Private Tales Of Colleges and Clockwork

[Petrus Ritus Iskandar]

Vel Anir; Anir Square

It had been a momentous expense, though one Petrus hoped would reap ample dividends, for the brief procurement of a corner of Anir Square and a building with access to it, for the hosting of a scholarship gala to Elbion College. He still, after all, maintained distinct ties to the place of some of his formal education and so sponsoring young, bright, productive minds into whatever heights the college can push them would be very likely to pay back into his own coffers if he felt the need to act the patron.

So it was that ample advertising, ample warning, had been raised among the people of Vel Anir. Leading to a vast and busied conglomerate of young students bringing all sorts of crafts to his attention. Whether new ritual formulae for the application of magic or even more mundane, mechanical advancements the House Iskandar offered quite a few full scholarships to the college under the condition that those that won it would be employed by the House on their graduation.

In all it seemed a small festival unto itself. Elementals were conjured and bound, small displays of new building designs were shown, even some instances of newfound enchantments for armaments were provided. The question that remains for one Virdalia Deuxtrom is.... what would she bring to claim this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity?


Virdalia Deuxstrom ​

 

[purplelynn]

She had been working tirelessly these last few weeks in preparation of this scholarship opportunity. Her fingers aching deep within her bones. Every small movement throbbed, serving as a reminder of the amount of work she had put into this invention. As Virdalia approached Anir Square, she could feel her pulse quickening with nervousness. Would this invention even be good enough to catch the eye of someone from House Iskandar? Pushing self doubt aside, she held it out in her hand for one stationary moment.

In her palm lay a prototype ballista figure and in her other hand, a ballista scope. Strapped to her back were the blueprints for the creation to be perfectly fitted to the famous thick walls of Vel Anir. She knew a weapon of this size would be ideal for Vel Anir, especially with conflict on the minds of every resident. The city did, of course, have a long and violent past. What made her ballista particularly special was her attention to detail, ensuring that it could move along the wall using a wheel system and could be mounted on carriages made for officials. It could even be built to size on any nobleman or noble-lady's castle walls. She also had some ideas for different types of arrows and enchantments that could be utilized to increase the machine's deadly efficiency.

She clutched her inventions firmly, holding them as preciously as fine jewelry. As she finally made her way to the area for her chance, she saw a large group ahead of her. Many other students and residents holding their own inventions for this once in a lifetime opportunity. Virdalia waited her turn and thought about what it would be like to graduate with a work contract already in hand for one of the most prominent merchants and noblemen in the country. Excitement jolted through her at the idea of it.

Before heading out, she had ensured that her ears were perfectly covered underneath her wavy blonde hair, trying her hardest not to fiddle with it out of nervous habit. Virdalia finally saw Mr. Iskandar and was only a few people behind to present. She thought about how she had heard he was over 70, but the only thing reflecting his age were his eyes which gave a cold, wearied look behind them. Soon, it would be Virdalia's turn to prove herself and her skill, ingenuity, and craftsmanship.

When it finally came to her turn, it felt as though her legs turned to ice and she stiffened as she walked into the forefront of the intimidating figure's sight. Sweat beginning to form, she gave a swift and appropriate bow, "Thank you Mr. Iskandar for this opportunity to show our capabilities as students of Elbion." Before she could let the nerves settle in too deeply, she pulled out her blueprints and went into great depth as to how this machine would operate, it's special features, and how it could be used in both military and private defense. The more she discussed the mechanical nature of her creation, the more at ease she became. Eventually, she was sweeping her arms fluidly as she pointed to different portions of her diagrams and everything else melted away. "Well Mr. Iskandar, I hope that I was able to show you something of which proves how much of an asset I could be to your house and company. Tell me, what are your thoughts? What exactly are you looking for in a scholarship candidate?"

She carefully studied his face as she awaited his answer...

 

[Petrus Ritus Iskandar]

Spoiler: Petrus

The presenter before Virdalia had shuffled away after enthusiastically presenting an architectural design intended to be applied to aqueducts and cisterns to ease waterflow and thus, supposedly, increase crop yield. The young man with brown hair and green eyes had been unenthusiastically thanked, dismissed, and notes had been taken without so much as an additional word. Murmurings from the line of students before her and behind her had told that several of the scholarships on offer had already been given. Precious few remained and as Virdalia took center stage, quite literally as she was on a circular stage with any provided materials she needed to make her case, several individuals from the House sat at a table to judge and appraise everything on offer.

Not least of which was, of course, the Patriarch of the House himself. Though tales did tell Petrus was a man over 70 he did, indeed, not look nearly so old as that. Older, most certainly, one might say distinguished if they were being polite but the hard lines in his face and salt-and-pepper hair told of a man who was, at worst, in his 50's. As Virdalia gave her presentation Petrus's gaze bore into her, scrutinizing her as he had every other applicant, heavy amber eyes intent enough to make her feel like the only woman in the world and as if she could pinned in place with just a glance.

As she brought her presentation to a close and asked her own questions Petrus's expression was almost inscrutable. Hard lines deepened in what MIGHT have been polite curiosity, the words to dismiss her sitting ready for use on his tongue like a dagger to the heart of her hopes and ambitions. Instead he leaned over, his amber eyes leaving Virdalia for a moment, before they scanned over something one of the advisors from Elbion College had written. He exchanged some words that were drowned out by the sheer chatter before returning his gaze to Virdalia, adjusted in his chair, and spoke in a voice that was low, contemplative, every word weighed for it's value but carrying enough baritone authority that the crowd's noise died down as he spoke.

"My thoughts.... you may consider them intrigued."

He ignored her question about what he wanted out of a scholarship candidate for now, wanting to see how she handled someone putting pressure on her for answers while giving none of their own.

"The first question I have for you is what you see as the cost of production of not only your design as standalone but how you believe it to be worth redesigning entire sections of stone walls to implement the wheeled system? The cost of doing so while also allowing it and troops manning the walls to move among one another seems.... prohibitive."

But the Patriarch was not doing testing Virdalia just yet. He DID see promise in the young woman's designs and so, with a slow wave of his hand and a soft glow from the ring on his right hand, the wood of the stage beneath Virdalia's feet would morph in front of her. Becoming something akin to a mock wall with a rough display of her ballista atop it. This magical manipulation lacked the finesse and technical knowledge to make it truly functional, but it would serve well enough as a visual aid.

However, this had an interesting and unintended side-effect. Unbeknownst to the Patriarch Virdalia was a half-elf and, as such, his use of Falian Druidism would have an intriguing effect on Virdalia and any other half-elven or elven students in attendance. That expression of magic would radiate something between an inebriating and a relaxing effect on Virdalia. Depending entirely on Virdalia's capabilities this wash of euphoria from Petrus's magic would be either crippling to her ability to focus, or perhaps aid it greatly if she could master herself. That, however, remained to be seen.

Virdalia Deuxstrom ​

 

[purplelynn]

She lost hope when she looked into his eyes, there wasn't an ounce of softness in them. Though Virdalia couldn't get a glimpse into his thoughts trying to read his inscrutable face, she was sure she hadn't gotten the scholarship. It almost seemed like he was toying with the idea of just dismissing her completely, as he had with so many before her. Trying similarly to hold an inscrutable gaze, she tried not to show any of her sadness and disappointment as she stood resolutely. Though, she very much doubted her look had the same efficacy as Mr. Iskandar's.

When the foreboding man had said he was intrigued, her shoulders almost imperceptibly sagged with relief and she exhaled a small breath. She had noted that the person before her was simply dismissed with not even one additional word spoken his direction. Hope flooded back in to her heart. The next question took her a bit more by surprise, but she expected someone as successful as Petrus Iskandar wouldn't blindly put his faith and money into something so unproven. As her mind began to process how to answer his questions, something wholly strange happened.

