Open Chronicles Two-Faced Lover

[Faurosk]

Though he'd posed his question in the pursuit of small talk, something about Amalia's answer seemed to grab the mage's attention. As a matter of fact, it's safe to say that the entirety of her tale grappled his attention in different days. For one thing, he felt for the poor lady, invited and abandoned just the same as him; For another, the name Shadokien struck a definite chord in Faurosk's memory.

"So you're a Rosethorn," he states more than asks, recognition clear in his voice. "I visited your Clocktower when I was hardly ten winters old, and Shadokien's been a stopping point most every time I head out for the Reach. I suppose what I'm saying is, ah, you won't have to worry about neglect from me tonight."

His hand withdrew from her waist, rising towards his neckline and pinching his leaden amulet between thumb and forefinger. Of course, he subtly covered the faint, runic mark of 'M o W' near its base. "I'm something of an arcanist myself, and I don't think it's a stretch to say that Tower galvanized my interest at a young ag--" Faurosk cut off suddenly, his gaze growing distant. He could feel the weight of his necklace and the enchantments lain upon it. The faint, transmutative aura of his outfit brushed along his skin.

But something else cut through the familiar background of his own magic, lingering like the scent of gas at the corners of his perception. It wasn't much of an aura- distant, perhaps -but he could feel the disturbing taste of iron on his palette. There was bad juju in the air, no doubt about it.

Faurosk dropped his amulet to hang against his chest, and his arcane perceptions faded to little more than an itch. "What the fuck," he muttered just loud enough for Amalia to hear, his gaze flitting between the masked strangers that seemed to swarm all around them. His lead of their caper came to an abrupt stop, and he pulled her closer in instinctual worry.


Amalia Rosethorn Fieravene Raziel

 

[Fife]

Given the dog lady's prior behavior, Fife wasn't very optimistic she'd understand much more than this, but she tried anyhow. Please understand, she thought to herself as she touched her throat.

And, to her absolute bewilderment, she not only understood her muteness, but grasped far more than she'd readily implied. At least, more than she'd meant to. Fife's brows rose high behind the gold lace trim of her mask and she blinked, eyes wide with stark surprise. Fumbling for her wits, she nodded dumbly. Yeah. Exactly that. What was happening?

Even if she'd had the presence to sign something back, Cleo (as she now knew her) took Fife's hands once more and instructed her to follow along. Did she really have much choice?

Blinking, she looked down at her paws and followed the steps. She was a quick learner, normally, but was just blindly following her motions as her mind struggled to catch up to her situation.

// Raigryn Vayd // Cleo O'Conner //​

 

[Thrukk Guldarp]

Tol Mathis Majister Mejeure Former Jakub Bram Rämna Sisters

Roll: Nat 20 baby

Sweating profusely, Thrukk's whole upper body was shaking. He had never tried to arm wrestle such a heap of muscle before. Not many creatures as large as a troll were capable of it. They had neither the inclination nor the opposable thumbs.

This would also be the largest ever crowd he had lost in front of. The Lucky Heron was packed and the crowd with fascinated by the spectacle of an orge arm wrestling a troll. At least those sober enough to be aware of it.

The joints in his arm and shoulder screamed in protest at the forces being allied and for a moment he feared the trolls' warning would come true.

He didn't growl this time, he cried out. Planting his right foot to the floor he threw everything he had at the troll, hoping to end the match quickly before his stamina gave out.

 

[Tol]

Thrukk Guldarp
Roll: 18 looks like I lost

Tol couldn't tell who was sweating more him or the ogre. This one arm wrestle seemed to be the toughest challenge Tol has faced in a long time that it made the beasts of the swamp look easy.

Every passing moment more and more of the crowd grew quieter trying to see who would finally bend. Tol felt the strength in his arm waning. It seemed it was now or never. Tol let out a roar the same time the ogre as he attempted one last push.

Within a matter of miliseconds the table they were wrestling on cracked as the ogre's hand pushed Tol's hand with soo much power it smashed through the table. In that moment most of the crowd went wild cheering for the ogre.

Tol simply stared at his hand with shock. He had lost to the ogre a creature way smaller than him. No this was not a lost to be ashamed of, this ogre had defeated a beast bigger than it in an intense battle and won fair and square.

