(2025-01-21) Dances 4 through 5 (Dance Dance Part 2)
Details
Author: Athena
Summary: The afternoon dance party at the Fallon heats up with the once scandalously flirtatious Allemande and Waltz, as some party goers indulge in fizzy sugar drinks, others in whiskey, and others in the eternally desirable tea of gossip. New friendships are made, teams and secret signals are formed, several spies gather information, and one pleasant gentleman can't seem to stop his dance partners from fleeing from him. Unfortunately for Isla, no one swoons. Fortunately for everyone, no one in this ballroom has shadow tentacles. 30k~ words. Part 2 of 4.
Rating: M for Mature 17+
Alaisa Lysander Aszera Sunstrike Lena Shine Brendol Westwind Sir Colson Aspenwood Costentyn Shine Joelle Ebek Finley Boutille Harvey Mourningdew Isla Lenaire Mordecai Aspenwood Ralaea Admiral Siamus Fallon Sintha Fallon

Continued from Part 1

Between the Minuet and the Allemande

"Thank you for the dance, Lena," Colson says as he releases Lena from the dance with an appropriate bow. He doesn't usher her anywhere, but there's an openness to his body language well enough to encompass her if she wants to continue moving with him, as he turns to face Mordecai and Aze behind them in the line of the dancers, and stepping closer to his husband, his hand out in offer to hold. "Did you enjoy the Minuet?"

"Thank you, Colson," Lena says with an appropriate curtsey. She turns with Colson towards Mordecai and Aze, for the moment.

"I enjoyed dancing with Aze," Mordecai says, which doesn't answer the exact question Colson asked, but perhaps answers the more important one.

"Yes, it was such fun," Aze says brightly, and tilts her head towards Mordecai. "Thank you for the dance - you were a wonderful partner."

"He is," Colson agrees, smiling gently at Mordecai.

Mordecai ducks his head and smiles, shy. "Which dance is next?" he asks Colson, finally taking his hand.

"The next dance is the Lordaeron Allemande. Unfortunately, it shares only some similarities between it and the Stormwind Allemande. I believe the Lordaeron one is the older of the two, and it changed when it came to Stormwind,” Colson answers.

Lena looks towards Aze speculatively. "Would you like to dance this next one? Only I don't know how to lead it."

Aze considers, and then shakes her head. "I enjoy dancing with you, Lena, but I'm following today. It's kind of a theme. We could always dance later, if you're not too busy with Mr. Shine. Or if maybe the two of you…"

Lena smiles, and shoots a quick, involuntary glance over at Shine and Isla. "I'll let you know, Aszera, if that's the case."

Colson glances between Lena and Aze, brows raising slightly. He doesn't look over at Shine and Isla because he's a polite young man. It's hard to tell even for Lena if he's curious as to what that meant, and even more obscured to Aze. "The Lordaeron Allemande will be set to an even slower paced music than the Minuet. It will be at an easy conversational beats per minutes," Colson tells Mordecai, giving him the precise beats per minute that the gnome told him. He is not at all impatient for any decisions of partners on the next. "Would you like to get some water first before the next one starts?"

Mordecai sighs. "Well, some similarities is better than none," he says optimistically. "Yes, please, I'd like more water."

"Water," Aze says with a smile, since she is definitely not drinking whiskey this fine afternoon. Give it a few hours. "I'd like to head that way as well."

Colson nods, as he guides them to the water table of the refreshments. "After the Lordaeron Allemande, however, is the Stormwind Waltz, which both you and Aze know well. We will not need to be concerned between the differences of the Stormwind and Lordaeron waltzes, and so we will happily be able to avoid any scandalous ballroom infractions," Colson says to Mordecai and Aze, so seriously that it can only be a joke, a call back to another day of learning Alliance dances.

"Good to hear. I wouldn't want to start a war," Aze says with a flash of a smile, but her words sound a little too nervous for it to be fully a joke.

Lena looks between the three of them curiously.

Mordecai makes a faint noise of amusement. "We can waltz together," he says to Colson happily. "I think… for this next dance I'm going to try… asking someone?" He tilts his head, maybe seeking reassurance or encouragement.

Colson nods in both reassurance and encouragement. "I will save the waltz for you," he says. "We are among friends and acquaintances both, and I believe everyone here would be happy to have an opportunity to dance with you, regardless of the dance." He's extremely biased, of course, but he's also not wrong.

"I'm saving the waltz for Shine, as well," Lena says with a smile, turning to fetch herself some water. "I've no idea on who next, but like you said, we're all friends and acquaintances."

Siamus and Shine are both leaving the dance floor for the refreshments; Shine is moving more slowly because he is focused on Isla, smiling, making some pleasant remark or other. Siamus glances over, sees they are converging but at unequal pace, and gets a certain glint in his eye. He changes course slightly and beelines decisively for the group.

He tips his head in a courteous, absent greeting to the group, and says, "Miss Coit, d'ye have a partner as yet for the next? Because I'd be very glad."

Behind him, Shine looks up sharply. He lifts his one-eyed gaze toward the ceiling and sighs resignedly.

Lena looks up at Siamus and smiles, saying, "Not yet, sir. I'd be happy to dance with you."

He bows gallantly to her, smiling that sly, tilted smile. "I'll collect ye before it then, and thank ye kindly." He moves around the outside edge of the gathered people to get a glass of… whoa. Water.

Isla peeks around to see what everyone is looking at, and doesn't seem to grasp the significance of Siamus asking Lena to dance, except that Mr. Shine has reacted, which means A STORY? SOMETHING PASSING BETWEEN? Now she's interested.

Lena glances after Siamus curiously, and spares a glance over at Shine.

Shine gives Lena a rueful smile as he moves away from Isla and toward her. He stops beside her and touches her back just briefly, a fleeting, silent hello.

Aze gives a brief laugh, and fetches herself some water.

The intensity of Isla's interest only increases as Siamus goes for water. Something! Is! Up! She flits from the group to go towards Finley and Ralaea, halting in distraction however when she sees the fizzy orange drink table. Ooo fizzy drink. One second. She must hydrate with sugar.

Finley/Ralaea

Finley is still smiling a little, a curve of his lips, looking from Ralaea to the rest of the others, quick glances here and there as he moves his head so he doesn't stare at anyone, but can pick up general impressions here and there. He hasn't moved away from her yet. He's watching or waiting for something first.

Ralaea hasn't moved either, and is staring at Finley suspiciously. "That was word magic," she says.

Finley cocks a brow at Ralaea as he looks back to her. "It was what now?" he asks, still amused.

"Word magic," Ralaea repeats. "Avrenne does it too, to direct your thoughts a certain way. But I heard it, this time. You said a nice thing, then put the criticism in the middle, and ended with another nice thing to make me think I did really well." Despite having recognized the criticism, Ralaea's expression is smug. She has cracked word magic.

Possibly to Ralaea's surprise, rather than annoyance at being 'caught', this elicits another genuine laugh from Finley, softer and warmer than his Pleasant Gentleman's Persona, as he leans in to close the gap between their heights. "Right again. Learned from Avrenne herself, broken out just like that. You really are a good student, Rae. And you're paying attention. It's a technique you use when you want someone to not focus on the last. People get defensive if you end on a criticism. So, bit of social maneuvering. But you should know I meant it. I'll not lie to one of the House. We're on the same team, after all, you and me."

Alaisa/Harvey, Brendol/Sintha

"You're quite talented," Alaisa says to Harvey. "Thank you for the dance."

Harvey bows. "You are quite skilled yourself," he says. "It has been some time since I have danced with someone whose steps are so sure."

Alaisa curtseys in turn. "Thank you. I'll be around." With a smile, she turns and moves towards the refreshments table.

Sintha makes a deep, courtly curtsey to Brendol, holding it demurely for a moment, her gaze downcast. Then she bounces upright again and swans from the floor in a sweep of blue velvet, abandoning him in favor of fizzy orange stuff.

Brendol bows in response, and the moment she sweeps away, he lets out a whole-body sigh of relief, and stumbles towards the chairs.

Finley/Ralaea

At the mention of being on a team, Ralaea's expression brightens. "Yeah? Same team, huh." A smile tugs the corners of her lips. "Then should I call you Lieutenant Finley?"

"Lieutenant?" Finley repeats, considering it seriously. He spares a glance at Brendol, noting the young man's relief. He gets you, Bren. Sintha is terrifying in so many ways. To Ralaea he says, "Second-in-command to someone just above me. S'not bad. But, if I'm the lieutenant in this scenario, what's yours?"

"Second…lieutenant?" Ralaea guesses. "But if I'm such a good student, then you have to teach me word magic. I want to use it to elegantly tell that dragon off before I kill him."

Ralaea has, for a moment at least, Finley's fuller attention. "Elegantly, is it?" he says, and while there's still laughter in his voice, it's a conspiratorial one, laughing with her, rather than at her, and it does much to chase away a little shadow that crosses his face at the mention of the dragon. "There's power in vicious mockery, when used right. Word magic isn't to be underestimated. Bet Deathwing's wouldn't expect it either. Doubt he's heard many people tell him off in his life. Could startle him, give someone an opening. And fu — "

He catches the profanity just in time. "Light knows he's owed the stabbing." Seriousness enters back into his eyes. "Personally, from both of us. If you really do want to learn it, the techniques of talking a certain way, I'll teach you what you want to know, Second Lieutenant Ralaea."

Ralaea gives him a rare (from her) salute. "Then I'm counting on you," she says.

Harvey/Isla, Finley/Ralaea

Harvey, meanwhile, has returned to his skulking corner, leaving Bren to sort out his own situation. He smiles faintly, seeing that Ralaea seems to be having fun.

Isla notices the skulking. She sets down her empty glass, and even before she starts stomping enthusiastically walking over to Harvey, her intent and focus are readily apparently. She also looks positively thrilled, as if the thought in her head is so incredible that she can hardly hold it in. And, in fact, she doesn't — even before she's really within polite speaking range, she nearly shouts out, "Mr. Harvey Morningdew, will you do me the honor of the next dance?!" She's flush with the asking — oh! To be sixteen and at one's first party!

The words I’m counting on you have an effect on Finley, and there's a subconscious lifting of his body language, although he doesn't straighten from his bending towards her, and his smile grows a little warmer, his eyes not quite so guarded. He starts to say something, but his attention is almost ripped from her at the sound of Isla's shout of an ask for Harvey to dance. Finley looks between the two, the death knight and the teenager, frowning. "Isla," he mutters under his breath. But he waits.

Harvey is, again, a bit surprised, and looks as though he's about to ask if she is certain. He glances at Ralaea, whose eyes send a dare in his direction. Do it, Harvey. Dance with the wild sunshine girl.

And so Harvey bows, the perfect gentleman, and offers Isla his arm. "It would be my pleasure," he says.

Isla seizes his arm with absolutely no regard for propriety, only pure, unrestrained enthusiasm. "Oh! This is so exciting. Did you know you're the first person I have ever asked to dance with? I didn't even do it in practice with Finley and Otto. I did do it right, didn't I? That's how Avrenne always told Finley to ask it. I can't believe I get to dance with a real death knight. You look ever so dashing in the suit, you know. A perfect match for Rae, with the red. Did you know she was going to wear it because she told you, or did your hearts meet across the distance and you just knew it would be right?"

Harvey might have the strangest thought that he comprehends the concept of an Onslaught in a whole new way.

"You asked wonderfully, I am honored to be your first," Harvey says, attempting to at least not dampen Isla's enthusiasm. "You look quite lovely yourself. Ralaea did not tell me what she would be wearing, but we have known each other for a long time. I am glad to see my feeling was correct."

"Oh, I just knew it," Isla gushes at him, yoinking her hand off him to press both hands to her chest, blushing prettily from the compliment of looking lovely herself. "The way Rae talks about you is ever so romantic. It was really so dashing of you to come by after the Nightmare. You will come more often, won't you? You musn't think of the house as not wanting you here, because you are, by at least two, and probably more." She remembers she's supposed to keep hold of his arm belatedly, and refixes it. "If you came with Bren, then we could all dance together, and Bren and I could get better at it. It's ever so exciting when we have someone interesting in the house."

"I… did not realize you held such an opinion of me," Harvey says. "I would not do the House the discourtesy of visiting uninvited… again. But if you should ever wish for my presence here, I would not decline. Brendol could certainly use the practice, at dancing."

Isla flaps her other hand against her poofy dress with soft thump, thumps. "Oh, I will, since you say so. I think I'd be allowed to invite you, because you're Rae's fiance. We could make Lee teach all the dances." She pouts in the sudden thought. "Although then I suppose we'd have to invite someone else for him. I'm not going to dance with him, it takes all the fun out of it. But, there aren't very many dances that let you have three people dancing together. They should though. I think it would be fun, to go around and around and skippity hoppitying three at a time, or five at a time. They are circle dances, but that's more for larger groups, and they always want even numbers. Did you dance a lot before?"

"I did, yes," Harvey says, his gaze growing distant as he recalls. "My father was set on finding a proper match for me, so I attended many parties and balls in Lordaeron. I learned the Stormwind dances as well, in case I had occasion to visit, and it seems, at last, that effort was not wasted. Would Ralaea not make a it an even pair? She is enjoying her time with Finley now, it seems."

Isla frowns and shakes her head. "It'd be uneven for Lee. Bren and me, Rae and you, and Lee on the outs," she explains. "Someone would always be sitting out or dancing with the air. I do that sometimes, and it's good for dreaming, but it's not as much fun, and I think it would feel terribly lonely and tragic. It'd be like dancing with a ghost!" Okay, but she's not making that sound like she's bummed about it. She's kinda pysched.

Finley relaxes as Harvey offers his arm and nothing seems terribly amiss. The more Isla chatters at him, the more Finley shakes his head though, with an exasperated, "There she goes," and eventually he has to turn back to Ralaea to avoid getting involved. "Well, if you'd like a lesson now, the next dance isn't bad for it. It's a conversation type dance, repetitive enough to make it easier to talk. If there's no one else you'd rather go with, that is. Would you like the next dance with me, Second Lieutenant?"

"I would be honored, Lieutenant," Ralaea says, dipping into a curtsy. She's getting better at them, and it shows. Her expression, one of satisfaction, has nothing to do with the curtsy, though. They've invented code names.

Alaisa/Colson/Mordecai/Lena/Aze

Mordecai sips quietly at a glass of water, looking around at the crowd.

"Don't you two Aspenwoods look lovely together," Alaisa says, smiling at them both. "Lord Colson, would you care to dance with me?"

Mordecai blushes and mumbles a thank you, looking down.

Colson seems briefly startled, just a blink and a pause that gives it away, before he gives her a bow. "Of course, Lady Alaisa," he says. "I would be honored."

"Wonderful. I'll be back before the dance begins, I'll just be heading to the powder room," Alaisa reassures him. "Ah, Lena, do you happen to know where it is?"

"Oh, yes, let me show you," Lena says, gesturing for Alaisa to follow her.

Alaisa curtsies to the Aspenwoods and sweeps off to walk beside Lena. "Thank you," she says, but does not link arms the way she might with someone more familiar to her.

Lena does not attempt to link arms with Alaisa, as she might someone more familiar with her, as she guides Alaisa towards the door of the ballroom. "It's not so far, but it's always easier to show than tell."

Aze's attention seems to be elsewhere, but she smiles as Alaisa and Colson agree on a dance. Then she straightens, holding her glass of water, and says, "I think I've spotted my next partner, if I can get to her first. Well, and if she agrees, which why wouldn't she? See you on the dance floor."

Aze/Sintha

Aze steps over to intercept Sintha Fallon by the fizzy drinks, a friendly smile on her face. With careful politeness, at least careful for Aze, she says, "Lady Sintha? Would you care to dance with me?"

Sintha whirls toward Aze as though she has never been so startled by anything in her life, and then lights up as though she's never been so delighted. As though Aze were a kind of surprise fireworks show for her birthday or something.

"Miss Sunstrike. I would be delighted." She beams.

Aze's own smile widens in response to Sintha's theatrics. "I should warn you that I don't know the Allemande, but I don't think it matters. I'm sure I'll pick it up quickly enough. Will you lead?"

"I will absolutely. But I understand you're quite a talent, Miss Sunstrike," Sintha says kindly. Sintha-kindly.

"Oh, I am. I prefer honesty to humility," Aze says, Aze-kindly. It is probably more kind than Sintha-kindly? "As far as I can tell, though, you're an excellent dancer yourself. And it seems we have a number of mutual friends."

Sintha reaches out and sets her hand lightly on Aze's forearm. "I also prefer honesty to humility. And which friends in particular are those? Not Shay, of course, he's not a friend."

"A brother isn't a friend?" Aze asks, her tone all innocence. "I'm not saying a brother would be a good friend, but we might speak simply of friends. Like Miss Lenaire and Lady Alaisa, for instance."

"Well naturally not a good friend, stars, you don't think us all Westfall Strange over here, do you? But Shay is a miserable beast, honestly. Miss Lenaire and Lady Alaisa, though, are both darlings." Sintha beams and throws back the last of her orange fizzy drink like it's a shot of tequila.

Aze laughs at that last, at the idea of grouping Alaisa and Isla into the same category of people. "They are both darlings, certainly, in their own ways. Your brother has plenty to recommend him to my mind, but I do know how things go with siblings. I have a sister myself."

"Absolutely do not think to recommend my brother, Miss Sunstrike. I assure you — I've known the man for thirty years. I've heard of your sister, I believe. That is, not specifically that she's your sister, but I imagine that even Shay can only know a limited number of sin'dorei ladies named Sunstrike." Sintha slips her arm through Aze's to draw her out onto the floor.

"You never know, it might be an incredibly common surname in Quel'thalas," Aze says blithely, letting Sintha draw her out onto the floor. She does not clarify whether it is a common surname in Quel'thalas. "But yes, your brother and my sister are acquainted. They are not good friends, however, as she is both married and dead. She can still be quite charming, though, for a certain definition of charm."

Alaisa/Lena

The powder room is very easy to find - right across the hall from the ballroom, as it happens. "Thank you," Alaisa says to Lena. "I did mean to ask. The last we spoke, you were looking for a suitor. Are you and Mr. Shine…?"

