(2025-01-21) Dances 6 through 7 (Dance Dance Part 3)
Details
Author: Athena
Summary: The dances and the dancers heat up as the afternoon of dancing continues. //Zings// zip through the couples in the waltz and the new elven dances. There are spiritual awakenings to the heretofore unknown possibilities of dance, solemn vows made to Aze's hips, and prides pricked. The Westwinds make a splash onto the dancing scene. The Aspenwoods make a different impression on the dancing scene. Reconciliations and pacts are made, and some dances are threatened with death, but it's probably fine. 32k~ words. Part 3 of 4.
Rating: M for Mature 17+
Alaisa Lysander Aszera Sunstrike Lena Shine Brendol Westwind Sir Colson Aspenwood Joelle Ebek Finley Boutille Harvey Mourningdew Isla Lenaire Mordecai Aspenwood Ralaea Admiral Siamus Fallon Sintha Fallon

Continued from Part 2

Between the Waltz and the Amar’uel

Shine/Lena

"If you retire, I shall retire with you, as your partner," Lena says, ever so courteously. "Though I do hope we may try the elven dances? We could get some water beforehand, maybe."

"Oh, I don't mean to retire that early," Shine assures her. "I'd not miss the opportunity to dance with ye as long as I can." He fits her hand into the crook of his arm to lead her from the floor. The jacketless Siamus and Finley are already moving in that direction, and Shine raises his eyebrow. "Though I may be overdressed at this point," he says dryly.

"Ah. Let me help you with your jacket?" Lena asks, sliding a hand up toward his collar.

Shine hesitates a moment, his answer a beat later than one might expect, but then he inclines his head to her and says, "That's very thoughtful of ye, Miss Coit." He watches her intently, his gaze inscrutable, though he wears that slight smile.

Lena is not being scandalous. This is a socially-acceptable level of undressing one's partner in a public setting. It's an observer's imagination if they think her hand lingers on his chest as she draws the jacket off and down his arm. The movement is smooth and practiced, and it takes only moments before she's handing it back to him.

Shine accepts the jacket gratefully and bows his head to her again. "May I collect a drink for you?" he asks Lena.

"I would appreciate it," Lena says with a smile. "Water, probably? Unless you want a fizzy drink, then I could try that instead."

Shine laughs quietly. "It's a party," he observes. "Why not?" He goes to drape his jacket over a chair and heads for the fizzy-drink table, rolling his sleeves as he does.

Lena moves further off the floor, vaguely in the direction Shine is taking, carefully smoothing the fabric of her dress. It doesn't really need smoothing.

Sintha/Alaisa

Lace chuckles quietly. "Ah, well." When the song ends, she slows to a stop and dips Sintha a curtsy. "Now where is young Mr. Westwind running off to?"

Sintha looks after him from her own curtsey. "They do that," she observes. "The Westwinds."

"Fascinating." Lace turns to observe the rest of the ballroom. "What an assortment," she says. "And there goes dear Isla. I wonder if she'll find him."

"Absolutely not," Sintha assures Lace blithely. "She'll think of something instead and float off to the library and spend the next three hours writing a novel and forget all about the party."

Lace laughs. "Does she do that? Adorable."

Aze/Elle/Finley

"Thanks," Aze says to Elle, and she smiles, though her eyes are hidden and also destroyed. "I'll get some water, I think, before the lesson starts."

She tilts her head to indicate he's welcome to join, as she heads for the refreshment table.

Joelle follows her, but he spares a concerned glance at Finley as he realizes his partner has fled.

For the second time. In a row. He's doing great. Finley up-nods Joelle, and ambles over at a deceptively slow pace, relying on his height to see him across the room quickly, a hand in his pocket. It's the check-in-with-Elle time, as he's done after almost every dance, with only one exception being when he stayed by Ralaea between the Minuet and the Allemande. "Elle. Miss Sunstrike. So? How'd the waltz feel? You looked like you both had a good time with it."

"Yes, Mr. Boutille, I enjoyed the dance, and I think Elle did too?" Aze tilts her head toward him for his answer. In the meantime she adds, "Thank you for your advice, as well, for the pair. It was valuable."

Finley watches Isla scurry across the ballroom and out the doors to start shouting for Brendol. Well. That's happening. He forces his attention back to Aze and Elle, smiling pleasantly. "'M glad to hear it," he says. "And with that, I yield the instructor floor to you, Miss Sunstrike. I've got the last one with the quadrille, but that's… well. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it." He sticks his other hand in his pocket. He's a lot less overheated seeming, freed of some of his clothing. Still pretty sweaty on the forehead, though. "When you're ready for the band to start up, just let Fallon know. They're watching for the cue from just him. Keeps it simple and straightforward for them."

Aze nods acknowledgement, smiling back at him, and asks, "Any tips for teaching, before I get started? You've been doing very well with it so far, with such a wide variety in the students."

Joelle reaches into one of his sleeves and pulls out a midnight blue handkerchief, speckled with stars. He begins to wipe the sweat from Finley's brow. "The dance was fun," he says. "Why do your partners keep running?"

Finley is briefly startled by the touch, a widening of his eyes, a slight movement of pulling away before he halts it and gives Elle a companionable smile. "They're Westwinds," Finley explains. "It's what they do." That enigmatic statement spoken, he reaches up to try to gently control the wiping, and if he aims for a big brotherly sort of vibe, he's at least practiced at doing it. "Saw a problem, so you're working to fix it?" he asks lightly. "Anticipating a need. I appreciate the gesture, Elle."