Tol looked at ogre and yelled at the top of his lungs "GET DIS OGRE DRINK"

 

[Amalia Rosethorn]

Tch. She'd greatly hoped he'd not known of her family's clocktower too much but that was a bit too late. She'd let herself be vulnerable. And for what? His drippings of kindness? Yuck. Who was she? Someone different every second, really. Well I guess that tears it doesn't it. He visits her hometown regularly. Just like that she was snapped back to her reality.

He couldn't be allowed to walk away from this.

Any word to her family about her whereabouts would prove problematic. They'd send authorities for her. If they still cared enough to try and detain her. They'd at least come for the money. She caught herself when she realized the array of emotion her eyes must be showing. "Uh, yes. I am. Me and my family had... A falling out unfortunately. Thus why many dates find me to not be worth their time. I appreciate that you think differently." Her words were rushed. Not her cleanest save.

He began to speak more on the Clocktower before something cut her date off. He seemed to be taken aback as he swore silently and stopped his moving feet. She looked up to him and followed his eyes a bit. She peered into the crowd and oh.

Her eyes caught the form of a familiar acquaintance. Was that Raziel? With a lovely date he was parading with? She was almost entirely sure that was him. A smirk grew back on her face at the thought, even if she was wrong about the tieflings identity, which she was sure she wasn't. She looked back up to Faurosk and let her smile falsely disappear. "Is something the matter..?" She asked with a tone of concern. Though her mind was filled with excitement. This was the confidence boost she needed.

Faurosk Raziel Fieravene

 

[Thrukk Guldarp]

Tol

The silence seemed far longer than it really was. For a moment he readied himself to catch a punch from the troll. If he didn't dodge that he was going to lose a few teeth and be laid out for the rest of the night.

Instead the moment turned to jubilation. Thrukk clapped the troll on its shoulder - build like a castle tower - and turned to the bar.

"And dinnae let tha' fooking horse steal it thes time!!"

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

@phil

Raigryn had his champagne flute to his lips as he heard the familiar voice. It was a long time since he head heard it. Apparently age, a beard and a mask were not enough to hide him from the stern gaze of Felicia Ebonheart. Then again a well placed book hadn't shielded his procrastination during her lectures either.

"An older soul than when we last met. The joints too," Raigryn mused as he lowered the champagne flute to his side, holding it lightly by the rim. He offered a very formal bow, carrying a weight of uncertainty on his lips.

It was over fifteen years since he had left the college. The last of the sympathomantic faculties being abolished. Empathy had gone from such a popular art that most nobles kept their own household empathy mages to a despised cult of emotional vampires. All in the course of his lifetime. He did not know where Felicia stood.

"A pleasure to meet your daughter," he added. Damn, she had been barely to his waist when he had seen Phillipa with her mother, or being dragged around by her to start her studies early.

 

[Cleo O'Conner]

"One two three, one two three," Cleo said happily as she guided Fife through the simple waltz. Admittedly, the two looked like a mother trying to teach their daughter to dance. LEt's of space, and Cleo held Fife's hands, letting Fife stare at the ground, and subsequently Cleo's feet. Not exactly a flattering pose to be in, but hey, earning how to dance took time, and damn it all if Fife didn't know how to dance by the end of this!

"See? There you are!" Cleo encouraged, laughing gleefully again, oblivious to the various people who were looking at the obnoxious dog lady. "It's easy! Let's get a little more proper then," She added stepping into the dance, placing oneof Fife's hands on her upper arm, since Cleo was a little too tall for Fife to comfortably reach her shoulder, and setting her own hand on Fife's waist. "Waltz's are easy," Cleo explained, unphased by the closeness. "Just keep your feet moving, and you can do a lot of things. One and a two and a three and a one and a two and a three," She grinned. "Fun isn't it?"

 

[Rämna Sisters]

Slum Knees Up

Majister certainly knew how to spin his words. Was this the sort of silver tongue that Faith’s scriptures warned against? Well, there was no harm in conversation, and Melody was content to continue.

So, a thief eh? Or maybe more of a con man? Who else needed to “persuade” with a sword? It was an exciting life to think about, but, then again, how good could he be if he was hanging out in this dump?

She wanted to say something clever, too, but couldn’t quite hit the mark. “And never was a fortune… spent… in a... place like - oh!” The server had returned with her drink, and Melody took the hearty mug in both hands and drank deep. It was bitter, and the bubbles tickled her throat, but wholly refreshing. She set the mug down and wiped her lips with the back of her hand.

