Open [Seasonal Event] The Winter Ball

[Weylin Quickshot]

Weylin smiled politely to the guest, and dealt with his requests. Afterwards she left and worked her way round the other tables and guests that were not preoccupied with dancing. Pleasantries and smiles were shared, wants were answered, and then she continued on. To them she was just the serving 'boy', but never the less, it was the duty that she had assigned herself.

Weylin felt the feeling of eyes lying on her back for sometime now, following her around the room as she worked. She turned round several times, scanning the sea of masks and dancers for the source, but found none. She collected the glasses at another table, trying to shake the feeling by solely focusing on her work. But no matter how hard she tried, she could not loose it. She placed the empty glasses on a tray before following the routine she had been instructed. She gave a quick glance around the room, watching the couples dance. For a flash Weylin felt the pang of regret, but the Drykas shook the feeling off.

You are not missing much, you have two left feet after all.

She coasted the edge of the room this time, stopping at various points, keeping the small talk going, before finally she approached the red haired man. Her eyes narrowed slightly as the intense feeling of being watched flared up again, but she kept the calm composure she had retained so far. She stepped up to him, giving a small smile, and presenting the tray of drinks to him.

"Perhaps a new drink for you sir? I noticed your glass is becoming empty."

She waited for a response as she felt her skin prickle, but forced herself to calm, if not for herself then for the guests. They after all were the priority tonight.

[Sebastian Stalinsa]

She turned her head and spoke in the cool neutral tone of well-practiced practicality. While the implication of disinterest was lost on him Sebastian didn't miss the pattern of her words and took them at face value. In favor of lending some thought to her remark Sebastian pause his close scrutiny of her face. Perhaps it was all the long hours spent under critic tutorage of his own lineage that caused the curious startlement to cross his features. Time as a boy he'd much rather have spent outside, but as a man could appreciate the fullness such teachings had shaped his sense of self. For anyone to dismiss their name so offhandedly showed little pride of their own title and thus themselves as a person. He couldn't conceive what past events layered her heart but, it grieved him to see the first prick of an iceberg harden such a compassionate individual. Sebastian for the most part was an easy going guy. He knew right from wrong, followed the code of his father, and tried never to waste a moment in passing melancholy. Life was too short and each tick spent in the past was another missed in the present. A reasonable man but, a man of passion he'd never come close to mastering the art of subterfuge and the sorrow he felt for the unnamed scars upon this lady's soul was obvious in the sympathetic dip of his face. He wanted to reach out and turn that lovely porcelain face back towards his. To tell her she had nothing to fear from him, that there were others who'd be judge and jury of her thoughts. "A name is just as important as the face it is given too." He reprimanded in a gentle murmur. "It defines us and carries the weight of our deeds and heart." He softly touched the fingertips of his left hand against the stark black strips adoring her mask. "You have nothing to fear from me lady. If it pleases you to remain anonymous I will respect your wish." He then removed his hand back to her waist and chuckled quietly letting the humor escape through his next words. "If you were truly vain I'd be overwhelmed by the many qualities you'd have striven to impress upon me. I feel your approach is far more dignified and lends you a charm I hope doesn't grow cold in years to come." He gave a wiry smile and tilt of the head as if to shrug off any protests or retorts such a comment might provoke. After another moment of quiet study Sebastian knew with certainty that he'd been mistaken. It was not the memory of this girl that set his heart aching but, for another she vaguely resembled in shape that he'd never see again. Her pause before echoing his own question left him wondering if she’d at some point seen him in passing, perhaps in the market stalls or that brief tour he'd taken of the university. His mask was nothing more than a simple strip of hardened black leather and linen which left much of his face exposed, and it would be an easily enough task to recognize him especially if he were to doff the stylized hat. Suddenly feeling as if he'd let the ball's fanciful nature take too deep a hold over his previous emotional state Sebastian adopted a more stoic air. "No dear lady. I was mistaken. If we've meet it was only in passing with no formal introduction." Stepping back to create a space between them appropriate for two strangers, Sebastian warmly took both her hands in his. "But if it would please you my lady, I would very much like to know you whether as a friend, lover, or even the bright faced stranger who smiles every day in passing but, for whatever reason never stops to speak." It didn't sadden him that she wasn't the one he'd thought of, or even for just a moment that she'd reminded him of her. On the contrary the hopes of exploring this new woman, of seeing the world through her eyes excited him. He could think of few better ways to spend his time in Zeltiva and believed the risk of her refusal was far outweighed by any possibility of acceptance.

