Silver Dove Seeks Crimson Hart || 5/7, during the ball; Deirdre, Valen, & Josephine

[Deirdre Faerald]

Deirdre had been on far too many hunting trips to not discern the meaning of a "crimson hart" - and "by his family shield", even! This was going to be so simple. If she wanted to greet Valen, all she had to do was hunt a stag.

Easier said than done, apparently. She'd been at the ball a while before she even caught sight of any stags, much less a crimson one. The kingdom was far larger than she would've guessed. She was growing certain she'd never run into him until finally, in between dances, she suddenly caught a glimpse of red in the crowd. Deirdre quickly zeroed in on the young lord, appraising him from across the great hall. Red curls? Check. Antlers? Double check. She'd eat her silk hankerchief if that was anyone besides her dear old friend!

But, of course, she couldn't just simply approach him, like a proper and elegant noblewoman, giving herself a chance to get a good look at his face and verify his identity before speaking to him. That hardly sounded like any fun at all! So, instead Deirdre crept along out of his range of sight, until she was eventually sneaking up behind him. If one ought to hunt a stag, it seemed like it'd be far more amusing to do it the right way, and catch him off-guard.

As she approached the young man in red, she bit the inside of her cheek, pondering this for a moment. On the off-chance she was mistaken, she was going to look quite the fool in front of some poor unsuspecting gentleman. But I'm wearing a masque anyway! No harm, no foul. Stifling a giggle, she reached out and abruptly tapped his shoulder.

"Caught you!"

[Valen Alysworth]

Valen had darkened his bright ginger curls to a deep, rich auburn for the night, and shaved off his beard. It would be back by tomorrow, but today the lips and chin under his masque were smooth and bare. It gave his smirk a younger, fresher look, less a mayhem-devil than some lovely, libertine sprite.

His outfit was a dashing take on a hunter's simple garb, with sturdy brown boots, and a doublet and breeches of simple design, a short capelet thrown rakishly over one shoulder and affixed with a golden tie and long, sharp pins. The boots were shone to a shine, though, the breeches of softest kid leather and dyed to a warm reddish brown just like his hair, and his doublet bright crimson velvet with embroidery picked out in gold. His capelet was the deep brown of rich loam on the outside, with the inside the rich, dark red of heart's blood. Snow-white cuffs at wrists and throat lent an element of poetry to the whole thing.

His masque was both a reference to his outfit, and his House. A young hart, the lines of it simple and spare, but realistic in the colouring. A white blaze on the brow gave it nobility, black smudged around the eyes lent mystery, while two proud, ivory horns jutted from the top of the masque. They were not the heavy horns of an old stag, but the new horns of a young buck, confident that while wisdom and grace came with age, youthful passion and energy would more than make do.

He'd been standing and talking (well, flirting) with Josephine, when he felt that insistent tap on his shoulder. Turning, it took him only a moment of scrutiny before he was absolutely sure this was his little Deidi. With a boom of laughter, he scooped her up into his strong arms, swinging her about.

"A deadly huntress, indeed!" he laughed, setting her back down, grinning at her. He looked so much younger, with his jaw soft and smooth. "But look you - " showing her his huntsman's outfit. "You aren't the only one a'hunting this night."

[Deirdre Faerald]

Deirdre shrieked with laughter as he spun her around. He had recognized her on sight, naturally - she would've had to scold him had he not! She smoothed her skirts, collecting her bearings. "So you're a hunter and a stag then? That's an interesting choice." She crossed her arms as she surveyed his attire, her smile impish. She had considered her own choice of dress quite dramatic that evening, and had gone out of her way to create a mysterious new visage, but Valen's attempts had surely matched her own. "You look splendid, Valen! Your sense of pageantry is as keen as ever," she remarked. She appreciated that. What was the fun of a masquerade if you didn't dress in costume?

Goodness, even his hair looked different! She reached up to give his auburn curls an experimental toussle. "Did you dye your hair...? I don't remember it ever being that dark!" Deirdre raised her eyebrows, impressed by his level of commitment. "You look so different... But I've no doubt you're the same mischievous fawn as ever," she teased, grinning. Of course, Valen was older than her, but to Deirdre he'd always be the boy who'd helped her catch frogs on summer days.

But, speaking of Valen's mischief... "I do hope I'm not interrupting anything!" She couldn't tell who his companion was, but it hadn't been her intent to get in their way. She was certain though that exceptions would be made for old friends. "I simply had to catch you when I spotted you though, it feels like it's been ages since we last saw one another. If I recall your letter correctly, it's been agreed that you owe me your company. However! I believe forgiveness is a virtue, so I promise I'll understand if you need a moment before you can attend to your woefully neglected friend."