There was quite the commotion around the arm wrestling match now, and she was grateful for a distraction from her failed wordplay. The troll had taken an early lead, as expected, but now the ogre had begun to push back! How?? The troll’s arms were like tree trunks, he could barely fit in his chair! But there it was, the balance slowly being shifted in the underdog’s favor.

Then the arm came slamming down. The table broke, and the pub erupted. ”Aaugh!” Melody groaned, her head lolling back and her eyes closed in disappointment. But the display lasted only a few moments, as she too raised her mug to the ogre’s victory. It had been terribly impressive, after all.

She felt a sinking loss as Darla scooped up her coins, but it was transient. It wasn’t really her money anyway, and Faith always found a way to make more. Was it fair of her to make Faith clean up her mistakes? No, but it was hardly her fault that Faith didn’t let her out. How could she earn back that coin locked away in her sister’s head?

She pushed the thoughts of family away. This was her night. She stood up suddenly.

”I want to dance.” she said in an open statement to no one in particular.

Mathis Majister Mejeure

 

[Phillipa Ebonheart]

"Ah yes, always a terrible thing to age and feel oneself become enfeebled bit by bit, is it not? I had to resign from the college for much a similar reason myself. All of that running about and fetching things became rather.. trying." Felicia smiled, giving Raigryn a much smaller bow in kind. Essentially just bowing her head briefly in recognition of Raigryn's show of courtesy. The woman was rife with pride and contempt, even if her smile was polite and amiable.

"A shame that you and yours had to... abscond from the College when you had such an illustrious career ahead of you. A pity truly, I rather enjoy reading through your work every now and again when I make my way to the unlisted section. I do so hope that you have been well in your time away from Elbion though. Are you here alone?" Felicia punctuated her words with slight waves of her hand, waves of irritation and misery coming from Phillipa as the older woman spoke. Felicia's eyes cast for a possible companion about the room as Phillipa came forward.

"Ah, but I am so rude to my own child. This is my dear cdaughter Phillipa, whom I believe you had chance to meet at least once if I am not mistaken. She is quite excellent in my old position at the college, granted she is currently out of sorts given a small misunderstanding within the department that I have had to step in and handle." Phillipa gave a bow to Raigryn, a touch of joy appearing in the constant simmering anger that boiled beneath the surface of the younger Ebonheart.

"A pleasure, mother has spoken of you in the past, favorably of course-" Phillipa spoke, a touch of jealousy tinging her mood with the words. "And favorably of your studies as well." Felicia could be seen putting on a face of pride, even if her emotions gave a clear sign otherwise as her daughter spoke.

 

[Fife]

Fife was prepared for the worst possible outcome, a lifetime of anxieties rushing back and threatening to swallow her whole. Focusing on Cleo's paws instead of the gaping maw of thos fears, she simply went through the motions of the waltz.

Nothing terrible happened. Cleo held her, but not so tightly that she felt like she couldn't yank herself free. She pulled her along to learn the dance, but she wasn't being malicious. The longer she followed her steps and focused on actually learning the dance, the more the fear abated. Cleo was... actually being really patient and kind, teaching her the simple waltz in a way that didn't embarrass her too much.

There was a moment when she felt another spike of discomfort as Cleo stepped closer, but it was dancing. It was just dancing. Fife's cheeks hadn't stopped burning since she had been dragged out to the dance floor, so the renewal of color wasn't that noticeable. Easy. Fife wanted to disagree, but she was following along after only a few minutes' practice. She wasn't exactly wrong.

The smile she briefly flashed Cleo was confused and still anxious, but a smile with some sincerity. Cleo was much taller that Fife, though that wasn't a new phenomenon. It wasn't so bad. As she danced and calmed down, it wasn't that scary at all. She smiled a little more genuinely at her companion's adage and nodded. Now that she wasn't as terrified, it was a little fun. Taking her focus away to look for Raigryn meant a misstep, and she glanced up to Cleo apologetically. No looking around, then, only focusing on the dance.

// Raigryn Vayd // Cleo O'Conner //​

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

"A pleasure, mother has spoken of you in the past, favorably of course-" Phillipa spoke, a touch of jealousy tinging her mood with the words. "And favorably of your studies as well."