As he shifted the wood of the stage and molded it, a very intrusive sense of euphoria began to wash over Virdalia. She ogled the creation for a minute, fighting an almost stupid grin tugging at the corners of her mouth and seemed entranced by it. Craving more of it she stepped forward desiring to drink in the sensation of raw magic, but in her mind a greater feeling began nagging at the edges of her consciousness and soon overtook it. This elicited a strong sensation she had honed since she had been born in Vel Anir, to hide. Whatever this instinct of hers was, she understood looking around that no one else had been so impacted by it.

In almost the same instance she closed her eyes and struggled internally between the sheer euphoria of, what she thought was, the magic the Iskandar had produced and her honed senses as a halfling telling her not to in any way reveal her true nature as a magical being. "One moment sir, while I consider your questions." She had hoped that he wouldn't notice her struggle or maybe mistake it as a moment of deep thought rather than the tempest she was trying to subdue.

In only a few more moments, she had fought the urges but couldn't quite suppress them leaving her with a feeling of relief, but not euphoria. It was almost like she had drank luck liquified and she knew she could complete her presentation confidently. She had to be perfect, as there weren't many spots remaining from the whisperings of other students in the line and one only had so many chances to prove themselves like this in life. She steeled herself and opened her eyes.

"Those are excellent questions Mr. Iskandar, my father Mr. Deuxstrom works as a civil engineer for the city so I have been on the walls a fair amount of time. He had to review them periodically to ensure structural integrity and to create and incorporate outcroppings into their design. As an intern to his company, he helped me and my colleagues to examine and study the designs of his newer infrastructure and repairs. The current designs I have were made with this in mind, I ensured I built the specifications to fit along the framework of the walls as they are now. Rest assured, most places on the wall could accommodate one, however, there may be some changes needed to defense protocols among the city. It would lead to narrower pathways in some areas if the turret was placed there, though the turret can at least be safely moved through these areas. I would leave the decision of where and how to place the turrets to those more seasoned in the art of warfare to maximize defensive output while not hindering soldiers. Here"

She moved the ballista model on the walls to various places they could be stationed ensuring that soldiers had a wide path while being able to still utilize the machine defensively. She also exampled places where they would narrow movement too much and demonstrated poor positioning.

"See? However, that is also why the mobility of it is so great. It can be moved to a more optimal position with relative ease along the walls. I don't believe the structure would need anything added, so that saves greatly on costs. That would also account for if the enemy were to ambush the city in an unexpected direction. However, no one can deny how much of an asset these would be to defending against large armies especially as we explore munitions. As for the cost of production"

She pulled out a few rolls of parchment showing 3 different quotes with different materials. She explained that she had gotten a quote ahead of time from one of the chief weapons facilities for such a design. There were different cost levels based on materials used. Cheaper materials, like ones for estate defense, were not so big and not so expensive. Most nobility could afford a few of these designs. Then of the 2 larger designs one was made with denser wood and could be used for castle defense as well as along the walls. These were a bit more expensive, only wealthy nobles could afford such a device. The last quote was for a metal design and was very expensive but would last the longest and deliver the most force to the enemies. It could only be afforded by the ultra wealthy, or, by Vel Anir using the city defense and military budget.

As she stood there her mind couldn't help but wandering to this strange and intimidating man before her... His origins intrigued her, she couldn't help but wonder all the events and treatment that created him. He was unlike any other person she had met before and a part of her cursed the fact he wasn't just a normal elderly man like she expected. A moment of pity flashed in her mind for what kind of things a person might have to endure to be so... hardened. However, that moment was very fleeting as she checked herself, who knows, he could have been born that stoic.

When her mind began drifting off, she lost hold of herself to the magic again. She held her gaze on the model, transfixed. Almost in a stupor, she asked "How can you make something so... beautiful so, intoxicating?" and she let out a chuckle, forgetting herself and where she even was for a brief few moments as the magic drove her to a minor state of delirium...

 

[Petrus Ritus Iskandar]

As Virdalia launched into her explanation that hardened, critical expression would slowly begin to shift in an unexpected way. It did, in it's own way, become softer; though not in any way that would be recognized as 'kind' or 'empathetic'. No. Instead Petrus's expression slowly began to morph from critical, hard and judgmental into an expression that only 'softened' in that that hardness began to appraise Virdalia less as something that was wasting his time and more into something that now WAS his time. Or at the very least an asset or interest within his time and notice that he did not wish to actively expel from it.

The whispers and murmuring of Petrus's advisors only grew as an aide retrieved the three documents detailing costs of production and the necessary supplies. The man would peer down at them with spectacle-clad features for a long moment, say nothing, but give Petrus an approving nod. This only caused the murmuring among the waiting students to heighten to a low thrum and, as discussion began among the advisors, and speculating began amongst the students, the only one who seemed to truly remain paying attention to Virdalia was the man himself. His eyes never having left her as his fingers began to drum idly against the tabletop in heavy, contemplative motions.

So it was that he was the only one who may have heard her stupor-laden question, her chuckle, and pinning Virdalia's gaze with his own for a long moment, holding her stormcloud-grey eyes with his own honey-hued amber, he would pause the motion of his fingers on the table and lift that same thick, authoritative hand to quell the murmuring. Over the course of a few moments the murmuring of students and advisors alike would die down to a low thrum instead of the ocean of background chatter it had been moments prior. After which Petrus would motion to Virdalia as he spoke in a slow, but firm tone.

"I believe Lady Deuxstrom has demonstrated enough promise to earn Our consideration. Should she wish it."

Sitting up more pointedly Petrus's eyes would search Virdalia's own but for what only he could know.

"So I will ask you Virdalia Deuxstrom. Were I to offer you finances to complete your studies and a contract with my House during, and after, such a time.... would you accept?"

The question was the offer and Virdalia would not receive another. Heavy, weathered, but proud features endured any scrutiny the young woman aimed at him. As powerful, influential as he was blunt and domineering. Could Virdalia accept the patronage of such a man? How much of his measure had she taken? How much of HERS had he taken? Would she chaff under the yoke of expectations, deadlines on her creative freedom, and a newfound leashing to the scrutiny of high society?

Virdalia Deuxstrom​

 

[Virdalia Deuxstrom]

As his magic faded, Virdalia snapped back to reality to see a man reviewing her quotes. As she looked into Petrus's eyes, she found they held hers with an intensity that gripped at her soul. In a way, she felt like prey caught in the talons of a predator. Unable to look away, she studied his amber eyes carefully searching for any kind of answer and noticed something had shifted in them. Curiosity? Kindness? Intrigue? Something about them had kind of softened in a way, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Well, at the very least, something had shifted in their dynamic and with hope, that would lead to an offer extension. She prayed to whatever god there was he hadn't noticed her strange behavior.

As the reviewer nodded his head to Petrus, the frantic whispers of her peers rose like a cacophony in her ears. All the while, she noticed his eyes never left hers, and despite the numerous people around her she could only focus on him. Chest tightening with each thrum of his fingers against the tabletop. She waited for his answer with bated breath. In that moment it felt like her future was in his hands and every moment seemed to stretch infinitely on.

He lifted his hand, and the room fell almost silent. From what little she had observed of the man, his very presence demanded ultimate authority. Virdalia thought to herself he must've been a king in his past life, for she had never met someone so effortlessly commanding. As he spoke, she could hardly process the words, but the room stood still. The offer extended. She felt in this moment, that an opportunity like this would never come again.

