(2024-06-23) War Lords on the Dance Floor - Aspenwood-Moore Wedding Side Scene

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Author:	inkie
Summary:	Kyris Lysander's father has insisted that he dance with someone at the wedding. Siamus Fallon is only too happy to oblige. Conversation turns to Siamus's favorite ballroom topic: War. And also flirtation. War and flirting. He can't help it.
Rating:	T for Teen

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Inevitable flirtation

Siamus does not react to the exchange of looks between Kyris and Alaisa — he seems, perhaps, not to have noticed it — but once he and Kyris have emerged from the ranks of reception tables and are approaching the dance floor, he observes dryly, "Little sisters."

"We don't get along," Kyris says, unamused. "Mine, that is."

"May I ask ye why not? Though tell me it's no' my business and I won't. Ask ye, that is."

"You may ask."

Siamus raises his eyebrows and considers Kyris's profile. "In that case: Why d'ye not get along wi' your sister? A question of… character, or a particular falling-out?"

Kyris steps up onto the stage. "More of the former, but it's very petty. Your lead or mine?" The current dance seems to be the Stormwind Waltz.

"As ye prefer," Siamus says, stepping up with him. "I'm accustomed to the lead but perfectly comfortable either way." There is surely nothing suggestive in that answer. "And as I asked ye for the dance, I'll be a gentleman and leave the choice to you."

Kyris gives Siamus an evaluating look. "You're taller. Your lead," he says, then takes a step back to bow formally. He has not removed his suit jacket, perhaps out of sheer stubbornness.

Siamus takes a similar step and bows, and then straightens to offer his hand out gallantly.

Kyris takes it, steadfastly ignoring the other dancers. His expression is severe.

Siamus, smiling his usual faint, ironic smile, steps in close to put a hand on Kyris's back, and sweeps him into the first steps of the waltz. Or a gallant approximation of same, anyway, depending on how sweepable Kyris proves to be. He, also, pays no attention to the other dancers, but his manner suggests a sort of absent not-noticing rather than an effort to ignore. What other dancers? "Have ye always not gotten on, then? And I'm sure all feuds among siblings must seem petty; the smallest stone in the shoe feels the sharpest, and there's no company more tiresome than the people ye must live with."

He leads smoothly all the while; he's a fairly good dancer, if not spectacular. A solid A-/B+, well-practiced but not much engaged by it.

Kyris is, as it turns out, an excellent dancer, and extremely sweepable. Despite how rigidly he has been carrying himself throughout the wedding thus far, once actually dancing, his movements become incredibly fluid and graceful, practically flowing from one step to the next. He does not answer Siamus' question immediately, though he hums to indicate he's giving the matter some thought.

Some turns later, he says, "She's far superior to me in many regards, including intelligence. A better man than I would simply be proud of her, rather than envious."

Siamus considers this in his turn, watching Kyris's face as he does, as if he might read some further, unspoken detail there.

"Well, we're none of us better men than we are, or we'd have nothing to strive for. Can I ask why envious, though? Is the life she has one ye'd prefer?"

Kyris' expression has actually settled into a focused calm that looks more peaceful than his default of 'slightly menacing'. Odds are good he might genuinely like dancing, or perhaps find it soothing in some way.

"Theris was never much competition in any meaningful sense," Kyris says. "Once Ally was born… she's a true prodigy, a savant. In multiple fields." He's speaking more freely than he usually does, but also at a lower volume. "Her memory is flawless."

Siamus gazes past Kyris for a moment, reflective again. He returns his focus to the other man, a line between his brows. "How would your life be different, if ye had her talents? What would ye have done differently? Would her gifts serve ye in the path ye want for yourself?" He studies Kyris, his dark gaze serious. "I'm asking ye genuinely; I think it may be backwards, for Ta and me. But Ta's never wanted the course I have, and she's brilliant in her own."

"I would have been far more successful, I would imagine," Kyris answers. "Total recall would be of incredible benefit to most careers, and certainly as an officer it would have made a world of difference." Some of the bitterness seeps back into his tone.

"It might, aye," Siamus concedes. "But a great many things will make an officer. I flatter myself a decent one and I can't remember the names of the better number of young ladies in Stormwind I've danced with, and Her Grace is forever collecting my mislaid teacups. I find it useful to remember what matters; I expect remembering everything would be a bloody powerful distraction." He smiles wryly, self-deprecatingly. "Speaking only for myself, mind ye. I may be a more distractible man, and you the more focused."

He leads Kyris unerringly around another couple of whom he hadn't seemed aware.

"Is she a brat, your sister? A trouble to ye? I fear I don't know her well, for all the time she seems to spend wi' Ta."