"That sounds very kind of her," Raigryn said. He kept the flash of anger he felt well buried. Losing his position at the college deserved the gentle sorrow she had expressed, but it was far worse than that.

The rumours had spread about his kind and reputable mages of other disciplines had seized a chance to put them out of business. In the civilised world there were almost no households where an Empath could find work. Raigryn spent his time posing as a scholar, finding work as just a man who could read and write. He taught spoiled children the basics of letters and the use of a quill.

At least he was no longer called to war. Raigryn had done dark deeds in the past. He hadn't learned the sword since leaving the college. Raigryn had been a trained battlemage, prince's had sought his council as they marched to war. Those wars had rarely been justified. Magic could be a terrible thing when turned on the poor buggers thrown into the front lines.

"I have kept well," he replied to them both, his smile a little strained. "I find work here and there, obviously keeping what I used to do fairly quiet. I am here with my apprentice, a distinctly talented young girl who I believe is...currently learning the waltz."

His gaze traced the unbroken lines from Phillipa Ebonheart wrists to her dress. Perhaps her skills were not purely academic.

"Would you care for a dance?" Raigryn asked, with his most formal bow. The effect was undone by the smirk that suggested he had long tired of such formalities.

 

[Phillipa Ebonheart]

Felicia let herself barely grin, the ripple of joy from her shortly swallowed by the serene balance of her emotions. She had indeed read a great deal about sympathomancy, a subject that while shunned openly, was still closely monitored by those that acted as watchdogs for the insitution.

Both nodded to his words, understanding clear upon their features when he expressed the continued secrecy of his abilities.

"Marvelous, I had hoped to encounter you someday if only to see that you are well. And it must be a blessing for you to have found someone in need of furthering their education. After all, when one does not practice oft enough, the once gentle hand for penmanship could become little more than a dwarves forging hand." She smiled knowingly. Not saying outright that she was happy for him, but hoping he understood well enough.

Phillipa blinked at the bow, her mother tilting her head once more as she looked to her daughter and whispered an incantation. Anklets that were obviously designed for Phillipa's gown glowed briefly. The flicker of magic ceasing as her mother spoke to her.

"The ballroom. No further." She whispered sharply before smiling to Raigryn. "She would love to. My daughter is quite skilled at a number of dances even though she seldom attends such splendid events such as this one."

Whatever protest was to come from Phillipa never formed as she bowed in kind and offered a hand to him.

"I am in your care." She spoke quietly, barely hiding the scathing look she flashed to her mother. The boiling anger about her remained constant even though there was a touch of joy and relief which broke that surface. Being away from her mother, even for a short time seemed to ease back that simmering bitterness.

"You said you brought a companion? I am most excited to meet them, as I am sure my mother is also." She remarked with a touch of glee, interest in this mysterious other plain as she searched the dancing throng ahead of them.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Raigryn held her gaze, having the self control to avoid looking towards Fife . Whether Fife would do the same was another matter. She was certain to be curious about her mentor being on the dance floor already.

Admittedly Raigryn was painfully curious about Fife stepping the waltz with an excitable member of a canine species he had never met.

"Oh I'm sure she doesn't need to be subjected to that," Raigryn replied. There was a hard edge to his voice as he turned into her embraced and started to lead with a long sweeping step.

"So....what the fuck was all that about with the anklets and permissions?" he asked. In an instant he had returned to his typical, lighthearted tone.

Phillipa Ebonheart

 

[Ermengarde]

»No need for that, and I would love a drink,« the woman mused, however practical debate had some to bore her a little. Twiling her dress some more, she stepped sideways a little, offering him her right arm.
»But you know, the music is just as great, we can drink later.«

 

[Former and the Foal]

Was that boose in the atmosphere? The horse inhaled with his massive nostrills.
They looked more dragonlike than those of a horse at this size. Big black pits and all, you could even see all the details up close if you wanted. Especialyl if you wanted to get nipped.

The steed aproached, pushing aside the feeble people.

 

[Cleo O'Conner]

Once Cleo saw the crack in Fife's social armor, she finally started to actually talk. "You know, people say it's facinating to see a dog who can dance," She said, carrying on the dance without having to worry too much. Like the whole thing was as natural as breathing. "I mean, people train dogs how to dance like, all the time. It's super adorable. So why can't a dog train itself to dance? These I think are the real big brain questions," She said, grinning broadly at Fife, her doggish tongue hanging out the side of her muzzle.

