Having a Ball! (The First Grand Ball) [05/07, Evening-through-Night, Everyone, OPEN]

[Arianne Montrose]

“Aren’t you a good sport.” She said, amusement twinkling in her eyes as she looked through her mask and up into the eyes of the other. “The most handsome Lion I’ve ever seen.” Her smile spread out sweetly. “Aye, and I am now.” Arianne felt relief now that this masked man was there beside her.

Of course it was her husband! She had no doubt, with those chiseled frown lines that surprisingly could soften when the atmosphere wasn’t so…busy. Or silly.

A petal began to fall down over her face. She had to push it away to keep Malcolm in view. While her hand was up there she adjusted the whole headpiece so that it was better balanced atop her head. When she was confident it wouldn’t fall over a finger gestured to one of the two goblets caught between his fingers, “Is that for me, my Lord?”

Suddenly a taste of wine didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

[Deirdre Faerald]

Deirdre followed her brother's gaze and lit up, clasping her hands together. "Oh, that's wonderful! Planning your masquerade attire from a note? You two are really beginning to sound like paramours from a love poem," she remarked, grinning at Aiden. "This is easily one of the most important events of-" It took a moment for Deirdre to articulate just how serious she considered this night. "Oh, possibly our lives - thus far, anyway - and her first priority is you! She must be smitten."

Since she had planned to don her family's colors at every event thus far, for the masquerade, Deirdre's custom gown was pointedly in hue she normally didn't wear, in the hopes that she could add some degree of mystery to her appearance. Her gown was a pale sheen of blue, and covered entirely in silver embroidery of flowers remniscient of baroque patterns. There was a pearl trim on her bodice, and she wore ropes of pearls around her neck and wrists to match. A portion of the back of her hair had styled up in a loose chignon, adorned with another thin strand of pearls, clearly the primary motif of this ensemble. She had braided her hair the night before, so the rest hung in loose waves.

The sides of her ornate silver masque were styled like metal feathers in the shape of wings' tips, in homage to her family's crest as well as her own personal fondness for birds. It was all entirely extravagent, and shied from her usual styles of simpler gowns and bolder colors, but this was the fun of a masked ball, wasn't it? She liked being Deirdre Faerald, but tonight she could be someone else if she wished. Not a cheery maid, but a sylph-like lady. Perhaps even an enigma. But she'd have to work on that part - so far, she'd been far too excited to even bother attempting composure. When it came down to it, her only true disguise of the night was simply her masque.

Of course, all this had been planned before the king had promised to dance with her tonight. Now, Deirdre worried a little that he'd have trouble finding her. Could he be looking for her already? To dare such a notion seemed impertinent (she knew there must be many girls who'd get a dance with him tonight), but her heart raced at the thought. It had been clever of Aiden and Melari, to make it so easy for him to pick her out in the crowd. At the very least, perhaps the metal feathers would remind him of her. They had a moment, that day they'd gone hawking, and they hadn't had a chance to see one another since. Perhaps they could continue where they left off tonight.

Not everything about this trip had gone entirely as planned (the awful spectacle of the melee immediately came to mind) but the ball was different, of course. The hall looked so dazzling, and the chandeliers gleamed so, it almost made her dizzy. Nothing could ruin a night like this!

[Nessa Montrose]

The entire floor was awash in green. Nessa was secretly absolutely discouraged; it seemed everyone with two legs and ten fingers was wearing green! She hadn't hoped to stand out, honestly, but the idea that half the people here were all dressed in the same hue that she was made her want to run back to her rooms and change. It wasn't really like anyone would miss her presence, and who cared if she missed a few dances, really?

But she had told Larson she was going to be wearing green, so she couldn't scrap the entire outfit. Besides that, she didn't have a spare dress that was fancy enough to wear to something like this. Which meant she had to get crafty...

Swiping a goblet off of a tray as a servant walked past, she sipped it absently as she wandered through the crowd, trying to think of how she could change her outfit without...well, changing her outfit. And then, all of a sudden, it hit her. Hurrying toward the main doors of the room, Nessa stepped out into the hallway and flagged down a servant, whispering a few specific instructions and then heading back into the party while the servant hurried away. A few minutes later, she slipped out again, this time staying out for a few minutes before making her entrance once more, this time with her altered attire.