She had come here with the hope that this scenario would play out exactly as it had, but now that the choice was before her she had so many thoughts on her mind. After meeting Petrus, had he displayed the qualities she sought in an employer? Could she be loyal to him not knowing his past, not knowing him as a leader? Did he recognize her elven background, would she be able to hide it from him? However, she didn't have much time to contemplate as the offer hung in the air.

Drawing a steadying breath "It would be my honor to serve the noble House Iskandar" as she went to bow her head she had forgotten in the excitement of the moment, to incline her head properly to keep her ears hidden. Without warning, she felt the pointed tips exposed to the air during her bow and quickly tried to shift her hair back over them. It seemed though, that the damage was done. In Vel Anir, any kind of elf was considered exceedingly rare and certainly were not residents. The whispers began again and increased along with pointing and shocked faces. Damn it, she thought inwardly as she struggled to keep her head held while tears prickled at the backs of her eyes.

How could she make such a careless mistake? She had spent so much time trying to disguise herself and here she was laid bare. Swearing she wouldn't cry, Virdalia soothed herself quietly remembering elvish poems her mother would often share to calm her in moments of intense emotion. Despite her semblance of outward composure, her eyes sought Petrus instinctively. In that moment though, she realized she didn't want to wait to see if what she found there was revulsion, confusion, indifference, she didn't want to wait at all. This was her moment to take her life and future into her hands. With a firmness of purpose she doubled down and knelt, head bowed and ears exposed, "I will ensure that I work hard, harder than any of your other employees to produce quality craftsmanship and to aid your purpose and business as much as I can. I will become an engineer worthy of your time and efforts and represent you well in all of my endeavors. I promise to become a fine instrument of House Iskandar." Without looking up she waited to hear his response.

 

[Petrus Ritus Iskandar]

Even before Virdalia replied one of the aides at Petrus's side had already begun scribing out and stamping the scholarship. However unlike many other Petrus would motion to the man before he was finished, slide the parchment over to himself, and was about to note something himself upon the paper when Virdalia gave away her secret rather carelessly. Given her age and Vel Anir's recent..... reordering of it's concept of what liberties would be afforded to non-human races he gave a low hum. For a brief moment as Virdalia's eyes sought Petrus's own they were cast elsewhere. She would never know but beyond Virdalia, out of her bowed sight, Petrus took note of representatives from a minor house who seemed especially disturbed by Virdalia's presence.

Putting two and two together, along with what rumors he knew of House Bloodwyn, Petrus would return to his gaze to Virdalia only as she began speaking again. The firmness, the purpose bordering on desperation, made him consider. The young woman had promise, was obviously intelligent, but was she worth disturbing even a minor noble house of Vel Anir for the sake of? Especially one of her kind? In the end it was not truly compassion that drove him to act, instead it was a sort of cold calculus, recognizing this opportunity as one to improve his image with people in Vel Anir, at least most of them, Petrus decided to put on a small show.

For the first time since this series of presentations had began Petrus would stand from the desk and extend a hand to the parchment he had written on. Rolling it by hand himself and, never taking his eyes off Virdalia as he did so, he firmly stamped warm wax with the seal of his House onto it. Slow, heavy footsteps then brought him around the table and to Virdalia's bowed form. His voice would raise in volume, addressing the crowd as much as Virdalia herself, though it was far from a shout. A man of his stature did not need to shout to be heard.

"Your ingenuity and ambition have impressed me, Lady Virdalia."

Motioning with a hand to straighten herself Petrus would place the rolled velum into her hands and would state to her and the crowd without looking at her just yet.

"As the most impressive presentation displayed today lady Virdalia shall not only receive a sum of one half-million gold to pursue her education in the finest halls Elbion can offer."

It was only now that Petrus would look down at the small elf woman, amber eyes curious even as they bore into her own, as if daring something out of her, coaxing her will forward.

"But Lady Virdalia shall offer receive an invitation to intern as my personal assistant. That is.... if she accepts?"

Virdalia Deuxstrom​

 

[Virdalia Deuxstrom]

Before she had raised her head, the air around her filled with murmured speculations. She couldn't quite see what Petrus was doing, but could feel an atmosphere of reverence and shock in the air. At this point it couldn't have been at her ears, so it must have been something the man was doing making them react in such a manner. Listening to her side from an onlooker, she heard "Is he rolling and stamping that himself? This is unprecedented!" Virdalia had an intense desire to look ahead but dared not to make any more eye contact with the man. All the mutterings were drowned out as she heard each of his footsteps falling with a deliberate weight, each one echoing with calculated intent moving ever closer.

The praise was surreal and as she straightened herself, a relief so palpable and visceral rushed over her she almost buckled beneath the weight of it. At the sound of Petrus's words the air around her stilled, every fiber of her taut at the weight of his offer as she accepted it from him and rolled it in her hands curiously. Eyeing the scroll as though it were something so foreign that processing what was happening was an impossibility. She had pledged herself to this man, for better or for worse. This was the moment she had been dreaming of and relentlessly pursuing, a moment that would define whether she could live her life free or die a slave.

At his next words, her chest heaved and she could barely hold herself together. A half million gold? She couldn't even fathom that amount. She had never owned her own and couldn't draw her eyes to her master's gold at the Bloodwyn residence, lest she be caught looking and punished just for the mere act of laying eyes upon that cursed currency. She wasn't sure having such a sum was necessary, surely one didn't need that much and didn't want to already burden her patron but she held her tongue and ventured not a word.

However, at getting a scholarship into the Elbion College, pride overflowed within her. She would not squander this opportunity, she shakily held the scroll to her chest. How many slaves had dreamed of such an opportunity that would never come? Had her own mother ever dreamed of attending university, of freedom? Instantly her heart and mind aligned with true purpose, to prove herself and withstand every test thrown her way including admissions into this prestigious university. Also simultaneously vowing to never forget her origins and those she will leave behind to pursue her freedom and education.

As Petrus's gaze shifted directly to her, she met it cautiously. This moment was too good to be true, and she had no desire to even remotely anger her savior. Her head tilted upwards, he was so close now that she could truly understand his intimidating height. For a brief moment she surveyed him closely. The set of his jaw, his crooked nose, his peppered hair, those things marked him. But, by the gods, his eyes... Their amber hue seemed to cut through her ever narrowing and measuring. They burned so brightly, sharp and endless, they had weighed her worth before she had spoken a word. There was a curiosity shining there now as well, and she felt inclined to respond.

The last offer came as a surprise. His personal assistant? She weighed the last offer to herself, what if she made mistakes? Being that close to him as someone so... deficient, so inadequate... She wasn't sure if she could meet his stringent expectations as she was sure he had. Briefly, she looked beyond him to the mass of people surrounding her. A few of them she recognized as noblemen that had visited the Bloodwyn residence. These people had laughed at her, tortured her, used her. And right now the only thing stopping them from running down, seizing her, and throwing her into a guillotine was the powerful and dominating man before her.

"I accept your offer, this is so much more than one as me deserves. My lord, feel free to station me and use me however you wish and I will aid your goals with everything I have."

As she felt the stares closing in she instinctively stepped forward closer to Petrus. Not out of any closeness, but because she felt at any moment someone could come charging in and take her away. The enmity of some of the onlookers pressing into her, she only felt guarded the closer she got to him as she knew they would not dare anger such a high ranking man. Unsure how to leave safely but not wanting to violate his space, she looked back up at Lord Iskandar for direction, her stormy eyes gleaming with vulnerability. She re-adjusted her flaxen wavy hair to cover her ears and frame her delicate but slightly gaunt features. Despite her obvious fear for her safety, she also radiated resilience and quiet dignity as she waited for her patron to guide her.