While that goes on, he turns his attention to Aze. "You're giving me far too much credit, Miss Sunstrike. I've been 'teaching' a group of mostly learned and skilled dancers. On Alliance dances that most are at least somewhat familiar with, and all of which use a lot of the same sorts of steps and ideas. You have the much harder task of having hardly any one who knows yours. Many of whom haven't even ever heard of the dance, let alone seen it, and to speak nothing of doing it. And you'll be teaching it in a second language, with words you'll have to choose between translating or leaving as is. There's no comparing, really. Just do what feels right as you go."

He doesn't look at anyone specifically. In fact, he very carefully keeps his attention only on Aze. "If I had any advice, it'd be only to go over the footwork more than once. There's some who will find that necessary, but they're the least likely to ask for it. Have you taught dancing before?"

"I'm not really experienced at it - I've been more of a dancer than a teacher in the past," Aze says with a shrug. "But I taught the Aspenwoods back in Outland, and I think that went really well. They can probably help out with some of the others, if anyone needs sort of… translation of the movements that I might not be the best to give. The footwork is, at least, pretty straightforward, but I'll go over it as much as needed."

Joelle's smile appears faintly again, and he nods. He is Helping, and no one is threatening to break his fingers. When his task is complete, the forehead thoroughly wiped, he disappears the handkerchief back into his sleeve.

"Sounds like a plan," Finley says to Aze. He glances over at Ralaea, and therefore also at Harvey. Whatever thought he might have is well guarded behind those murky eyes. But he addresses Elle with, "So, who do you think you'd like to work on the next one with, Elle? I'm free, if you'd prefer my friendly face, but I won't take it amiss if you've another you'd rather ask."

Joelle doesn't even glance around. He bows. "I will dance with you," he says. "I won't run, after. Did you… get to see the sunlight?"

Ralaea stops looking at him as soon as she catches him looking, a with little toss of her head. He hasn't asked for water yet. Maybe she's mad.

This time, when Finley looks over — again — at Ralaea, it lingers, just a little too long, something in the way he goes more still, a held breath, and a much more serious look on his face. Aze can't see the look, but she can hear the pause.

Then, Finley sweeps it back. He crosses his arms, and raises his brows with a, "Oh, hm? Yeah, yeah, a bit, sure." It's a deliberately breezy pleasant gentleman's voice and pitch, and it would be so much more convincing if he hadn't missed the timing by just a little too long. He turns towards the table, reaching for a glass of the nearest liquid, whatever it is.

Light damn it, it's water. Today is not his best day.

Aze doesn't comment on the pause, or the change in tone. There is no way, however, that she didn't notice, even if she doesn't know the cause.

"Well, then, I should probably go find my Admiral," Aze says with a quick flash of a smile. The way she tilts her head in Siamus's direction might indicate its less 'find' and more 'walk over to'. "I'm not running, either, though. In case you were getting self-conscious."

Aze nods a farewell, and moves off towards Siamus.

Finley wasn't until she said that. His shoulders tighten, and he tosses some water back like he wishes that if he just treats it like tequila, it will transmute into it. He sets it back down and gives Joelle a wry smile, his arms crossed once more. "Alright then. Let's end my running streak, hm?" He surveys the room. They're still missing people, and not everyone looks like they're ready to get another started. "You want to sit at all, while we wait for people to be ready for the next?"

"I've already sat for three hours today," Joelle reports. "Do you?"

Finley exhales a half-laugh. "A bit, yeah," he concedes. "I'm used to standing and dancing for hours, but I could do with a breather. Join me?" He first nods his intended destination, and then steps towards the chair he's left his discarded suit pieces on, moving aside the untidily tossed pieces to drape somewhat chaotically over his lap as he sits, stretching his legs out in front of him.

Joelle follows, and stands contentedly nearby, like he's guarding him.

Mordecai/Colson/Siamus

Mordecai orients himself in physical space again. It turns out that no, he is not alone in the room with Colson, there are actually a lot of other people in the ballroom with them. Notably, both Rae's little brother and Miss Lenaire are now gone. And Siamus has taken his jacket off. Mordecai turns to Colson and reaches for the top button. "Would you like to take this off?" he offers, except it seems like he plans on helping.

Colson looks over Mordecai's face like a man studying a well known map, but he's just checking the exact placement of a river on it that he was fairly certain of, but it's good to confirm. "Yes," he says, though he makes no move to do so himself, in a way that seems purposeful.

Mordecai removes Colson's suit jacket. He is legally allowed to do this as Colson's husband, this is very appropriate, do not perceive him. Just normal married people behavior. Nothing to see here.

Colson's a tough read generally speaking, but in the focus he has on Mordecai, and the softness of his stoic features, is an obvious sort of devotion, even more perceptible than the [Devotion] paladin aura he casts out around himself to the raid dance party. "Thank you," he says, lower and deeper, his eyes a darker shade of blue. He reaches out with his right hand to set the back of his knuckles against the tip of Mordecai's left shoulder.

"I love you," Mordecai says, "Um, I mean, you're welcome, but also I love you. Here." He quickly holds Colson's suit jacket out to him. It needs to get put somewhere and Mordecai does not know where to put it.