Lena turns to Alaisa in faint surprise at the interest. "Yes. We're courting, after a fashion."

"Oh, that's wonderful news," Alaisa says, sounding very genuine. "Congratulations. Is that something you'd like to stay private for now?"

Lena considers that one. "I don't think our attachment needs to be kept private. I expect people have noticed, in any case."

"Just thought I'd check," Ally says, and grins at her. "I'm not much of a gossip, but I wouldn't want to spill a secret of yours by accident. Enjoy the dancing, mm?"

Lena smiles back, after a slight hesitation. "Thank you for the consideration. I wouldn't want to spill any of yours, either, or those of your friends."

Alaisa grins at her, gives her a playful mock-salute that's a little bit more like a wave than a salute, and disappears into the powder room.

Lena pauses for a moment, then turns to head back into the ballroom and find her partner, the Admiral.

Mordecai/Colson

Joelle has drifted over to a window and is peering out. The last dance wasn't a huge enough exertion to warrant more water and risk the consequences of too much hydration.

Mordecai draws Colson's hand up and kisses his knuckles, very polite. "I'm going to go ask," he says, smiling.

Colson nods. "Of course. Would you like me to stay here, or would you prefer me to come with you?" he asks.

"You can stay," Mordecai says bravely. "I love you." He releases Colson and sets determinedly off towards Elle.

"I love you," Colson echoes. And then Colson stays.

Siamus/Shine/Lena

Siamus returns to the remainder of the group. He looks in the direction Lena and Aze disappeared, and then innocently at Shine.

"Don't be an arse," Shine says quietly, but he's smiling.

"When am I ever?" asks Siamus with wounded affront.

Siamus turns to scan the ballroom, and then says equably to Shine, "Have ye got someone yourself?"

Shine shakes his head genially. "I'll sit it out. Keep Westwind company or something."

Siamus arrests his water glass partway to his lips and gives Shine a sidelong look, his brows knit. He lowers the glass, leans in and says something quietly in the other man's ear.

Shine laughs and shakes his head, and Siamus draws back, studies him a moment longer, and nods.

Siamus spots Lena’s reentrance. He tips back the last of his water, sets the glass aside, and puts a hand briefly on Shine's shoulder, then moves toward the front of the room, smiling at Lena. "Are ye ready, Miss Coit?" he asks, and offers her his arm.

Shine ambles over to the chairs and drops into one not next to Brendol but one seat over.

"Yes, sir," Lena says, taking his arm with a smile. "I think I probably know this one, or well enough like it, so I'm not likely to trip over your ankles.

Siamus laughs. "I don't believe there'd be much risk of that. Ye looked very well on the floor wi' Shine."

Lena smiles, and there's enough levity in her tone that it's clearly meant to be a joke when she says, "I certainly hope you're not saying I did not with Lord Colson."

"I'm afraid I was looking chiefly at Lord Colson for that one," Siamus says, extremely gravely. There's that gleam in his gaze.

Lena laughs. "I could not blame you for that. But yes, Shine and I have practiced a little, in advance."

"Have ye?" says Siamus, arching a brow. "I recall Miss Sunstrike and I both promised to practice with ye, and I fear I've been negligent. But Shine's probably the preferable partner, as well." He smiles at Lena. His brow is still arched like a question.

"Miss Sunstrike and I practiced as well," Lena says, answering probably the wrong question in Siamus's words. "I think she was concerned she might be out of practice, after so long at war."

"Mm." Siamus nods. "Then I'm the only one remiss. I beg your pardon. And it was kind of ye to dance wi' Miss Sunstrike, in that case." He casts a look around for Aze, finds her on Sintha's arm, and pauses for a moment to cast a narrow-eyed look at his sister.

Sintha gives him a little wiggle-fingers wave.

Mordecai/Elle

Mordecai steps up beside Elle, glancing out the window before turning to the other man. "Hello," he says. "I'm glad I'm not the only man who didn't wear a suit today," he says. "I really like your outfit."

"Mordecai," Joelle greets, turning from the window. He remembers the name. There is no smile on his face, but his gaze is warm, as is his tone, enough that it's easy to imagine the smile being present.

"Elle." Mordecai does not seem intimidated by him, but he hesitates. "You… remind me a bit of how I used to be," he says. "I never spoke to anyone unless they spoke to me first. I didn't… talk much."

Joelle reaches out almost instinctively to pat Mordecai's hair. "You're a kind person," he says. "I can tell."

Mordecai smiles at him. "So are you, I think. I can tell. Would you like to dance? Um, with me?"

Joelle nods, his hair ornament jingling. "I would love to," he says. "Your robe looks good on you."

"Thank you." Mordecai ducks his head a little. "You can, um, talk to me. And you won't get in trouble for anything. Colson is safe, too."

Joelle studies Mordecai. "Then if I upset you, or make you uncomfortable, will you tell me? I don't mean to, but sometimes…"

"Yes," Mordecai agrees immediately. "And you can tell me, too. If I do that. And if I ask a question you don't want to answer, you don't have to answer it."

"Oh," says Joelle, as though he has never considered the idea of not answering a question before. "Okay." He offers Mordecai his arm, to lead him onto the floor. "Have you done this dance before?"

Colson stands by the water table, watching Mordecai and Elle, and waiting patiently for his dance partner to return from the powder room.

Alaisa returns before the instruction begins, her curly hair now a little neater. She heads for Colson, looking from him to Mordecai and Elle across the room.

Fourth Dance: The Allemande

As Finley notes the partnering starting to take shape again, watching in covert glances, he nods to Ralaea, and takes a deliberate step back as he raises his voice to be more easily heard by the group. "This next is the Lordaeron Allemande, which developed out of the Minuet, so you'll likely notice a lot of the same concepts, but a lot closer to a partner. When it first came out, it kicked up a bit of tittering of it being somewhat scandalous, but I assure you that it eventually rose up into propriety and acceptance. Like a lot of things do when they first arrive, and then people become accustomed to them." Is there a particular message in that? Maybe.

Once more, Finley starts with instruction over the steps themselves, one at a time, built piece by piece, using the proper names for them, and any mnemonic he knows for them. He breaks the dance down into three parts that repeat, demonstrating first the footwork alone, and then with the arm movements. He watches for where people have lost their place, or struggle with a step, repeating those again. He's sweating from dancing and talking, the flush of his cheekbones redder, and he tugs once at his collar before he can stop himself. He probably would like to do things like take off some of his suit, roll up his sleeves, and take off the cravat but he doesn't.

"We're practicing dancing now," Lena says, as they practice the steps Finley outlines. "And as Her Grace would say, this is a simple gathering of friends."

Siamus's smile is warm and genuine. "Aye, we are. And just as Her Grace says — friends." He studies Lena thoughtfully.

Lena notices the scrutiny, and says, "Is there something the matter?"

Siamus smiles at her again. "Not at all. Quite the opposite."

"Good news I haven't heard?" Lena asks, with an innocent smile. Who knows? Maybe the Fallons are expecting again.

He laughs. "Not at all. I'm having a pleasant time. Are you?"

"Yes, I would say so," Lena nods. "It was an excellent idea, to hold a dance. Perhaps I'll use the training at balls in the future."

"Perhaps we should have a ball in the future," Siamus observes.

Siamus, you do not enjoy attending balls. What are you doing?

Lena smiles warmly. "It won't be too long until it truly will be one for Isla in society, will it?"

Siamus stops smiling and gets kind of a Dad Face. "Isla is 16," he says seriously. "It will be two years at least. Possibly four." (It is clear he has voted for four.)

"Well, I've waited longer for dancing at balls before," Lena says, with a touch of amusement at his protective sense for Isla. "But I take your meaning. Maybe we don't wait four years for Isla, to attend the next ball."

He laughs softly. "No, maybe we don't. In a few months, perhaps — the spring. I should speak with Her Grace."

Mordecai pays keen attention to Finley's instructions.

Mordecai takes Elle's arm. He looks across the room at Colson with a big smile - look, I have succeeded in my social encounter! - before turning back to Elle. "I've done… Well, I've done the Stormwind Allemande. I haven't done this version."

"Then we are both learning," Joelle says. He does not seem bothered by that at all.

"Do you want to lead, or do you want me to lead?" Mordecai whispers to Elle as Finley instructs them. "I don't mind doing either."

"I can lead," Joelle says after a moment of careful consideration. "But if you want to, I am happy to follow."

"Do you have a preference?" Mordecai asks him. "If you do, we should do that one. If you don't, we could play rock-paper-scissors."

"My friend told me I'm a top," Joelle volunteers. Maybe he thinks that might be significant somehow.

Mordecai slow-blinks at Elle. "But for dancing," he whispers. "Do you prefer one over the other? Or do you like leading and following both equally? It's all right if you need to think about it. And you can be honest. There's no 'right' answer."

Oh," says Joelle. "I like them equally. Dancing is nice."

Mordecai smiles, pleased by the answer. "All right. Why don't you lead this time, since you're a little taller than I am?"

Joelle nods. "I will lead, then," he says. Mordecai's smile makes his gaze even warmer.

Colson smiles back at Mordecai, as he escorts Alaisa to a place for the dance. It's clear and obvious immediately that Colson knows the dance well, and he's a graceful partner, very willing to support his partner so they can show off more than him.

"Do you know this one?" Alaisa asks Colson. "I do, but it's been some time since I've danced it."

"It is the same for me," Colson answers. "Do you dance as a hobby?"

"Just for fun, and at occasions," Alaisa says. "I've danced with Aszera before. She's quite good."

"Ah, I see. As have I. We did an exchange of dances some time ago when we were in Outland. We taught her the Stormwind Promenade and the Stormwind Waltz, and learned the amar'uel from her. It was interesting and rewarding both," Colson says, the calmness of his tone and the neutrality of his face making the enthusiasm a little difficult to see, but it's there.

There is a moment when Harvey's gentlemanly charm slips as he considers summoning a ghoul to dance with, but he forces away the grin that threatens to pull across his face, and nods. "I see. He did invite that gentleman for today… Joelle? Ralaea is familiar with him as well."

"He did, but I didn't know that Lee knew the man very well. We were in the play together, but Elle, oh, that is, Mr. Ebek, was the lead and we didn't really have any scenes with him directly, and we didn't talk behind the stage. You have to be very quiet behind the stage, did you know? Did you see the play? It was the Briarthorn Witch, and I was one of the wicked villagers and I got to be part of a mob, it was so thrilling. Elle was the hero, and did it so well. I really believed him. But I suppose he and Lee must have become friends after. Rae talks about him at dinner sometimes when she talks about training with Miralynn. That's his mother." Isla is paying no attention to Finley whatsoever. She does know this one already. How well she will do it, and how much she could probably use a refresher is irrelevant because her dance partner has seized her whole attention.

During a moment when Finley has stopped talking, Ralaea steps closer to him and whispers, "I could 'accidentally' dump some water on you, if you want."

Finley leans down again. "You could what?" he asks, half a laugh. It clicks a moment after he asks it. "Ah, like a bucket of water mid-training sparring session? It's a kind thought, but I'm alright. Just a tad warm. But if I change my mind, I'll give you a signal. I'll tap my head three times with my forefinger, and that means find a way to toss some water at me." He doesn't tap his forehead, and instead pulls out a handkerchief from an inner pocket, and swipes it over his face.

Ralaea seems perhaps oddly enthusiastic about the idea that she might get to throw water at Finley, and she nods. "Got it. I'll be watching."

Finley looks over the dancers one more time, picking up where people have moved into practicing the dance and talking easily, and others where he's got a feeling that's probably as good as it'll get at the moment, and he glances down again at Ralaea. "Alright. Remember, your footwork leads the rest of you, if you have to focus on one or the other. I can easily reposition your arms into place, or move us closer, but I can't do anything about your feet from up here."

At that, he looks over to Siamus for the signal to start the music.

Siamus glances over to catch Finley's eye, nods, and turns to signal the band.

The music for the Allemande is a lovely cello suite, deep and rich for it, and with slow suggestions and brighter flashes of fluttering like a heartbeat, especially compared to the others before it, making the dance even more intimate than the positioning already suggests. The pace is more than easy to have a conversation with, and also easier to slowly perform the steps for those who aren't as familiar with them. With less of the band, it also may be for some, easier to let fade into the background, the dance itself more interesting, and their partner their heightened focus.

Colson/Alaisa

"You know, Aszera and I were both up on the Scryers' Tier at the same time and I never actually met her in person until I came to Northrend?" Alaisa comments idly to Colson, moving through the steps of the Lordaeron Allemande with elegance and confidence. "It's so hard to find the time to be everywhere at once."

"Ah, the eternal conundrum of only being one person. Unfortunately, I can attest that attempting to use a transporter error to create copies of oneself usually results in the creation of an evil twin, rather than a helpful multiple placement," Colson says, extremely seriously, but there's a lighting flash of a wink, so fast that maybe it was just him blinking some dust out of his eye?

"My," Alaisa says, "I cannot possibly determine who between you and Lady Cressidha would be the evil twin. Neither of you strikes me as the type."

"Ah, that is because we have a third, a triplet, to take off the pressure of either of us being evil," Colson says in that overly serious tone.

Alaisa chuckles. "That would do it."

"I hope your family has been well? I know it has not been an easy few years. I heard about what happened with your youngest brother, Lord Theris," Colson says gently, giving the old proper title out of respect.

"It has not been an easy few years for anyone," Alaisa says. "The past few weeks have been well enough, I suppose. Theris was glad to be permitted back into the palace for Remembrance Day. He hopes for his role as a librarian back, eventually, but for now he is living in Duskwood, sheltering Alliance worgen and helping to protect them from the feral worgen common in the area."

Alaisa is definitely listening to as many conversations as she can possibly hear.

"Oh?" Colson says, a genuine note of interest in his calm voice. "That is very well done of him. I wish him well on his path. I am well aware that for many in the Ebon Blade, there is no way back to who or what they were, and it is a difficult path they walk going forwards. I believe that redemption, however they may define it personally to themselves, is achievable for many who commit themselves to it."

Alaisa smiles at Colson. "I know Mr. and Mrs. Sunstrike have taken up near Redridge, helping the Alliance patrol the roads to the north. And of course there is Sir Morningdew here, though I can't speak for what he's been doing."

There's a telltale hitch in Colson's graceful dancing, and a brief fumble of the steps. "I — ah, Roper is — " He clears his throat, rapidly assimilating that information. "I was, ah, not aware he was staying so locally. I would have thought with…" He trails off, glancing over at Aze. Some things are starting to click. "Hm." Colson smooths out the dance, inclining his head to Alaisa. "Forgive me, that was unexpected to hear, but not unwelcome news. Of course I am glad to hear that he and his wife have found a purpose that they are following, and that they are settling well where they will not be separated by certain lines should it come to war with the Horde."

Alaisa does not miss a beat. "Oh, it's fine, you're fine. How have you been? What does Cobalt Company have you up to?"

"I have been well. I am part of Blue Squad, currently," Colson answers, back to all grace, a lead more than willing to let his partner shine with skill. "Alongside Dane, Cressidha, Sil, and Azizia."

"And I read the newsletters, of course," Alaisa says. She translates them. Of course she does. "Anything interesting happening that hasn't made it into those?"

"Interesting?" Colson echoes. He considers this for a moment. "Ah, yes, of course. We have discovered a form of written language that is not based on Common's alphabet. It seems in some places they use pictures as a form of language. We were able to decipher one by taking literally as instructions through the pictures."

"Pictograms? Is that the writing of the tol'vir, do you suppose?" Alaisa looks quite interested. "Have they indicated that they have their own language at all?"

"I have not heard any. They have used Common speaking to us, and among themselves around us," Colson says.

"Oh, do ask, please, if you get the opportunity? I would love to know." Alaisa breaks out the puppy dog eyes, which are probably totally unnecessary. "I don't have the time to go wandering around a desert without a specific goal in mind, myself. I barely even have the time to be here."

"Of course. I will ask at the next opportunity," Colson promises with a faint smile. "It is very warm, the Uldum desert, if you do think to perhaps take time to visit in the future. They refer to Tanaris as the 'frigid lands.'"

"Light, what a nightmare, you must be positively cooking in all your armor." Alaisa laughs.

Colson inclines his head in agreement. "Cressidha does much for our comfort, as much as she may, and Dane and I are aware of the dangers of the desert, from a military tactical standpoint. Perhaps we learn more from the tol'vir how they manage in the heat."

"I am sorry to have you talking about work in your free time," Alaisa says. "I am just insatiably curious, I always have been. I heard from Lady Cressidha what happened to your home, and I'm dreadfully sorry about it. Do you and Lord Mordecai plan to move elsewhere?"

"Yes, we do. It will likely be in the city, given the necessity of a central location for Cobalt Company's deployments, but we are aware of other options, including possibilities in Outland," Colson answers. "I do not mind speaking of work. As long as it does not bore you, that is. Ah, there was one other race that we have encountered that you may have some interest in. They are called 'pygmies,' and I do believe they have an entirely separate language. They are, unfortunately, not an ally of either the tol'vir or ours, more in line with kobolds in many ways. However, the tol'vir must be aware of their general habits and communication, being in close proximity. Would you like me to ask after that one as well?"

"Bore me? That's impossible." Alaisa brightens further. Pygmies… with a new language. Target acquired. "Oh! That would be lovely, yes, thank you, please do."

"Of course," Colson says, still with that faint smile, more in his eyes than on his lips.

As Isla leaves her position on the dance floor, Alaisa turns to watch her. "Oh, there she goes," she says fondly, but when Siamus stops her, she returns her attention to the last notes and steps of the Allemande, and then sweeps an appropriate curtsy to Colson. "Thank you for the dance."

Colson bows in return. "It was my honor, thank you."

Elle/Mordecai

"Do you know Aze - Aszera Sunstrike?" Mordecai asks. "My husband and I were invited because we know her." And for political reasons, because why do a thing for just one reason when you can do it for two? But that doesn't seem to be important to Mordecai.