[Valen Alysworth]

His head moved into his touch, enjoying the hair-tousling more than anyone should. Ah, but it was nice!

"No no, you're not interrupting anything." She had been, but Valen was too pleased to see her to worry about that. "Just an enlivening game of guess-who, but you've gone and broken my mystery." he chides her playfully, tapping on her nose before taking a bit of her hair and twirling it in her fingers. "Mysterious lovely girl -" he spoke to Josephine. "This silver dove here - is she not the cleverest girl in the room?" he grinned, giving Deirdre a snug. "At a par with yourself, of course." he added, quickly. "What a lucky man am I, howsoever undeserving, to have the two greatest beauties in the land paying me me their graceful attentions?" he gave that free, booming laugh of his, grinning at them both. And the way he looked at them, one almost could believe they were the only girl in his world....

[Josephine DeLauncey]

Valen... She filed that name away. She knew she couldn't see the man's whole face, but the way he spoke to her... and from what she could see... well, Josephine was distracted. And then, some other girl walked up to them! She was desperately trying to bring up the courage to flirt, and now she was totally foiled. Oh well.

She chose to smile at the interloper, no matter how she felt about it, especially because Valen continued to pile on compliments. "Ah, so it appears I have won this game. I found out your identity first, right? Even though I got help from your friend here..."

Oh! Valen... Valen... Alysworth, that boy that had once warded with the de Valles. It was long ago, before the plague, but she remembered. And Vesper Landalis's brother, too, right? "Valen Alysworth..."

[Deirdre Faerald]

Deirdre let out a peal of laughter, playfully shoving Valen's shoulder. He could be so silly! It was the best thing about him. She beamed happily at all the glowing attention she was receiving, clinging to his arm.

"Oh no! It seems that I ruined a surprise..." It was easy to get caught up in one's own game and forget that others could be at play. "This shouldn't free you though! You still ought to guess the lady's identity, it seems only fair." She looked up at Valen, expectant. There was something familiar about the other girl's chesnut locks, but despite this, she was certain they'd never met. How peculiar! She glanced back over at her, cheerfully inquiring, "Does he get a hint, at least?"

[Josephine DeLauncey]

"Well..." Josephine giggled at her victory, "I did know his House from his first name, right? That's a clue, I'd say." Maybe he'd think she was Caelish, from his same lands, and that's why she knew. That could be fun...

If that were the case, she should pretend to know who the woman in front of her was, but unfortunately, she didn't think they had met. Well, she'd just have to fake it, and hope Valen gave some clue as to her identity. A continuation of this game might be fun at least. She was so glad they were at a masquerade! Such a lovely idea of the King's...

[Valen Alysworth]

He kept his arm looped about Deirdre's waist, laughing gaily, looking over to Josephine.
"Yes, gracious lady - a hint, at least? As my Lady Nimble-clod here will not give me quarter..." he teases, tickling a bit at Deirdre's side. "You girls, you girls! You are too clever for me - I pray, have mercy!"

At her (rather enigmatic) hint, he pulled an exaggerated frown. "Why, this is no help at all - for who does not know the clever and canny house of Alysworth?" he teases, giving Deirdre a wink. He went on. "One might as well profess ignorance of the lilting and musical house of Faerald...but such a thing I cannot imagine." he flattered, and then tipped his head. His smooth lips curled into an impish smirk, the very picture of wicked revelry.

"I keep hearing about...DeLacies? DeLaunces? But sooth, I've never heard of them." Another laugh, his curls falling into his eyes. He pulled Josephine toward him with a little tug, holding her knuckles to his lips and kissing them.

[Deirdre Faerald]

"Lady Nimble-clod! That's a new one."

Trying to flatter two girls at once - even if one was almost more like a sister... That was so Valen. With a hushed giggle, Deirdre felt about ready to slip out of his grasp and bop him on the nose. He was amusing enough though (and Deirdre gracious enough) that she could scarcely bring herself to be annoyed at the moment, even in jest. Clearly, he was doing his best to impress this mystery girl, and she had no wish to spoil that. At her friend's allusion to her own house, Deirdre pointedly nodded. The honeyed wine was making this farce even more entertaining than it usually would be.

She arched a brow when he made a scarcely-veiled reference to the DeLaunceys. "'DeLaunces', you say? They're quite far from the Caelish Isles, don't you think?" And from the current train of thought, as far as she can tell. But he must be on the right track. It'd definitely explain where the familiarity came from! Naturally though, she had no intention of saying that to him yet.