"Love you," Colson echoes, as he sets his jacket over his arm, and looks over the ballroom. There are two other chairs with suit jackets over them by two (2) members of the house, which is enough to make a Rule clear. He offers Mordecai his other hand. "Would you like to sit down and have some water before the next one?"

Mordecai takes his free hand. "I should probably, um. If there's a, a bathroom?" He has been drinking a lot of water today, after all.

Colson nods. "I believe there is one not far from here, if I am remembering it correctly from the Charity Gala," he says. "Would you like me to ask?"

Mordecai nods, shy.

Colson's attention goes to Siamus, as he leads the duo over towards the Man In Charge, and Maybe New Friend Man. "Fallon," he says as he gets within comfortable speaking distance. He has Zero Shy. "Where is the nearest bathroom that a guest may use?"

Siamus turns amiably toward the pair. "Just across the way," he says, gesturing to the ballroom's eastern door. "As if ye were going back to the main hall." He surveys the couple, smiling. "Ye looked very handsome out there, the both of ye."

Colson inclines his head politely, standing patiently with Mordecai. "Thank you," he says, to both the information and the compliment. "We have been enjoying ourselves. It has been some time since we were last able to dance like this, and we are grateful for the opportunity. You have a beautiful home."

"Thank you," Mordecai mumbles as well, blushing faintly.

"As I told your husband earlier, the pair of ye are welcome here any time. Lord Bertrand stayed for a while last year, as ye know. And ye'd have free run of the ballroom." Siamus smiles his slanted smile. "I'm sure Miss Sunstrike would be pleased to see more of ye. Though of course I recognize we're all busy enough at the moment, as well. But the offer stands."

"Of course. That is a generous offer, and we are honored by your hospitality," Colson says. He looks to Mordecai to check in with the priest, and nods to Siamus. "If you will excuse us, we will return soon." They have to address the water intake situation.

"Across the way, like we're going to the main hall," Mordecai mutters to himself as he exits the ballroom with his husband.

Brendol/Mordecai/Colson/Isla

Out in the rest of the house, Colson makes his way to the nearer bathroom with Mordecai, unphased and unbothered by the fact that it seems to be already occupied by someone.

Isla, in the library, is fully distracted from her mission to find Bren by an impulse to add in an entire zing moment between two characters in a book she has been reading that the author maintains are just two gals who are best pals, who also seem to have absolutely no interest in the men of the story, and talk about how they want to never stop adventuring together. Isla is fixing this silliness in the fanfiction version.

Brendol, no longer hearing his name being shouted, cautiously emerges from the bathroom… and promptly startle-slips upon seeing Colson, only barely managing to stop himself from going down. "I-I didn't, uh, use it," he blurts. "I just. Stood in there, so." He clears his throat, recovering scraps of his composure, his cheeks once again bright pink. "It's all yours."

He bows to Colson and Mordecai.

Colson's expression doesn't do anything, in either shock or second hand embarrassment, as he reaches out a hand to steady Brendol from the slip. "Thank you," he says simply, with a certain sort of Paladin Calm.

Brendol all but bolts back into the ballroom. Somehow, calm stoic paladin face makes it feel worse.

"Ah," Colson says, watching Brendol dash off.

Mordecai watches him go, speechless, and when the ballroom door shuts behind Brendol, he quickly tugs Colson by the sleeve into the bathroom with him. "My hair's a mess," he says, catching his reflection in the mirror. "Can you help me?"

"Of course," Colson agrees immediately, stepping into the bathroom, and closing and locking the door behind him. "It would be my pleasure."

Mordecai and Colson are, for the first time since the carriage, alone in private. And all Mordecai does is stand innocently in front of the mirror, head held straight up. He has been behaving so well today. So far.

Colson steps behind Mordecai, pressing up against him, watching the priest in the mirror, as he lifts his hands into the chaos curls, combing them out with his fingers, slowly. Gently. He leans in, setting his mouth near Mordecai's ear, murmuring low. "You are such a temptation, my angel."

Mordecai leans back against Colson, eyes fixed on their reflections in the mirror. "I know," he says, with the faintest trace of a self-satisfied smile. It can't be called a smirk - Mordecai's face does not do that - but it is close. "And I haven't even done anything to you," he says, tilting his head back slightly. "I don't even need to, do I?"

Colson holds his Mordecai's gaze as surely as an embrace. "You always do something to me," he confesses freely. "Whether you are trying or not." In the privacy of the room, he shifts enough to press a lingering kiss to the edge of Mordecai's jaw, still gently carding his hand through the curls, gently twisting them here and there back into a curl, some order to the chaos.

"I'll be trying soon," Mordecai warns him. "Unless you would prefer I didn't?" Because of course Colson gets a chance to opt out.

"You may try," Colson answers, a purr in the baritone of his voice. Still, he doesn't escalate any further, a paladin with an iron will of restraint. "I want you." A tiny pause, but deliberate. "To do so."

Mordecai smiles that same smile as before and pulls fluidly away from Colson, turning in place. He neatens Colson's hair just a bit with his fingers. "I'll meet you back in the ballroom," he says. "Go on, beautiful."

Colson goes on.

Finley/Elle and Bren/Rae/Harvey

Brendol reappears in the ballroom and heads straight to Harvey and Ralaea, trying to act casual, and absolutely failing. Something he says makes Ralaea laugh — yes, laugh, out loud — which only makes Bren glare at her defensively.