Joelle shakes his head. "I don't know her," he says. "I know Finley. Do you know Finley?"

"No, I don't," Mordecai admits. "He's a good teacher, though."

Joelle nods. "He's very kind," he says. "You are… an Aspenwood? I went to an Aspenwood wedding. As a guard."

"I am." Mordecai smiles a little dreamily. "I married into the family. You might have gone to Ma— to Lord Bertrand's wedding? If it was recently? He's Colson's older brother. And I'm Colson's husband." Mordecai cannot look over at his husband to smile dreamily at him without being very awkward about it, because his back is to him in the dance, so he does not look, but he still smiles dreamily.

"Lord Bertrand," Joelle says, nodding. "One of Natalyah's friends. Do you know Natalyah? Maybe you can introduce me to your husband, later. We…" He ducks his head, a little timidly, before saying, "We could all be friends."

"I don't know Natalyah," Mordecai says apologetically. "Um, but I'll introduce you to Colson after this dance! I'd like that."

"I can introduce you to Finley, too," Joelle says, the smile faintly appearing on his face. "If you want."

"A-all right," Mordecai agrees bravely. "Um, what do you… do? When you're not dancing? I'm, um, Cobalt Company's chaplain."

"Cobalt Company," Joelle says, his eyes nearly sparkling with interest. "I admire your Company. I work for the Stormwind Guard. We hear many good things about Cobalt."

"I live in Stormwind," Mordecai says. "Thank you for helping keep our city safe."

"I… I'm sorry about the dragon," Joelle says, the tiniest amount of shame flitting into his expression.

"Oh," Mordecai says, and bites his lip. "Me, too. But you couldn't have really prepared for the dragon. Nobody knew until it happened."

"That's kind of you to say," Joelle says, a tentative warmth returning, possibly to put Mordecai at ease. "We'll do better."

Mordecai nods. "What made you, um, want to join the guard?" He is following very well, as it happens. This variant of the dance seems easier for him to have adjusted to than the minuet, which he didn't know at all.

"My father is in the Royal Guard," Joelle answers. He, himself, seems to have picked up the dance fairly quickly. "He was in the army, before that. What did you do before Cobalt Company?"

"When I was ten, my parents sent me to the priesthood," Mordecai says. "They didn't care whether I would have wanted to go or not. It was, um, family tradition, for the fourth son. So I went. I'm very lucky that I turned out to like it, but I wouldn't have had a choice back then if I'd wanted to do something else. I was engaged to, um, Lady Cressidha Aspenwood, Colson's twin, when we were both teenagers. I didn't want to marry her. So at eighteen I joined the army as a chaplain. And I was there for… years. Longer than I should have been. Before Cressidha, um, Lady Cressidha wrote to me. I didn't really know what to do when I was back in Stormwind. Colson found me. He suggested that I could join Cobalt Company."

Joelle nods in understanding about family tradition. "You joined the army to avoid marrying? That's brave," he says. "The army… it must have been difficult. People die. But then you married your husband."

Mordecai smiles sheepishly. "I joined it to stall as long as I could," he admits. "I didn't think there was any way I could have gotten out of the contract entirely. Not until Colson - he offered to marry me instead. And I loved him. It was… the best possible situation. The army was difficult, of course, but… things have been better, comparatively, with Cobalt Company. Do you, um. Do you like being part of the Stormwind Guard?"

Joelle takes a moment to compute the question. "I like Ren," he says eventually. "And Lathrik. And helping people." He nods. "Yes. I like it. I'm happy everything worked out well for you."

"That's good. I'm glad. Me too." Mordecai stumbles a little and quickly recovers his place. "Um, I mean, that everything worked out for you too. But also for me. Yes.”

Joelle slows to help Mordecai ease back into the dance after the stumble, possibly automatically. "Finding good people makes everything better," he says, his eyes a warm smile.

"Exactly," Mordecai says. "You understand."

"Is Aszera one of those people for you?" Joelle asks.

"Mmhm." Mordecai can't look at her, because his back is to her, but he smiles. "It's good to see her here."

Joelle seems to take Mordecai's words as high praise, and a sense of curiosity enters his eyes. "How did you meet?"

"Well, Colson met her first, and he gave her our address in case she needed help, and she came to the inn we were staying at in Telaar for, um, medical advice. But then she stayed for dinner, and we talked, and she offered us dancing lessons." Mordecai smiles fondly. "So she came back to teach us."

"Dancing lessons," Joelle repeats brightly. "Do you like dancing? I'm having fun. It's my first time, with others."

"I do. I didn't like it much when I was younger, because it was about, um, trying to be good at something? And I'm kind of clumsy. But once I started dancing with people I actually wanted to dance with, who wouldn't get upset if I did it wrong, well, it's fun." Mordecai does seem to be having fun.

Joelle nods his understanding. "I don't think you would like dancing with my mother," he says. "But don't worry, she's not here. Dancing is best if it's fun."

Dancing is best if it's fun. Mordecai seems a little surprised when the music ends. Seven minutes is a long dance. "Thank you," he says, and bows to Elle. "That was fun. Come, I'll introduce you to Colson." This time he offers Elle his arm.

Joelle bows in return, and happily takes Mordecai's arm. "Thank you," he says, ready to be led. He does spare a glance in Finley's direction, to check on him, perhaps.

Siamus/Lena

Siamus's smile returns. "Naturally Mr. Shine will be invited. We couldn't let him miss it."

"Naturally," Siamus observes blandly to Lena, "I expect all we'd have to do to ensure his attendance is tell him you'll be there."

"That might do the trick," Lena says, equally blandly.

"The pair of ye make a very fetching couple," Siamus observes, and arches a brow at Lena. He is clearly prodding.

Shine, seated at the edge of the ballroom with a glass of whiskey and his legs stretched out comfortably before him, is watching Siamus with resigned amusement. He knows you're prodding, dude.

"I'm pleased you think so," Lena says, with an amused smile. "There's a lot the two of us stand to learn from one another."

"I think there might be, aye," Siamus agrees. He is silent for a couple of steps, then considers Lena's face again. "You're not going to tell me anything either, are ye?" He sighs. He is so put upon, so oppressed by circumspection.

Lena laughs, surprised by the sudden change in tack. "I'm not sure… what do you want to know?"

Siamus lights up like a kid on Winter Veil morning, if that kid celebrated Winter Veil. "Tides be praised, anything. Ye know I've — ye know I've a great respect for privacy, Miss Coit," he adds piously, "but sixteen years the man's a brother to me and yet won't breathe a word. And I know he's been after ye for a dog's age."

"Well," Lena says, pausing to consider what part of anything to reveal. She finally settles on, "I suppose he's caught me. What happens beyond that remains to be seen."

Siamus glances over and arches a brow at Finley's a misstep and briefly raised voice. He contemplates the pair a moment — what did you do, Ralaea, and on a scale of 1 to 10 how funny was it? — before looking back down at Lena and breaking into a wide, boyish smile. "Well, I congratulate the both of ye, then. I can't say which of ye's done better in the match."

"I'm sorry if I've disappointed Her Grace," Lena says, biting her lip. "I know she was trying to set me up with folk at the wedding, and maybe some balls soon, and I've… oh, there's no rules about chastity for folk as aren't nobles, is there?"

Oh my Tidemother, Lena, you have just made Siamus's afternoon. He looks briefly so overcome by glee that he almost forgets to answer her questions, casting a triumphant look over at Shine.

Shine sips whiskey and looks inscrutable.

Siamus clears his throat. "There are not rules, no. Especially if the persons involved, like the pair of ye — " He visibly considers how Indiscreet it might be to refer to what he knows of various people's sexual histories. "Ye know. And I am confident Her Grace will be delighted."

"Oh, good," Lena says with a relieved smile. "That I've not broken any rules not meaning, and that she'd be delighted. I think she and Mr. Shine are something of friends, aren't they?"

Siamus nods to Lena. "Aye, they are. Shine's rather… family, to us. Her Grace and I both wish only the best for him." He smiles at Lena again warmly. "And as ye know, everyone in this house thinks very well of you, also."

"As I think very well of them, of course," Lena says, her own smile warm. And there's only the slightest twinge of worry, as she adds, "I don't intend to give any of you cause to regret it."

"I can't imagine ye would, Miss Coit," Siamus tells her. "We know ye well enough for trust by now, wouldn't ye say?"

Lena hesitates, then nods. "Well enough for trust, on both sides."

Siamus's gaze is warm. "I'm very glad to hear it," he tells her. "Perhaps we'll be privileged to count ye rather like family yourself, someday."

Siamus, no, stop. Shine will murder you in your sleep.

"Wouldn't that be something," Lena says, with her own inscrutable smile.

Inscrutability, right. Siamus resumes his own bland, faintly-smiling expression. He can't resist casting a single look — a grin and a raised eyebrow — over at Shine.

Shine sighs inaudibly and slides down in his chair to put his head on the back of it and gaze at the ceiling.

Finley/Ralaea

"If you could, I'd be worried about what other magic you know," Ralaea says.

"Well, we've established I've got a touch of Word Magic, so there's one. I've the magic of being able to blank my face, so you can't tell what I'm thinking, a butler trick. I've the magic of … knowing how to make myself less noticeable, blend in, especially places that are shadowed, so I just look less interesting," Finley tells her. "Not sure what else you might call magic, but I've a head for watching people. Was trained to it, as a butler. You have to learn how to anticipate a need from your House, and pay attention to the staff. The butler is in charge of most of the household, usually alongside a housekeeper. You have to know your people, and make sure they work right together. A Lieutenant position, in the household."

"Tabiana's like that," Ralaea says. "But even she can't control someone's footwork, so if you could, I'd have to search you for shadow tentacles or something."

"Tentacles?" Finley repeats, half-laughing. "I'm not Kul Tiran. I'm a Lordaeron man." And indeed, his accent is stronger, sounding more like a city born man of Lordaeron than the smoothed out almost-Stormwind accent he often has. "If I was to have shadow anything, I'd have shadow proper gloved hands or maybe a fancy walking cane with a curved handle or something. And I don't, to be clear, have any extra shadow anything, so no need to search me for them." Do not go through his pockets, Ralaea. There are so many things he's hiding in there. And in the lining of his coats and his pants and tucked against his ankle and —

"So, your word magic against Deathwing. If what you're wanting is something to tear him down a peg, shake him up a little, do you know the first step in that kind of stab?" Finley asks.

Ralaea sneaks a suspicious look in Siamus's direction. Thankfully, it's hard to keep her attention on both scanning for hidden tentacles, and keeping her footwork in line, and she is forced to stop.

"No," Ralaea admits. "I don't know his last name. I think calling him Mr. Deathwing wouldn't do what I want it to."

Finley laughs again, that softer, lower laugh. "No, but you've the right general idea with the Mr. Menethil, because you're thinking right that he'd know it's an insult. That's the first trick." His voice is deeper, and he pitches it carefully to not travel, a private conversation among a group of people. "Know what someone else would find insulting.

“Like you and I might look at Deathwing's shredded wings and think, well that looks terrible, not at all nice like other dragons have. But to someone like Deathwing, calling himself the 'Destroyer?' They might be a mark of pride. So, you go deeper. What's he think he is? Strong, powerful, important. And you tear him down at those. You mock with things like, 'the world moved on and half forgot you, all those years you spent thinking of us, we didn't think of you at all. And when you're gone, you'll be another forgotten Aspect, a footnote in history, that no one remembers and no one fears.'" Jeez, Finley. It's an afternoon dance party.

"So…" Ralaea takes a moment to consider. "I could call him Lifewing?"

Finley grins at her as he guides them into one of the closer arm positions. "There you go, now you're thinking in the right direction. Word magic. Compare him to the Lifebringer, remind him that he's not as good or strong as her. Lifewing the what though? Tear him down another peg from 'Destroyer.'"

"Sometimes farmers burn fields to make them more fertile," Ralaea says, looking up at Finley, perhaps for approval. "So, really, he's just making sure things grow back better. Is that one? Should I tell him that?"

Finley clicks his tongue, all open grinning. Even the habitual guarded look in his eyes is barely there. "Ah, very clever. I like that. Not succeeding in destroying anything? Sounds like what he'd hate to hear. Although that — " Something catches on the amusement, a frown crossing his face as he maybe reconsiders something else, thinking hard about it. He brushes up his Pleasant Persona over his face a beat after. Face Magic.

"That what?" Ralaea asks, patiently (for now.) The way she eyes him seems like she might be considering shaking him a little to see what falls out.

So many things would fall out of Finley. He looks for a moment like he's about to say one thing, a pleasant gentleman who doesn't think things deeply, but something must change his mind, because instead he keeps the face on, but his voice is conspiratorially low.

"It just reminded me of something. Remembrance Day just past? The assassination attempt on the king, made him late, yeah? That Archbishop got up and made a fu — a really weird speech. One of the things he said was the world was being 'cleansed' by divine fire, and that we'd remember these days as a crucible from which a new age would be born. I just had the weird feeling just now, from what you said, that…" He hesitates, a hunch to his shoulders, like he's just waiting for Ralaea to shut him down.

He whispers, "What if he wasn't talking about the Church or the Light, but what if he was talking about Deathwing? Like he admired what the dragon's doing, and he wants everything to burn so he can have a new world order from it?"

"Sounds culty," Ralaea says, without hesitation. "He could've said something else, like… Divine Power, or Divine Light, or you know… forget about the whole cleansing bit? It's one thing if we're doing the cleansing, but we're kind of not right now. Besides, who even asked for a new age? The old one was just fine."

"For us normal people? Maybe. For cultists though, especially Twilight's Hammer? They've been losing all this time. And you're right. It does sound culty. But if we've got an archbishop that's turned, that's…" Finley looks over at Siamus. But he shakes his head, pushes up a smile into place. "It's just a feeling. I don't have any evidence." He straightens up, focuses back on the dance, that lighter tone. "What was that you were looking over at Fallon for, just before? You're not checking for tentacles are you? Fallon's not got any shadows, limbs or tentacles. Although, if he did have a shadow sort, I'd put money on it being a tentacle."

Ralaea gazes at Finley suspiciously. "So, you've seen him naked, then?"

Finley, for the first time, actually stumbles in the dance, fu — messing up his footwork and nearly sending them tumbling to the floor, before he gets them back into rhythm. "I — what? No!" He's too loud. He clears his throat, and lowers his voice. "Of course not, Ralaea. I'm — just — what kind of stupid question is that?" Uh oh. Pleasant Gentleman Finley has temporarily left the building. This is the other Finley. The one who argues with Isla.

"I'm just saying, if you haven't, then how do you know he doesn't?" Ralaea asks, struggling to recover from his sudden missteps. "And it's not a stupid question."

Finley practically forces them back into correct timing and positioning. "Yes, it really is. He's married to Avrenne, and holds my wardship in joint. It's even in their contract, that — " A slight hitch. "We're considered essentially as children to them both. So, no, I've not seen him naked, and I'm not going to. None of us wards are. And I know he doesn't because shadow tentacles aren't a thing, and he's not got that kind of power." It's a bickering sort of tone. Finley, reel it in, buddy.

"I didn't ask if you did anything," Ralaea says defensively. "But sometimes men take off their shirts around each other. And by the way, shadow tentacles are a thing, I've seen them." Finley might get water dumped on him for a different reason, now.

Whatever Finley was going to say about men taking their shirt off around each other not being the same as being naked together gets lost in the other part. "You — you what? They're what?" he asks instead. He eyes her with caution. "What do you mean you've seen them? Where? Like what?"

"Like Old God voidy stuff," Ralaea says. "I don't think Siamus has that kind, if he had any it'd be more krakeny I bet, but saying they don't exist is just ignorant."

Finley's jaw clenches, and anger makes the flush of his cheeks brighter, and for a few steps the dance is tense and more stompy than it needs to be. Isla's outburst draws his attention and he exhales in exasperation, and maybe in remembering that he has a job to do, and that he's probably pushing Ralaea too far into a red meter to match her red dress. And. He was wrong.

Finley pulls up his pleasant bootstraps, and nods his head to Ralaea, relaxing the tension of anger with a rueful curve of a half smile, and guarded eyes. "I apologize. You're right. I don't have your experience. So, if you say shadow tentacles are real, seen and done, then I believe you. I still don't think Fallon has any, one way or another, but I'll beg your pardon for my ignorance on the whole of it."

Ralaea regards him suspiciously and waits. At least there's music to make her silence less awkward. Maybe she's waiting for a but that never comes. Soon her own defensive prickle begins to recede, and finally, she ducks her head, focusing on her steps as she says, "Sorry. I didn't… I shouldn't have said it like that."

Finley relents further, dropping his voice down as they start towards the end of the dance, moving in close turns together, and he shakes his head. "No, I provoked you. It's — I get a lot of it, out in Society. There was a Milady Moth, a scandal sheet that implied it. Did well to make people interested in me, wanting to know if it's true, when I stepped out into their world. Helped me, that way. But it means a lot of dodging the same wondering accusation if Fallon and I — well. You know. So, I'm used to it out there, but I wasn't ready for it in here. Surprised me."

"I really didn't mean it like that," Ralaea says. "When I was in… before Cobalt Company, my squad used to separate to handle bathing, and sometimes we separated by gender and went in at once to get it done faster. But… I guess there're a lot of bathrooms here, so."

Finley laughs softly, the realer sounding one. "There's so many bathrooms," he agrees. "House Esprit had… it was like a keep. You could handle an army in rooms, but not so many bathrooms. It was older, before those were a thing of indoor plumbing. It's modern luxury here." He gives her a small shrug, and considers something. "And, well. I take it a certain when you say seeing a man naked, because I do… sometimes see them in that other context. Not just sharing a bathing space. Women, men, people." He clears his throat. "So I hear it different when you say it that way. Don't picture barracks. Picture something else."

Ralaea stares at Finley, considering. "So you're… experienced?" she asks. "Do you have anyone that you're… with right now?"

Because she has terrible control, her gaze starts to drift towards Joelle. She might not even realize it consciously.