"A brat, aye," Kyris confirms. And then his mouth snaps shut. He doesn't miss a beat in the dance, but he blushes furiously, and he looks both horrified and deeply humiliated. "I've said far too much already," he mutters.

Siamus raises his eyebrows. "Have ye?" He looks around them. "Not to me, surely. Ye forget I've a sister as well. And I promise ye, I'm a vault. No one else out here is listening, they're all either three sheets to the wind or… gazing rapturously, or whatever it is people do. Everyone in their own heads." He smiles down at Kyris. "You're a beautiful dancer, by the way."

"Thank you," Kyris says stiffly. He is, and he knows he is, but the compliment does nothing to reduce the blush. "If you would learn about my sister, you're best off getting to know her yourself. But she doesn't make herself an easy woman to know."

"I'm not especially interested in learning about your sister, or I expect I would just get to know her myself. But she's one of Ta's friends." Siamus's tone is one of casual dismissal. 'Ta's Friends' are clearly a whole class of person irrelevant to him. "Bit of a ghostly little bookish thing, aye? I'm more interested in yourself, and therefore your thoughts on the subject. Not your sister, ye see, but why she's a trouble to ye."

"I should say little more on the subject, for the sake of her privacy, then," Kyris says. He doesn't sound apologetic, but there's a hint of it in his eyes.

Siamus nods genially and shifts subjects without missing a beat. "So ye're wi' Cobalt now? What led ye to that? I'm not a man favors mercenaries as a rule, but I've a deal of respect for Cobalt and their people. I expect Ference must be something of a genius."

"I know I'm best as a swordsman on a battlefield, as opposed to an officer overseeing one," and it seems to cost Kyris some amount of pride to admit this, every time. "I made the acquaintance of Lady Lucy Moore, Light rest her soul, and she made the recommendation."

Siamus does not actually miss his step, but there's a clumsiness to that next one that suggests he might have — possibly were it not for Kyris's own grace to save the day. "Ah," he says, and glances back in the direction of the reception. "Lady Moore — that is, Lady Priscilla's sister. She was… one of Ta's dearest friends. Broken all to pieces, Sintha's been."

Which might be news to anyone who's interacted with Sintha lately and isn't Siamus.

He studies Kyris's face. "Lady Priscilla has been in pieces as well, as ye might imagine." (Siamus taught her boxing about it.) "A cruel loss, and casting such a terrible shadow on a long-awaited joy. She seemed a joyful lass herself, Lady Lucy."

"Aye," Kyris says. There may be unauthorized feelings in the bagging area. His expression smooths back out into that focused calm. "A great loss for all of us."

Siamus, who is well acquainted with unauthorized feelings in the bagging area, moves on again. "I expect Ference is pleased to have ye. I expect the finest swordsman on the continent's something of a coup for Cobalt. I fear I'd rather lost track of ye in recent years. When did ye separate from the military? After Icecrown?"

"Before we'd found a path in," Kyris says. "They had me at Fort Wildervar for some time. I still came to Icecrown regardless, on my own, when it was time. The Argent Crusade held a tournament."

"I expect half the war was the hunt for that passage," Siamus says. "I tried it myself by sea, once we knew the Scarlets had a northern route." He shakes his head grimly: That's all we'll say about that.

"I did hear tell of the tournament, but never did see the thing. Moored for weeks in those bloody black seas to the north. I expect ye made quite a stir there. Didn't decide to take up with the Argents yourself?"

"Mmn. Bit too…" Kyris grimaces faintly. "Holy for me."

Siamus gives that sudden, warm, startled-by-delight laugh he sometimes does. A few nearby heads turn. Oblivious to them, grinning at Kyris, Siamus says, "Aye. Too holy by half."

Kyris looks a little surprised, but he doesn't miss a beat. "Effective enough at what they do. Not for me."

Siamus nods amiable agreement. "Oh, aye, I've a great admiration for the work. It was their lot finally dragged us to the gates of Icecrown, and kept up the push before that when Arlos and Keller stood around wi' their thumbs up their —" He glances to his right as a young lady is whirled past by her partner, and does not finish the sentence. "It was Wyrmbane, Fordragon, and the Argents who got us to the end." His failure to single out Fordring by name may be conspicuous. "But I don't believe I'd care to join the ranks, personally."

"Cobalt had a fair few people at the citadel. Their two forward squads. And others." Kyris keeps his eyes mostly on Siamus, ignoring the other dancers. It's Siamus' job to avoid collisions.

Siamus nods. "Aye, I know. My own Lena Coit was among them, and Sir Atley, who as ye know is a friend." He pauses. "I am thinking, in fact, to hire them myself, on behalf of —" His expression twists slightly, and there is a distinct, sour note of sarcasm in his voice when he says, "the Admiralty."

"Mm?" Kyris raises a brow, curious.