 

[Petrus Ritus Iskandar]

As the murmurs and gossip surged toward a crescendo Petrus drank in the woman before him with keen interest. She had been one of the few students to come here, to him, with more than a simple rough pitch and stars in their eyes, with more than flimsy wants and no desperation, no will or drive, to see it done. For others it would have been NICE to receive his patronage, no doubt a massive feather in the cap of some brat from a minor noble house but they had almost all lacked a certain hunger that he saw in Virdalia's eyes.

Whereas others might have looked at the small, petite half-elf and seen only aesthetic beauty and perhaps a too-gaunt face Petrus saw something both greater... and lesser in equal amounts. In those stormcloud eyes was a surging drive to MAKE something of herself, to rise as high as she could and tackle any obstacle the world presented to her to do so. What seemed to be the swirling of those stormclouds, the crackle of lightning and spark of life deep within them, and it was a sight both familiar and respectable. But the weakness he saw in combination with this was what had truly coaxed him into making this play.

That drive, that desperation, surely aimed Virdalia to purpose the peak of her capabilities... but it also instilled in her a fear he could exploit. A dependency and naivety he could mold. She was a small lightning bolt that had been harnessed and used to heat a brilliant blade of living stormclouds that was her will, but it had to be tempered, yet to be cooled, and Petrus sought to ensure he would be the one with the tongs and hammers to wind and shape that blade to his purposes. Wrap her around his finger and be both praised for saving her and draw every bit of value out of her he could.

So it was that the little storm bolt covered her ears and, not finished playing to the crowd, Petrus knew that the sentiments of Vel Anir had long turned against slavery. So it was that Petrus gingerly turned Virdalia not to hide into him, but to face the crowd. Two hands, large, blunt and far from the soft hands of most noblemen, would undo her word. Softly brushing her neck and ears as he pulled her hair back behind them, proudly displaying her heritage before lacing his arms behind his back. His point made louder than any words ever could, more succinctly than any speech could ever enunciate. He did not HIDE that she was a half-elf, a slave, and with one motion the crowd began to cheer as they understood what he wanted them to. That he would even give rise to slaves with sufficient skill and drive.

What they did not know, did not NEED to know, was that it was not out of kindness. Not out of generosity or some sense of morality. Though his genial, thin smile and waving to the crowd disguised this. No. It was pure, cold, efficient politicking. Optics, one might call it. As he turned his head to look down at Virdalia and rumble in a low, authoritative tone.

"You need not hide who and what you are any longer. Now come.... the gala awaits and I'll not have my new assistant attending as you are now."

Motioning Virdalia to the reserved building near the stage, one with a large forum area inside in which the dance, drink and socializing would take place he would instruct her.

"Second floor. Take a left at the top of the stairs, to the door at the end of the hall, pick whatever finery you like."

With a large, firm hand gently nudging her forward by the small of her back Petrus would give one more wave to the crowd before turning to go back to his seat. He did not spare Virdalia another glance, not because she was forgotten or no longer interested him, but because he knew she would acquiesce and obey.

Virdalia Deuxstrom​

 

[Virdalia Deuxstrom]

She sought to use the imposing man's stature to hide, sure he would want to move the topic along or altogether desire to change subjects to avoid adverse reactions. However, rather than allowing her to shrink away he acted contrary to all she foresaw. Turning her ever so slightly, she suddenly felt his course hands moving along her neck to her hair with surprising tenderness. Then, he even went so far as to touch her ears and expose them and she shivered beneath their careful strength. She waited to see revulsion or disgust on his face, but it never came. He didn't mean to humiliate her, it was far too gentle and his demeanor didn't reflect such intentions at all. She had never known such a kindness, especially not from a human.

When the onlookers began cheering, every square inch of the atmosphere around them had been filled with elation and happiness. Confused, she took another moment to scan the crowd. What she had perceived as enemies and captors she noted, appeared to be people that seemed genuinely happy. She hadn't known any citizen of Vel Anir could be happy seeing an elf get any kind of decent treatment. Her world had been so small, so dark, maybe she should reconsider that not everyone had negative sentiments towards her kind. However, upon notice, it seemed that the crowd was looking through her. Rather, that their stares were primarily fixed on the tall Iskandar man behind her.

She herself turned her head to look back at him again as he kindly smiled to the crowd, of course they had not been cheering for her; how could she have been so foolish. They were applauding a man who had done the unthinkable, who had shown mercy and kindness to a small nobody such as herself. Maybe she had misjudged him, sure he seemed harsh and calculating but surely beneath that demeanor was someone with enough compassion to show even a slave grace and opportunity beyond her wildest dreams. She smiled up at him, absolutely beaming with joy and began to politely applaud him as well joining the crowd.

As he remarked she needn't hide herself and instructed her to go change with a small encouraging nudge, she had a fleeting moment where her gaze lingered on his back as he settled back into his seat. For that brief period, she thought of all those turning away from her she had seen walking away in cruelty but this was different. The sight of his back did not mean rejection or abandonment. It offered something else, something she had never been given before; the space to follow.

Without lingering too long she headed upstairs, a smile pulling at her lips. Finding the room he mentioned, she walked in carefully. The smell of fine silks and expensive perfumes permeated the space as she entered. She had never seen anything full of so many fine ladies clothing. She had suspected this room was prepared as a sort of wardrobe suite. Her eyes bounced around from gown to gown, starting to feel overwhelmed by the choices in front of her. She wanted something that would show she was worthy of this scholarship and she had nearly given up hope and was about to pick whatever looked nearest in her size when something caught her eyes.

In the back of a seemingly untouched armoire, there hung a deep, smoky gray gown that shimmered in such a way it looked like liquid shadow. She delicately put it on, the dress draped over her malnourished slim figure. It was slightly too large, but with the help of some carefully placed pins utilizing her scullery skills, and lacing the bodice tightly she was able to fit it perfectly. It was a simple piece that cinched her waist and spilled into a floor-length gown. The neckline was modest yet refined, while long, sheer sleeves softened her movements and hinted at elegance. She was able to find some matching black jewelry and shoes.

Tentatively, she gently touched her own ear with her hand, remembering only the short moment ago when his calloused hands had been there. The jarring wonder of being recognized for exactly what she was and not cast aside in loathing, made her long for something she had forgotten. The desire to be seen wholly and without judgment, as more than the sum of scars etched into her body and soul.

Though she initially felt so uncomfortable and out of place wearing such a garment, Virdalia felt the gown was more than clothing; it was bold enough to announce her presence yet understated enough to let her eyes shine. Her pale gray eyes that could now command attention without a word. Stepping out back down the stairs, she could meet the world without fear, letting herself be seen, at last, for who she truly was. Only thanks to Petrus Iskandar.

A hand gingerly on the railing, she descended the stairs focusing as hard as she could on avoiding falling in her new attire. As she went down, her eyes scanned her surroundings to find Petrus, she was so focused she didn't notice who was waiting for her at the bottom of the step. Kaelyn Bloodwyn, nephew of her master, had been waiting in secret close to the stairs for her to come down. Waiting to corner her like a viper aiming to strike. When her foot hit the last step, he took a precursory glance around and when he saw the attendees too engrossed in conversation, he grabbed her arm harshly, "I trust you understand your station and won't.... overstep?" his grip tightened.

She began to panic as she now more frantically scanned the crowd, she wasn't sure how to handle this situation while not making a scene. Her desire not to embarrass her patron stronger than her panic, she did not react and remained silent. Please, she thought to herself, let someone - anyone notice and help me.

 

[Petrus Ritus Iskandar]

As Virdalia went about scanning through the abundance of clothing and finery on offer for her to wear Petrus busied himself with judging and working through several other prospective students and their ideas. Only five others ended up receiving his patronage and the open room set up for the gala that Virdalia would return to hosted, in all, sixteen students not including herself out of the hundreds that had made their presentations as well as several dozen nobles from both Vel Anir and Alliria seeking to make political and financial connections. The vast majority of them were from minor Houses, like House Bloodwyn, or those directly in the sway of House Iskandar, but add in the staff and acquaintances who had been brought along to attend with them and it was quite the spectacle of an event.