"I mean," Cleo started up again, her tongue slipping back into her mouth easily. "While politicians and warriors and merchants squabble about trivial things like land ownership and taxes and battle plans, I think I'm edging on the real important questions. Like, for instance, if I am a dog, and I am allowed to eat the food at this ball, would that make the food here dog food, or people food?" She asked, looking around. "And in that same line of thought, would that mean I am eating people food, or that everyone in here is eating dog food?" She giggled. "I like to think the latter."

"Like, think about it," Cleo, who lacked the ability to actually stop talking it seemed. "I went and bought the stuff butchers sell as dog food, that people think isn't good in the slightest. Only worth a dog eating, yeah?" She asked. "Well, then I bought some vegetables, and a little bit of milk, and made a stew. In all I spent three silver coins. I made twenty bowls worth of stew, sold them all for five copper a bowl, and people were actually upset and wanted me to make more! So, now there is a town where a favored dish is Cleo's Dog Stew," Cleo smiled happily. "I made seven silver that day, not including my usual busking and entertaining!"

 

[Mathis Majister Mejeure]

An impressive comeback from the ogre, and the troll was soon defeated. A brilliant--if surprising--showing! Ah, but even as Majister lost a scant two coins in the wager, even this served a purpose. It did well to allow for small victories among Darla and the men in inconsequential matters. 'Twas an investment in their morale and overall contentment. An effort in raising spirits and assuaging past gripes, all while never being outshone in matters of true significance.

And thus the pack maintained its cohesion under Majister's command.

Darla eagerly raked in the six coins, her eyelids seeming to dance in anticipation of this little thing or that she might buy with her small and easy winnings. "Don't you just love a good upset?"

"Hey, arm wrestle me Darla," said Hillby.

Without missing a beat, Krull said, "Yeah. Everything on Darla. Are you in, Padre? Go all on Hillby, he's a sure win."

"Pfft." And Padre crossed his arms.

Darla, ignoring the lot of them, said to herself, "Mmmm, Cartographer's Guild, here I come...let's see what's out there."

Majister partook of his own drink, while glancing to Melody working on her own. Peculiar. He'd the simultaneous notion that she both never touched an ale or beer before, and that she drank quite--perhaps even shockingly--regularly. A mismatch, mayhap, between the way she looked and the way she behaved. Or, maybe, she never had touched a drink before just this moment, and what he was witnessing was the start of an illustrious career chasing liquid courage down to the bottom of innumerable mugs.

And their guest had an abrupt announcement: I want to dance.

Well, why not oblige?

Majister set down his mug and stood with a fluid grace, straightened out his coat with a firm yank, and took off his sheathed rapier from his belt and laid it on the table. He produced a coin from his pocket and eyed one of the bards of the Lucky Heron and caught his attention. Nodded and with a flick of his thumb from his balled fist sent the coin sailing to the bard, who caught it deftly.

"Play us a fast and lively tune, my good man, and you'll have more where that came from!" Majister called to him. And the bard was all too eager to do as he was bidden.

Majister swept around to stand in front of Melody. And after a bow betraying his noble upbringing, he smiled a sly smile and unfurled his hand toward her. Open palm inviting her own as the bard's violin produced an upbeat jig that soon got a growing number of patrons clapping and stomping their feet along with it.

"Shall you allow me the pleasure of a most delightful night?"

Rämna Sisters

 

[Phillipa Ebonheart]

The hard edge to his voice was noted by Phillipa, something she put away as a thought for later while her mind focused on the task of dancing. She realized quickly that she should not have been at all surprised the man led the dance. If her mother's word were anything to go off of, the man was far more skilled than he let on to anyone.

When they were out of Felicia's earshot however, a deep sigh came from Phillipa with an exasperated smile and tone to her voice.

"Ah, that. I am currently at odds with the head of my department. I have been allowed to take some time off while some disrepancies are sorted. Mother is acting as my... college appointed escort to ensure my leave is not more permanent than they intended it to be." Her eyes rolled for a brief second before she lost herself in the sweeping step for a moment.

Unlike those that had garnered her hand for a dance in the few events she had graced before this, Raigryn was taking the lead. She allowed herself to follow the motions with a practiced grace, one of the things her mother had hired tutors to refine before she was allowed in the public eye.