Finley sits with his arms crossed over his chest. When Ralaea laughs, he stares at her like he's only just seen her and had no idea she was there before. And then he runs a hand over his face, covering his eyes, and rubbing roughly at his temples. He lowers his hand and he's all agreeable smiles on his lips that don't reach his guarded eyes even remotely.

"You've looked like you're having a good time," he observes at Elle, turning in his chair to face him. "Any new metaphors you've seen today?" He adds, quickly, "That'd you'd care t'share. It's not an order or anythin'."

"Mordecai is a candle," Joelle says, opting not to pry too much into Finley's thoughts. "His Light is soft, and you want to protect it, but with the right fuel, he can be really strong."

Finley appreciates the lack of prying. He's also opting to not pry too much into his own thoughts. Ha ha, I mean, what thoughts? He doesn't have any thoughts.

"That's an apt description, from what I know of him, and poetic as always," Finley says. "You've a gift."

"With Aze, it's… harder to tell," Joelle says, tilting his head to study Finley. "Some people are like that. Lathrik was. She is trying to be a certain way. To fit in. Belong. I can't… see deep enough. But I like her. The effort is real."

"I get the feeling that Miss Sunstrike's a dab hand at fitting herself in places," Finley observes. "Like wine in a glass, shifting with each pour. The wine's real enough, but it's not got a shape on its own until it's somewhere." His smile shifts, a warmer touch to his eyes. "What of you, then? Any of that rust comin' off the spring?"

Alaisa's eyes flick to Finley as she overhears that description. She says nothing.

"You're good at word art, too," Joelle says. "And… oiling rusty springs. I have never made this many friends in a day before. Thank you, Finley. What… draws you to landscapes? In your art? If… it's okay to ask."

"It's always okay to ask, Elle," Finley answers first, his attention more fully on Elle. "The answer I'd usually give to someone is a line about how the land is a part of us all. History. Connection to the world. And those aren't lies, but there's another.

What I like about it is that the freedom of a landscape is it's a challenge to show an expression of the soul on something that doesn't have a face. You bring to a landscape who you are. What you see to cut out of the world and put on a canvas. And what you read into it when you see it. Wheat that makes you think of someone bent over and tired. Stone that reminds you of a stalwart guard. Buildings that remind you of hands reaching for each other." Uh oh, we're getting too real. He clears his throat and slouches further down in his chair. "And landscapes don't so much moving around as a person, so. Maybe it's just easier, too, for that."

"I want…" Joelle stops, the words marked with a sense of surprise that he's said them. He's admitting that he wants something. A bit awkwardly, he tries to rephrase. "I… would like to see more of your art," he says. "I like how you look at the world."

Finley watches Elle's face, and uncrosses his arms, using the motion to fold his suit jacket the way a butler would, an old habit taking over the newer mannerisms. "Alright. We'll see how the afternoon takes us, and if we've time still before you're due back home, I have a studio upstairs. If not, another day. You're welcome to the house." He pauses, and maybe it's still the whiskey talking that he adds, "You can tell me what you want, you know. It's fine to want things."

The words though seem to send a twitch through him that disrupts his easy going smile, before he perfects it back into place. Nothing to see here, just a good pleasant gentleman.

"You, too," Joelle says, his eyes warm. "If you want things, you can tell me. I won't tell others, unless you want me to."

Finley's eyes might as well be a brick wall, but his smile is genuine. "Don't worry about me." He sets his now neatly folded clothes to the chair next to him. "I don't want for anything," he lies, and he lies well.

"Seems like people are mostly back, and'll be looking to the next. You ready?" Finley sticks his hands in his pockets as he nods his head in the direction of the ballroom main floor.

Joelle nods as well, ready to move with Finley. There is nothing for him to do but watch over his friend.

Sintha/Alaisa

Sintha is breezing from the floor in search of something to drink. "And now it's time for our elven lessons, yes?" she asks over her shoulder of Lace. "Well, mine. As you're already acquainted. You'll have to be merciful, hm?"

"That depends on which dance she's teaching us," Lace admits. "I know quite a few, but not necessarily all of them."

Siamus/Aze

Aze strides over to Siamus at the side of the room, slowing with a smile as she approaches. "Ready to dance with me again? I hope your waltz was fun."

Siamus smiles the sardonic Ballroom Smile as he turns to greet her. "Aye, and yours, I hope? I'm very much looking forward to another dance with ye." He glances over at Finley and then back to Aze. "Will ye forgive a bit of informality? It's warm in here." He's already begun tugging his cravat loose, to abandon it on the chair with his jacket. "Your friends all seem very pleased to see ye, aye?"

"Go for it," Aze says, her smile warming. "I'd take something off, too, but that might strike the wrong chord. And yeah, I'm pleased to see them, as well. In case you thought I might be exaggerating - they are my friends."

Siamus steps back toward Aze from laying his cravat down, rolling his sleeves up now, and arches a bemused brow at her. "I never doubted ye. Silentstep and Hazan were your friends as well, and I know the pair of them. I just meant it must be pleasant for ye, to see other — that is, to find other welcoming faces." He studies her. "And if ye wish to take anything else off, perhaps another dance lesson, another time." He's lowered his voice for Discretion, but his tone is light.

"You know where to find me," Aze says in a low voice, with an ever-so-polite smile. A little louder, reaching for his arm, she adds, "Maybe I should have mentioned, but I'm planning for you to lead in the amar'uel. I'm sure you'll be fine, and I'm more fun as a follow."

