Zaire forgotten now in wake of something more important.
Behind her Evangeline could hear the beat of his cane *tack tack tack* as a declaration of his presence and tempo of urgency. The further they got from the heating heart of the Dance Hall the more pronounced it seemed to get. Empty corridors became unnaturally silent.
Outside was almost ghoulish in its chill.
As they approached the outhouse Salak wondered what the problem might be.
*By the Powers* he thought to himself *those miscreants from the janitors closet have only gotten caught again...*
His wondering died in his mind when Evangeline silently opened the door and he saw the now very dead form of Joel Schmidt.
"Ah."
He said.

Evangeline
 
Her stomach fell, threatening to bring up the poor mistake of wine and the meagre late lunch she scrounged up for herself before getting herself ready for this very dance. Yes, she ought to stay here where it was safe. Where there were plenty sets of eyes and those capable of wielding their power if things were to go awry... but they should not have.Were things not different this side of the Revolution? Although she was ushered into this Academy on the cusp of it all, Livia witnessed the Initiates around her go from trained murderous weapons to bodies meant to fill the ranks or enjoy a quiet life, waiting to be called upon. She watched them go from weapons to... youth enjoying this night of freedom deserved after those written exams.

Livia drew in a slow, even breath, casting her gaze to those that chose to remain on the dance floor before looking to where she last left Rowley Stone. If she wanted to make good on her attempt in forgetting the dead eyes of Joel, then she needed to convince herself not to be reminded of what she discovered tonight. She was taught well to compose herself under her mother's tutelage, having to hide her anger at times to save face in the public, and to hide the grief that came with reminiscing of what used to be back home.

Two glasses of wine were placed on Rowley's table once again, Livia sliding back into her chair opposite Rowley and a wicked grin pulling at the corners of her painted lips.
"Are they still dancing? Here I thought I would return just in time for a quadrille or another waltz..." She clicked her tongue before sliding a glass towards him. "I am in a mood to make memories that I will forget in the morning, but I will require a worthy drinking partner. Are you up for it, Rowley? To be the partner in drink and dance?" Livia challenged him, hiding the wobble in her voice by taking a drink of her glass.

Rowley Stone