Would not have been proper for an Ebonheart woman to be ill versed with ballroom dancing when Felicia still held out hope for Phillipa to have her heart captured some day.

Worry washed itself from her mind, anger following shortly after as her mind became more tranquil. She was enjoying the moment it seemed as she allowed herself to speak more freely.

"As you likely remember, she always expects the best and prepares for the worst." Phillipa chuckled bitterly. "Not that the bird flew far from the nest with that similarity."

She closed her eyes as they danced, allowing her mind to think on something else for a moment. The feeling of being guided through the dance liberating for someone that always had constant control over the little details of their life. It was a bitter memory that cropped up, reminding her of being instructed to dance. Being shown the way the body flowed and sang without ever truly making a noise, yet overflowed with boisterous noise to those who knew how to hear it.

"I know life could not have been easy for you after... all of that. But what is life like making your own way?" Phillipa suddenly blurted. It likely sounded childish, or rude even coming from someone such as herself to another that likely knew much harsher strife and hard times.

 

[Fife]

Indulging in the small measure of enjoyment seemed to be all the prompting Cleo needed to begin her string of dialogue. Fife, though still occasionally glancing down to check her steps, could do nothing other than listen in with mingling curiosity and awe.

It was like when buildings caught fire back in Elbion. Finding a good high vantage, one could watch the whole structure as it burnt. They were catastrophes one couldn't look away from. The fire didn't know it did an evil thing; it was merely fire doing what fires do. It could take a few hours or a few days for it to finally cave in and burn down to a smolder, but it was fascinating to whatever end.

The Empath watched her and listened and was learning every moment. Though probably wasn't what Cleo thought she was imparting to the small girl dancing with her, Fife was most definitely learning something. Nodding periodically to provide her companion enough to assure her that she was still listening, her hands were occupied and she didn't immediately lift them to attempt a response. She was cute and sweet -- entirely in the way that friendly dogs could sometimes be. Fife temporarily forgot her fear and worry as she listened to her and danced her first waltz.

When the conversation presented a decent moment to respond, Fife held up her hand from Cleo's arm, her thumb holding down her ring finger and her brows high in surprise. Seven? She grinned and gave a thumb up. Fife could have lived like a queen for weeks on seven silver.

Prompting her last remarks, she pointed to her dance partner, then lifted both hands to mime the playing of a string instrument. Fife replaced her hands and settled in for the conversation her prompt would surely set into motion.

// Raigryn Vayd // Cleo O'Conner //​

 

[Cleo O'Conner]

"Yep, seven," Cleo said, letting Fife's hands free, but continuing to sway with the music. "I mean, I could have done better, but really why would I charge more than five copper for a bowl of dogfood? Seems a little strange if you ask me," She said, looking down at Fife as the smaller girl continued to sign. "Am I a bard?" She asked.

The transition from the casual derpiness to absolute shock was a long one, accompanied with a long, crescendo gasp as Cleo went wide eyed and stiff. She was like a cartoon character, and her actions were far more animated than a normal person's would be. "What kind of question is that?!" Cleo whined, pouting as her eyes started to water. "I'm Cleo O'Conner! Bard Extraordinaire! I... I'm supposed to be famous!" She said, scowling.

"Fine, I suppose I will show you!" She said, muttering to herself about no one ever believing her about being a bard, opening up the violin case. The violin she pulled out was strange. Infernal ruins seemed to be made into the wood, and the neck had a small diamond embedded flush into it. Cleo plucked the strings a couple time, tuning it carefully with the fine tuning pegs.

"Stupid band playing stupid music..." Cleo muttered, looking over at the band, lifting the violin to her chin and bringing her bow up, then slipping into the song along with them. She was far more aggressive with her playing, but it didn't break the theme of the song. It was as if Cleo had just started a solo and the band continued their playing as they should. Cleo was trying to play here. She was doing her best to make the solo as complicated as possibly, hitting harmonics and octaves whenever it sounded like it would work. And it did. It worked fantastically, in fact, and Cleo seemed to play circles around the band without even thinking about it. In the bands defense though, they weren't trying to be fancy.