He gives her his arm reflexively. "Lead it? Not having done it? I'll do my best not to disappoint." He pauses and then observes with impeccably bland courtesy, "Though I expect you're every bit as much fun as a lead as ye are a follow."

"I have been told I'm a pleasure in both positions," Aze says, doing her best to match his bland courtesy. "But really, for the height difference, and the… turns and… other things… I'll fit better as a follow. No one else leading will know the dance better, except Colson."

Siamus bows his head to her, smiling his faint smile. "Then I'll be glad to oblige."

"I am going to tone things down a little," Aze says, more seriously. "Because… Isla. Maybe you can signal me somehow, if it's too much?"

"I will," Siamus assures her. Hopefully he will remember what's too much.

(Isla will be in the room. He will. Or maybe they can just wait and see whether Brendol runs out at anything.)

Colson/Mordecai and Isla/Rae/Harvey/Bren

Colson enters back into the ballroom, taking note of where people are, and he moves to first the water table, because he is nothing if not committed to Hydration.

The ballroom doors open up again for The Princess! Isla returns in exuberance, flushed with success at her zings fanfiction, her starry brown eyes landing on Brendol — target located! And she swish-swishes over, almost a full run. There are telltale signs of some faint marks on her dress, and a very small tear by the bodice, that suggests she has already tripped once very recently.

Finley catches the movement out of the corner of his eye as if he has on permanent Isla Radar, and can sense when she's around and running through places. "Isla!" he scolds, sitting up abruptly straighter, frowning harshly at the teenager.

"Oh, right, sorry, sorry," Isla says, as she forces herself back to a stately… walk… at an agonizingly slow pace… towards Brendol. Unfortunately, this may make this all the more ominous.

Ralaea nudges her brother towards Isla when she sees her coming. "Go on, Bren," she says. "Are you going to tell her how you were 'just standing in the bathroom, not doing anything?'"

"Rae!" Bren hisses, scowling at her.

"Ralaea, please do not make this worse," Harvey says, one of his hands tight and tense.

Isla does not skip merrily up to the trio because she can still tell that Finley is watching her, but she gets closer, and before she's in good speaking range, she just says extra loudly, "Bren, there you are! I was looking all over for you, but then I did remember that I wanted to add in the proper zing moment between Miss Cora and Miss Greylise, because really they should have it as soon as they first meet, and then again after the crocolisks attacked. It was just perfect for them." None of this makes any sense if you don't know this particular book, which Isla has not mentioned. She gets even closer. "Will you come sit with me? The next two dances are Aze's dances, which I'm sure will be absolutely fascinating, but Avrenne's they're likely too grown up for me, because I'm not out yet, but I'd hoped you and I could sit together at the least."

This is related quickly, and increasingly breathlessly. She beams at Harvey and Rae. "You can do them, though, can't you? Avrenne didn't say you couldn't, did she, Rae? It'll be so lovely to watch everyone."

"Sitting?" Bren asks, visibly relieved. "I can do sitting."

"Which is something you didn't do in the bathroom," Ralaea says under her breath.

Harvey sets a firm hand on her shoulder in warning.

Bren laughs a little too loudly, and starts fast walking towards the chairs.

Isla joins him in this fast paced walk, which she is totally allowed to do because Bren is doing it. It is a small miracle, perhaps granted to her by a higher power, that she doesn't trip at all as she gets back to the chairs, choosing the seat next to where Finley has left his suit jacket and cravat behind, her hands coming up to a clasp at her chest as she regards the moving couples with rapturous wonder.

Bren takes a seat near her, and doesn't say anything, perhaps still cooling off in the precious time away from his embarrassing sister.

Mordecai re-enters the ballroom not too long after Isla reaches Brendol. His hair is neater than when he left it, and he no longer looks like a sweaty mess. He stands without slouching - did you know Mordecai is a full 6 feet tall? It's possible that many of the people here did not.

Siamus did, but only because he's danced with Mordecai. He still looks slightly impressed.

Colson smiles faintly, as he crosses the room to meet Mordecai in the middle, offering his hand once more. His jacket has been set on a chair, folded with military neatness.

Mordecai walks directly to Colson, takes his hand, and spins himself in a neat little twirl. "I didn't miss anything, did I?"

Colson shakes his head, as he sets out his other hand near the twirl, ready to catch Mordecai if it went off course. "No, Aze has not started yet," he says.

Shine returns to Lena with fizzy drink in hand. "Very beautiful," he assures her quietly, with a smile.

Lena smiles, and gives a brief gesture reminiscent of a curtsey, as she accepts the drink. "And you, very handsome. Now, what has been going on with the rest of the party… I wonder where Isla had gone off to?"

Shine turns to survey the returning girl. "There does seem to be a bit of running in and out, aye? With Isla, one never does know. There may have been a literary emergency of some sort."

Lena giggles, sipping her drink. "Oh, this is quite good. And yes, who knows, perhaps someone here has sparked her authorial mind." She straightens, and turns towards Shine. "I expect Miss Sunstrike will start soon."

Shine turns his head to find Aze and Siamus. (One eye means he can't watch as much of the ballroom at a time as most.) "Aye. Shall we?" He offers Lena his arm. "And maybe… off in a corner, where I won't be a collision risk," he adds dryly.

"I would say we won't be… but honestly I've no idea what we're getting into," Lena says with a laugh. She takes another gulp of fizzy drink and sets it down, taking his arm. "Let's."