[Valen Alysworth]

His eyes flitting up to Josephine's, Valen let himself take, perhaps, more time kissing her hand than was strictly apropos. He didn't mind it - she was a lovely thing, very gracious, and their conversation had been delightfully enlivening.

Still, all delightful things must end, and he'd told Deirdre he had something to discuss with her. If he didn't do it soon, he was likely to lose his taste for the whole idea. He stood, and was as gracious as he could be in his excuses.

"My dead mystery Lady - I have some pressing business with my dear cousin, here." a squeeze at Deirdre's waist. "But do not think, not for a moment, that you will not stay in my mind! Sooth, an impression such as the one you have made keeps a fellow up at night. I pray you: meet me tomorrow in the gardens, when Mirtha is at her peak - I shall tend you dearer attention then and there than propriety allows me here, tonight."

Perhaps his words were all quite innocent - after all, a fellow at a ball was obliged to give a dance to as many ladies as wanted one, and a quiet walk in the garden was much better for conversation than a masque. She could certainly take it that way, if she wished. His wink to her, though, promised that if she took it another way, well...he'd have no quarrel with that, either.

Keeping Dierdre at his side, he moved away from the bustle of the dancing, grabbing them both a flute of champagne on the way. "I hope you don't mind me pulling you away, dear cos - it's just that I do want to speak with you...."

[Deirdre Faerald]

Deirdre raised her eyebrows, attempting to look inconspicuous and like she wasn't intruding on this moment (a difficult task, when one was glued to the side of one side of the pair). His flirtation with the mystery girl was so obvious, she'd begun to feel a little uncomfortable being there. Typical Valen, she mused, catching his wink.

"My goodness," she'd remarked, once the lady had left and he'd taken her aside. "Could you be any more blatant?" She shot him a admonishing look, tapping his arm in a mirthful scold. But I suppose that's a lesson to be learned for interrupting him! As she waited to accept her champagne flute, it wasn't long before Deirdre was smiling at him again, ever the affectionate one. "Then by all means, speak!" She hadn't the slightest clue what all this was about, but she assumed it had something to do with her promised gift - how exciting! Why he'd pull her aside though for something that could easily be discussed while dancing, she had no idea.

[Valen Alysworth]

He was distracted enough, for a moment, not to catch her humour.

"Well yes, I suppose I could have been, yes...but I didn't think you'd like it, cos." he looked at her, for a moment utterly sincere, his bright blue eyes honest.

...and then it occurred to him, after a moment, that she'd likely been in jest.

"Err. Well, that is. I have something for you, here..." Because not being perfectly up on the humour made Valen feel a little silly and anyway, he'd pulled her away for a reason. He somehow managed to pull a little packet from the leather bag hanging from his sword-belt without disentangling from her, and pressed the little suede envelope into her hand.

"For you, Sparrow. I do hope you like it..."

This was good. Bought him some time. Damn, why was this so hard?

".....so, I hear the King fancies you..." He'd heard no such thing, but how could anyone not fancy his dear little sparrow? She was the sweetest, gentlest creature in five Kingdoms, he knew.

[Josephine DeLauncey]

Josephine giggled at the extra contact. "I'll allow it, my lord, but only because you asked so nicely." She didn't want to, but she knew she had to act calm about him running off with another girl. She had to keep some of her mystery after all. She hoped that when he referred to the other girl as his cousin, that meant the sort of cousin one would never do anything improper with, but she wasn't sure why she was jumping ahead so far. She had to calm herself.

She wandered off, hoping to find someone to talk to soon, so that Valen wouldn't know she was thinking about him. The gardens. Tomorrow. She didn't care that it sounded slightly improper, the way he said it, she'd be there. No matter what.

[Deirdre Faerald]

Did he truly not notice her joke there? How silly of Valen! He seemed almost... Nervous? She blinked, puzzled. No, that couldn't be it. Whatever could he have to be nervous about in her presence? Truly, he never struck her as the sort to fumble in the presence of any young lady, but certainly not one he'd known as long as herself.

Deirdre grinned as he pressed the packet to her palm. "Is this my present? I've been dying to know what it is!" She giggled, carefully unfastening the little envelope. "If you wish to spoil me to make up for lost time, I'm not one to stop you. I'll just have to find gifts for you in return!"

His remark about the king earned a michievious smile. "Have you now?" Was that truly a thing people were saying, or was he only teasing? "We have become friends," Deirdre admitted, a touch giddily, unable to play at evasiveness for too long. "If he thinks of me nearly as fondly as I am, then I'd say we're already quite close." Her cheeks colored a little at the thought, but she glanced down shyly, quick to divert her attention to emptying out the contents of the little packet.