Finley did this to himself. He follows her line of sight, and he's a smidgen too hasty to hide that he's read her thought right off her face. "What — no. No, I'm not with anyone, and especially not Elle. We're just friends, and I've no intent of changing that. Not because he's not a good person, just not my type. He's free and clear and open for anyone." As the dance comes to a stop, it's sort of a weird note to end it on. Smooth Gentleman Finley has temporarily left the building.

Sintha/Aze

Sintha moves airily through the first steps of the allemande, smiling her sphynx's smile at Aze. "For a certain definition of charm. So, much like Shay himself. Married would not, I assure you, have put him off, but dead probably did the trick. How did the two of you become such good friends, if I may ask?"

Aze can't see the sphynx smile, and her own in response is open and friendly. "He was interested in death knights. My sister likes to use me as a kind of liaison sometimes, with the living. Of course I'd heard of him before, through mutual friends, so we hit it right off," which might be a euphemism for 'became good friends that very night', "That is, once I'd clarified I wasn't with the Horde."

"You hit it off right away," Sintha repeats as they move closely together. "I can just imagine you did." She pauses. "Not literally imagine it, you understand. He must have found you very… convincing, to believe you weren't Horde."

Aze matches Sintha easily, responsive to her every move. "I've never been Horde, not really. And yes, I'm a very convincing person. Very sincere. Do I not seem so to you?"

"Of course, darling! Terribly sincere. Very mindful, very demure. Did I imply otherwise? Gosh, I'm so sorry." Sintha does a graceful little twirl-and-curtsey that isn't part of the dance but somehow fits it as a flourish.

"I never said demure," Aze says with a quick laugh, throwing in her own flourish to match Sintha's - a graceful twist of her torso that is indeed not very demure, but somehow fits nicely in the rhythm. "Or mindful. I don't think I've ever been accused of either of those things. But sincere, yes. I wouldn't be here otherwise."

Sintha also glances toward Finley with interest before turning her attention to Aze again. "No? You do seem to be on your demurest behavior. But I suppose you would have to be, here. How are you finding it so far?"

Aze shrugs, not looking towards Finley. Or maybe she is, and people can't tell, who can say. She definitely heard that, anyway, everyone did. "My demurest, sure, but everyone in the house already knows the Admiral brought me here to…" Aze pauses, so demure, and continues, "…be a good friend, among other things. I do, naturally, have other skills to recommend myself, beyond that and dancing. And so far… Stormwind seems very complicated. But I've been mostly alone or fighting wars for a while, so maybe I'm just rusty."

That gives Sintha a moment's actual pause, and she flicks an enigmatic look at Aze. After a moment she says, almost kindly, "I don't think that Shay brought you here for that, darling, and I don't think anyone here believes it. My brother is absolutely and in all respects an imbecile, but he is a profoundly patriotic one and he would not put his loyalty to the Alliance to public question for the sake of… some convenient friendliness."

"Is it? To public question?" Aze asks, and this time she seems to take a moment's pause. "I knew it was awkward, but I wanted… I mean, I'm not… just because of what I am?"

"Well," says Sintha, "you know, I'm sure, how beastly everyone was about his loyalty for years after Kul Tiras left the Alliance. To publicly host a sin'dorei — particularly at this political moment — means he is rather opening himself to scrutiny again." She cuts a sidelong look at Aze and smiles sweetly. "So I can only think that he has tremendous faith in you, to risk it."

Aze may not have the deep grasp of human politics and history that Sintha assumes, but she nods. "It isn't misplaced. I know that's easy to say, but I'll… you'll see. Over time, I hope, if they'll let me." Aze falls silent for a moment, continuing the dance, and then she adds, "I was Sunfury, if you hadn't heard. On a different world entirely when the whole… Horde thing happened."

"I do trust it isn't misplaced," Sintha says with another smile; she manages to make her trust sound slightly dangerous. "And Sunfury, gosh, how fascinating! So, loyal to Prince Kael'thas rather than the Horde. That does recommend you."

"Then I guess you have me at a disadvantage," Aze says, stepping in a little closer than strictly necessary. "But that's fine. I don't mind. I'll still…"

Aze frowns, turning towards where Isla is running.

Harvey/Isla

Isla is clearly unafraid of Harvey, throwing herself fully into the dance with both enthusiasm and a disregard for things like limbs positioning and gravity. Blessedly, her first footwork is strongest, likely from better memory because she's had to start over many, many, many times.

Harvey makes it his duty to be a gentle guide to Isla and her wayward limbs, murmuring encouragement for things done right, especially the footwork.

Isla beams at the praise, and after one compliment about her proper footwork, takes an important moment of a turn to stick her tongue out at Finley. She turns her attention back on Harvey, the full intensity of her emotions easy to read. "You know, I'm really not frightened by you. You're really very nice. And I'm not bothered by the whole death knight thing." Yeah, that whole thing. Does Isla know all the things that being a death knight entails? Possibly unclear. "One of my friends is a worgen, a real one, and sometimes he likes to be his Tall Self, as he calls it, which the worgen wolf form. And he's really still himself, no matter what he looks like. Do you like it? Doing things like dancing and talking and not just fighting?"

"Friends with a worgen," Harvey comments. "As it happens, I too have a worgen friend. And… I do enjoy doing things other than fighting. Normal things. It reminds me of simpler times."

"Oh, you have a worgen friend?" Isla asks, paying no attention to her footwork, and it suffers accordingly (luckily the footwork isn't sentient, so this suffering is only metaphorical). "Who is it? I've met more than one. We've had them visiting the house, including a pack leader. He's Gilnean, and the most dashing man. He's coming here today to talk about Business with Avrenne, and he's Siamus' good friend, Lord Graves. He once caught me from falling from all the way across a room. I've never seen anything like it before. It was just like a knight out of a storybook tale. Does your worgen friend have a pack?"

"Her name is Natalyah, and the 'pack' she is currently with does not consist of worgen," Harvey says, entering damage control mode whenever they are close enough. "Perhaps that will change. She is not Gilnean, but found herself trapped on their side of the wall. I have noticed, worgen are quite fast."

Isla nods excitedly. "They really are! And trapped behind the wall? That's so tragic," she says, sounding way too passionate about this tragedy. "Separated from everything, and then cursed, oh it's just like a story. Is she very beautiful? Oh, just imagine if she could come to a ball and meet a prince, well, not our prince. He's too young. He's even younger than I am. But if there was one. Oh! Or a duke, but Siamus, of course, he's already married so it wouldn't work the same way. They could be good friends, though I suppose." Isla, give Harvey like, an entire second to respond.

"She is… already spoken for," Harvey says, then, reluctantly continues, "Do you recall that paladin who came with me to visit immediately after the Nightmare? The two of them have become a couple." He avoids entirely the is she beautiful question.

Isla's eyes sparkle in starry excitement. "Oh!! That's so romantic! A worgen and a paladin! He found another person to put his hands on after all!" she says, way, waaaay too loudly. "Oh no, though, did it make you terribly jealous when it happened?" She's all sympathy, but then perks up immediately. "Or are you and Rae going to be a couple with them? Like a quadrille?" She's still talking too loudly. Isla. Indoor voice.

Though Harvey's face remains polite and gentlemanly, he is most likely Having Regrets. "I… ah. No, we… They are a separate entity. Together. I was happy for them."

"Oh," Isla says, deflating in morose hopes dashed. She drifts through the next parts of the steps like a sad little leaf.

Harvey watches the sad little leaf with interest, before it comes to his realization and he clears his throat. "However," he says, "we are… looking for a third. Ralaea and I. A man."

Isla instantly perks up, all sparkles. "Oh, really? What kind of a man? Do you have one in mind? I didn't know there could be thirds and fourths and fifths and sixths," she says, running out breath as she tries to dance and talk. Her cheeks are very flushed, but she ignores the weakness of the flesh for the energy of the spirit. "It makes for so much more romantic possibilities because then you don't have to choose just two. Are you looking for another paladin? There's not so many of them, but there are more paladins than dukes." Helpful information for Harvey, a former paladin and nobleman. She realizes it too late, suddenly embarrassed. "But of course you know that already, I only… well…"

Harvey offers a smile. "A man who can get along with the both of us," he says. "A rare find, perhaps, but maybe he exists."

"Oh, that can't be too difficult!" Isla declares with completely baseless certainty. She looks around the room, which is a terrible idea, because taking her eyes off Harvey means she loses track of where they're standing together, and when she swings her arm for the next linking up of arms, she smacks him in the face. "Oh, sorry, sorry, I'm sorry," she apologizes. "I was just — well what about someone here? Everyone here likes you both well enough to come here. You could try all the men here!"

Harvey shakes it off. He barely feels things like that these days. "I am… fairly certain I could not try most of the men here," he says. "One of them is her brother."

Brendol is gazing out the window, thinking about something else. Thankfully, he is not listening to conversation.

"Oh, well of course not Bren," Isla says. "I suppose that might be a little strange even if you did like him, of liking both siblings. It would be perfectly scandalous if you did." Again, her tone suggests that this would be thrilling actually. So scandal! "But what about the rest? You could ask one to dance! Like Elle! He's so nice. I suppose you could also ask Lee, but he's really terrible," she relates this with a younger sister's annoyance. "He's always arguing with me, and he thinks he knows everything, and he's the worst." She looks over at Finley and some guilt shows up. "Well, maybe not the worst. He can be really nice sometimes, too, I guess. He saved me in Stormwind City when the dragon and the wave came. He can be really brave, but also very stupid."

Harvey breezes entirely over the part about Joelle, and his gaze drifts to Finley and Ralaea, as if assessing something. "I believe I make Mr. Boutille uncomfortable," he says.

Isla tries to look where he's looking, half tripping over him as she does with an "Sorry, I'm sorry." She wrinkles her nose, and enthuses up at Harvey, "No, that's just Lee. He's like that sometimes, all huffy and guarded up. You just have to get to know him better. Or tell him that you like Avrenne. He always likes people better when they like her. You do have to mean it though. He can tell when you're lying a lot of the time. Sir Somer used to say he has the instinct, which Lee liked a lot, but Avrenne says that he needs to get better at not jumping to conclusions before all the data is in," she says, in the tone of someone repeating something verbatim.

"If you really wanted someone who wasn't at all a bit uncomfortable, that would be Sintha, because she's not scared of anything, and no man ever intimidates her, and she's really the best person, after Avrenne, of course," Isla adds loyally. "She's not a man, but she might be even better than a man. She can do anything."

"I am fond of Her Grace, but I fear the feeling is not mutual," Harvey says carefully. "It is… difficult to see a former acquaintance in a state like mine, so I try to limit my time near her when possible. Lady Sintha is indeed rather talented, from what I have heard."

"She is so talented, and brave, and smart, and she really might know everything," Isla tells him, swishing her dress the wrong way, and forgetting to step to the dance entirely. "And you musn't think that Avrenne doesn't like you. She can seem so cold to people, but if she really didn't like you, you wouldn't be here. You see, this isn't a ball where anyone could get invited, and she would invite even people she didn't like because of politics, because I'm not out yet. Only people close to the family and trusted people could be here. And she isn't not here because of you, she doesn't like dancing. If you stay for tea after, you'll see! We can all have a lovely afternoon together, and you can tell me what you think of Sintha."

"I believe I am here because of my relationship with Ralaea," Harvey says gently. "And I am afraid Brendol and I have a prior commitment, and we will not be able to stay for tea. You are, of course, welcome to write to either of us whenever you like."

Isla wilts in abject disappointment, as she turns tear-shining eyes up at Harvey. "Are you sure you can't cancel the other commitment? We're having such a lovely time, aren't we? And you haven't even checked any of the other men here, yet! And you can't do that and also get to dance with Rae, so this would be the way to get both in one day! Oh, please say you'll stay, Harvey. Please. Everyone's so dressed up already so it's so much better than boring old any day tea," she pleads. She has completely stopped dancing, which is probably for the best for everyone to not run into her or trip over Harvey. It's also kind of awkward because the dance hasn't actually come to a full end yet.

Harvey stares very passively at the nearest wall, managing to keep his expression clear of unusual smiles or hungering glances. He does not look at her, as he says, "I am afraid our prior commitment cannot be rescheduled. Perhaps another time." He speaks slowly, perhaps listening for the end of the song.

Isla is the world's saddest yellow princess leaf in the whole world. For like, two seconds. Then she perks up, all sadness instantly banished. "Oh! What about tomorrow!"

Harvey's gaze travels to the musicians, a brightly glowing stare, as if willing them to play faster. "If you ask Her Grace, and she tells you I am welcome to visit tomorrow, then I will," he says.

Isla squeals in delight, impulsively hugging Harvey's arm that she was supposed to be twirling with, all glee. "Oh, I will!" she says, and then she starts running through the ballroom. Wait, is she going to go ask Avrenne right now?

Several of the band look apprehensively back at Harvey. Uh, h-hi there, mr. death knight. C-can we help you with something? The music, however, is coming to a natural end.

Finley looks over from Ralaea as Isla bolts from Harvey, frowning. "What is she — Isla!"

Isla halts, guiltily. Oops. She slows her roll, trying for a Stately Big Stepping Stride towards the ballroom doors.

Siamus stops dancing as well — sorry, Lena — and looks after Isla with a line between his brows. He casts a look at Harvey, and then raises his voice slightly to ask mildly, "Isla? Where are ye going?"

"I… had something to ask Avrenne," Isla tells Siamus, all innocence, as she creeps towards the ballroom doors. Ask Avrenne, receive permission.

"Her Grace is in a business meeting," Siamus says, still mildly, but there is a distinctive Dad Tone.

"Oh," Isla says, remembering this fact belatedly. "Right. Sorry, of course." She cannot ask her question now. She drifts over to a chair to plop into it, sighing with her whole body as she looks out the window with the world's saddest little frown. She hates waiting.

Siamus turns back to Lena and smiles ruefully, apologetic.

Harvey, meanwhile, attempts to discreetly fade back towards his runesword, collecting it and heading for the exit himself. He will be back. Probably. (He will.)

Lena shakes her head, glancing at Isla with fondness. She gets it.

Between the Allemande and the Waltz

Shine/Isla

Shine has sat up again, and impassively watches Harvey make his exit. He looks over at Isla. After a moment, he gets up and returns to the table to collect a glass of orange fizzy stuff. He brings it to her, settling into the chair one seat over from hers.

Isla perks up with a gasp. More fizzy sugar water! "Oh, thank you, Mr. Shine. You always know the right things to bring a person," she says, as she takes the glass, using both hands to gulp most of it down, and then has to cover her mouth tightly for a burp. Oops. "Excuse me."

Shine nods gravely, not even smiling a little bit, although his eye is bright. "You oughtn't drink it so fast," he tells her. "The sugar will go straight to your head." It is the sugar rush that concerns him, you see, and not the burpiness. Shine has never noticed a young lady burping in his life.

He looks back out at the dance floor, his gaze returning to Lena and Siamus.

Isla takes this information in stride, as she examines first the fizzy drink, and then Shine. She follows his gaze to Lena, and smiles widely. "Isn't she just the most loveliest in pink?" Isla asks him. "It's such a romantic color."

"She is," Shine agrees. "The loveliest."

Finley/Elle/Mordecai/Colson

Ralaea watches Harvey leave the room, and after another glance at Finley, says, "If you're trying to set Elle up with someone, you probably should've brought in more single people." And with that, she starts to follow Harvey out.

Finley represses a sigh, swiping a hand over his face. He doesn't follow Ralaea or Harvey, looking instead for Elle to check in with him, after his dance with Mordecai.

Finley, who was already looking at Elle, catches the look he gives Finley, and takes it as a signal, as he crosses the short distance between their dance areas to follow. He gives Mordecai a quick bow. "Lord Mordecai," he says, and then smiles at Joelle. "Elle, how was it? The Allemande treat you both right?"

Mordecai reflexively bows to Finley.

Joelle bows because Mordecai does. They are bowing now! "Yes," he says in answer. "I made a new friend. Maybe you can come meet his husband with me? I was telling Mordecai how nice you are."

Finley's too flushed from exertion to tell if he blushes at all, but he ducks his head a little, a hunch to his shoulders that he straightens out a moment after. "That's kind of you," he says, stepping into place to put himself next to Elle, a physical signal of putting himself by a friend. "I'd be glad to speak with Lord Colson." Would he though? No one can tell if he's sweating now from dancing for an hour or because he's about to try to make conversation with one of the Aspenwood Max Chilly Twins.

Colson isn't far away from them; he's just on the other side of the ballroom with Alaisa.

Joelle snatches his hand, maybe to help keep track of him. His expression appears more neutral-happy than his usual neutral-neutral.

Finley doesn't seem discomfited at all by the sudden hand hold. He's used to it with Otto, and he gives Joelle a smile. Just two dudes, casually holding hands, no big.

"Colson," Mordecai calls, and tilts his head in a 'come here' gesture. "I, um, I know the Stormwind Allemande well, and the Lordaeron version not so much. You were very helpful. And Elle was a good lead."

Colson is easily pulled by his husband, and he crosses the ballroom in graceful long legged strides. He nods to both Joelle and Finley, as he reaches out a hand for Mordecai's. Now everyone can be holding hands! Except Colson means it as a couple.

Finley gives a self-conscious half-laugh. "That's good to hear. And it's not all Lordaeron, today. We've the Stormwind Waltz next, and after that, I yield the instruction to Miss Sunstrike for hers."

Colson nods, giving no indication that he already knows this information as a repeat for him.

Mordecai takes Colson's hand immediately, moving to stand closer to him and across from Finley and Elle instead. "I know the Stormwind Waltz, at least," Mordecai says in relief. "Colson, Elle and I are friends now."

Joelle nods in agreement, peering curiously at Colson.

Colson returns Joelle's look with… well, not much of one, to be honest. The paladin's face gives little information, a stoic neutrality, until he turns his head to look again at Mordecai, where his expression notably softens. "That is wonderful to hear," he says.

Finley glances over at the doors of the ballroom, checking to see if Ralaea and/or Harvey have returned.

Harvey/Ralaea

Ralaea steps outside, approaching Harvey’s tall, slightly looming back. His shoulders are shaking, and when she peers around to look into his face, she is met with a wild, exhilarated grin. He is laughing.