Sixth Dance: The Amar’uel (First)

The First Steps

Aze takes a deep breath and steps up, taking her hand from Siamus's arm to clap for attention. "It looks like everyone's ready, so… I'm going to take over from Mr. Boutille for the instruction in a different sort of dancing. Elven dancing." She remembered to use the correct PR name for it, yay! "Specifically, today I'm going to teach you all a dance called Amar'uel in my mother tongue. This one is a little different from the others, in that it is considerably less formal and there can be more variation. It is also, typically, seen as a… flirtation. The… energy… between the partners is an important part of the dance, so it is important to pay attention to your partner. For this dance, keep in mind that you do not want to one-up your partner. The goal is to make your partner look as appea… impressive as possible."

Aze pauses for a breath, waiting to see if anyone has questions so far.
Isla has so many questions so far, but she's far enough away and aware enough that she's not one of the dancers to keep it in like an audience member, but doing so means she starts kicking her legs back and forth, a restless bubbling of energy.

Colson has no questions, as he gazes at Mordecai.

If Finley has questions — or more realistically, doubts now — he keeps them under the gentleman's mask, deliberately not looking at Elle or anyone else but Aze. Just a good, dutiful student, this guy. No thoughts. Head empty.

Ralaea raises her hand, and then just starts talking anyway. "Does less formal mean we can do more than just show off that we have ankles?" she asks.

Aze laughs, and then coughs, trying to get back to a straight face. She nearly forgot the first rule of talking to Rae. "Yeah, absolutely. You can show a lot more than an ankle. Maybe I can demonstrate the dance first, and then you can see what you're comfortable with?"

Ralaea nods her approval. More than an ankle. She might be excited now.

Lace turns her attention to Aze, and when the dance is named, she exhales. "I do know it," she says to Sintha, relieved.

"Excellent," beams Sintha. "Then it sounds like it's your job to make me look as impressive as possible."

"Always," Lace says warmly. "You're the brightest star in any room, Sintha Fallon."

Sintha laughs airily and offers Lace her hands.

"The next thing I want to clarify is, you only have to be as flirtatious as you're comfortable with, really," Aze says seriously, and reaches out for Siamus's hands without looking. "There are a few positions you can use to dance amar'uel, and the open one is simply this, holding hands. Your lead will communicate what you're to do with his hands. Which, leads, don't just yank your hands around. Let the movement flow from the rest of your body. And if you're following - keep in mind that you don't try to anticipate what will be asked of you. Trust your lead. They'll show you where to go when it's time."

Siamus takes Aze's hands dutifully — by which I mean flirtatiously, because that's what the lady said — and tries to look trustworthy.

Mordecai takes Colson's hands in his and sways back and forth a little, smiling.

Lena looks a little relieved that this is not so terribly complicated so far. She reaches out for Shine's hands.

Shine takes her hands with a smile. It is a welp-here-we-go smile rather than a reassuring smile, but his eye is gleaming.

Harvey's expression is incredibly blank, and if his eyes drift between the chairs and the doors out, maybe he's just thinking about after.

Brendol watches Harvey with a bit of a nervous frown.

Finley now has to look over at Joelle, holding out his hands, palms facing each other, not yet facing up or down. "You want me to lead, or do you want it?" The choice of wording seems deliberate.

Lace takes Sintha's hands. There's the faintest hint of a blush on her face, but her expression and body language are still playful. This is fun, she's having fun with her friend, everything is so normal.

Isla loud whispers to herself, "Zing! Zing!! ZING!!" as the couples pair up their hands.

The Various Positions of How Close Can You Go

"If your partner is okay with it, you can also dance sometimes in closed position, like this," Aze says, stepping in towards Siamus and pulling her left hand free to rest on his shoulder. "Admiral, put your hand on my shoulder blade, in the back. And here the main connection is between our arms - if you keep yours up against mine here - at the elbow."

Siamus follows instructions smoothly, stepping in closer to lay his hand on her shoulder blade. Already this dance is improving.

Joelle almost seems a little trapped by the phrasing, and he assesses Finley. "You… could…?" It is definitely said as a question.

Finley nods. "I can. And so could you. I can go either way. You have a preference?" He asks, stepping in closer to Elle's personal space, as he glances over at Aze's instructions.

"Ren says I'm a top," Joelle says, as if on cue. Again, maybe he thinks that makes a difference. He is still watching Finley closely.

Finley's brows raise, and he blinks twice at Elle. "Right." Is he doing this right here and now? Man, where is a magic flask of whiskey when you need it. "Like I said, I can go either way. So, your lead this time." He adjusts his positioning to mimic Aze's, his hands not yet in either position, letting Elle choose the open or closed options.

With a little more hesitation, Lena steps closer to Shine, offering the position if he wants it.

Shine accepts without hesitation.

Lace managed to dodge this issue during the waltz. Now she's been given the most obvious in imaginable. "May I?" she still asks Sintha.

Sintha widens her eyes. "Of course," she says, and steps in, angling slightly to offer a shoulder blade. "I apologize if it's scandalous, I didn't expect there would be handling." Her tone is conspiratorial, impish.

"And finally, this we will not cover today, but it's also perfectly valid to dance amar'uel like this," Aze says. She curls her left hand around to the back of Siamus's neck and steps up close enough that the right side of her body presses directly against his, her leg between his with the inner part of her right and his left resting against each other. She pulls her right hand free and rests it on his shoulder. Then she continues talking, in a calm voice like this is totally ordinary. "Admiral, you can put your hands wherever in this position, but probably somewhere on my back. And here the communication is where our chest and our hips meet. This is for demonstration only, in case any of you are interested in pursuing the dance further in the future."