Now two ribbons pulled the skirt of her dress up in the front, the green coming to an end at about mid-thigh. Beneath, two silk skirts added a flash of colour: yellow as the middle layer, also pulled up by ribbons to about knee-height, and a deep red beneath it all, draping down to the floor. The effect was one that was quite pleasing, and was still subtle enough that she felt comfortable. In her mind it sort of reminded her of the women of the Green; earthy and familiar on the outside, and full of fire and surprises on the inside.

Satisfied now with her clothes, Nessa tucked back into the crowd, moving among the people in a wide berth around the dance floor where the King danced with his sister. Not really a social butterfly, she was content to wander and watch, at least until the one to whom she had promised a dance found her.

[Tysilio Faerald]

Nobody will be able to tell I'm Lord Faerald... Tysilio thought, smiling wrily. Well, except from the colour of my clothes, the green of my eyes and the brown of my hair. Seriously, the masquerade was really a fancy. One he enjoyed, certainly, but he was under no illusion at all that people wouldn't instantly recognise him as being Tysilio Faerald. His clothes were the richest he could find, and unsurprisingly, they were green, alternating between a darker green and a rich emerald green, with golden thread. The doublet practically screamed "Lord Faerald" so much that it made Tysilio chuckle to himself as he put on his comparatively modest mask to hide his features, although his deep green eyes were still very much visible and his untidy short-cut mess of curls was still eminently recognisable.

Another event prompted the Lord of Great-Caelain to grin widely. He overheard his daughter teasing her elder brother about him having planned masquerade attire with Melari Forthwind over a love note. He pretended not to have heard, although he made a mental note to tell both he had overheard at breakfast the next morning. Having found love notes written by his heir, who, much to Tysilio's approval, had chosen to rather romantically court Lord Arland's younger daughter, with whom Tysilio had spoken and whom he wouldn't object to having as his daughter-in-law, he also wished to encourage Aiden to court Melari. He noted the feather motives on his daughter's mask too, and a vague connection came to mind with a certain invitation to hawk with none other than King Adrien.

Tysilio hummed to himself as he stepped out onto the dance floor, trying to find his wife. That was rather difficult. However, a social man as he was, he was sure that if he danced with enough of the ladies, he would eventually find his lady wife somewhere. He had always been known for taking the initiative and, as Tysilio Faerald as Tysilio Faerald can be, he stepped onto the floor where his nephew was dancing with his sister, patiently awaiting an offer to dance.

[Aurora Fontenot]

Aurora was not as excited for the ball as she had been in the past. It seemed over the past few days she had slipped once again into her sullen state, frustrated with the way the world worked and feeling ever disappointed in Adrien as the two grew further apart. Of course, her face was all smiles, even behind the mask she wore as it would not be appropriate for the princess of the realm to appear unhappy at the ball. She had wanted to wear a full mask, but had been discouraged against it by her handmaidens, and so instead had opted for a silver eye mask. It was delicate, and lovely, full of intricate patterning on that almost gave it the appearance of the lace, but was actually metal. It didn’t hide much, which was what she had wanted, but it didn’t matter anyway as everyone would know she was.

“Yes, you’re right,” she said softly to her brother, giving him a small smile as best she could muster. Aurora stood, helped up by Adrien, and then smoothed out her dress with her hands. It was not the Fontenot colors – that was her one concession for a ball gown. If it was supposed to be a mysterious masquerade she did not want to get caught in her own house’s colors. So instead, Aurora had opted for a dress of yellow and orange. It was not the dress of a princess; it was form-fitting and seductive instead of being light and playful. If anyone asked, Aurora would tell them that her theme had been fire, which was fitting, the subtle layers of the dress giving off the effect that she was glowing. Her hair, of course, was left down in a great mane of curls, farming her face and the mask beautifully.

All in all she was stunning as she took the floor with Adrien silently, him doing the speaking. Aurora was grateful to not have to say anything, and without resistance, she let Adrien take her into his arms for the beginning dance even if he was not who she wished to dance with.

[Isabelle DeLauncey]

Isabelle was in heaven. How she had missed the grandness of the balls, the royal parties, the affairs, the nobility and the finery! She had grown up with this. It had been part of her childhood, her upbringing, who she was. To have missed it for the last tens years hurt.