Siamus lowers his voice — possibly because they are about to talk shop, possibly because there is a tightly-controlled note of anger in it unsuitable for the dance floor. "I'll not give ye the whole speech because I fear I might use language not suited to the occasion. Suffice it to say we've got Forsaken spread like mold over all the north Baradin Bay, and orcish ships landed at Tol Barad, and neither of those things can stand. And at present, we've next to no ships and half as many men as we need to address the situation, thanks to the Scourgewar. Which, it seems to me, the Horde was largely content to let the Alliance fight and die for, while they played at truce and planned to take their advantage. So here we are.

"The Admiralty's put a man called Dvorak in charge of the operation for Tol Barad, and he's been given leave to hire mercenaries for the effort. I assure ye the man's not hiring Cobalt-standard mercenaries, and the rabble of fortune-hunters and bar-brawlers he's gathered will go like tinder as soon as the orcs spot them. I mean to ensure some quality on our lines."

Kyris clenches his jaw, his expression shifting back to 'slightly menacing' as he speaks. "Captain Sparkwire seems to know her people well," he says. "Give her a number, and I'd trust her selection."

Siamus nods. "I've a great respect the woman, aye. I'm after any particular names I might ask of her, as well as numbers. There's an oceanographer among the Cobalts who does work for me — I'm invested in some of her technology — and I'd like her on any mission, to make new survey of the reefs around Tol Barad in the wake of the recent upheavals, and see what can be done in the way of submersible sabotage and laying underwater mines. I'm also minded to speak wi' Sir Atley and Lieutenant Hazan on the matter, and see whether they can be tempted and what people they might recommend. Would it be an interest of yours, this operation?"

"Aye, if my work in the Plaguelands is done in time," Kyris says. "Happy to move on to killing orcs once I'm done killing Forsaken." There's that somewhat vicious smile. "Afraid I haven't been with the Company long enough for names. I'd recommend unconventional scouts, perhaps. A warlock, or a shadow priest, for their spying at a fair distance."

Siamus's gaze gleams. "Aye, and that's just why I keep a warlock myself. She did the first scouting of the situation at the isle. I can see we think along similar li-" He pauses, considers. "Paths." He focuses on Kyris again. "A shadow priest, ye say? I worked wi' one of those in my operation against the Scarlets at Onslaught Harbor, but I've no'much experience otherwise. I've tended to… avoid church sorts."

"Truth be told, I don't know the specifics of how they work," Kyris admits. "But I've read reports by one before. Seemed like their spying magic follows a person rather than working as an independent object like a floating green eye that can be spotted."

Siamus raises his eyebrows, and his gaze turns distant with thoughtful fascination. "And Cobalt has shadow priests, then? The one who came to my Onslaught operation came with Cobalt but didn't seem to be one of them. I'll certainly make the request."

He looks Kyris up and down. "And truth be told, if I'd known ye'd left the army, I'd have made a play for ye myself, for the fleet. I can make a marine of anyone willing, and the finest swordsman on the continent's a prize worth having. But Cobalt's the second-finest place ye could have landed, I expect."

"Seems likely they do." Kyris does not shrug, because he is dancing. A trace of the blush returns at what is clearly a compliment, but he merely responds, "Sailing's a skill I've not learned. Never been anything but a passenger."

Siamus nods agreeably. "True of mainlanders as a rule, I find. But if ever you're of a mind to learn it, and from the finest…." He flashes a gleaming smile, there and gone. "And are ye intent to remain in Stormwind, chiefly, when your Cobalt work frees ye from the Plaguelands? We'd be glad to have ye at Fallon House sometime, if it's the case."

"For sailing lessons?" Kyris clarifies.

Siamus inclines his head, smiling. "What else?" (I don't know, Siamus, what else?) "Or riding, if it's your preference."

"If there's time," Kyris says. "I'll keep it in mind. Might do to know a thing or two before sailing towards orcish ships."

Siamus nods again. "Aye, just so. Consider the invitation open."

The waltz is drawing to a close, and around them other pairs are drifting to their stops, exchanging courtesies, moving smiling from the floor. Siamus leads them through a last step and then to a halt. He remains for a moment in position for the dance, and then steps back and bows gallantly over Kyris's hand, straightening again with That Smile in place. "Will it satisfy your lord father, d'ye think? I confess I'd be glad to dance with ye at any occasion; ye make me look a far better lead than I am."

Kyris bows in return. "My lord father is a difficult man to satisfy," he admits. "But it was certainly an enjoyable diversion. Thank you." He brushes at his bangs, which are sticking to his forehead somewhat with sweat. "Never should have let him talk me into the black suit for a summer wedding," he says irritably, and moves to step down from the platform and away from the dancers.