“Thought so,” she says, moving in front of him. “Hello, Mourn.”

His grin doesn’t fade when he sees her. “She begged me to stay,” he says. “Begged for my presence with tears in her eyes, and I crushed her little dreams…” His hand clenches shut in front of him in emphasis.

Maybe it’s Ralaea’s expression — she is clearly unimpressed — that makes him realize how pathetic he sounds. The grin fades.

“Do you need to hurt something?” she asks.

Harvey eyes her sourly. “Unless you have a cultist in your pocket, no.”

Ralaea’s eyebrows draw down into worry. “Are you not getting enough…”

“I dealt with it before I came,” Harvey assures her. “But… it is true that Elwynn is not the best place for… full satisfaction.”

“What about Tol Barad? I heard there’s conflict happening there, and Siamus keeps trying to recruit people.”

Harvey shakes his head. “I will not take your brother to Tol Barad. He is not ready.”

“So leave him,” Ralaea says, crossing her arms. “He can live here again.”

“He is a Westwind,” Harvey says with a sigh. “Do you realize how hard it is to leave you people anywhere?”

Ralaea is silent, scowling, but Harvey can pick up the worry that still lingers, and his expression shows as much, a sharp eyed mixture of pleasure and disgust. He shifts, uncomfortable in the silence, clutching his runesword tightly in one hand, the other near pinned to his side to keep from reaching for her.

“Ralaea —” he begins at last.

“I just — what if there’s peace, eventually?” Ralaea blurts. “Then it will get even harder for you. I’m… scared someone will try to take you from me again.”

“Oh,” he says softly, and in a controlled, deliberate manner, his hand moves to cup her cheek. “No one will ever take me from you again.” He leans closer. “Never.” His fingers tighten, pressing against the back of her neck possessively, and he can feel the spark of pain in response, but she doesn’t pull away, forcing him to ease up on his own.

But her worry seems to have vanished with his words, and she graces him with the tiniest of smiles. “Okay,” she says. “I’ll believe you. Just remember you said no one, which includes yourself.”

She pulls from his grasp and starts back towards the house, glancing over her shoulder at him. “You’re probably fine, but it’s cold out here, and I’m going back inside. Try not to creepy laugh too loud, you’ll scare the horses.”

With that, she heads back to the ballroom.

Back in the Ballroom

Siamus is escorting Lena from the dance floor, also looking at the ballroom door. He looks an eyebrow-question at Finley.

Shine gets up from his chair along the wall, smiles at Isla, and ambles over to Siamus and Lena.

Isla sips at her fizzy orange sugar drink, watching people, kicking her feet around so her dress poofs and poofs with the movement.

Finley gives Siamus an entire Volume 1 of a Look, equal parts apologetic and exasperated. It's telling that as soon as Ralaea enters the ballroom again that he gently pulls his hand free of Elle's to reach into a pocket to get a handkerchief, and he eyes the Whiskey table.

Ralaea slips back in alone, her eyes scanning the ballroom until they settle on Finley and Elle. She eyes them suspiciously, but moves to the refreshment table to grab some milk.

"Are…" Joelle starts a question, then glances at Mordecai, maybe asking for permission before continuing.

“You can talk to him," Mordecai says gently to Elle. "You can ask him anything. He's safe. He won't be upset about anything."

Colson waits patiently for Elle's question, his neutral face setting maybe not immediately encouraging, but the fact that he doesn't seem annoyed or impatient for it is telling.

Joelle ducks his head and continues, returning his gaze to Colson. "Are you… in Cobalt Company too? Do you know Ralaea?" He does spare a glance at Finley, maybe checking to see if the other man is okay.

"I am, yes, and I do. We have worked on forward squads together," Colson answers gently, a particular Paladin Voice that says everything is going to be alright. "She is an exceptional person, who possesses a great deal of tenacity through even the darkest times."

Finley gives Elle the facial equivalent of a thumbs up, as he dabs at his brow, and when he puts his handkerchief away, he sticks both hands in his pockets, as he rocks back onto his heels. "She's certainly that," he agrees.

Mordecai smiles, leaning against his husband's side a little. He looks quietly pleased. His people are talking.

Finley glances again at first the whiskey table, and then how close to Ralaea is standing to the water table. Some calculations might be in the process of being made.

Her dad Your dad The Lordship is standing right there now, Finley. Choose your moment wisely, buddy.

Colson seems very willing to remain in a companionable exchange with Elle, unhurried to go anywhere.

"You both know Ralaea," Joelle says. It's just an observation, but maybe a pointed one, based on an earlier conversation with Finley. "I know her, too. She comes to my house sometimes." That's it. That's all the context.

"I know her too," Mordecai says. "From Cobalt Company. Um, why does she come to your house?"

Finley almost says it, the movement of his lips and inhale of breath gives the suggestion of it, and then he deliberately stops himself from answering over Elle.

Colson seems unsurprised, but it's unclear if he's interested or not.

"My mother is training her," Joelle replies. "Her and another. Anareline, I think. A Sentinel teacher. Oh. Wait. Shan'do."

"Ah, I see," Colson says. "You are correct, that is the kaldorei term for it. I know her as well, Anareline. We met some years ago in Kalimdor."

"Oh! Anareline Evensong?" Mordecai tilts his head. "I know her, too."

Joelle's eyes smile, and he looks to Finley. "You could meet Anareline too, if you want," he says. He does not say, then you could have more in common, but perhaps it is suggested in his gaze.

"A sentinel? That would certainly be, ah, interesting." Finley is all Pleasant Gentleman, light smiles. "But I wouldn't want to intrude on a training session. My training is a bit different, as a gentleman and an artist, not a fighter." If he's lying on the last part, it's hidden exceptionally well.

"Anareline is an exceptional person, and she has significant experience in teaching," Colson says. He looks at Mordecai with those soft eyes. "Would you like to get some water?" he asks his husband.

"All right," Mordecai says. "And maybe sit for a minute? That one was a long dance."

Joelle nods in approval of Colson's words. "Hydration is important," he says.

Mordecai ducks his head in a nod to Finley and Elle and lets Colson lead him off.

"Of course," Colson says to Mordecai, and inclines his head in agreement with Joelle, as he begins to escort Mordecai off to the drinks and seats.

Finley/Elle

Harvey slips back into the ballroom, much more composed, and takes up a place at an edge, so as not to disturb everyone again.

Finley gives Elle another smile. "I should get something to drink myself. You still on water? If you get full up, there's a bathroom not far from here, and you can leave the ballroom for it. We won't start the next without you," he tells Elle, as he glances at the doors where Harvey slips back in.

"The next will be more active?" Joelle asks him. "I will drink after." It's entirely possible he has a water schedule mapped out in his head.

"The Waltz is a bit more demanding than the last two, but not quite as bad as the first two. Sort of a combination of the circular movement of the Galop and Schottische, and the closed position, but it's got the turning and twirling aspects of some of the Minuet and Allemande. All the dances are laid out to build off each other like that," Finley says, and hesitates before he adds, "Av — Her Grace picked the dances and the music, but she gave me the duty of organizing them out to instruct them. I felt it would make the most sense like this." His shoulders hunch a little like he's expecting, perhaps, a criticism.

Joelle reaches out to pat his hair. "It's clever, and helpful," he says.

Alaisa/Sintha/Aze

Alaisa makes her way over to Aze and Sintha, swishing her skirts a little. "Hey."

"Ally, hello," Aze says with genuine warmth. "Enjoying the dancing?"

"Yep." Alaisa does a little twirl. "You two gotten to know each other yet?" She looks between Aze and Sintha.

"We are bosom friends," Sintha confides in Alaisa, and pats Aze's arm.

Aze tilts her head over towards Sintha in a show of affection, and gives a light laugh. "Bosom friends. And it only took seven minutes."

"Delightful," Lace says. "I do love it when my people get along."

"Your people? Are we your people, Lace?" Sintha laughs airily. "I do think I need a drink, though. Has Isla drunk all of the fizzy stuff?"

"You absolutely are," Lace says. "Some of my very favorites, in fact. I don't know, do you ever run out of anything here?"

Aze smiles. "You're one of my favorites, too, Ally."

"Run out? Gosh, can you imagine?" Sintha twirls toward the fizzy drinks.

Alaisa follows her.

"Have you had one?" Sintha picks up a second glass of fizzy stuff and dangles it out at Alaisa, smiling.

"Not today." Alaisa accepts the glass and takes a sip. "And now I have," she says. "The Stormwind Waltz is next, it seems. Do you have a partner in mind, and why is it me?" The playful confidence is on full display, an element of teasing to her voice that implies that if Sintha does have someone else in mind, she won't be offended.

"Hm, I haven't either, maybe I should…" Aze says, and turns away towards the fizzy stuff with a smile, giving the other two women a chance to flirt decide if they're dancing or not.

Sintha laughs gaily. "Well, when you put it like that… I suppose it's you." She smiles, her amber gaze sly.

Lace grins. "How incredibly convenient." She sips her fizzy drink, looking quite pleased with herself. "In that case, would you do me the honor of this next dance, Lady Sintha?" She sweeps a curtsy one-handed, her glass raised in a half-salute. "I promise to keep my hands in appropriate places and protect your toes from being tread on."

Sintha sweeps a very dramatic court curtsey back to Lace, accompanied by the sort of lowered-lashes gaze that terrified Brendol earlier. "I would be very pleased," she says, a little breathlessly, in what is clearly a performance from her days as ballroom bait.

Lace mirrors it all right back at her: the curtsy, the demure peeking up through her lashes, the breathless voice: "As would I." Then she fully breaks character and grins.

Lena/Shine/Siamus

"Thank you for the dance, sir," Lena says to Siamus with a smile, and she turns to Shine as he approaches. "I believe it's our waltz next?"

"I believe it is," Shine says equably, and offers Lena his arm. "If Fallon's finished interrogating you."

Siamus gives him a look of wounded astonishment. But does not deny it. After a moment, he says, "A pleasure to dance with ye, Miss Coit. If the pair of ye will excuse me, I believe I have someone else to interrogate now." He gives them both a cordial half-bow, and turns to approach Rae near the milk.

"May you have a successful interrogation," Lena says with a raised eyebrow, as Siamus heads off toward Rae. Then she turns back to Shine. "I suppose we're about halfway through? How're you holding up?"

"Me? I'm holding up very well. Isla and I have agreed, by the way, that color suits ye very well," Shine tells Lena solemnly. "Do you want a drink?"

"I could use a drink," Lena says, and quickly amends to, "Water, I mean. The dancing is tiring. And…" she blushes faintly, "I'm glad you like the dress. Yours suits you as well. I mean your suit, it suits…"

Shine grins at her. "I'm very glad. That the suit suits. I was hoping a particular lady might think so." He lifts her hand to kiss it lightly, then turns to survey the refreshments. "Water," he says. "This way, madame."

"Lead on, good sir," Lena says with a smile, accompanying him to the water.

Shine turns as though he is looking over Lena's shoulder at something on the wall, and says under his breath, "I wonder what Miss Westwind was on about, that she got Fallon to retreat so fast."

"I can guess a few topics that might," Lena says, considering. "Things a father doesn't like to discuss with a daughter."

Shine looks at Lena, and then toward Rae. "Aye, but Ralaea herself wouldn't…." He pauses and considers. It's Ralaea. She might. "I suppose." He nods thoughtfully.

"Ralaea does speak with little filter sometimes," Lena says, glancing toward her with a fond smile. "I can always ask her later, if you're curious? I bet it was something unexpected."

"I suspect," says Shine dryly, "that I'm better off not knowing. I'll just give Fallon shit about it later."

Lena laughs. "On that note, we aren't secret, are we? Only I've already told a few people, so I hope not."

He looks down at her again, lifting his brow. "We're not secret, no. We're not — I haven't put a notice in the papers or anything. And Fallon's been an arse so I haven't told him a thing." He's trying not to smile. "But not a secret."

"Good," Lena says with an answering smile. Then Finley begins instructions, and she turns to listen.

Ralaea/Siamus/Finley

Ralaea is still watching Finley, maybe for a chance to dump water on him, but she glances at Siamus as he approaches and nods in greeting.

"Ralaea," Siamus greets her cordially, and surveys the table like he's not entirely sure he's ever seen real, live milk before. "Are ye having a nice time?" he asks. Presumably he's asking Rae and not the milk pitcher he's eyeing warily.

"Yeah," Ralaea says, trying to split her attention between Siamus and Finley. "I'm learning how to insult the dragon."

Siamus regards her for a moment. He turns his head to look at Finley. There's that eyebrow-question again. "Insult? The dragon? Aye, I see. What have ye come up with?"

Subtly, he gestures to the footman by the milk. The footman slips away for a moment, and reappears with the bottle of whiskey and a glass. This is now the milk and whiskey table. He pours Siamus a drink.

"I'm going to call him Lifewing the Flower Bloomer the next time I see him," Ralaea says confidently. "Finley says it could create an opening for someone if I insult him well enough."

Siamus has just taken a sip of his drink, so there is very nearly an Incident. He does manage neither to choke nor to inhale whiskey, but there is a brief bout of coughing.

He clears his throat. "I… see, aye. That would certainly… throw him off, I expect."

Ralaea eyes him. "That was supposed to be for the dragon," she says accusingly. "But I guess if it's working on you, it means it's effective."

"Aye, that was… ye would certainly have had an opening there." Siamus clears his throat and drinks again. He eyes Rae a little warily in case it seems like she's going to say something else while he's drinking. When he lowers the glass, he says, "Ye do have a knack for the… unconventional technique."

Ralaea nods again. "So do you have tentacles? You don't, right? Finley said Kul Tiran's do, but then I realized I'm half, so I'd have half-tentacles, in that case, and I don't."

"Finley said what?" Siamus blinks at Rae, and then turns and stares at Finley. He looks back to Rae. "That is… no. Not a Kul Tiran… no." He pauses. "Also I don't think that's how… the genetics would work in any case. Even if it were true." It is difficult to tell what expression he is trying very hard not to make.

Ralaea shrugs. "It wouldn't be that bad, even if you did," she says. "It would explain some things. Besides, draenei have them."

Finley looks back over at Siamus, and the nerves catch up to him as he nods to Elle, and reaches out to just lightly tap fluff the other man's hair. "I should get that drink," he tells Elle, as he picks up a very long stride walk over to the table that is now the Whiskey and Milk table, offering a pleasant smile to Siamus and Ralaea as he gets closer.

"Rae. Sir," he greets, just in time to hear something about the draenei. "The draenei have what?" he asks.

Siamus stares at her, now. "It would explain… sorry. I — almost hate to ask, but — what would it expla– " He looks up at Finley. "Finley. Ralaea was just telling me that ye told her Kul Tirans have… tentacles? And she said it would… explain some things."

Siamus looks like he very much wants several things explained.

Finley looks aghast at Ralaea, and there's a touch of real hurt in his eyes. Ralaea what are you doing getting him in trouble with the Admiral.

"I — what — no!" he says again, another bit too loud of a shout. That's two strikes, Finley. He runs a hand over his face and into his hair, shoving it back from his forehead. Picks up the pieces of his dignity and slaps them together. "It's not anything like that, sir. We were making conversation about how I can't fix her footwork because I've not the reach. She said if I could, she'd suspect me of a shadow tentacle. And I said I'm not Kul Tiran, if I had shadow anything it'd be a hand. I never said that Kul Tirans have tentacles, sir. In fact, I said the opposite, that shadow tentacles aren't a real thing at all. Ralaea informed me they are, a thing, though neither of us maintained they were a Kul Tiran thing that you possess. Sir. I beg your pardon for the confusion, sir."

Harvey, from somewhere across the room, looks like he's about ready to come snatch Ralaea away. He holds off… for now.

Siamus reaches out to set a hand consolingly on Finley's shoulder. "Aye," he says. "That makes… a deal more sense." He eyes Rae. "I'm still curious what it would… explain, if it were true. Though perhaps I shouldn't be." He turns to make a slight gesture at the footman with his glass, and the man appears beside Finley with a second glass of whiskey.

The gratitude in Finley's expression is practically a beacon. Thank the Light and all the stars in the skies, and the Tides, and all that. "Thank you," he says to the footman, and he takes a significant sip of the whiskey.

"It would explain how Tabiana ended up getting charmed," Ralaea says. "She's the least likely person I know to go off and have a wild night and end up with a baby, so if he had tentacles, then it wouldn't be quite as weird."

Oh, Light, Finley almost loses his whiskey. Instead he makes a harsh noise through his nose, and then coughs as the whiskey goes down the wrong pipe.

Siamus pats Finley consolingly again. Been there. "I… don't care to speculate on the… private behavior of other people, but I assure ye that it's entirely possible to charm a lady without" — it takes him a moment to gather himself, to keep his expression bland — "tentacles. Being Kul Tiran is usually sufficient, I find." He is so straight-faced. "Tentacles do not… come into it, so to speak."

"Out of curiosity, Ralaea," Siamus asks, and then pauses to consider whether perhaps he should not. Too late now, maybe. "What is it ye think… tentacles would have to do with charming Miss Lynds?" We do not even have those websites in Azeroth, Ralaea Mairead.

"The part men have is kind of like a tentacle," Ralaea says matter-of-factly. Has she seen one on a human? Possibly not. "So more would be better, then. Math."

Siamus has to turn fully away from Rae to keep from completely losing his shit. He nods vaguely. "I believe I see Isla," he says casually. "Enjoy yourselves, you two." He ambles away.

Finley has blanked his face as a butler. Don't react, don't react — which means he can't say anything to Siamus to not leave him here with Ralaea. Instead all he does is make a weak last cough of the whiskey at Siamus' retreating back.

It takes him a moment before he says to Ralaea, after another shot of whiskey, because fu screw it, here we go. Gather your information Finley. You've had worse conversations, probably. "So, is the more the better a personal opinion of yours, or just what you think Miss Lynds might have preferred?"

"It's math, Finley," Ralaea says. "If one of them is good for pleasing a lady, then more just means more pleasing." Her inexperience is showing.