Her husband was on the dais, as a councilman, so she had opted to sit with her children at the DeLauncey table. Josie and Marchie had been a delight. Tempest too, as well as all her other children. She had been so absorbed in them and their enjoyment of the ball, that she hardly even noticed when her nephew called for the dances. Instead, the moving of the tables and standing of the nobility had drawn her eye. She gave her children quick hugs and then wandered toward the dais to speak with her husband.

“Gaius,” she called out, smiling at him as she caught his eye. “When it’s time, we should take the floor. Show these nobles what a princess of the realm can do.”

[Kenna Merrick]

“I’m fine,” Kenna snapped. Then she sighed and handed him the glass. She would take this break, do this dance, give her husband the satisfaction of parading her around the floor and the room and to whom whoever he wished to talk to, and then she would find somewhere to retire and perhaps have another. The party was grating on the edges of her nerves, and the wine was the only thing keeping her unfrazzled. Oh, she could act like all was well, but these people were just too much for and her cold heart. Too much warmth in the room.

“I’m sorry, Nathaniel, you know I don’t like … affairs like this.” She turned away to watch as the princess and King took the floor. She did not touch him, or even lean close. She wanted a moment of space to let herself unwind, and she kept her eyes firmly on the couple.

He would never understand her, or why she was like she was.... She had finally told her brother, but even that she regretted now. Her secrets needed to stay firmly locked in her heart. Forever.

[Malcolm Montrose]

The line of Malcolm's lips tightened a hair as Arianne mentioned his being a good sport. in fact, he had only gotten dressed up for appearance's sake, because it was expected of him, as a ruling noble of the land. "Thank you, my lady." He bowed his head slightly, disliking how the mask felt covering his face. "And you are radiant as always." He smiled, watching her toy with one of the petals covering her face. Their relationship had not started warmly, but he had long since grown to enjoy Arianne's company. She was an asset to have at his side, not to mention the fact that she'd provided a strong Tanist for the Green.

At her question, Malcolm handed one of the goblets to his wife, accompanied by a brief and abrupt nodding of his head. Yes, the wine was most certainly for her- if, of course, she so wanted it.

"So, Arianne, perhaps I'll finally have a chance to massacre one of those ballroom dances you so enjoy." He chuckled slightly, a soft rumble issuing forth from behind the lion's mask. The dances of the Green were a different breed altogether from those daintier, less lively things he'd heard of being paraded about elsewhere.

[Nathaniel Merrick]

Kenna snapped at him, but Nathaniel was hardly one to take such things to heart. Removing the glass from her hands, he placed the vessel carefully to his other side. They had a store of wine back at the manor, and she was more than welcome to that, upon returning home. For now she apologised, subsequent to which the counciller shook his head.

"There's nothing to be sorry for." He assured her, taking hold of one of her hands within his own, and giving an ever so gentle squeeze. "You don't have to enjoy things like this." Although it certainly did seem as though she'd been enjoying sampling the wine... "You don't have to like anything if you don't want to, although I'd still hold out the hope that you like me." He was jesting, of course, the flavour of his voice light and teasing.

"We don't have to dance with all these people around, my love. We can make the rounds once, let everyone know how lucky a man I am, then take you back home." He paused, presenting his wife with an honest smile. "I can always come back later on my own." And he spoke those words earnestly, implying that he genuinely would not mind. Nathaniel enjoyed parties, but he would rather his partner not be strained overmuch by the affair. Kenna was far more important to him, than that.

[Adrien Fontenot]

If she’d hesitated, he didn’t notice. If she was unhappy, he missed it. Adrien was nothing but true smiles as he lead his sister onto the floor. The musicians began to play the upbeat music of the Volta, the dance that he and Aurora had planned on opening the floor with a month ago. He twirled her, jumped, moved, pulled her close, all with a light in his eyes and an expression of joy on his face. He loved his sister. And dancing with her to open the ball had been the best idea he’d ever had. Or maybe it had been hers. He couldn’t remember, but he was having fun.

“They will think us the most beautiful people in the kingdom, Aurora,” Adrien told her. “You look amazing in that dress. If I didn’t tell you that enough times at dinner I’ll say it again. I like how it moves around you. Every man’s eyes here are upon you.” He paused as the steps took them apart, their feet moving as though they’d been born from the womb dancing together. What else had they done as children but played together, danced together, run off together and learned together? They were a perfect match in almost every way.