[Valen Alysworth]

If he'd been another man, his face might have fallen. She adored the king; ach, but of course she did. And it didn't bother him, of course - still, he swallowed down a sour taste in his mouth, and only reached forward to tuck a bit of hair behind her ear.

"Is he kind to you, my sparrow? Do you think he'll..." ah, but that would be a cruel thing to ask. How could she know upon which maid his eye would settle? He scratched at the back of his neck. Lord, why was this so hard? He's known her since she was a babe in swaddling - this was ridiculous. "It's just, if he didn't, that is, well then..."

He fell silent and shuffled a bit, watching as she unwrapped her gift.

It was a set of jewellery, all in bronze, brass and silver filigree. A pair of hair combs, with a motif of sea-rushes bent by the wind, their graceful leaves intertwining. A few barrettes with the same motif, and finally...a bracelet with the same twisting, graceful sea-grass design. The bracelet had a tiny chain, that went to a ring. The ring was fashioned of the same three metals, but this was a bird in flight, with the wings curling around the finger, and a little topaz as the eye.

Would she understand the design? So many of their long talks had happened out on the wild sea cliffs, both of them walking along the cliff edge until their cheeks were chapped and red, then stomping out a little place to hide amongst the tall rushes, out of the wind. He still smelled that damp, salty green-brown smell of the rushes around them, sometimes, when he thought of her.

[Deirdre Faerald]

Deirdre glanced up when he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, smiling warmly. "Of course he's kind." Think he'll...? He'll what? On the topic of Adrien, her mind was quick to rush. Fall in love with her? Marry her, even? Did he believe the king would want to marry her? She preferred not to let herself linger on such an idea for too long, out of fear of getting her hopes up. Truly, it was always a better to not allow oneself to assume anything, and then be pleasantly surprised by a happy outcome.

At his following remark, her gaze turned startled - and then her jaw nearly dropped at the sight of the various pieces of jewelry. "I... Mihra's light, they're gorgeous," she exclaimed. Her drink long set aside by this point, she ran her fingers along the ornate pattern, feeling as if there was something familiar about it. "I spoke of you spoiling me in jest, but..." She trailed off, lifting the haircomb and examining it.

"Are these bulrushes?" At that thought, it was easy for her to imagine being small again, huddled by the Porthaeron seaside with the breeze whipping her hair and Valen by her side. She would tug at the pieces of grass, trying to weave them into clumsy wreaths, telling him about her favorite stories and trying to turn everything into a game. Even having to call out over the whipping winds, he'd been able to make her laugh.

Her expression softened at the memory. "These remind me of when we were children," she remarked. "Do you remember? Oh, you must, surely that's why you picked these out." Deirdre was babbling a little now. "Goodness, this is all so lavish. I was expecting you'd bring me another sweet, or maybe a trinket," she admitted.

"I-" Suddenly feeling flustered, she opted to focus simply on expressing gratitude, mumbling, "Thank you, Valen, this so thoughtful. I'll treasure them always!" For a moment there, she'd thought he was implying... Well, perhaps she had gotten ahead of herself. It happened often when she was excited, and her thoughts had been on the king.

But what else could he have meant? And did young men really shower gifts like these on women they saw only as childhood companions? Valen would, she noted. He's always had a generous spirit. Her nagging doubt remained, however, and her brow was creased in contemplation even as she admired the pretty bird-shaped ring.

[Valen Alysworth]

He'd taken her cup from her, and drained it in one gulp, doing the same to his own before depositing both cups on a passing tray.

At her stammered thanks, he just laughed, sweeping her up into his arms for a big hug, his laugh booming out. He set her back down after a moment, pressing a kiss to her brow.

"Of course I remember, sparrow!" he chuckled, taking one of the barrettes from the pouch and gently clipping it into her hair. "And I didn't pick them out - these were commissioned just for you, from the best jewel-smith I could find."

It went without saying that money was no object, of course. When Valen gave gifts, he never pinched pennies.

[Deirdre Faerald]

Deirdre's eyebrows shot up at his sudden gulp of both drinks, then gave him a fond smile at the kiss he placed on her forehead, holding his arm to steady herself. Goodness, he was always such fun! "Truly?" Her brow knit. "You know you needn't go through such trouble for my sake, Valen..."