Light, is he really going to have this conversation right here in the ballroom? Finley drains the rest of his whiskey, and offers the glass out for another pour. Pls, sir, have mercy on this man.

"You know what," Finley tells Ralaea, going on some gut instinct. "You were right before, when you guessed that I've experience. And I don't mean it insultingly when I say, it sounds like you haven't. That's to be expected, and it's no slight on you. But if you're curious about… it, the pleasing, and you've questions, you can ask me, and I'll tell you honestly. Just… not here, not now. Ballroom etiquette, right? Topics of pleasing a lady in that way isn't one we're supposed to have. You can a bit, when it's private enough, like in a close dance. But, here at the table? Anyone could wander over at any moment. We'd both get a demerit, me as a gentleman, you as a lady. But I'm on your side, remember. Second Lieutenant can have the same know as Lieutenant."

Ralaea peers at him, finishing her milk, then says, "Fine. I'll come to your room tonight." Then she sets the glass down and practically skips off towards Harvey.

Finley barely manages a, "My room — ?" before it's too late. There she goes. He drinks more whiskey. He must balance the humours.

Mordecai/Colson/Isla/Siamus

After collecting another glass of water, Mordecai takes a seat at the end of the row, just in case Colson wants to remain standing for momentum.

Colson does remain standing, but he stands close enough to Mordecai to easily rest his hand on his husband's shoulder to stay in contact.

Isla peeps over the chairs at them both and then hops along the chairs until she's closer to Mordecai. "Hello!" she greets them both. "It's Mordecai and Colson, isn't it? I've heard so many things about you both that I feel as if I practically know you already. Your sister Cressidha is simply the most amazing of people. She came here to visit last summer, and she conjured a water elemental, and it was so interesting. I had never seen one before up close like that. Marina, she was called. And I've heard about you from Rae, of course. We thought perhaps you might come here and exercise a ghost in the house."

Mordecai mumbles, "Hello," and then takes a second to process everything he's just heard. "Exorcise? A ghost? Um, have you been having problems with one?"

Colson's eyes briefly unfocus, as he concentrates on something. He says, gently, "I do not sense any unexpected presence of the undead, but I am aware the house is large." That's actually potentially enough for an entry in the Understatement of the Year.

Isla's eyes light up. "Oh! You can sense them? That's so exciting! There's a room upstairs that must have a ghost. But, of course, no one has really seen it, and it doesn't trouble us. So, really, we don't need it exercised. In fact, I think I would be quite lonely without her up there. But it was such a thrilling thought that a paladin might come here and have to banish a ghost."

Mordecai blinks slowly. "Oh." That's it, that's all he's got.

Siamus approaches this group. The teenager and the church lads, this is a safe group. "Aspenwoods," he greets them. "Isla. Have ye got a partner yet for the waltz, Isla?"

"Fallon," Mordecai mumbles. He looks a little dazed. He cannot cope with the teenage whirlwind very well right now.

Isla shakes her head, scattering her wild tangle of waves around her. "Oh, not yet. Am I late to the picking?" she asks, all anxiety, as she wrings her hands. "I didn't think it would be already done. Oh, no."

"Oh," Mordecai says apologetically, because anxiety is catching. "I'm already spoken for, I'm sorry…"

"You're not late, no. D'ye have your eye on someone, or will ye do me the honor?" Siamus smiles at her. It's a good-humored, paternal smile.

Isla's anxiety is instantly exercised exorcized, as she leaps up, sending another chair tipping over from her dress. Whoops. "Oh, do you mean it?" she asks. "Yes, oh, I would love to! It'd be just like getting a father and daughter dance, like a real debut, or at a wedding. I've always wanted one, because it seems so thrilling. It didn't seem the thing to ask though, and so I'm so glad you've asked me. I promise I will try not to step on you. Lee is always saying that I don't turn right, and that I'm bound to crash into people, but I don't think I will. I have been doing so well, and it can't be that hard!"

"I think ye've been doing a remarkable job," Siamus assures her ambiguously, with a smile, "and I'd be honored to have a father and daughter dance." Your debut isn't for another 14 years, Isla.

Colson seems content to keep a hand on Mordecai, moving it briefly from his husband's shoulder to his hair, brushing back a little of the chaos.

Mordecai relaxes a little once the laser beam of Isla is no longer focused on him. He sets his water glass down on the floor by his chair and looks up at Colson. "Oh, Colson, guess what?" He motions for Colson to lean down.

Colson raises his brows in honest and earnest interest, as he leans down to bring his ear closer to Mordecai. "Hm?"

"I love you," Mordecai says, beaming. It is never a bad time for Mordecai to tell his husband he loves him. This is perfectly legal and allowed.

Colson smiles gently at Mordecai, fixing another chaos curl around Mordecai's ear. The chaos curl instantly rebels, but it's the thought that counts. "I love you," he echoes back, completely comfortable with the open affection.

"And you'll dance with me next, right?" Mordecai asks. He has already asked, but it's always safe to ask Colson the same question a second time.

"Of course," Colson says reassuringly, not at all bothered to have been asked again. "Would you like to rest during the demonstration, or would you like to rehearse during it?"

"I'm resting now," Mordecai says. "I'll get up when Mr. Boutille starts the lesson." He sets his glass of water down on the floor near his chair, which is a dangerous place for it.

Aze/Finley

Aze turns away with her fizzy drink, leaving Ally with one of her favorite people. She seems to consider the room, and then heads over towards Finley, standing alone. She nods to the whiskey, and says, "Talking with Rae, huh?"

Finley pauses halfway through his second glass of whiskey, and notes her glance. "Were you watching then, or just drawing natural conclusions of a man driven to drink?" he asks in a dry voice, as he pulls at his cravat with his other hand. Someone let this man take off his clothes. Not all of them, but some.

Aze shrugs, and half lifts a hand, like she might help with the cravat. She rests it on her drink again. "I saw her walking away, you drinking… she has some wild ideas sometimes, and you know you've got to take them seriously."

Finley's body language is subtle, the way he moves back ever so slightly as she lifts a hand up, a reflex. He relaxes it almost immediately, bending to bridge the gaps of their heights a bit more. "Ralaea's a clever girl, and imaginative. If I'm drinking, it's just because I can't keep up with her, yet. Isla, as you know, has her own mad ideas. I'm used to hers, but Ralaea's a different set of thoughts. That what you do with her? Take everything seriously, even if you think it's something silly?"

Joelle drifts over, halting near Finley and Aze, but not interrupting or interjecting. He's just There.

Finley takes notice of him immediately, raising up his whiskey glass in a classic toasting motion, and he shifts where he stands just enough to alter the sense of the grouping with Aze, to encompass Elle.

"Isla's great, I love her energy," Aze says with a genuine smile, and she also shifts to include Joelle. "I would've asked her to dance, if she could lead. And yeah, pretty much. Rae gets really angry otherwise, and it's more fun if we're friends. Besides, not all her ideas are silly. I think I recently agreed to market mushroom wood? That and teach her how to kill dragons." Maybe one of those ideas is silly.

Joelle pauses to perhaps consider the logistics of mushroom wood.

"You ever want to see how Isla's energy can flip straight to rage, try disagreeing with her," Finley says sullenly. Whoops, that's not very Gentleman of him. Too much whiskey. He pulls on a pleasant smile, and sets his glass down. "Dragon killing lessons though sounds right, given everything. Mushroom wood though, pretty sure that's not a thing. But as I've recently been reminded, there's stranger things out there than in a ballroom like this. Her Grace would know. The only things I know 'bout mushrooms is how to paint them."

"Oh, that was about the Zangarmarsh. Mushrooms big enough to put a city on, if you're into that," Aze says. Some people are into mushroom cities, she's not judging. "That might actually be something interesting to paint."

"I suppose I can't say one way or another if I'm into mushrooms big enough to put a city on, as I've never seen them," Finley says gamely. "I've seen some interesting things from Kalimdor and the EK both that I'd not thought possible until I saw it illustrated in a book. 'Wandering Azeroth,' by Brannagen Stillwall. If he does an Outland series, maybe I'll get a chance to compare."

"I've not… that is… I don't really read much anymore," Aze says apologetically. "I bet it's a pretty neat book though - I wonder if he got everywhere in the Eastern Kingdoms. Some places aren't so hospitable for a… dwarf? Brannagen the explorer sounds like a dwarf to me, for some reason. The mushrooms, though, I could describe at least. I've seen them with my natural eyes. The place is like a forest, which is probably where the wood idea came from - a forest of enormous mushrooms, all in kind of… cool colors. Like underwater, almost."

"Ah, you might be thinking of Branagen, a dwarven explorer, as maybe remembering hearing of Brann Bronzebeard, who founded the Explorers' League. Brother to the sister of the Ironforge dwarves. Part of the monarchies of the Alliance," Finley tells her. He's still smiling, genially. "Outland sounds like it has a lot of places like that. Unique. We heard some of it from Lady Cressidha, when she visited the house some time ago." He glances at the room, noting the beginnings of people starting to visibly pair up again. "But that's probably another conversation for another time. It looks like people are ready for the next dance."

"Oh, right, I should've been looking for…" Aze considers Finley and Joelle. "Either of you not have a partner lined up?"

Finley shakes his head. It might be taking him effort to not cross his arms. "No, not yet, but this is a dance where a knowledgeable lead is more crucial than the others," he says. "Do you know this one at all, Miss Sunstrike? Elle?"

"No," Joelle says. "But you do." There is a sense of trust in his gaze. Finley is good teacher.

"I do, actually," Aze says with a confident smile. "I have experience with this one."

"Ah, then there you go," Finley says, a smile in his voice and on his face. He reaches out for a manly clasp on Elle's shoulder, friendly, rather than flirtatious. "I do know it, and I can teach the steps, but the hardest part is explaining how to lead it. Whoever leads has to have the steps, and understand when to turn, and how. The lead determines a lot of the success of this one. I should probably pair off with someone who'll really need it."

Strangely, he glances over first to Ralaea, and there's a twitch of his face as if he's not sure why he looked at her first, and he shakes his head slightly before he searches the room for Brendol, notably not yet paired up. "If you and Miss Suntrike would like a go, I should probably take Brendol, if he's up for another dance."

Joelle follows his glance, but mercifully, he doesn't comment on it, instead turning to Aze. "Would you… like to?" This is an allowed question, surely.

Brendol is looking much recovered after sitting out for a dance, but he still doesn't seem that eager to approach anyone.

There's an awkward pause before Aze answers that one. "Do you mind leading, even if you don't know the dance? I'll still help, from my side. You'll be fine."

Finley starts to leave, and is halted by Aze's question. "We've not got any strict rules on following or leading by gender," he says, guessing the wrong cause. "You don't have to only follow, Miss Sunstrike."

Joelle glances between Finley and Aze. He waits.

"I know," Aze says, holding up her hands in surrender. "It's a choice on my part, because I'm here to follow. But I guess, if you're telling me to lead, then I'll follow that as well."

Finley gives a light little laugh. "It's a pretty much set ship to sail, Miss Sunstrike, no matter what. You're up next after this one, to lead us in instructing a dance," he points out. "There's no call for being coy about following or showing you can take orders. No one's grading you on any marks today. It's just the House and friends, not a test. You don't have to worry about the tittle-tattle of if you've shown the right face with us."

"It's a choice," Aze says again, her smile unchanging. "Just me showing my face, whether it's right or not. I'll instruct next, but the Admiral is going to lead, I hope. I'm not trying to cause a problem, Mr. Boutille, really the opposite. If you and Mr. Ebek want me to lead, I'll lead."

Joelle, once again glancing between them, is starting to look a tiny bit distressed. He keeps quiet still, and turns his gaze elsewhere, possibly trying to hide it.

Finley catches it. "Don't worry, Elle, no one's doing anything wrong. But, if I may then, Miss Sunstrike, you taking the lead as the one who knows it will be best, so that Elle can focus on just learning the dance. Trying to learn how to be in the lead, while the follow actually pushes the dance along won't help him in the long run, 'cause he'll learn the wrong things. So, you know the dance, you lead. And try to have fun, yeah?" He ruffles Joelle's hair. "You're both doing great."

He gives them both one more look, and then strides off to collect Brendol, as the dancers pair off.

Aze turns toward Joelle, with a flicker of concern at the emotional cue she must have missed.

"Do you still want to dance with me?" Aze asks, reaching towards him with one hand with an uncertain smile. "I guess metaphors aren't always practical."

Joelle claims her hand. "I want to, if… it won't trouble you," he says.

"Trouble me," Aze says in surprise, stepping closer to him. "Yeah, no, not at all. I was trying to be flexible, but I guess I was… inflexibly flexible… uh, I don't know. You don't mind me leading, right?"

Joelle shakes his head, his hair ornament jingling with the movement. "I don't mind."

"Okay, so, we should probably listen to Mr. Boutille, but no worries if you miss anything," Aze says, turning obediently toward the teacher. "You've got me, too."

Finley gets to Brendol, and it's already obvious that there aren't any other options left, but he still makes the effort as he stops by the younger man. "Bren," he says as he gets closer, casual Finley rather than Formal Gentleman Finley. "You up for the waltz? I've got the lead of you if you'd like."

Brendol looks up at him, relieved. "With you? Sure. I uh. I'm not that great at dancing."

"I don't mind," Finley says with a genial smile, reaching out a hand to encourage Bren over towards the dance floor. "We're not performing. And you're not great at it mostly 'cause you don't know it yet, so don't judge so quick. Tell yourself 'I'm bad at this,' when you get started, and you will be. Self-fulfilling prophecy. So, 'stead, tell yourself, 'I'm new at this.' And let yourself learn it, practice it, and then decide how bad you are, alright? C'mon, then."

Fifth Dance: The Waltz

Finley makes his way to the center of the ballroom again to announce to the group, "Right, so this is the Stormwind Waltz. S'a bit different than the Lordaeron and the Alteraci versions, but mostly in that it allows for a lot more than th'others. Flourishes, more turns, especially turns that the follow can take independently, and spin back into a partner. We'll be going 'round counter clockwise, just like the Galop and the Schottische, and we'll be dancing in a closed position. I'll demonstrate just the steps first, and then we'll build up." The very slight blurring of his words into each other, and his stronger Lordaeron accent are the only giveaways that he's pounded back two (2) glasses of whiskey.

His dancing demonstration doesn't suffer at all from it. If anything, he's a bit more fluid and graceful in the steps, as he builds up the waltz piece by piece — footwork (he does not give any significant glance to Ralaea), and then the placement of the arms, the base movement, and all the varieties that can be added. He is visibly over-warm, the flush of his cheeks prominent, and the sweat on his brow gathering up again.

Siamus/Isla, Finley/Bren, Ralaea

Siamus offers Isla his arm solemnly to squire her out to the dance floor. To squire her to a section of the floor not near Finley. He knows these two.

Isla is so stoked. This is the best dance yet! Although if you asked her to rank all her dances and dance partners so far, they would all be tied for Number 1, so her ranking system is already a disaster. She peers over at Finley from around Siamus, frowns heavily and then looks extremely, obviously mischievous. "Oh, Lee's going to overheat any minute now. Do you think he will swoon? Wouldn't that be terrible, if he did? But just imagine who might catch him! If Lord Graves were here, he would do it, even if he were all the way across the room. Did I tell you that he caught me once? I was sure I was going to fall, but he leapt across the entire room, and got me before I could even blink!"

"Aye, Graves is… a remarkable gentleman," Siamus agrees genially to Isla, and turns to glance at Finley himself. "Hold on, Isla, will ye give me a moment?"

He steps away from the teenager to cross to the chairs at the side of the room, unbutton his suit coat, and shed it to drape over the back of a chair. When he returns to Isla, he smiles apologetically. "I beg your pardon for the informality, but it is a bit warm in here." Siamus himself does not look like he has ever sweated in his life. (False.)

It's very telling how quickly Finley follows suit (ha ha, suit), as he says, "Excuse me, a moment, just practice that last bit." And moves to shed his suit coat, and cravat, with a particularly charged nonchalance, like they're on fire but he's trying to play it cool and not alarm anyone. He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing his wiry muscled forearms, and then, after a moment's thought (possibly influenced by the whiskey), undoes a button of his collar. Aahhhh. Air flow. Blessed air flow. Finley remembers how much he loves air. He is most definitely sweating.

He makes his way quickly back to the center, finishes up the instructions, and turns to Brendol with an offer of his hand. "Alright, give it a try, and then we'll set t'music."

Ralaea glares at Siamus, for no particular reason, then turns her very pointed, accusing stare onto Finley.

Finley catches the look, and it's definitely the whiskey driving that makes him wink back, and mouth later, raising a hand to tap just once on his forehead.

Ralaea flashes him the hint of a smile, and turns her attention back to Harvey. Message received!

Brendol watches the exchange a little awkwardly. "So uh… you're friends with Rae, huh?"

Finley looks back at Brendol. "What? Ah, I s'ppose, yeah," he answers. "She's part of the House, now. The Wards part. Don't worry, she's still your sister, and all. Just a gain, not a severin'."

Siamus catches Rae's look and pretends blandly that he did not. He leads Isla carefully through practice steps.

Ralaea isn't the only one aiming looks at Siamus, as Isla pouts. "Well, now Lee won't swoon," she says accusingly. But then perks up again. "Not unless Aze's dances are really difficult. Who do you think would catch Lee here, if he did swoon? Wouldn't it be very exciting if Harvey did it?"

"It would be very exciting in general if Finley swooned, although likely not for him." Siamus pauses. "Perhaps Ralaea would catch him. Or Elle. Or… Colson." The pause is for the foreignness of the first name, not the dubious prospect of Colson catching someone.

Isla is silent, and doing not so badly with the waltz, as she rapidly writes various scenarios with all these possibilities. Then starts combining them. And then embellishing on them. Yeah, she's in her own world for now.

Siamus studies her face and decides not to provoke further conversation. She's doin' good.

Shine/Lena

Shine leads Lena onto the floor at a distance from Siamus and Isla. He glances at Finley's demonstration and then smiles down at Lena. They know this one. He sets his hand comfortably in the curve of her lower back. That's right. Avert your eyes, everyone. It's a sexy waltz.