[Valo]

It wasn't that Valo stared at her continuously and without shame, coss such behaviour would be rudeness even for a man of his standards. However he could not deny himself the occasional glance in her direction. A mere glance to please the artist's eye. What a beautiful painting she would be, if she would only give him the chance. And to his delight or dismay - for that was yet to be determined - she had taken notice of the red haired Inarta and proceeded to offer him a beverage.

Valo sensed the unease in her and wondered whether he was the cause of it. Ah how he hoped that not to be the case. Composing himself meticulously he calculate his code of conduct from now on. There was something about her that led him to think she wasn't another one of those shallow ducks which now made the vast proportion of the guests. Those who, underneath a plumage of exquisite feathers, were nothing more than empty shells filled with nonsense. For he knew exactly how to deal with a shallow woman. He'd have swept on off her feet and danced until she was well and truly in love with him. That's what he'd have done if he had interest in a shallow woman. But this waitress was not quite that.

"Well thank you very much my lady." he spoke softly, the most polite crescent of a mile upon his pace. And as she handed him the beverage he spoke again. "I do hope the ball has proved enjoyable for you for I couldn't help but notice your hard work towards its success. And perhaps shall you be in the mood for a dance, I'd be most honoured to dance with you."

The words he had picked meticulously and hoped he wouldn't come across as some pretentious beast, ready to pray on a young lady. Indeed all he wished for was to provide some enjoyment to the one woman in the room who really deserved it.

[Arianthe Swansong]

Arianthe smiled slightly at the reprimand on the subject of the nature of a name, but she found herself thinking that he was wrong. Although she needed a name, she found that they could be constraining, and she did not see why, if it was so important, Kelvics were generally quite happy to part with theirs. A name, she thought, was a sign of attachment - to a family or to a spouse, to an imposed social hierarchy determined by birth. An imposed hierarchy that demands privilege for some and far less for others. In fact, a name could be destructive to the character who bore it, for was not a reputation, whether it be false or true, despised or respected, carried on the back of it? In a crowd, a name was more often remembered by the masses than a face. A name was easier to villainise or to idolise. And with all that in mind, one could not even choose which name to be known by for, when it was chosen, they had very little choice in the matter.
On the other hand, she did not think that a face was of so great importance either - or maybe that was because, as far as she was able, she tried to lend hers to inconspicuousness.

"A respected name is rather to be chosen than great wealth, and one should seek reverence rather than silver and gold." said Arianthe with a small smile, half teasing, but she let the equivocality of her comment remain.

She did not comment on his questioning of her vanity, not displeased to learn that he thought she had charm though, as was the case for her in every aspect of her life, she pondered upon the honesty of the statement with a light smile. It was not that Arianthe was overly-modest, for she knew full well that she was attractive, but the boldness with which he had complimented her did not disguise the fact that he seemed well accustomed to flattery.

As a whole, she was slightly relieved when they parted. Although she had wholly enjoyed the dance in his company, she had the sentiment that she was in danger of something or other when held at close proximity by a man. She smiled.

"If I am to be a potential friend to you, then it is social convention that I tell you my name," she said with a light laugh, having carefully considered his desire to know more of her, "Arianthe Swansong."

[Weylin Quickshot]

Weylin blinked. Twice in fact.

She became wide eyed, a tint of red filling her face. Her head almost quizzically cocked to one side as she translated the words in her mind, making sure it was indeed Common he was speaking. Even after a few moments of silence, none of her previous facial expressions returning. She swallowed, her brow becoming creased and knitted together. She quickly cast her eyes around the room, almost to make sure that others had not heard, before her eyes met his. Her blush continued and she lowered her gaze.

The words of the Inarta had momentarily thrown her, or more over she was expecting him to continue the trend of only simple pleasantries, just like every other guest she had spoken to this night. She was after all just 'staff' what did it matter on how they felt? They were just doing a duty to the high class, the rich with their lavish clothing. They were little more than pawns. Weylin drew in a deep breath, and closed her eyes as she gained her thoughts. She exhaled, and returned her gaze to the Inarata, meeting his eye again, cooling her mind and finding peace.

Not that the peace lasted long. He was still smiling at her, a look of wonder in his eyes. What possessed a man to look at her so, it made her feel there something wrong with her or perhaps that she was simply a form of amusement on his part- a new toy to be picked up and played with. The Drykas stood straight and returned the pleasant smile.

"Pardon?"

[Valo]

Valo had noticed the subtle blush to her cheeks, and perhaps there was a blush on his own face also. Though he hoped not, for the colour of his hair would no doubt bring out the rosy blush against his pale skin and make it all the more obvious. But such were the perks of being an Inarta. It meant that one could never hide one's own nervousness. And was Valo nervous? Of course, as anyone would be if they were talking to a beautiful woman whom they wished to know beyond just a minor flirtation. there was something distinctly interesting about her and a part of Valo wanted so desperately to truly get to know her, instead of letting her pass as an awkward flirtation.