“I wonder though,” he continued as he pulled her back into the hold. “Do you have your eye on any of them?” He was surprised at the slight shock of jealousy that ran through him, but no, that was just a brother looking out for his sister. Part of him didn’t think any of them deserved her, but he knew he’d have to wed her to one in the near future, and he wanted her to be happy with the choice.

[Arianne Montrose]

Arianne knew what everyone expected and she didn't thing anyone expected him to dance. Massacre or not it was obviously a kind gesture for him to offer. "I suppose it might be retaliation for all of the lively jigs I've massacred through the years." She took the wine, but made to stroke his fingers as the transaction of wine from hand to hand was completed.

The sip she took was a long one...perhaps not as dainty as she thought it was but more than dainty up in the Green. Culture had bled through afterall in all the long years she had inhabited the north. She dabbed at the corner of her lips with her pinky. Then looked all around.

"Surely you can find some pleasure in all these costumes...?" she tried.

[Liam Forthwind]

There was something strangely liberating about anonymity. Had this been any other night, Liam would've been too nervous at the prospect of making an arse out of himself in front of hundreds of the most important people in the kingdom to enjoy himself. Tonight, however, if he were to say or do something impolitic, it wouldn't be Liam making an arse out of himself, it'd be that idiot in the mask making an arse out of himself. The combination of wine and anonymity had made him far less self-conscious than usual.

Liam was not one for ostentation; when choosing his outfit, he had elected to go for "classy and understated". His mask was an elegant dull silver construction, covering his entire face, save for the eyes, and capped with a black hat. His shirt, trousers and waistcoat were in the Forthwind colours of white and blue. A restrained outfit... by Forsilvran standards. The mask was probably unnecessary; most people would have no idea who he was even if he showed his face. He chuckled when he spotted his uncle; the combination of cane and antlers made him look as if he had stepped out of the pages of a child's storybook.

He took a seat with his family just as Bradyn was complimenting Melari's dress. He nodded his approval. Aiden Faerald was a lucky, lucky man. "You're looking quite magnificent yourself, uncle. Although you'll forgive me if I would not wish to stand next to you in a thunderstorm". He listened intently as Bradyn turned aside Melari's compliment. Always the gentleman. Whenever Bradyn spoke, Liam made a point of paying close attention. The man was a master of the court; he would need those skills someday. "You're too modest. I'm sure this couldn't have been done without your help."

[Kenna Merrick]

She felt a slight surge in her heart. How was it that she had been so lucky as to have Nathaniel Merrick, perhaps the only man she could possibly love, as a husband? That she’d managed, after everything, to melt for her still amazing her. She even smiled for a brief moment, moving closer to him.

“I would appreciate that more than you could imagine, my love. I just feel ever so uncomfortable here with all these people. And my father would be remiss if I were too...” Shame the house. But she wouldn’t. Not Kenna Montrose Merrick. It was right that he’d taken that glass away, even if she already missed the comfort of the cup in her hands. “We should speak with your brother and his family, and my uncle and his wife and any friends and then perhaps I could be taken home. I wouldn’t ask you to leave. I know you love this type of thing... and it’s good for the family.”

For the boys and their future as well. She might not be the most affectionate of mothers, but she did want her boys to have strong places in the future of Forsilvra.

[Marcheline Forthwind]

Tonight was a magical evening. She had been looking forward to this for nearly a month, actually well since her cousin had announced it. Returning to the capital, her home made Marcheline full of excitement. She was going to see all the other lords and ladies and would be surrounded by civility and culture. Forsilvra was the glittering isle. It was also far more exciting than the Hollows. She missed it here.

Tonight she was dressed exceptionally, her dress a deep blue accented with turquoise. She had chosen to go as a peacock for the masquerade, her mask covered half of her face. It still left her mouth and nose exposed but she didn't really care. She didn't like the full on masks. It meant her hair would have gotten mused. Instead she prefered the mask that only half covered her face. Her hair was halfway up, as she didn't want it to get ruined. Still the night was perfect. Josephine would be along soon. Instead Marcheline entered on her own She lifted up her mask. She didn't know why she did. It felt strange having it on for a second. She'd go find her mother and father soon as well as the rest of her siblings. They were all probably here amidst the moving skirts.