Lace laughs outright. "Handling," she echoes Sintha, and steps in to place her arms correctly. This is where the zing happens, if Isla is taking notice. Lace freezes for an extra half a second too long upon touching Sintha's bare skin. So it's a brief zing, sue her. She has a great recovery time.

Siamus is already interested in pursuing the dance further, everyone else leave the room. He arranges his hands on Aze's back. He sort of slides them into place. Rather low.

Isla gasps at the closeness, her hands up at her face. Her eyes are enormous as she absorbs this positioning for future Purposes. "That has to be a zing!" she tells Brendol.

Brendol is probably interpreting zing differently. His face may just be permanently red at this point.

Mordecai looks at Aze and Siamus like he is intently taking notes. He and Colson are still on the holding hands step.

Colson brushes his thumbs over Mordecai's hands. "Would you like the lead or would you like me to take it?" he asks.

"Your lead first, sir," Mordecai says. His voice is low, not particularly meant to carry.

This close, Mordecai can see the dilation of Colson's eyes in real time, and the smile he wears as he brings them into a very closed position — though not as close as it can go, apparently — taking the lead. "As you wish."

Lena, standing in the non-scandalous closed position, blinks. Maybe that last can be for later.

"That one can be for later," Shine tells her under his breath.

Joelle steps in, taking closed position. If there is any meaning behind his choice, it isn't immediately apparent. "I will lead," he repeats, nodding.

Finley seems fine with this until he sees the Next Step in Closeness. He's already starting to sweat a little, maybe not from exertion. Light help him.

With an apologetic smile, Aze steps back, sliding her hands down Siamus's arms until their hands meet again. "For now, we can start in open, and I can show you the footwork."

Step, Step, Step, And Tap WITH THE HIPS

"The basic footwork is very simple," Aze says. "Step, step, step, and tap. You transfer your weight on a step. You don't on a tap, just tap your toe. That's why I call it… tap." She winces. That was probably obvious. "So let's practice that?"

Aze helpfully demonstrates - step, step, step tap - first in one direction and then in the other. It is not exactly simple steps, though. Her body shifts with with each step, a fluid movement through her torso and hips. She waits to hear if there are any questions.

Siamus does not manage to join the first demonstration-and-a-half because he is appreciatively distracted by what Aze's hips and torso are doing. He manages at the last moment to join in the very last step tap. He will do better, he promises Aze's hips.

Ralaea and Harvey are practicing, but it seems like they may have already started bickering quietly. Harvey's movements are nowhere near as fluid and confident as usual, almost as though he's lost track of where his limbs are, where he needs to be, and Ralaea's own positioning, all at once.

Finley is also distracted by Aze's hips, but maybe not for the same reason. He's supposed to be doing what now with his what now. Hip movement? In a dance? In a ballroom? Where his little sister is watching?

Isla leans closer, starting to get into dangerous tipping her chair region. She is absolutely fascinated by this dance concept.

Finley gives Elle a tight smile, as he starts working on the footwork — only the footwork. His hips are doing nothing right now. No, sirree. He's picking up the step, step, step, tap easily enough.

Joelle mercifully mirrors Finley. After all, his orders are to make his partner look impressive, and he subtly goes about that task by moving them in such a way as to not draw attention himself, but rather accentuate what Finley is doing. He, too, has easily caught on to the footwork, and looks as though he could just as easily do the rest of it, too.

Lena does the steps, but she doesn't manage that same movement. "Oh, this is what she was practicing with me last week! So I sort of know this. I mean, she didn't really teach me, I just sort of let her move me around…"

Shine steps with her. He does not look disappointed that she does not manage Aze's movements; he mostly looks relieved that he can do the steps. He grins at her.

Lace leads Sintha automatically through the footwork practice, still in closed position. Step, step, tap. Hips do the thing. She is definitely blushing. She might be conjugating verbs in her head or something.

"Stars above," Sintha stage-whispers to Lace. "We're going to have to send the children from the room." She is doing hip-things with blithe exaggeration.

"This is the best day of my life," Isla confides in Brendol, with a teenager's complete and total sincerity. She looks like she desperately wishes she'd brought a notebook with her, and her hands flap over her poofy dress in excitement.

Bren stares at her, as if he can telepathically communicate that this is the worst day of his. Probably even worse than that day he was abducted by a death knight. Instead, he says, "It, uh. Certainly is… an interesting dance."

Isla nod nod nods. Well, at least one of them is having a great time.

Lace maneuvers them in a careful half turn so that she can get a look at Isla and Brendol. "Poor Mr. Westwind looks like he might run away again on his own. Or spontaneously catch on fire."

Mordecai moves closer, settling comfortably into position. "She didn't teach us that third thing before," he mutters.

"Would you like to try it?" Colson offers.

Mordecai holds eye contact and nods.

Colson adjusts their positioning so that these two very upright Church boys are now dancing in the most scandalous position, and while Colson doesn't go beyond where the instructions have so far been given — the basic footwork pattern — his hips know exactly what to do.

Harvey is not glaring at Colson across the dance floor, that is just his normal face. Don't mind him.

Siamus is now also watching Colson's hips. This is the best day of his life, too, Isla.