As Virdalia made her way down the stairs she drew many eyes to her, for a multitude of reasons. Some jealous of her beauty, others whispering barbed remarks of her malnourished figure, others still harboring speciesist resentment for her elven heritage, and yet more simply commenting on her choice of dress and attire as a whole. A metaphorical spotlight alighting upon the young half-elf as she gingerly approached the floor and she did indeed draw the eye of her patron who was, presently, engaged in a conversation with a woman Virdalia would know all too well. The mother of the same man who snatched her wrist and hissed at her.

The older matron of the Bloodwyn family bore an odd expression, one of polite reservation barely containing some sort of strong anger on her aged face, whether that was due to something Petrus had said to her prior to Virdalia's predicament or the fact that her patron was presently ignoring her to watch Virdalia carefully..... who could say?

But once again Virdalia could feel the weight of those amber eyes settling over here. Piercing through her with both his judgement and expectation. He could, of course, detach himself and come to her aid. Warding off the young Kaelyn if Virdalia seemed incapable of handling the situation herself but that, she could tell, was not what he expected of her. The only questions that were open to her were thus:

Could Virdalia stand up for herself and assert that stormy spirit she had used to show such promise to him and, even more pressing, could she do so while knowing that at any moment she could let herself fall into his protection once again? That for a moment his authority could be hers to wield if she wished it even if it would disappoint him to see her do so?

And finally, could she muster herself and her thoughts enough as that smoldering amber gaze bore into her in that moment, in that dress, in her beauty, not as an elf, not as a slave, not even as his new right hand, but purely and utterly seeing her in that moment as a woman?

Virdalia Deuxstrom​

 

[Virdalia Deuxstrom]

As her eyes flitted between her arm and the crowd of gala attendees, a piercing feeling of being watched settled over her. If she hadn't been growing familiar with the weight of Petrus's gaze, it may have startled her. Instead her heart hammered with relief, thinking that rescue was imminent, and she found his gaze. Though, what she found at the end of that gaze was his current company. Kaelyn's mother, her lips tight and eyes filled with anger. And rather than seeing her newfound savior moving toward her to protect her, she saw him completely stationary watching the scene unfold.

His message clear, if she couldn't handle such a small issue now, how could he ever even begin to trust her as a tool for the Iskandar family? The air around her seemed to dissipate and she found it difficult to draw breath, but she forced herself to look into Kaelyn's cold, dark brown eyes. She was almost surprised to find his level with hers, she was so used to looking at the floor when addressed by a Bloodwyn. Physical strength was not her strong suit, so she could forget pulling away. A thought occurred to her, and she curved her lips into a gentle disarming smile and let herself lean into his arms. To any observer, it was merely the warmth of a known, comforting embrace.

Her heels making her tall enough to stand shoulder to shoulder with the shorter-statured man, she wrapped her free arm around him in an outwardly friendly gesture, but remained alert and vigilant. Keeping her demure smile plastered to her face, she tilted her head to where her lips were almost touching the man's ear. All the while, her eyes remained firmly on Petrus. In this brief time, he had become something of an anchor for Virdalia and she found strength in those Amber eyes that burned like a flame behind honeyed glass. And to do this, she would need all the courage she could muster. She lightly whispered in his ear, so only he could hear "Curious to see you here, I suppose even shadows have their place in the light. Listen to me closely, you will not ever touch me or seek me in public again. I am no longer your family's property, I refuse to be treated as such. In turn, I won't be giving any statements to authorities about your... doings. Fail to heed me, and you will regret it greatly. Don't embarrass yourself and your family here. Release me, now"

She thought this to be a good enough compromise for the man to release her, which he did promptly. He mumbled under his breath and moved off to engage other attendees in conversation. However, unbeknownst to Virdalia and something only Petrus would be able to see as he sauntered off, was how flustered and shaken he was. Not due to her words, but due to the press of her body, her scent, her lips being so close to his ear. Virdalia hadn't ever been seen or treated as a woman and had no idea how others perceived her in this gown. She had only known herself as a slave, an object of property not an object of affection. She had gotten some lusty grins or heard an occasional drunken catcall during her time, but was oddly sheltered from the impact she truly had on men.

Pleased with what she considered her first success in proving herself to Lord Iskandar, she chuckled at the ease of her negotiation. Yet her gaze kept finding Petrus, longing for him to witness her triumph. She bit her lip slightly, a flush creeping up her cheeks, and admitted to herself that she liked the thrill of his eyes on her, studying her like a rare gem.

However, she snapped back into the moment and remembered one detail of this scenario that had her confused. Why on Earth was Petrus making acquaintance with a Bloodwyn? Had the woman imposed herself on him? Was he affiliated with the family in some way? As she made her way across the room, her dark grey gown flowed like water around her. Every movement caught the light just so, accentuating her and giving her a glow like the silvery moon drifting in the night sky. Her pale skin and light grey eyes reflected it perfectly, lending her an ethereal presence that drew the eye. She really did not want to deal with that family any more, or give herself another reason to be in a bind so instead of going around directly to Lord Iskandar, she decided to familiarize herself with some of the other students and attendees.

Completely unaccustomed to this type of event, she mostly remained a quiet observer and listener. Giving simple replies when asked questions and not sharing her thoughts freely. Though her attention kept going back to Petrus, even amidst the glittering crowd, he seemed apart, a constant she could not ignore. However, this time if he wanted to engage in conversation it would have to be him that approached her. She refused to go any nearer to that dreadful family as much as she could avoid it, and didn't want to disturb his conversations with other students. Beginning to feel the pressure of being in this giant space, the exhilaration or the moment wearing off, adrenaline no longer pumping, she sought refuge and noted a balcony on the second floor. With a glance back, she made her move to go step outside away from the crowd to catch her breath.

 

[Petrus Ritus Iskandar]

Witness her triumph he did.

Though his face said nothing his eyes ever maintained a warm, dark honeyed hue for her. His chin tilting upward in the smallest gesture of an approving appraisal. She had passed her very first test, casting off the dregs that had clung to her and attempt to assert themselves over her from her old life. A life she had needed to, and did, choose to leave behind. Though he had given her the tools the final shackle holding her here needed to be shattered by her own hands for what use was freeing a slave if they chose to sit bound by even broken chains?

Whether it was still a part of the tests he gave, the game he played, with her will and interest Petrus continued to mingle and move amongst the crowd with stoic amicability. Always moving to address others with whom he shared business, or who he could stand to benefit a political connection to, the grand space seemed as comfortable to him as an ocean was to a great shark. The politicking and maneuvering as natural to him as drawing breathe and as Virdalia made her way to the balcony, even, then, she could feel that she was still a precious gem under scrutiny until the very last moment she could be seen.

As time began to drag on however, as seconds ticked by, a minute, and more, it was not Petrus who came to her. it was not even truly a person at all. Rather the gala had truly begun to live up to it's namesake as lively, smooth music echoed about the hall. Drifting on wayward winds to Virdalia's pointed ears the music would mellow to a rich, slow croon on the strings of a violin and whensoever Virdalia returned to the building Petrus would be easy to see, just off the newly made dance floor.... but he was not alone.

A human woman of near the same height as Virdalia, with a yellow-orange dress the hues of autumn, fiery red hair, a light smattering of freckles, emerald green eyes and a slightly fuller frame than the malnourished half-elf would be standing close to her Patron. Her eyes wide and imploring as he nursed a drink in one hand, exchanging words that were drowned out in the music with her for a long moment. Her teeth pulled at her lip in a manner similar to Virdalia's, her lashes batting at him as a finger curled in fiery hair, and he would motion with a hand before... the woman pouted... and as her lips moved in something resembling a reply... he paused.