She reached up to her hair, her fingertips lightly grazing the hairclip, tracing along its intricate metal designs. "But I can hardly pretend I regret you going to such extremes... It's so lovely. You continue to know my taste well," she remarked, warmly, leaning over to kiss his cheek (as best as one could with his mask in the way, that is).

[Valen Alysworth]

"Of course I did; a commission was the only option." he insisted, without missing a beat. He drew an arm around her waist as she kissed his cheek, tilting his head to make it easier. He ended up with his nose in her hair, and inhaled...how did she always smell so good, even after a night of dancing in heavy silks?

"In all five kingdoms you have no copy....so neither do they."

He drew back now, touched the clip in her hair, and gave her a fleeting glance both honest and slightly sheepish.

"I know it's traditional to do the asking before the gifting, but...ah, I've never been one to stand on form, you know!"

Why was it, he wondered...why for all that was good and right did his perfectly suave tone abandon him just at the worst possible moment, when he'd like to be the most suave he ever was? He gave a laugh to finish that sentence, and was horrified at the very slight note of awkwardness in it. Of course, he'd never done this before (well, never in earnest and certainly never so sober) but that was no excuse!

[Deirdre Faerald]

"I..." She gaped at him. By the five gods themselves, Valen really was about to propose to her, wasn't he? Deirdre was entirely at a loss for words.

She'd scarcely even thought of marriage at all before that summer, and even then, it was a foggy notion, the aftermath of a handsome knight (or... someone else) sweeping her off her feet - after, of course, a playful courtship where she'd offer him her favour and he'd write poetry that'd compare her to the moon or something else fanciful. Coquettish games of chase in the gardens, secret notes written in riddle, a sweet kiss... Deirdre had done her best to remain open-minded about the exact scenario, but they all, perhaps improbably (after all, her parents' marriage had been arranged, and they were so happy!), tended to involve passion, and eventually falling in love. Even in a situation where she would've hardly known her husband to be, she imagined something mysterious and exciting, wherein by the time their wedding approached she'd be head over heels.

This was Valen, a man more a brother to her anything! She knew him well, and already loved him dearly, but she wasn't sure she could ever imagine feeling that way about him. He was such a close friend to her though, and even the manner of this proposal seemed to only prove that he'd be able to make her happy... Surely, that must be the best sort of husband. She was being silly to even hesitate, he would certainly brighten her days. Indeed, at his uncharacteristic sheepishness her first instinct was to comfort him, assure him he could relax in her presence!

Deirdre's mind raced. She had no doubt that this would've been easier if she hadn't already been growing so smitten with someone else. There was a pang in her heart at what this would mean that she did her best to push aside, to little avail. Valen had seemed he would be conscientious about it, if Adrien... She allowed herself to think it, for once: wished to marry her. But he'd given no indication of such a desire. If anything, he seemed more interested in kissing Rosamund! What if those few scarce moments of happiness, with their comforting uncertainties and infinite possibilities, were all they'd ever have? Was this moment a definitive end to... Whatever it was between her and Adrien? She could hardly bear the thought.

But in return, I would have a loving husband. What is there to be happier about? And she was happy! This was all so sweet of him, and she was very flattered, even if she had difficulty imagining that even he wasn't seeing her as simply a sensible option. But what was so wrong with that? They did certainly enjoy one another's company.

At that thought, she was able to offer him a faint smile. It just felt... So sudden.

Realizing he must think her struck dumb, Deirdre was quick to stammer a response, her cheeks bright red beneath the silver feathers. "Have you... Spoken to my father recently?" An innocuous enough statement, even if the insinuation was obvious.

"I, ah-" She'd begun to say more, but was suddenly cut short by the sound of shouting in the nearby crowd.

[Valen Alysworth]

Oh lord, she was horrified at the thought. Why?! Sharing a life with him in Porthaeron wasn't the worst prospect in the world, surely! He adored her, they'd always been close friends, and his father would likely live a good many years yet. That would give them plenty of time for travel and fun, before he was needed as Lord. It was a sensible match, to be sure; and he could live with the idea. She'd be a patient wife and a loving mother...and she'd never, ever try to change him.

Thy why was she staring at him, as if she'd just watched a gaping chasm open up before her? His belly turned to ice.

She wanted someone else. She loved someone else. Just like he did.

"Of course you have options." he blurted quickly, hardly waiting for her to get out a thought before more words tumbled from his mouth. "And if you get an offer you like better, Sparrow, of course you must ta...."

There was some fuss, a little way away. Servants pushing through the crowd, but he'd ignored it, until the sudden clang of weapons. And then, panic! Shouts and clamour, and a piercing scream rent the air.

((continued here))