Lena settles into her position with a smile, unbothered that they will be sexy waltzing. "I don't suppose we need the refresher, but we can practice a few steps."

Shine nods agreeably and leads Lena into a practice waltz. It is clear that they are, in fact, pretty good at this one. He smiles down at her. Then he stops smiling and looks grave.

Lena is smiling and happily waltzing when the change in expression happens. Her brow creases with worry and she says, "What is it?"

"I'm smiling too much," Shine says very seriously. Is he serious? He might not be serious.

Lena laughs, and then raises her hand on his shoulder to brush his neck. "I'm so terribly sorry, I shall try to be a very serious waltzer, not to tempt you into levity."

He grins down at her. "See, and there ye go again."

Mordecai/Colson

When Finley begins speaking, Mordecai stands and immediately knocks over his glass of water. About half the water remains in the glass, and all of it spills. The glass itself does not break, fortunately, because it was so close to the ground to begin with. "Shoot."

Siamus halts, looks at Mordecai, looks down at Isla. Was she… somehow involved in this? From over here?

Colson kneels down immediately, as he rights the glass. "It is all right," he says reassuringly. "It is only water, and the glass did not break." He glances over towards the staff standing by the tables, lifting a hand up to signal them over, as he looks up at Mordecai.

Mordecai carefully lifts his foot and hops away from the spill, balancing as he checks that his shoe isn't also wet. He got very lucky. "I-I can clean it up," he mumbles. "I just need something to…"

One of the maids is already approaching with a cloth, and Colson rises up to a stand.

"Milords," she says, with a curtsey, bending to start mopping up the spill.

Colson looks to Mordecai for a decision on what he would like to do.

Mordecai flushes and allows the maid to do her job. "Sorry, thank you," he mumbles, backing away.

Colson draws Mordecai closer, gently, and brushes his hand down his husband's back. "Are you all right?" he asks softly, too quietly for the maid to overhear.

Mordecai whispers, "Just embarrassed." He clears his throat, glancing over his shoulder at the maid cleaning up the spill as they walk out to find a place to waltz. "I think it's, um, my turn to lead," he offers to Colson.

Colson smiles gently and encouragingly back at him, holding up his hands for the follow, as they come to a stop. "As you wish," he says.

Mordecai steps in close, taking one of Colson's hands and resting the other on his back. "Have you been paying at least a little bit of attention to anyone else?" he asks in a low voice, teasing, and starts to go through the steps according to Finley's instructions.

"As far as I know, we have been in an empty ballroom alone together this whole time," Colson says, joining in teasing himself. He does follow the instructions as given, following Mordecai easily through the steps.

Mordecai laughs, clear and bright and perhaps a little louder than he intended to. He clears his throat. Do not perceive him.

Colson smiles back, broader and with the brief flash of teeth. He has a special permit for Perceiving.

Aze/Joelle

Joelle squeezes Aze's hand. If there is a particular message there, it would probably be lost on her.

Aze moves without hesitation to get Joelle into the right position to practice, clasping one hand and reaching the other behind his back. She clearly assumes he will not be startled by any of this. "Don't worry, the waltz isn't too hard, and I've got you. You're… a Stormwind guard, Mr. Ebek? And a friend of House Fallon, I take it?"

"Stormwind guard, yes. Finley invited me," Joelle says. "You can call me Elle."

"Elle," Aze repeats, nodding. "Then you can call me Aze. I've never been to Stormwind City, do you like it there?"

Sintha/Alaisa

Lace links arms with Sintha to walk out onto the dance floor with her. "Which of us should lead this one?" she asks. She's keeping it together on the outside quite well for now.

"Perhaps I should this time?" Sintha suggests breezily. "Unless you'd rather?"

"I'm flexible! Your turn it is, then." Lace grins at her. Also she's blushing very faintly for some reason. Don't worry about it.

"Flexible," observes Sintha thoughtfully, and solemnly takes up the lead position for the waltz, her hand decorously on Lace's (not bare) upper back. Her expression is impish.

Lace rests her hand on Sintha's shoulder. The very ends of her fingertips just barely graze the fabric at the very edge of the cut-out back of Sintha's dress and do not touch her bare skin at all. A very minute shift would do it, could probably even make it seem accidental - but Lace has excellent control, and she did give her word to be careful. "Do you want to rehearse at all?" she asks as Finley goes through his explanation.

"Absolutely not," whispers Sintha conspiratorially. "Let's be dark horses." She sways in place a little

It's not a competition, Sintha.

"So," she says, still in a sort of breathless, confidential tone. "You are previously acquainted with Shay's guest. Not at Himself's behest, I do hope?"

"No," Lace says, lowering her voice. "She's Roper's wife's sister. So in a weird roundabout way she's practically family, as it turns out."

"Ohhh," breathes Sintha. "Of course. I know she's attached to them, that is, that's how Shay met her. Do you spend an awful lot of time with the pair of them?"

"I spend a socially appropriate amount of time with them," Lace says, smiling. "And perhaps less than I would like, but I'm ruthlessly busy these days. They've got work in Redridge now, Tennerow has them guarding the border against orcs. I write more often than I get to visit."

"A socially appropriate amount of time," repeats Sintha. "La. Does Himself know the lady is here?"

"Yes," and that's Mist peeking through for a second - quite similar to Lace, but her expression shifts minutely, a trace of slightly irritated fondness in her voice as she asks the long-running question, "What doesn't he know?"

Sintha rolls her eyes. "Well, it's for the best, I expect — one doesn't like to surprise the man, he's got such delicate nerves — but stars, is it tedious."

Lace makes a sound better described as a snort than a laugh, surprised into it. "Oh, I've missed you."

Sintha smiles modestly, lowering her lashes. "Everybody always does. I'm awfully missable."

Finley takes a glance across the room, as he keeps up a mini practice with Brendol. People are looking good. He makes eye contact with Siamus. Ready, sir.

"You are entirely singular," Lace says, looking directly at Sintha. "I do hope you know what I meant when I called you one of my people—"

Siamus signals the band.

The band strikes up the waltz music. It has a particular sort of sound to it, a little dark, a little cheeky, some inherent tension to the music that calls to mind the sense of a couple exchanging pointed barbs and banter, yet inescapably absorbed in each other. Those listening closer to it might find themselves thinking of a particular person that they're trying not to think about. Others, though, might simply enjoy the deep beats and yearning of the strings as a generally romantic sense, thinking of future balls and debuting into Society. It carries on in such a way that it sounds almost like the song will go on and on forever, yearning towards something — something almost — and then, it oddly ends, when it does, bringing several couples up short.

Sintha/Alaisa

"Oh!" Sintha raises her voice above the first swell of the instruments. "Trust Shay to choose his moment." She leads Lace into an airy, lightfooted waltz.

Lace darts a glance at the band, but she falls into step immediately and glides easily along in the waltz with Sintha. Her feet can move automatically, that's fine. Her brain needs just an extra second to catch up. "That is - you do know what I meant, right?"

"Gosh, of course, darling." Sintha beams at Lace. She may or may not know, actually. "And it's so good you could come to this thing. It must be nice for Shay's guest to see friendly faces, hm?"

Lace smiles conspiratorially at Sintha. "I thought at first I was invited to be Aze's dance partner, before I realized she'd be with your brother and Her Grace wasn't joining us. I was just hoping you'd be here, I didn't actually know for sure." And yet she still wore the moth brooch.

"Well it's lovely to know you wear your brooch for all sorts of celebratory occasions, then, and not just for my sake." Sintha smiles at Lace and steps out to do a graceful little spin: not very lead-y, but very Sintha.

"It's for your sake even if you're not there," Lace says smoothly, but this is followed up by the blush she still hasn't managed to hide. She does a quick little twirl herself before trying to return to waltz position. Are they improvising now?

Sintha laughs airily and catches Lace back in waltz position again to resume the dance smoothly. "Gosh, that's sweet of you."

"Well, you made it for me," Lace counters, as if this explains the last thing she just said.

"I did." Sintha nods gravely; that is a fact. "Have you had occasion to use it yet?"

Lace shakes her head. "You have the homing beacon somewhere, don't you? I shouldn't want it to get lost or trapped on a wall, and you've been a busy woman to find lately."

Sintha sobers a little. "Tides, you have no idea," she says, quieter. "Well, maybe you do, I expect Himself is tearing his hair out. We're not meant to be going anywhere for a while yet — the 6th E.U., that is — but everything out there is winding up tighter than a spring and something is bound to give any moment. Dwell time or not, I think the whole of the 7th are on our toes now, watching the west."

Lace pats her shoulder sympathetically, mid-waltz. "Well, damn. No rest for the incredibly competent, huh?"

Sintha laughs brightly. There's something brittle about it. "Well, fortunately we already know what that's like, hm? But… it does look like an ugly storm building." She pauses and then adds, "Don't tell Shay, of course, that I said anything of the kind. He'll pitch another fit about my joining — if he's not preparing to do that already. The navy is getting the same reports, I imagine."

"I shan't," Lace agrees easily. "He's an Admiral now, I'm sure he gets enough intelligence through his own channels. Have you been working on anything you're legally allowed to tell me about lately?"

"For engineering work, I've been set to making some technical modifications to ships — artillery, plating, so on — which are confidential, and which I haven't mentioned to Shay because the ships we're getting are some of the new third-rates he's had built for the navy, and he's awfully sore lately about how the navy's been bleeding resources to other branches. But hopefully when we've finished our designs and have things to show for the work,// he'll be delighted to integrate the technology himself and all will be forgiven." Sintha glances toward her brother and then rolls her eyes at Lace.

"Not wanting your brother to know something until after it all ends well is something of a theme, is what I'm catching," Lace says.

Aze/Elle

"Aze," Joelle says, just because. "I like Stormwind. I serve there." Is that a reason to like it? Maybe to Joelle.

"Maybe I will too, someday," Aze says, and then the band kicks in, and Aze sweeps Joelle into the dance. It is immediately apparent that she does know this dance, and how to lead. She waits until they settle into a rhythm to say, "You and Mr. Boutille, huh?"

That's all, an observation made into a vague question, just to see what might pop out.

"Yes," says Joelle. Does it mean anything in particular? Does he understand the question? Unclear.

The music, however, and the steps, he does seem to understand, and his timing only improves the deeper into the song they get. There isn't any tension in him, and the way he holds her is firm but gentle, flowing with her like water.

Aze frowns slightly, but doesn't seem distressed. "You're pretty good at this, really. And what do you think of Mr. Boutille?"

Hah, let's see you answer that one with one word.

"Thank you, you are too," Joelle says. "I like Finley. He tries to understand me."

Aze considers that for a long silence, during which she leads Elle into a spin. "I'm not sure if he wants to understand me or not. How could you tell?"

Joelle tilts his head, considering. "He asked me questions," he says. "And… let me ask, too."

"I'm asking you questions, too," Aze says with a flash of a smile. "And you can ask me. There's this whole game of it I play with my family sometimes, but… uh, we don't need strict rules. I like questions."

"Oh," says Joelle. "Then… Mordecai said you taught him to dance. You are friends? I like Mordecai."

"Definitely," Aze says, throwing in a flourish on the lead side. "He was among the first, when I started spending time with humans. I adore him. He's very… understanding. Calm. And a better dancer than he thinks. How many other people here are your friends? It must be daunting to come to a dance party, if you don't know many people."

"I met Mordecai here. Finley invited me. Lady Alaisa, Isla, Lena, and Lady Sintha were in a play with me. I don't know them well. Ralaea comes to my house." Joelle pauses to think. "One of my friends is friends with Harvey."

Aze's long eyebrows rise. "You know about as many people here as I do, then. I met Lady Sintha tonight. And the death knight I know as Mourn, Lord of Blood. He's doing a pretty good job with the whole 'Harvey' thing, though. One of your friends… no, it's your turn, if you want to ask me a question."

They're taking turns! Joelle considers for a moment, then, "What do you do when you're not dancing?"

Aze opens her mouth, then closes it. She thinks. This is a more difficult question than it might have seemed. Finally, she says, "I'm… sort of… in between jobs? I was killing Scourge and undead dragons with the Argent Crusade during the Northrend Campaign, and for a while I've been hunting down demons in Outland for the Sha'tari. I… guess… you could say I specialize in hunting down dangerous creatures and killing them, when I'm not dancing. Oh, that and I volunteer at an orphanage."

"The Argent Crusade," Joelle says. "Like Tabiana. I have a friend who sends money to the orphans in Stormwind — the same one who is friends with Harvey. He doesn't have time to visit himself, though. Now it's your question."

"Tabiana? We have another friend in common," Aze says with a quick flash of a smile. "I knew her in the Crusade. So now I've got to ask the obvious question, but you can tell me it's a secret if it is. Who's this orphan-donating death-knight-befriending friend of yours?"

"Oh. His name is Lathrik," Joelle says. "It's not a secret. He has a lot of secrets, but that's not one. He's a paladin, and he's in the Stormwind Guard too. We're all friends, Lathrik, Ren, Tabiana, and me."

"Lots of secrets," Aze says with a laugh. "Sounds like an interesting friend. I only know Tabiana out of that group - she's here now, though. Not sure why she didn't come down for dancing, her footwork was fine when we sparred. But Lathrik and Ren. Maybe I'll get to meet them sometime. Is Ren a paladin, too? Or what is he, if not?"

Joelle shakes his head. "Ren's not a paladin. He's… good with his hands."

"That… might be more interesting than secrets," Aze says, trying without much success to suppress a smile. "Anyway, I did kind of a follow-up there, so you can ask two if you want. Any questions you want."

"How long are you staying here?" Joelle asks. "Are you going to visit Stormwind?" There! Two questions.

Aze winces. "I don't really have answers for those, so you can ask another if you want? I don't really have a set departure date right now, and… I definitely want to visit Stormwind City. I'd like to travel all over the kingdom, see everything! Like, my family in Redridge, and visit some of my friends who came today, see their homes. I'm just, you know, making new friends right now. Showing people what a good ally I am."

Joelle tilts his head, like he doesn't really understand. "You fought in the Argent Crusade," he says. "Why would anyone think you're not a good ally?"

"A lot of people who look like me swore themselves to the wrong side," Aze says, with an uncomfortable shrug. "And of course they'll know I'm a good ally, once they get to know me, right? Just some people make decisions about who's an ally based on… impersonal things."

"You have… clones?" Joelle asks, even more confused.

Aze laughs helplessly for a moment, then gets herself under control. "You did… did you notice I'm not human?"

"Oh," says Joelle. "Yes. But there are other elves. Kaldorei. High elves. We have a statue of one in Stormwind. Alleria Windrunner. Some humans are cultists, did you know? But we can't say all humans are bad, so we can't about elves either."

"Yeah, there's a lot of elves. And Alleria's a hero, though she disappeared a while back. The rest of the Windrunners not so much," Aze says with an exhale that might be a laugh or a scoff. "But I appreciate that. I've known bad humans, but I'd never say all humans are bad. Obviously. I like all the humans here quite a lot."

"I like you, too," Joelle says, and the faint smile reaches his face this time. "If you're friends with my friends, then… maybe… we could be too?"

"I'd love to be your friend, Elle," Aze says with another quick flash of a smile. "As long as you'd like to be mine."

"Yeah. Rae's a friend too, because I… she's just a friend too," Aze says, as the music comes to an abrupt halt. Aze pulls Elle close to make sure he doesn't stumble. "I'll write ahead, to make sure it's a good time to visit. I can still do that."

Joelle, perhaps misinterpreting the pull, gives Aze a hug. "Okay," he says.

Aze is surprised by the shift from closed waltz position to hug, but she quickly recovers and hugs him back. Yep, that was her intention all along, Elle, well-spotted. "I'm glad we got to dance together. Now, I should probably get ready to be a teacher."

Joelle releases her and steps away, and though she can't see it, his eyes are warm. "Good luck," he says softly.

Siamus/Isla

As the music starts up and Isla leans into Siamus' lead she declares, "Elle would be the most romantic, because he's such a good height for it. But the funniest would be Rae. She could probably pick him up, she's so strong, and he's so thin, but some part of him would have to be on the ground, his head or his feet. And then someone would have to help, but Rae probably wouldn't let anyone, and just stubbornly drag him off, and it would be so silly. I could tease him about it for years. He's never let me forget the time I accidentally hit a cake right into Sir Somer's face, and it was terribly dramatic, and so it would serve him right if I had something to get back at him with. Do you think Rae would be fast enough?"

Siamus is only slightly startled to discover that Isla has been thinking about this so thoroughly, and he covers it quickly. "I expect she would be, aye, she's fast on her feet. But you're right it would be… uneven, and you're also right she wouldn't let anyone help. Or else someone would point out that she needed help in order to do it properly, and she'd get angry and drop him."

He isn't smiling. He's so very not smiling even a little.

"Oh, wouldn't that be really terrible," Isla says, sounding very stoked about this possibility. "Then, Elle could carry him off and nurse him back to health!" She cranes her neck to look back around at Finley and Brendol, almost dragging them off course, but Siamus' lead is strong enough to contain the teenager. "But, of course, if Harvey and Rae saw that, they'd probably not consider either of them as their man. Maybe at the next dancing party, we could have Lady Cressidha here and she could send just a very specific heatwave at Lee until he swooned!"

Siamus contains Isla firmly in the waltz. "Not consider either of them? I don't believe we want them considering Finley, do we?" He appears to seriously consider her suggestion. "And I'm not clear why we would deliberately discomfit your brothe- Finley, that is, much less ask a lady of Cressidha Aspenwood's stature to give him heatstroke in the ballroom." Another pause. "I don't think she'd go in for it, honestly. It would have to be another mage."

Isla turns to look back up at Siamus, flipping rapidly through affront, chagrin, and back up to mischief. "Oh, I don't know that many mages, but surely someone would be right for it. I bet Avrenne would know. I could ask her about it when I ask about having tea tomorrow. It would only be a little heatwave just so that Lee would swoon," she says. "But I don't see why Harvey and Rae couldn't consider Lee. Harvey said they want someone who could like both of them, which I suppose narrows things down only a little, but I don't think many people are inviting Harvey to dances. Lee likes all sorts of people, and he's here." Wow, truly an infallible reasoning. "It's true though that it's Lee." She wrinkles her nose with a younger sister's distaste. "It would serve him right if he ended up alone being so disagreeable and awful. He's probably not any good for anyone."