So it was that Petrus calmly lifted his eyes past the redheaded human, up to the second floor, to the railing where Virdalia stood, and a gaze meant only for her lingered on her for a long moment before he returned his gaze to the human woman as one of her hands brushed his arm. He began to give some sort of answer to her as it was once again Virdalia's move to make in this game of theirs.....

Virdalia Deuxstrom​

 

[Virdalia Deuxstrom]

As she found herself staring out of the balcony, she inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. Words could not even begin to describe today's events. She had managed to find her freedom, won herself a scholarship at Elbion academy, found a patron, got a work contract, all in all the day had been filled to the brim with things that would have been impossibilities even a day beforehand. Looking around, she found an abandoned bottle of some kind of liquor. She had been too nervous to have a drink in front of everyone at the gala and make a fool of herself, but here in the absence of company and enjoying her own peace she decided to give it a try. With no glasses in sight, she twisted the cap off and took a deep inhale above the neck of the dark emerald bottle.

Her nose burned and she coughed a little at the sensation, extending her arm to hold it farther away from her. How did people drink this? While she pondered consuming it she reasoned that she had so many firsts tonight, what was one more? Before she took a swig of it, she watched the door carefully for a few moments. Up until the moment the door closed, she had felt that honed stare watching her - Petrus knew exactly where she was. She wondered if she would be getting any company from a certain tall and darkly handsome figure. Though seconds, then minutes passed by, and the doors remained just as stationary as ever. Sighing, she indulged in a large swig of... whatever this liquid was. Her throat burned as though she had swallowed a hot coal, she coughed, and as the liquid settled in her stomach she thought she may just throw up. A few moments passed and the feeling shifted from sickness to a growing warmth. Her cheeks felt slightly flushed and her spirits lifted, taking her mind off of her aching for Lord Iskander's attention.

Giggling to herself she took another swig as she enjoyed the wonderful air around her. Freedom had never felt so good. Trepidatiously, she glanced at the doors, thinking of the scene playing in the halls. She couldn't be more out of place here, she felt like a fish trying to climb a tree. Just for now, she thought, soon I will socialize just like any good citizen of Vel Anir. That thought comforted her, she wouldn't always feel so displaced... or so she hoped. As she went to take another long draught, something caught her ears, a tune. The music was exquisite, it twirled with the breeze, carrying with it laughter and harmony.

Without thinking much, she pulled again from her bottle of liquid courage, and resolved to go back in to see and experience her first live orchestra. As she went to walk, she barely noticed herself swaying with every step stumbling like a newborn fawn. Looking down onto the event, she identified Petrus easily. Except instead of him moving around politely, he stood exchanging words with someone. She studied her and a pang of sadness swept through her. Though they were of a similar stature, the woman before her was slightly fuller, of a good upbringing, and seemed to blend in seamlessly to the crowd. It was almost like looking at an image of herself had she been born into different circumstances.

Before the sadness grew too much inside her, she saw Petrus's eyes move back to her again as she held the railing for support. They exchanged a look for a long moment, and with her inhibitions washed away, she allowed herself to revel in the aching need to be the center of his eyes. She could feel her own eyes storming with unyielding desire. Just as she went to pursue him, his gaze returned to the woman next to him and Virdalia’s heart was doused as quickly as a flame caught in a sudden gust.

Her body emanated with jealousy for a moment, if only she had a different upbringing or more nourishment maybe his eyes would have stayed on her longer and deeper. But as she watched the two conversing, she bitterly realized she wasn't the only rare jewel he possessed and that thought sunk in harshly. Trying to cover her stupor she descended the stairs again. She knew she probably wouldn't get his eye for the night, but the warmth inside of her fueled by spirits demanded she toss logic and reasoning aside and follow only her deepest desires.

At that moment, she quickly grabbed a glass of champagne and downed it as well, just in case she may experience a logical thought and back out of her plan. In this moment, she knew what she wanted. Well, if Petrus doesn't want me, then I think I may just have to make myself a more desirable target, she wryly thought. Her eyes locked on a dark, curly haired student with a tall silhouette. That'll do, and a coy smile spread on her face. She gave Petrus another glance and confidently approached the young man. Tugging his arms around her waist her eyes met his and she encouraged him to pull her close and lead her to the dance floor. While he had his arms wrapped tightly around her, she threw Petrus a languid, sultry stare challenging him. She also couldn't help but laugh at herself thinking she was so foolish to even have dreamed she had caught his eye.

They swayed in unison, her new partner holding her close while Virdalia wound her arms about his neck, her gaze locked on his speaking lips. All the while wishing it was another tall figure whose arms she was in dancing to the music.

 

[Petrus Ritus Iskandar]

As Petrus observed his new aide in her drinking habits his eyes would narrow harshly. Even in her now drunken stupor Virdalia seemed to be of the opinion that she could ride the high of her recent successes without limit. Her lack of forethought and care in causing a scandal in the wake of her intense desires mattered little to Petrus whose piercing gaze met and smothered Virdalia's sultry provocation. He was disappointed. Not in the young woman finding another to dance with, as she had hardly expressed her desire for him at all, but in the hushed whispers beginning to circulate, with added fuel provided by House Bloodwyn, of how his new aide was already a drunken mess grabbing for any man she could to dance with.

So it was that Petrus would politely excuse himself from the redheaded woman's attention and approach the two, giving the young man a polite nod, as his voice rumbled forth powerfully enough, lowly enough, to emanate through Virdalia's entire body to her core with authority. Even a polite greeting heavily landing on their dance like the hand of a giant.

"Pardon me. But I believe my new aide has had quite enough to drink for the evening."

His features were no less severe or intimidating as his gaze bored into the young man. There was brief war in the man Virdalia had chosen as her pawn as the fleeting chance of bedding the drunken half-elf made him hesitate, but he did nod after only a moment and step away, politely excusing himself as Petrus looked down at Virdalia with a profound, smothering reprimand on his tongue. Whatever Virdalia's inebriated, jealous state may make of him disciplining her.

"You."

He stated simply, firmly and Virdalia had, in a sense, gotten exactly what she wanted. She most certainly WAS the center of his gaze, indeed perhaps the only woman in the world to him in this moment, though hardly for the reasons she envisioned. That firm, unyielding authority now aimed precisely at her.

"I believe you have had quite enough of the festivities for the night, Miss Deuxstrom. Allow me to escort you to your quarters."

An offered hand, firm palms warm if Virdalia offered her own, and without a word Petrus would begin to lead the young half-elf back up the stairs to the very room she had changed in earlier. He took whatever time he needed, steadied her as she needed, until the door shut with a CLICK of finality and he turned to regard her. Asking her a simple, pointed question as he strode to her in long, heavy, even steps until her body was nearly touching his own. Forcing the shorter woman to have to crane her neck to look up at his fierce amber eyes.

"And what did you expect to gain by making a fool out of yourself, my little elf?"

Virdalia Deuxstrom​

 

[Virdalia Deuxstrom]

As she and her partner danced along to the music, she had forgotten about everything else that had happened this night. The burning liquid inside of her making her feel on top of the world, and for the first time, she had gotten to act like what she was - a girl. In this moment, she was just another girl in the arms of a handsome man. Never had she been able to think about relishing a scenario like this. She drank in the moment deeply, a full smile on her face as she looked at her partner, "You're a great dancer! Where did you learn?" Just as the man was about to respond, she heard a commanding voice behind her.