“Lady Elanor!” She spotted a friendly face, eagerly making her way towards the lady she rather liked. The incident with the Princess in the royal box was completely forgotten. In fact Marcheline was well aware she hadn't done anything wrong- she just wanted to spend more time with the lady. “You look lovely tonight!” She would have said she was sorry for her loss but she doubted Elanor needed more sadness. “Lord of Montrose.” She curtseyed. She was proud. She had started to remember the names of some of the families in Arbrecht. Still there were so many of them! She was sure she was going to forget. “Are you enjoying the ball? I should go dance but I am waiting for someone to ask me. You look as if you were made for dancing."

[Isaac Harcourt]

Deirdre

It had been a very long time since Isaac had danced with anyone. When he saw Adrien stand up he couldn't help but smile after hearing there would be some dancing. Looking to his sister he gave her a soft and warm smile. He had then promised her that he would dance with her, but that would be after he finished what he had actually came here for.

Moving he walked straight toward the one woman he knew Marisee would get jealous about if Isaac danced with her. Her name was Deirde Faerald. She was near his family house, they were aligned very well. Their family was trusted by his father, and to make it even better she was actually beautiful. As he neared her he swiftly donned on his fox mask so that it wouldn't be too obvious.

"My lady, may I have this dance?" He then turned to her brother bowing his head lightly, "That is if you would allow it sir."

[Malcolm Montrose]

"Perhaps." Malcolm darted his lady wife a sideways glance, as she questioned whether his offer was part retaliation. "You might have butchered some of our jigs initially, Arianne, but you butchered them gracefully." He chuckled, the lion's laughter rumbling in its throat.

As he passed his wife her glass, he felt her fingers brush against his own, and smiled. It was a small gesture- slight, showed his appreciation, his fondness for her, nonetheless.

Turning his gaze to look upon the room and its variously coloured occupants, Malcolm considered what Arianne had said.

"It's good that everyone can come together like this in celebration." He ceded, although his voice remained sombre, his expression stoic. "I'm simply unused to balls, Arianne. You know how many we throw on the Green." Which was zero, in the simplest of terms. Sure, they came together for 'parties,' where dancing and drinking happened to abound. But this was different- this was far more formal. He felt his face itch behind his mask.

[Nathaniel Merrick]

Nathaniel held his wife's hand in his, his thumb brushing lightly against the back. "I think that sounds like a very good compromise." He smiled at her words, grateful that she was seemingly resisting the pull of more wine. They would visit with the important people- kin, and any close friends- following which Kenna could retire to their home. Nathaniel would in all likeliness return to the ball for some time, indulge himself in additional conversation before finally deciding to do the same.

"You know that you mean more to me than any of these people, my love. You and our boys." They were his everything, his world. The Counciller might have been the epitome of colloquialism, and delighted in conversation, 'messing around.' If anything ever happened to his family, though... he might very well crumble, and break.

"I'll stay for a little longer after you retire, then return to your side." His boyish smile broke, ever so slightly, into a grin. "If you'll save a space for me." He gave her hand another gentle squeeze.

[Marisée Forthwind]

Marisée rose as the dancing began. The king had opened the floor and while she was still masked and people did not know who she was, she wanted to dance. She wanted to dance with Isaac. Would he want to dance with her? She wasn’t sure at all who exactly he was, because they were all masked, but she had an idea. And she thought she saw him asking another girl to dance, which, considering this was a masquerade he might well believe it was her? Maybe?

She was staring, she knew, and second guessing herself. Because that man might be someone else... another Harcourt, another person altogether. While the masquerade gave her enough anonymity that she could enjoy herself without having to be the mourning the widow, Marisée found it difficult to know who anyone else was!

She wasn’t watching where she was walking, and crashed into the back of a tall man wearing a silver tunic with burgundy trim. “Oh, I’m sorry!” she exclaimed, her blush thankfully hidden by the mask on her face. “I wasn’t watching.. I was...” She felt like a damn fool. Why was she even here instead of back at the manse...

Because I don’t mourn my husband at all...

[Cassius Theodore DeLauncey]

Cassius had been standing on the periphery of his large family, watching the girls giggle and squeal and waiting for his Uncle Gaius to make his way over to him, when he was lurched to the side by a mysterious assailant. He, too, had been lost in thought, taking gratuitous mouthfuls of his wine. For all intents and purposes, there should have been an air of content surrounding the Gaurdian of the Mark: Lars was, apparently, in love with some Montrose, fufilling Cassius’ promise to Malcolm Montrose for an alliance; Lexington was making significant headway as heir to the DeLauncey seat; and for the most part, Lucius was keeping out of trouble. His statement about the Harcourt girl kept resounding in Cassius’ mind -- maybe this trip was actually beneficial for them all. His family was, for once, more or less... in order.