"I think," says Siamus thoughtfully, "that Finley might appeal very well to certain people who are not his immediate family, aye? It's always difficult to imagine, naturally; I have no idea who on earth would put up wi' Ta apart from myself." He gives Isla room for a little spin. "Why are ye asking Her Grace about tea tomorrow?"

"To invite Harvey back," Isla tells him, twirling her dress. Wheeeee! "He and Bren have a prior engagement today, but he said he would visit if he knew he was welcome, and it would be good for him to think he's welcome, wouldn't it? I know Rae must miss him, and I don't think she thinks she can invite someone to tea, because she's new to all the manners and things. But I know of them, and I know I can ask Avrenne for it. If she says no, I promise I won't pout at it or anything. But what if we had tea tomorrow with Rae and Harvey and all of the eligible men for them? Then they could pick them out, and it would be so thrilling to see it happen! Can you even imagine it? They could both reach for a dessert and have their hands brush just so, and get a little zing, and suddenly they're making eyes at each other and wondering what it would be like for their hands to clasp together!" Oh, boy, there she goes.

Siamus processes all of this politely. "Sorry, I — whose hands are zinging? Ralaea and Morningdew? Or… the pair of them and one of these… bachelors ye've got lined up for them? Also I'm not sure consideration of a thing like that is… that is, I don't believe it's the sort of thing ye interview people over tea about." He hesitates. "If I'm honest, Isla" — and he is — "I don't know how welcome Morningdew is as a general matter. Aye? We'd have him here for this, as he's Ralaea's… choice, but…." Another pause.

"Well, ye can ask Her Grace," he says. A classic parenting redirect.

Isla beams up at Siamus. "I will, then!" she enthuses at him. "And of course the zings will have to happen between at least Rae and Harvey and the bachelor. But what if even among the bachelors some of them realized they had feelings for each other? Wouldn't that be thrilling to see happen right in front of you? I never get to see anything interesting like that. It always all happens somewhere else, and I only get to hear about it later, which is very fine for imagination, but I feel like I must be missing so many details. The books aren't always very good at them. The closest I ever saw in person was when Rae made Harvey hug the paladin, and that came to nothing because the paladin went off with a beautiful worgen named Natalyah, which is such a delicious name. Doesn't it just sound perfectly romantic? But, they're not looking to make a quadrille, just a trio, so it doesn't work for Harvey and Rae."

She half trips over her feet as she forgets how to do a little box and also move around in a circle, whoops.

Siamus steadies her swiftly and keeps moving through the dance as though nothing had been missed. "Natalyah — that is, Miss Kensington-Whit and Dinnsfield are a fine match. I… do not think they'd be suited to Ralaea and Morningdew, no. What d'ye expect a… zing looks like? Out of curiosity. Is there… something in particular you're hoping to spot?" And is it appropriate for a 16-year-old girl? Think carefully, Isla; your debut may get another two-year penalty.

Isla has never thought carefully about a thing in her life. "Well, you know. When people touch each other even just a little and it travels through their whole body, and they must get a certain look in their eyes, and a hesitation because they've momentarily lost track of the room. So, they've paused, and they don't even realize it, because it feels like a second that goes on both forever and at the same time is all too brief. Isn't it like that? Wasn't it like that with Avrenne for you? A moment when you held her hand and thought you could feel it all the way through you?" Her eyes are shining up at Siamus, and it's amazing little stars don't just twinkle out from around her.

Siamus considers this question, and Isla's face, for a possibly uncomfortably long time. At last: "Aye," he says. "Yes. It was… just exactly like that. The… forever, and the hand, and whatnot."

Isla is absolutely delighted by this knowledge, having waited with bated breath the whole considering time. The thrill of this confirmation seems to only add to her embellishing in her head of moments she was not a witness to. Fortunately, while her head is so occupied, her dancing is mercifully smoother.

Shine/Lena

Lena has only eyes for Shine as the music begins.

Shine has resigned himself to smiling, apparently, because he's doing quite a lot of it. I would say in fact that his expression is shining down at Lena but you would think that's a pun and it isn't. So I won't. He leads her confidently in the waltz, sure of his footwork, and they make a graceful pair. A graceful, somewhat twitterpated pair.

Lena is matching him for shining, and as far as one might tell by her expression, they may as well be alone in the ballroom. Then she says, "The Admiral asked, and Lady Alaisa. I told them we were courting, more or less."

"Lady Alaisa asked?" Shine looks faintly startled. "Ah. Well, one of those people is discreet and one isn't at all, so I expect word will spread at an average pace from there." He smiles again. "And that's good. That people will know we're courting. More or less." He throws a glance at Siamus. "Fallon wasn't a nuisance, I hope."

"I was surprised, too," Lena nods. "Maybe I shouldn't have been, that she noticed? She's very observant, but very… yes, very discreet. I have told her it isn't a secret, though."

"Good," says Shine. "It's not. You do look beautiful in this color, ye know."

"I'm glad you think so," Lena says, and she can't seem to stop smiling. "I've not got so many in pink, but maybe I ought to have more. If you like, I could get more."

"I think," says Shine, smiling back at her, "that you should have whatever color dresses ye like, because I'm sure you're beautiful in all of them and I'd have no complaints. But it's true I've not seen you in the pink before, and it is lovely. What made ye choose it? I'd expected blue."

"I do like blue, completely aside from all the Alliance and Fallon connotations," Lena says with a smile. "Always been told it goes well with my eyes. I just thought, maybe, there'd be a sea of blue here, and I could do something different. Turns out, everyone looks a little different, and all lovely, don't they?"

"It does go well with your eyes," Shine agrees. "They look bluer. But the pink suits you just as well in other ways." He looks around the room. Are there people? Looking some kind of way? "Everyone does look very fine," he agrees. "Though I note ye can't get Fallon out of blue, and Miss Sunstrike seems to be playing the same tune. The Aspenwoods make a handsome match. And yellow always suits Miss Isla."

He considers Sintha and Alaisa. "Lady Alaisa seems to have matched Lady Sintha rather well, too." His tone is a little bit too servant-bland there, as though there is an observation he is carefully not making beneath the observation he did make.

"Has she now," Lena says, glancing over at the two women dancing with polite, mild curiosity. "They do seem often to fit together, when I've seen them. Which is not often, I'll admit. And as for Miss Sunstrike, she would. She's making a case, and it's not an easy one. I expect she'll rediscover color once she feels it's made. That or she'll go back to black. She wore a lot of black before."

Shine glances down at his own black suit ruefully, and does not comment. He isn't goth, he's just discreet. "Oh, I can't say I blame the lady. She's been doing a yeoman's job of it so far."
Lena laughs lightly. "She has clearly been trying,at least. And yes, Isla's a little sunflower in her dress, and the Aspenwoods look as well-matched as they did at their wedding."

Shine casts another thoughtful look around the room. He might be assessing how much attention any of the dancers is paying to anyone beyond their own partners, and he might reach a satisfactory conclusion on this front, because two steps later his hand on Lena's back presses her lightly closer and he bends to kiss her.

It is light and quick and smoothly done — no stumbling, this time — and anyone who just caught it from the corner of their eye might think he'd only briefly bent to murmur in her ear or something. He has straightened again at once, his expression bland.

Lena doesn't react obviously to the kiss, but there's a faint smile, a faint blush where there wasn't before. She looks up to Shine with a polite expression, and says, "I do hope you won't be too exhausted after all this dancing."

"Your concern is very kind," Shine tells her seriously. "But I think you'll find I'm not as old as all that. Though I may retire early, depending."

He looks up, startled, as the music reaches its unexpected end.

Mordecai/Colson

Colson relaxes happily into Mordecai's lead, a graceful dancer well versed in the dance, and able to enjoy it fully doing exactly as he pleases — which is staring at his husband.

Mordecai quickly realizes that moving around counter clockwise in a group setting means he will need to have at least some degree of spatial awareness, especially if he doesn't want to lead them into another waltzing pair - or perhaps a wall, and his attention is immediately split.

Colson moves with the smooth grace of both a dancer of some skill in general, and significantly so with this particular partner. He doesn't seem to feel the need to make much conversation with Mordecai, content to let him focus on the leading, and use the opportunity to admire the priest.

Mordecai relaxes into the rhythm of the music after a short while, once he's got a sense of where everyone else is. This leaves him free to stare longingly at his husband for most of the dance. He is decent at the Stormwind Waltz, solidly average, but his real skill is moving in perfect synchronization with his partner, like he and Colson have some sort of silent telepathic connection. They don't.

OR DO THEY.

Colson smiles wider at Mordecai as they pass through a sunbeam, and it lights up Mordecai's hair, his eyes tracing the path like a touch of his fingers, a certain look in the paladin's eyes.

Mordecai's smile brightens at the sight of Colson's smile - a classic positive feedback loop.

Mordecai is clearly not expecting the music to end when it does, and it's possible he doesn't even notice it ending, either, because he continues the waltz without missing a beat while everyone else around them stops.

Colson gently, and carefully, uses just enough of a guide of his hands, and a slowing to a stop of his footwork as he pulls Mordecai closer to his body with a smile, before they can travel too far to crash into a couple that has stopped. "I have you," he says.

"…Oh." Mordecai comes to a halt, blinking slowly at Colson. "Thank you." He leans in and kisses Colson's cheek, blink-and-you'll-miss-it quickly.

Harvey/Ralaea

As the music begins, Harvey begins the steps of the waltz, and Ralaea, who was still watching Finley for some reason, immediately trips. “I wasn’t ready,” she says, glaring up at Harvey.

“The music started,” Harvey says, gazing back at her.

“Why does that matter if I wasn’t ready?”

“Ralaea, you do realize we are the only ones not dancing right now?” Harvey sighs. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” says Ralaea. A silence. Then, “Was that so hard?”

If there is the slightest roll of eyes, it’s difficult to tell, thanks to the glow. Finally, the two begin the dance. It goes well, for the most part, though there are several occasions where Ralaea stumbles and immediately blames it on Harvey’s big feet. Still, they make it through without any explosive incidents.

Finley/Brendol

"Was it… Rae who got you drinking?" Bren asks, still slightly awkward. When in doubt, talk about one's sister, apparently.

Finley gives a rueful smile to Bren, as he guides them into a very, very simple waltz, turning them gently through, and keeping a pace with Bren without force so they stay well within the middle of the other two couples. "I'd be lying if I said it had nothing to do with her. But it's not all her. Hopefully it's not obvious, but s'my first time teaching dancing like this. Don't want anyone not havin' a good time because I went through things too fast, or didn't realize someone needed a bit more effort. So, bit o' nerves. Ralaea's a good girl. Clever. Funny. Fun to dance with. Truth told, it was Lady Sintha who unsettled me a touch, had me eyeing the whiskey. She can be intimidating. I think you know what I mean," he says.

Bren's small shiver is easy to feel, as well as see. "Lady Sintha was doing… that thing with her eyelashes, and… She's pretty, but I… what am I supposed to do with that?" His cheeks turn pink, and his footwork falters at just the memories.

Finley picks up some of the slack, easing them back into the rhythm with an instruction of where his feet need to go, and gives that a little bit of time before he says in a dry voice, "Drink some whiskey about it?" He shakes his head. "If she wasn't Lady Sintha, because she's on a whole other level of ladies, what would you usually about it, of a pretty girl fluttering her lashes at you?"

Bren clears his throat. "Die from embarrassment?" he says.

Finley nods with an amusement tilted serious look. "Another classic strategy," he agrees. "Nearly failproof, but ah, those times it isn’t. You have a hard time with talking to girls in general, or is it just the forward, pretty ones that get you?"

"I guess it depends on what about?" Bren says. "I can talk about work okay. But when they get all dressed up, suddenly I don't know what to do with my hands. Or my eyes. Or my words."

"S'fair enough. The good news is that most of those things can be learned, and apply to most situations. Dancing for example, set rules for where hands and eyes go. Hands, well above the waist, shoulder blades and shoulders. Eyes, on their eyes, and if not there, no lower than their chin. Words, well. That's the tricky part. They'll tell you the easiest small talks are the weather and the state of the roads. Gets boring though. Really, easiest thing is to ask 'em a question or two about themselves that's not too personal. You know, ask them how they like the dance, or dancing itself. What they do in their spare time. Stay clear of topics like tentacles and if they've been recently killed by a dragon," Finley adds, and that last part might be the whiskey talking.

"Is uh… that what Ralaea talked to you about?" Bren asks. "Tentacles and dragons? Sounds like her."

"Maybe, but it's fine. I'm in an advanced class of Talking To Girls," Finley says with a smile. "So, if you were to talk about work, what would you be talking about? There's nothing wrong with going the way of what you find easy to speak on."

"Tents, I guess," Bren says. "I'm living with… or uh. Existing with Harvey in Elwynn, and I have this tent. But every time it rains, it fills with water. Harvey tried to help me set up the last tent, but he got impatient and ripped it, so I won't let him near this one. And Rae… I can't ask her, she'll just make fun of me and tell me to come back here."

Finley's face does a bit of a thing, like he's thought of something, and didn't quite manage to keep it off his expression. What he says though is, "Ah, but you've more than just Rae to ask, while you're here." If he notices he's used the nickname, it doesn't show. "I've not any experience myself with tents, myself, but A — Her Grace likely knows the whole configuration back and forth. Also if you've the right material for the tent for the place. Fallon probably knows heaps of things about how to make a thing waterproof. You can ask them things without moving back in. Both know what it's like when a man has things to do."

Bren straightens. Yeah! He's a Man with Things to Do. "I… could do that. Ask. They're discreet enough to not tell Rae. I was really going for camouflage, so it just looks like a pile of leaves or something, but I'm tired of getting wet all the time. Sometimes I think Harvey enjoys it too much."

Finley is subtle with it, as he lightly guides Bren into a turn and back to a simpler waltz after; it just so happens to give him a better line of sight on Ralaea and Harvey. "Right. That sounds like it could be uncomfortable for the both of you. But most of the time, how are you two out there? Working well together?"

"Yeah. I'm trying to learn to use a bigger sword, like he does," Bren says. "It's a lot of work, but he's always made it look so easy. Before, and especially now. He's still Harvey, if you're worried about him and Rae. Just, now more of his insecurities are on the outside, and he doesn't have quite the patience he used to, unless he's really trying."

"I remember seeing him at balls, long ago, back in Lordaeron. We're near an age, he and I, s'matter of fact. He always seems very in control of himself. Confident," Finley says, a pleasant gentleman. "S'you learning sword fighting from him? A broadsword is tricky business, isn't it?"

Bren smiles. "Confident is how he wants you to see him," he says. "He's really…" He hesitates, and turns his head in Harvey's direction. "Yeah. Let's go with confident. He is teaching me, yes. It uses more core muscles than I thought. Your arms are just sort of there to help guide it."

Finley's brows raise, and he tips his head a little with a smile. "The ladies do like a man with fit core muscles," he says. He's guiding them lightly through the last of the waltz with an easy glide, knowing when the somewhat abrupt end will come.

Brendol stumbles at the sudden switch in conversation back to ladies. "I-I uh. I don't think they'll know, unless I… t-take something off," he says.

Finley shows off some impressive core muscles as he catches the shorter, younger man, and rights their dancing. "Well, if you've got them asking you to take your clothes off, you're probably doing something right," he says lightly. "But there's ways of showing it off. Dancing, for example. Helping them up on a horse. Giving a demonstration of what you're working on with the broadsword, when you know a part well."

The waltz comes to an abrupt ta DAAA ending, and Finley is especially attentive to it, slowing them down in the last bit rather than suddenly stopping on a dime, as he aims them not just in the circle of the waltz, but outside it to avoid any couples who keep going without realizing the song's stopped.

Bren's blush reaches extreme levels as he realizes he's done those things with girls. As soon as the dance stops, he takes a step back, then another, and mumbles an excuse, fleeing the ballroom for one of the many bathrooms. He's fine. Everything's fine.

That's so far 2/2 Westwinds that Finley has sent basically running from him out of the ballroom, for those counting at home.

Ralaea, seeing her brother take off, raises her eyebrows at Finley, probably more amused than anything.

Finley catches the look with such quick timing, that someone might wonder if he was already keeping half an eye on her. He shrugs, pushing his hand through his hair, and then gives the whiskey a wistful look.

As Brendol books it out of the ballroom, blushing heavily, from his dance with Finley, Isla lets go of Siamus to put her hands up to her face. "Oh! Look! Do you think Bren just got a zing with Lee?!" she asks Siamus.

Siamus is gazing after Brendol. Why do people keep fleeing this ballroom? "I do not," he tells Isla. "I expect he'd just have swooned, in that case."

Isla looks back and forth between the doors and Finley, and then a wave of concern washes over her, as she wrings her hands together. "Do you think Bren will be back? He didn't leave did he? Should I go after him do you think? I'm not supposed to do the next two dances, Avrenne says they may be too grown up for me, but, well I thought we might sit together."

Siamus drops his gaze to consider her, startled. Then he smiles faintly. "That's very kind of you, Isla. Why don't ye go and see if the lad's all right, aye." He pauses. "Perhaps don't mention… zings, or swooning, or… what have ye. Just… ask if he's all right."

Isla nods eagerly. Sure! No zings, no swoons. Ask if he's all right and if he finds Finley very appealing since he isn't Bren's brother nothing. She picks up the sides of her dress and swooshes towards the door. She can be heard audibly yelling, at a very unladylike volume, "Bren!? Brendol Westwind!!"

If there is a lock on the bathroom door, it is now locked tightly, and Bren is most likely cowering in a corner.

Siamus stands for a moment contemplating the ballroom doors and perhaps wondering whether he's made a mistake.

Nah.

He turns around to sweep the ballroom with a smiling look.

Continued in Part 3

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