Quite enough to drink tonight? Her cheeks flushed at the insinuation, and she had wanted to protest. Surely, she hadn't had THAT much, had she..? Somehow though, her mouth remained sealed. The commanding resonance of his voice shackled her tongue and rooted her where she stood. It didn't matter how inebriated she was, her body and soul recognized a command like that. As her eyes moved to his, she no longer found that honeyed look, it had been replaced by a severe gaze that ensnared her.

When he ordered her partner away, she noted his entire attention remained on her intensely. He stood there so close, composed and effortless, every motion measured yet somehow commanding. The light caught his features just so, his hair slicked back, his eyes narrowed and hands moving with quiet demanding authority. To her, he was her savior, her patron, her lord. All her life, she had been invisible and dehumanized as someone's property. Petrus not only sees her, but studies her with his cutting amber eyes. His authority different than her former master's; measured and calculated wielded with intent rather than malice.

The firm, unyielding authority as he addressed her made her smile at him. Gods, what is it in me that wants not just his wisdom, but his nearness? As he offered to escort her to her quarters, she curved her lips in a knowing smile. Thinking she had finally won her prize, that he had felt that jealous need too, believing the polite anger in his voice and escort to her room was confirmation of his desiring feelings towards her. "Of course my lord, you're right, this night has spun me in circles. If you could see me safely back, I would be grateful" She bowed her head slightly and meekly placed her palm on his, taking in their coarseness for the second time of the night as he lead her to her room.

If she had needed any more confirmation, it was Petrus not just opening the door for her, but his decision to close the both of them inside the room. She kept her eyes on him as her breath shortened, wondering how the night would go. Each footfall sounded deliberate, rich with purpose, carrying the fullness of his presence as he approached her. His body now a few meager inches away from hers. For a breathless moment their eyes locked, and freed from sober restraint, she let herself ache for the hunger of being with him.

His next words though, both stung and sang in her mind. The weight of her actions finally catching up with her, she realized everything that had happened. She was making a drunken fool of herself in front of the gala, she had thought she played it off easily enough but in looking back she realized the stares of the onlookers, the lust in her dance partner's eyes... She could have smeared the Iskandar reputation on only her first night of freedom. Regret washed over her instantly, all hint of lust gone, and though she tried to sober up she found she could not resist the drunkenness that had befallen her. Though through his chastisement, she took a bit of pleasure in the fact that her had called her his.

"I-I..." she tried to summon words that could explain the whole thing away but was far too gone for that. No, she had made a careless mistake, yet again. She had this newfound freedom, but clearly did not have the wisdom of how to use it. Her drunkenness once again amplifying her feelings but this time they were of shame and regret. The damage had been done. She had noted her less than desirable garb she had arrived in folded neatly on the bed they stood in front ot. Idiot, she winced as she looked into Petrus's eyes and began immediately disrobing herself. Careful to not damage the gown in any way, she laid it lightly upon the bed. She stood there in front of him, her hair tumbled over her shoulders, a golden veil against her pale skin. Her gaunt yet lithe figure on display in her threadbare remnants of linen clinging to her lower form, but no lust in her eyes now. She pulled on her pair of pants but left her top half exposed. The light of the room shifting around her, caressing each slope of her body and revealing its delicate strength. She grabbed the leather belt resting atop her shirt and knelt in front of him presenting it, exposing the jagged ridges of skin on her back. "I will not fail you again, please, allow me to receive my punishment, Lord Iskandar."

 

[Petrus Ritus Iskandar]

As Virdalia began to sober herself in his presence he would inhale a slow, odd sound as she disrobed before him. It was still level, no rush of unforeseen emotion, but was perhaps... appreciative? Approving? He liked what he saw on some level but as Virdalia took the leather belt his understanding of the situation shifted in time with her kneeling. He knew what was coming even before the words left her mouth and he shook his head. Almost cutting her off with a firm reprimand.

"Cease your groveling. It doesn't befit you."

Gently placing his hands on Virdalia's shoulders he would instead lift her up, gently pry the belt from her hands, before tossing it aside. His gaze on her remained something cool and professional as his warm, rough hands slid along her sides and down to her hips. The motions too fast to be truly intimate before he, in a display of strength and some sort of desire, tore the tattered, unworthy pants from her lithe form and threw them aside as well.

He would then walk away from her and, by his own hand, retrieve for her a fitting bra in a soft seafoam green color and matching undergarments. Coming back to her he was then supremely, casually, slowly unfair to her. Pulling Virdalia back against the hard plain of his body he would loop his arms around her and gingerly slide the cups of the bra onto her softness, his hands barely brushing her skin as he clothed her. Gently snapping the garment around her and softly sliding her arms through the loops, his hands easily capable of gripping and engulfing her arms if he so desired despite the slow, deliberate gentleness of his touch.

He would then brush Virdalia's hair back, grip her shoulders, and turn her to face him. Now close enough for her to smell the cologne he wore as he took full advantage of the intimate situation to get Virdalia to act according to what he desired. The hand holding the undergarments would brush her lips, his eyes piercing hers, before he pushed the garments into her teeth and gently closed her mouth to make her bite them in place.... only to shatter the sensuality of the moment as he stepped away and deprived her of what she desired.

"Now, put those on, then the dress. And do NOT embarrass me again."

Walking around Virdalia to the door he turned the handle, almost leaving, before he looked at her over his shoulder. Singular amber eye glimmering as he then murmured in a low tone.

"And perhaps if you become a more... ideal aide.... we can revisit your lack of self control for more pleasurable means."

The door then opened and he left her there with much, MUCH to think about....

Virdalia Deuxstrom​

 

[Virdalia Deuxstrom]

His rebuke was sharp, but his rugged hands seemed to oppose that harsh sentiment with a surprising gentleness as he pulled her from the floor. The belt landed on the ground with a thump as it was cast aside. Her eyes followed it, their pale gray color storming with uncertainty of what came next. She hadn't meant to grovel, but this was the only way she could think to atone for her carelessness and felt disheartened she couldn't prove her sincerity to him. The liquid courage had been wearing off of her, but she wasn't quite fully aware of herself. As she had done so many times this night, she sought to find the answers to her questions in the look of his eyes and countenance.

As she met his composed gaze, her skin tingled with a strange cold sensation as it was exposed to the air. Only a moment later, his hands began caressing her. His touch left trails of warmth upon her, heat blossoming wherever his hand wandered until it came to rest at her hips. The contact seemed to be over too soon as desire began to bloom in her chest again. A small gasp slid past her lips as he tore off her tattered clothing, the display of strength stoking her yearning. She wondered to herself how his power would feel pinning her against the wall, or on the bed, her fantasies racing as heat pooled lower within her.

Her bare body shivered as he walked away, losing that precious heat he gave her with his proximity. She watched carefully as he hand selected a select few garments for her. The time he was gone from her seemed to stretch on, she was ever so curious about the man's plans. As the torturous moments ticked on, she had finally resolved to make her move and claim her place close to him again the craving to be touched by him once more dulling her caution. As though he could sense her anticipation, he began to move back towards her.

Slowly and deliberately, he pulled her close and her figure pressed against his. She felt the rigid shape of him beneath her, and on impulse pressed closer, letting every curve of her body mold against his. Before she could even fully react, she saw his arms wrap around her and she almost melted into the gesture. For one instant, she felt wholly and completely safe nestled into his embrace. Then, she recognized the sensation of fabric sliding onto her and she looked down to see he had begun dressing her.

Letting him sweep her hair, and turn her to face him, she was slightly startled by the gesture. The scent of his cologne hit her and filled her head, intoxicating her as she drew it deeper into her lungs. Thinking things were heading in a different direction, her eyes swelled with anticipation and her lips parted in protest. Before she could speak, he brought a delicate fabric to her mouth. The gesture silenced her, heightening the intensity that hung in the air. A low moan slipped from her. The urge to act on desire burned within her, but she had defied him enough. So, she held the fabric gently between her teeth, allowing herself this moment of submission.