Only for a moment he lowered his gaze, before looking at her again from beneath the luscious lashes of his. Politely he repeated his question. "I merely asked whether you'd like to dance with me my lady. Ah I do hope you're not too busy for there's nothing that would make this night more special, than a dance with you."

[Weylin Quickshot]

For a moment Weylin was silent. She gave him a long hard look, taking in for once his actual appearance. He was indeed handsome, or at least from what she could tell, the mask he and everyone else wore made it hard to tell. She brushed her fringe out of her eyes, carefully balancing the tray she in the other, before averting them.
"You are being serious?" It was rhetoric, and a small frown formed across her face as she spoke. Weylin glanced around the hall, before returning her attention to the man.
"Sorry, I cannot," she exhaled "Duty calls and all. Besides, I have two left feet."
She gave a smile, a disappointed one, but a smile never the less. Weylin turned on her heel, briefly looking back at the man.

A mistake indeed. It was this momentary distraction that caused the sound of smashing glass to echo out through out the hall, the single misstep that sent Weylin tripping over her own feet. She staggered onto her hands and knees as she watched the the tray spin away, a look of horror and defeat on her face. She flushed a deep shade of red as she felt the eyes of the hall upon her. She just clenched her eyes up, wishing desperately for the ground to open and swallow her whole.
Idiot Weylin!
She brought herself into a crouch, quickly picking up the glass shards in an attempt to return to the normal setting of the hall. Reluctantly she looked up, facing the room with no signs of embarrassment subsiding any time soon.
"Carry on," she squeaked.

[Sebastian Stalinsa]

Arianthe Swansong. The name rippled through his mind practicing in echoes before he repeated it out loud. “Arianthe Swansong.” Sebastian's eyes twinkled like the four gold loops in his ears, please that she’d seen fit to share her name before parting. “It is indeed a memorably name and I won’t forget it.” Graciously he led her off the dance floor making way for other’s to take their place. “I don’t want to keep you from enjoying the rest this ball has to offer.” He smiled affectionately indicating with a nod of the head individuals whose eyes lighted upon Arianthe’s beauty. “But if you should desire my presence in the future or require an escort home you needn’t hesitate to ask.” He then gave brief directions of were one could usual find him if need be. With a brush of his lips Sebastian chastely kissed the back of her soft hand, well please with how their meeting had went.

[Valo]

So she rejected his offer, as he expected. And if he was to say that at this very moment he had any interest in any other woman in all of Mizahar it self, he'd be lying. The Winter Ball suddenly lost all charm to him. All the joy, laughter and dancing had lost it's flavour to his lips. For what is the purpose in enjoying one self, when you cannot share that enjoyment with someone who actually mattered. Yet he kept a composed smile of pure politeness until the very parting, upon which she tripped over and landed on the slippery floor, the tray which she held skidded a little distance away.

At one Valo lifted him self from his position and darted towards her. Picking up the tray, he placed it between them and crouched to help her pick up the pieces. "Are you all right?" he asked with concern as his hands began to scoop glass off the floor. "Be careful not to cut your self because these seem pretty sharp." and no sooner he spoke, a shark edge embedded it self in his skin for a moment, with the kind of spite that only sharp glass could bear for anyone who'd try to tidy it up. "Ouch!" Valo grimaced, placing the bleeding finger in his mouth, continuing to pick up pieces with his other hand. "God damn it!"

[Vincent Gorvald]

Vincent spied Trente across the room and moved to a better vantage point on a staircase at the side of the room. Vincent's whole purpose, whole plan hinged on this man and it seemed like it would be quite a pain to get his attention tonight. He was fluttering from group to group, pausing to talk with a dark looking stranger and then moving on to dance with the Mayoress of all people.

Vincent thought it somewhat funny that despite the current circumstances people could be so quick to forget, so quick to move on and enjoy the festivities. He supposed he was a little guilty of the last himself, having his fair share of the evenings alcoholic beverages.

Vincent sunk back down onto his haunches, a reflexive posture for him as a sailor, staying low to the deck during foul weather was very important to keeping your footing.

He stayed that way for some time, looking over at Vincent and mulling over his next words and actions. Perhaps he would just need to wing it, there was a certain allure in the unknown, and the spontaneity of it tickled Vincent's fancy. Yes, he would just need to wait for the opportune moment and make his proposition to the whole ball.