But Sophitia still evaded him, and their brief but painful interaction at the mourning ceremony still burned in his memory, the misplaced fear in her bright eyes burned into his mind. … Something, something about her eyes that afternoon, he couldn’t quite put his finger on... until he was snapped from that re-occuring thought as a woman jolted in to him, causing Cassius to stumble slightly, jostling his drink. He was a large man and not easily moved, but he nonetheless turned to see who his assailant was.

“ -- My Lady, my sincerest apologies --” Cassius said abruptly, a smile on his face, pulling back the hand that instinctively moved to touch the woman’s arm as she faltered backwards. He wasn’t technically the perpetrator of the situation, but it was in Cassius’ nature to admonish himself, nonetheless. Unfortunately, her dress and mask did not betray her identity, and once again Cassius cursed this silly revelry. She seemed flustered, and Cassius nodded his head lightly in greeting, hoping to dispel her dismay.

“No harm done, I hope. But I daresay you wouldn’t even know who I was to blame me, now would you?” Cassius added lightly, the end of his statement taken up with a jovial laugh, hoping to smooth over the altercation, touching lightly the edge of his own crude mask.

[Ludovic Fleurant]

House Fleurant so far had not made a big splash at the ball nor the dance, a single member having nestled himself into a very comfortable alter ego, able to dodge even his uncle, Ludovic easily, though that probably wasn't very hard; Ludovic wasn't here for his family.

Ever since the day that the captain had come bearing that useless message, he had thought about his position within the family. There would be nothing to be said of him if he continued in this dismal fashion. He had to turn his fortune around by his own means. Sure, the change could not be abrupt; that would serve to only hurt his case if he did an about face. It would look fake and he would be hard pressed to defend the change.

However, he could gradually develop outer friendships, and forsake those internal. The internal mending is something that would have to come from something else, and he had no idea what that was.

So it was at this dance that Ludovic came prepared to... mingle. The idea of inserting himself amongst these other nobles with such audacious disregard to his normally perceived demeanor was delightful. Under the mask that he wore, having left dinner early under guise of a problem, and returned bedecked in a fanciful outfit. It wasn't ostentatious, yet the deep purple obviously signified his house, keeping it obvious that he was a Fleurant. However, his mask covered most of his face, a large beak, some sort of fanciful parrot, that bent down over his mouth, obscuring his face even more without inhibiting his ability to converse.

A somewhat wicked smile as he entered the room to little fanfair. He spent little time surveying those that were still sitting to the side, and figured his best chance to directly meet someone would be within that writhing mass that was the dance floor.

The idea did not appeal to him, but he knew his only chance was to learn to adapt to things that disgusted him. He doubted this would help his bitterness. He swallowed his pride and dove in head first.

[Melari Forthwind]

Melari blushed at her uncle's praise, too demure to do anything else. She was well used to being complimented by Bradyn, who took great pleasure in spoiling his pretty niece, but with him and Drusilla and Liam and Marisee...it was all too much. The girl returned her aunt's kiss with a shy smile, then smoothed down her dress as she lost interest in the conversation and looked around the room. The ball was lovely and whatever part Bradyn had had in it, he'd done well, but much as she loved her family there was someone else who was special tonight. But where was he?

Fortunately, he wasn't so hard to find. There were two men in green together, one taller and with close-cut, curling dark hair. Thanks to his house colors Lord Faerald was easy to recognize even with his mask, and his son...

Melari's heart jumped to see that the younger man worse a silver mask shaped like a cat, and in the next moment she was smiling and blushing all over again. "Look, I found Aiden."

She hadn't meant to say it aloud. The maid went even rosier when she realized her mistake and shuffled back against the wall, embarrassed at her eagerness in front of her family. "And Lord Faerald. I found him too." >_>

[Tysilio Faerald]

In the meantime, Tysilio noticed that the eyes of what could only be the Forthwind family were fixed on him and his son. He couldn't help but smile when he recognised that the person who caused them to look at Aiden was the woman who might shortly be his daughter-in-law, Melari Forthwind. From the way she pointed out Aiden, then shuffled away, Tysilio would have recognised her even without having overheard the conversation his children were having.