His words rung out with finality, as he commanded her once again, severing the moment of arousing tension between them. Her body left with a jarring feeling of emptiness as she stood there. As he glanced back at her and spoke his words, she had noticed the intention behind them. What stirred him was not beauty, nor loyalty, but the relentless pull of ambition fulfilled. She understood, but still felt the weight of that lingering loneliness.

She did not object as he turned the handle and exited the room. The lingering smell of his cologne still clouding her thoughts as she breathed it in like wine. She had two options before her, she could cower in her room and recover, or she could face the situation with dignity and try to preserve her reputation. She looked at her reflection in a nearby vanity as she pulled on her gown once more. This time, she would make no mistakes, and be the perfect reflection of poise and grace. By this point, she was totally and completely sober. Looking back on the night, she swore she wouldn't ever be so naive. She had never been given the luxury of girlhood, and she saw now how ill it fit her. There was no space for softness, only the strength to be more. Holding herself with an air of quiet dignity she made her way back out of her room. She held her breath as she once again rejoined the celebration below.

She was approached by the man she had danced with prior, lust still lingering in his eyes. With a polite hand gesture, she signaled for him to stop with a courteous smile and continued moving on. Not even looking for Petrus, she needed to make connections and find allies for her upcoming stay at Elbion College. She noted one of the scholarship recipients standing alone. His thick glasses did not hide his youth, and he appeared standoffish to the crowd. She smiled gently as she approached him, inquiring about his inventions and asking about him. They chatted for a while, and she invited him to dance with her and he shyly took her up on the offer.

This waltz was very popular at all the balls held at the Bloodwyn residence, and she had seen noblemen and women dancing to it frequently. The floor began to crowd with people, no one would miss this opportunity to dance along. They laughed as their friendship began to blossom when suddenly, his clumsy feet lead him to colliding with Petrus himself. While the tall man barely seemed to flinch, her new acquaintance tumbled to the floor with a clatter, glasses scattering. Their eyes met once more, and like two magnets, they were inexplicably drawn toward one another yet again.

 

[Petrus Ritus Iskandar]

Petrus had paused only briefly outside the door as it was shut, collecting himself after having to correct Virdalia, before making his way back downstairs. By the time Virdalia joined them once again the gala was in full swing. The low hum of conversation from it's beginning now at a staggering, thrumming height as staff and associates of all kinds moved to and fro around room. Petrus did keep a vague eye on Virdalia as she seemed to take to his lesson well enough. He had returned to a conversation with a minor noble house of Vel Anir when Virdalia's dance partner collided with him and Petrus paused.

Turning to regard the two he only met the small half-elf's eyes for a brief moment before he saw the young man bend down to gather his glasses. Petrus would offer him a hand, helping him up, and brush the young man's shoulder before addressing him.

"My apologies for my aide's clumsiness, it seems no-one ever taught her how to dance....."

Releasing the young man's hand he would take a step to Virdalia, looking down at her with a silent, level gaze before offering her his hand as he sighed.

"...I suppose it is going to have to be I to teach you then."

Once again the smell of his cologne reached her, that familiar warmth radiating out to her across the tiny distance separating them. His embrace awaited and, as soon as Virdalia took it, his hand would close around her own, while the other fell to her hip and he would step out into the dance floor with her. The hand on her hip would slowly slide around and down to the small of her back, pulling her entirely to him, letting her feel the thump of his heartbeat against her cheek, his body supporting her own as he lead every motion, turning and moving with her with surprising grace.

Only once they were out in the midst of the floor, music all around, would he look down into those stormy grey eyes and gently guide the hand she held his with and place it on his shoulder, his hand not on the small of her back sliding down her arm to cup her chin as he murmured only for her to hear.

"Are you proud of yourself, getting what you have wanted all night at last?"

His thumb brushed her lower lip before feathering out over her cheek to gently rub her right, pointed ear between his thumb and index finger. Seeming to highlight and accept her elven heritage as he whispered to her and her alone.

"I do hope you are prepared to pay the price for it.... I expect much out of you."

The hand on the small of her back, his right hand, would emphasize the sheer difference in size between them as his arm encircled her left hip and went all the way across her back before his right hand gripped her right hip. Utterly engulfing his tiny elf in his embrace, like a serpent coiling around his prey, and with sure knowledge that Virdalia mistook the serpent's coils for a tender embrace as his warmth and scent surrounded her.

Virdalia Deuxstrom​

 

[Virdalia Deuxstrom]

Giving an apologetic smile and wave goodbye to her dance partner, she took Petrus's hand gracefully and firmly within hers. He had offered once again to be her teacher, and this time she was determined to prove he had invested his time and money into someone worthy. When she inhaled his deep musk, rather than allowing herself to be swept away, she postured herself shaking off its familiar pull. However, the sensation of his hand pressed on her hip threatened to undo her work as her memories flashed to only a short time ago when that hand had been pressed against her bare flesh.

Then as she was pulled to him, she could hardly stop herself from moaning as her body was yet again molded to his. Feeling the hard lines of him underneath her, her heart threatened to beat out of her chest as it began racing. She allowed herself to focus on one thing to the exclusion of all else, anchoring her thoughts to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Though this was their first time upon the dance floor, the unspoken dance had been unfolding between them all evening. Setting her jaw in a determined fashion, she didn't want him to feel the rising heat she displayed earlier. Instead, she wanted him to see she could be his aide, and followed his lead as her limber figure kept up with his every motion.

Pride surging in her as they continued moving along the floor to the music in perfect sync, despite it being mostly due to his excellent skill as lead. Attentively, she allowed him to guide her hand to rest upon his sturdy shoulder. Slowly and tantalizingly, his hand moved up her arm and settled under her chin framing its delicate point between his powerful fingers. The music crescendoing as he posed his question to her, almost as if the gods themselves were orchestrating this moment.

Her breath hitched in her throat as his fingers wandered from her cheek onto the points of her ears. The unfamiliar feeling of warmth had an unexpected effect on her and she suppressed a longing whimper. Adding to her many firsts of the night, his fingers openly touching them was an act of acceptance that swept through her. She blinked back tears, overwhelmed with gratitude, for never before had she felt such warmth. When he leaned into a whisper, his breath upon her already sensitive ear sent a shiver down her spine reverberating upon his carefully placed hand.

She shook with a mixture of awe and relief, feeling the weight of his acceptance settle over her. Despite all she had faltered at tonight, he still held hope for her, still had faith she could fulfill his expectations. As he engulfed her inside his expansive embrace, that wave of comfort pulsed from her heart and mind, she felt completely and utterly safe here. His strong hold made her feel seen, craved, and cherished all at once. She gingerly placed a hand upon his chest and nestled her face against him, allowing herself a single tear to fall. He was the savior she had longed for through endless nights of despair, broken and weary. And in that moment, she resolved to dedicate all she possessed to his cause, smiling fondly.

Inhaling him deeply, her reply soft but with a definite resolve "I will spend the rest of my life dedicated to you, I am yours my lord for as long as you'll have me". Unbeknownst to her, along the dance floor the Bloodwyns had been eyeing her and discussing their sinister plans to get her alone and reclaim her as theirs that night. Kaelyn fuming as he watched this, this.... disgusting slave whore herself out to the nobleman. She belonged to HIM, and his family. He didn't care with the finery on, how much she looked the part of a woman. Those disgusting ears marked her as property, an inferior. He shook as his mother put a calming hand on him, as though to say, soon my dear.