Cleo seemed to focus, but still looked bored, when a lady a few feet away shrieked! Her dress was on fire, and it broke Cleo out of her concentration, and the doggo panicked. "OH MY GOSH!" She shouted, running over and quickly smothered the fire with her hands. Fife could see Cleo's eyes starting to water up again as she apologized to the woman, putting her violin away and began to sulk away.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Phillipa Ebonheart

Any idiot could learn a waltz. Raigryn was hardly the most proficient dancer, but he could lead well enough. Take Phillips into a graceful sweep and turn.

"They have you magically bound because of a disagreement," Raigryn mused. He offered no obvious judgement on her current situation. He wasn't certain how to take her naive question.

There was freedom. He could make his own decisions and travel where he wanted to. Yet he had lost all of the respect he had garnered over the years. He had none of the responsibility and none of the power that had gone with it.

An oddly discordant violin joined in with the band. Raigryn couldn't see the new musician on the platform with the others.

"It is a very different life," he replied. "All there is far less fine dining and dancing.

"So...what did you set on fire to deserve this level of observation." As the music died down it was replaced with the commotion of people reacting to a dancing lighting on fire.

 

[Phillipa Ebonheart]

Raigryn Vayd

Phillipa laughed a little at the somewhat misleading choice in the word disagreement. On the other hand, signing a release form of nondisclosure had made sure she would not be able to reveal anything without some sort of retaliation if it came back at the college.

"Disagreement might have been the wrong word. And surprisingly the fire was brought to the front gates when someone attacked. I was redirected with poor information given some other recent events and now it is one person's word about the given orders versus another's." Phillipa informed him, careful to not name anyone or point any specific blame.

"Lives of students were lost in the initial surprise, the assailant taking the opportunity to strike while they were thought... friendly." The woman spoke solemnly. It had been a sad thing, but she pushed it out of her mind.

There was a violin that was out of place for what was normal to the song, which made Felicia draw her brows together and look to the band while Phillipa kept her eyes on Raigryn. His words echoed another's, but this man was a touch older and wiser to the world, having had something and lost it to the injustice that had been pushed on him.

Less dances and fine dining. Things she could do without, but the thought of not having her staff was another thing. The people that had been bedrock for her while she had grown up. It wasn't how easy they made life she would miss, it would have been the company.

 

[Rämna Sisters]

Melody’s eyes scanned over the pub. The crowd around the arm wrestling hulks had begun to disperse, melting into the overall still-too-crowded throngs that filled the dimly lit building. The barkeep enthusiastically poured the victor a new beer, and the troll had, mercifully, accepted his defeat with sport. The horse was still here as well, and she wondered why no one had thought to move it outside. Then again, it was very large and didn’t seem to be with anyone in particular. Had it come here on its own? No… that would be silly.

She saw the motion to her side as Majister stood, watched the coin sail and heard the music kick up from the bard. It was lively and loud and danced to match the zig-zagging desires of Melody’s heart. She could feel the beat ripple through her, and not just because the patrons had begun to stomp.

As a section of the crowd fluidly transitioned to a dance floor Majister gave her a bow and his hand. She smiled wryly at the display. Was he ruffian, or refined? Rogue came to mind. A clever man who knew what he wanted and how to get it, with no shortage of confidence to carry him along. He was handsome, and he certainly knew it. Were Melody a sentimental girl he would almost certainly break her heart, but she took his hand with a flourish and curtsy of such falsehood that she could have been one of the troubadours just outside the doors. ”Most certainly, good ser.”

And they were off. The music swept through her as they stepped, spun, and stomped across the floor. She followed Majister’s lead well, if not perfectly, but this was not a dance of structure. More than once she bumped another dancer’s shoulder or stepped on toes, but no one seemed to mind too much. She even gave Majister a spin himself. Her energy seemed limitless, and she had completely forgotten her earlier loss.

 

[Dearien Verook]

Dearien's eyes widened and his face lit up. Was she asking him to dance? He quickly placed the drink down on a nearby table, butterflies still dancing around it, and took her arm.

"You are right, the music is lovely," He said. He had worn his good prosthetic for this reason. He did not get many opportunities to dance. No sooner did they get onto the dancefloor did an intense violin solo startup. However, it didn't interrupt the flow of the dance. Dearian took her hand and placed his free hand on her waist. He was an adequate dancer. The dance was a simple waltz, easy to keep up with, and with no pressure to show off, he would be able to keep up just fine, his prosthetic limb keeping perfect time with the rest of his movements.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I properly introduced myself. I'm Dearien."