He moved over to Aiden to gently encourage him to court Melari like he probably intended. "I believe your lady is looking at you, son," he said smiling reassuringly. "Anyway, if you two got this all planned, isn't it time to put the plans into motion?" He gave Aiden a slight push towards the Forthwinds.

[Geoffry Tanear]

Geoffry Tanear hadn't bothered much with the masquerade. Such frivolity was lost on the Captain of the Horns, who had a rather no-nonsense approach to court affairs. If anything, the Horns would need to be recognisable if calamity arose, and the masks made it difficult to track movements around the King. Though not paranoid, Sir Geoffry couldn't stop being watchful. After all, a Horn could never be absolved from his duty to the King.

His sword by his side, Geoffry was clad in the light uniform. His only concession to masquerade was a small, plain mask and the fact that he had concealed the Fontenot badge on his breastplate. He hadn't felt it appropriate otherwise. Otherwise, his white hair was held in place by a coronet in the fashion of the Caelish nobility, one of his few items of jewelry for official occasions. It wasn't the Lords' Coronet (Geoffry had never been Lord Tanear, after all), but it did give him an air of nobility and strength.

Geoffry hadn't danced in ages, and he was still debating whether to start again now. It would help him keep close to the King while he was dancing but it kept him occupied as well. But the old man had rather enjoyed dancing in his youth, and he had good memories about it. Maybe he would dance tonight...

[Bradyn Forthwind]

"And of course, you are just as wonderfully extravagent, dear Marisee." He smiled to his other niece, who must no doubt have been feeling some sort of sting at the recent death of her husband. Marisee seemed to be a fighter though, eager enough to power through it all and keep her spirits up. Bradyn respected that. It was that sort of strength that endeared him to Drusilla, his current wife. He answered her with a calm chuckle. "I most certainly helped, but only helped. I am by no means the mastermind."

It wasn't long before his wife and little Liam joined them. Drusilla, as usual, expressed only casual amounts of disinterest, but he greeted her warmly and smiled to her. As usual, she was the very incarnation of calm and radiated an aura of control. He stood and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Dru, you look enchanting. We were just discussing our little rose Melari, here, with her impending encounter with her paramour, the young Aiden Faerald." He turned and grinned to Liam, in many ways almost a protege, or at least expected to live up to his and Arland's standards - a very difficult task. "When you're as old as me, lad, you'll learn how to dodge lightning and pluck it from the very clouds. But you've got a few years to grow yet." He waved away the compliment, never wanting to let them land. That could lead to arrogance, which he didn't need. "Nonsense. Most of this is the efforts of others." Grinning, he leaned in and whispered "They just wouldn't have done it quite as quick."

It wasn't long before Marisee left for her own pursuits and little Melari spotted Aiden hidden behind a cat mask - For the great poet he apparently was, the boy was really not very subtle. Tysilio seemed to shove the boy towards them none too ceremoniously, a completely pointed hint, but the young boy looked out of his element. Considering Melari's very unsubtle eagerness at him being there, followed by her quick cover up, they wouldn't get anywhere quickly, so he took Tysilio's lead and gently offered Melari a hand, pulling her up to her feet when she took it, whispering. "Looks like you have a visitor." He led her over carefully to him and smiled softly, patting the boy on the shoulder and grinning at her, moving away without so much as a word. It was their moment to make of it what they would.

In a second, he sat back down and smiled to Dru and Liam - "I think our little Melari is fond of him."

[Aurelia de Valle]

Aurelia resisted as sigh as Cornelia was suddenly there, at her side, nosing into her business like always. To Aurelia, Cornelia and Elysia were the most annoying of all her sister. Dahlia didn’t bother her much, and she and Adamaris and Livia all seemed to have enough common ground that Aurelia often enjoyed their presence. But not Cornelia. Still, on this night of balls, of masks and costumes and dancing, Aurelia supposed she could tolerate even Cornelia.

She wasn’t going to answer her question however. Well, Aurelia mused, she would answer it, just not honestly.

“It is a night of indulgence isn’t it Cornelia? What sort of dragon would I be if I did not find some young man to sink my teeth into and breath fire where the sun doesn’t normally shine?” She laughed, because that was exactly what she hoped to do, even if her target had been chosen well before this night. “I hope that you plan to do much the same. We are the de Valle girls are we not”

[Marisée Forthwind]

Marisée shook her head lightly. “No need to apologize, my lord, it was my fault. I was staring off at the dance floor…” She did not want to explain further. How much more juvenile would she appear if she told him she’d been straining her neck to see if it was Isaac Harcourt who was dancing? And worse if someone did figure out that the young widow was pining for another man! Bad enough that she was here, a woman who’s knightly husband (who didn’t deserve her anyway) had just been killed less than a week ago. She felt a blush on her cheeks as she mentally chided herself again, and was glad for the mask that kept the man in front of her from seeing.

“I admit, my lord, with the masks I have no idea who you are. And there are so many men and women here whom I’ve never met and wouldn’t know anyway. But there is some fun to that, don’t you think? We can enjoy ourselves without having to worry about every move we make ending up on the court gossip trails in the morning.”

It would happen anyway. Women would just make up who they thought was behind the masks and some of course were obvious. Like Adrien Fontenot. Everyone was watching his every move, and she knew they’d all be wondering if he picked his bride this night.

“Forgive me my clumsiness?”

[Reagan Morgandy]

Reagan smiled, lightly covering her lips with the tips of her fingers, signalling to her sister her remorse. She knew she shouldn't be so brazen -- but who would be listening to them, after all, who didn't share the same sentiments about the boy, barely able to grow peach fuzz on his face, let alone battle the currents of the kingdom?

"No, I suppose we would not..." Reagan said lightly, her tone suggesting otherwise. Let them know. The ruler-women of Enyon were a force to be reckoned with.

Her dark eyes glanced at Cadwallader Prothero, seated nearby them at their expanse of the table, as was befitting a man who would marry in to their family. He was a handsome man, to be sure, but she wondered how he felt, having to abandon his own family to take up residence with theirs. Reagan was trying, really, to be accepting of this interloper, as Cordelia had asked.

"You should take my sister out for a dance, Lord Prothero. We wouldn't want such a lovely mask to go unnoticed," Reagan said abruptly, reaching over to whisk away a fallen tendril of dark hair from her sister's face, before glancing back to Cadwallader with a light smile. As her gaze had drunk in the surroundings, Reagan saw quite a few familiar faces -- and she needed to excuse herself.

[Arianne Montrose]

There was so much she wanted to say then…that she realized would be inappropriate in this Palace setting. Thoughts flashed and then were extinguished by the heavy burdens of propriety. She sipped her wine, her free hand went to her collar where finger tapped lightly at her throat. She had forgotten the constrictive nature of this city…of her life here. No wonder Malcolm felt so uncomfortable. She could not admit to him that she pitied him. Arianne thought about how she could show him some mercy.

“There would not be a woman who could be any more proud to butcher the dances of this land with her husband. I might even step on your toes…if only to make you feel better.” She laughed, the whimsical side of her that was so often frozen along with the frost heaves of the North suddenly melting through. She knew that unpleasant events were going to unfold. How could they not. She might not have a chance to let loose and enjoy herself for awhile and she wanted to do that now with Malcolm.

“Dance with me now or dance with me later my Lord…but I will dance with you sometime this evening. Maybe more than once.” She put the hand she had been tapping at her throat with up on his chest, her fingers tapping as if they were keeping time with his heart. “but my feet are moving me to act. I should oblige them.”

[Abrielle Laroche]

Abby walked through the room, she'd separated from her family, grabbed a glass of wine and looked around to find someone she knew. He dress flowed behind her, her matching mask was sort of itchy but she didn't touch it, her hair was curled and bounced off her skin as she walked.

Slowly sipping her wine, the room was filled with people, but no one she wanted to speak to. Maybe she'd bump into Narcisse.

[Thelonius Larson DeLauncey]

"What the fu..." he whispered to himself. Every damn woman at this stupid ball was wearing an emerald dress. How the hell was he going to find Nessa?

He'd already approached three women now, none of which were Nessa, but each one of them gave him the most dirty looks he'd seen in a very long time. He now was perched in the back of the room, sitting on a marble bench that wasn't really for sitting, he'd moved the flower arrangements so he could perch and look over the crowd.

Thelonius grabbed a glass of wine from a passing servant, who also gave him a dirty look, and he nodded as the man passed by while not saying a word. He was becoming bitter, it seemed like he'd never find Nessa tonight, though he was disturbed that he noticed a Lord that was sitting at a table across the room.

Is that the guy Lex and I got drunk with the other night?