Mordecai follows what Aze did - left hand on the back of Colson's neck, right hand on his shoulder. He has the hip movement down as well, but he has also had years to practice rehearse.

Aze gives plenty of time for people to practice. Then she frowns and speaks up, "The body movements are for leads and follows. Boys and girls. If it's too hard, don't worry about it, but… The hips… think of it like they're on the off-beat. You shift your weight, then your hip follows, and again, and again. Your chest should… counterbalance it. Here, let me show you."

Aze does it very slowly, sinuously, steeeeep, steeeep, steeeep ,tap, a slow roll of her body with each step. Then she turns back to Siamus and says quietly, "Should I go around and help, do you think? Mr. Boutille said to help people with the footwork."

Siamus considers the group thoughtfully. "I think," he says, "just demonstrating it more will be sufficient." It's possible he's taking mercy on Finley. It's possible he doesn't even want to look at what his sister's up to over there. "The Aspenwoods are a helpful model as well," he adds. What they are helping, he does not specify.

With all the demonstration going on, Lena starts trying to insert some hip movement. She is… actually not bad at it. It's not quite like the demonstration, but she's getting the hang of it.

Shine looks profoundly impressed. Impressed is probably what that look in his eye is. He makes an attempt; it turns out that he can do hips, but only if he is not really doing feet, and he can do feet only if he is not really doing hips. There is too much to keep track of. He laughs at himself and goes back to just doing the step and appreciating Lena's hips.

Finley, taking advantage of this reprieve of mercy, starts moving his hips. Awkwardly at first, as he misjudges what it is that makes people's hips do the thing. Wait, give him a second. Attempt number two also fails, and he frowns. He's definitely doing something wrong.

"Give me a second," he tells Joelle, as he releases the other man's hands to be on his own. He experimentally tries another way with getting his hips through into the footwork, at his own paced stepping. Okay, okay, there we go. He glances over at the Aspenwoods again, and rapidly averts his eyes. Wow, okay. The brighter red on his cheeks could just be his natural complexion warming up with exertion again. Finley offers his hands back to Elle. "Alright."

Joelle seems to consider something, then he starts towards the refreshment table.

As Joelle starts to walk away, Finley puts out a hand, a look of concern and apology on his face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to suggest you need to leave. I just needed a second to get the rhythm on my own. I haven't chased you off, have I?"

Joelle turns back to him, his gaze warm. "You can come," he says, holding out a hand in welcome. "We will be back to dance."

"I can — " Finley cuts himself off with a quick throat clear. Nope. He's not thinking anything. "Where are you going?"

"A drink," says Joelle, and there is no more context forthcoming.

Colson has exactly 0% shyness, his attention solely devoted to Mordecai, as he listens to the instructions. There is no doubt that the man is a very graceful dancer, and if you didn't know the work it took to get here, you might think a naturally gifted one as well.

Spinny Spins and Turns

Aze nods seriously, taking Siamus’s advice. Then she speaks up. "Of course it's not just steps. There's a variety of different moves you can do, for instance, at the most basic - Admiral if you raise your left hand, and trace it in a circle over my head…" Aze executes a quick spin within the four-count, snapping to face him again.

Siamus smiles appreciatively down at Aze. He clearly picking the basic steps up — some hips now included, if not to either an Aze or an Aspenwood extent, but he is also 0% self-conscious and pretty aware of his hips — and clearly enjoying himself.

"Oh, turns," Lace says, and starts finding creative opportunities for Sintha to spin or otherwise show off.

Sintha is delighted by opportunities both to spin and to show off, and she does so gracefully, her blue velvet skirts swishing around her with the lithe movements. "Tides," she murmurs to Lace, "this is worlds better than a minuet. What are the odds we'll see it in Stormwind's ballrooms this season?"

Lace sighs wistfully. "Low, I'm afraid, unless someone takes up the cause of introducing it to society, and that absolutely cannot be me."

"Well it certainly won't be me. Shay would absolutely but that's what Her Grace is for — stopping him from doing things." Sintha does a little not-my-problem-now spin.

Lace chuckles. The blush is dying down. "Alas."

Sintha widens her eyes. "Oh no, it's very much for the best that Shay does not introduce this to Stormwind's ballrooms. Anyone but Shay, perhaps." She glances toward Colson and Mordecai. "The Aspenwoods, perhaps."

Lace blinks at them. "Oh, would you look at those two," she says, fascinated. "I wouldn't have thought Lord Mordecai had it in him."

Isla kicks her feet back and forth, as she bounces in her seat. "Oh!" she gasps as the dance gets more things. "Spinny-spins!" She looks curiously at Finley and Elle.

"Are you thirsty?" Finley asks Elle, glancing over at Aze with some dismay. Oh, no, more things. Turns. He tries to pick it up with a split attention on Aze and Elle. "I don't need anything. Mostly I need all the instruction I can get."

Joelle glances at the tables, then back at Finley. He does not ask if Finley is sure, because he doesn't question peoples' wishes. Instead, he returns, offering his hands.

There's some relief on Finley's face as he starts to try to pick back up the rhythm of a partner dance with all the unfamiliar moving parts. The hips, Finley, the hips.

"Now that I think you've all got the hang of the steps," Aze says cheerfully, as they are all mastering the basics, surely. "I should explain that spins are not just independent things. There are a lot of different moves and you can string them together to add a little spic… interest to your dance. Admiral, if you don't mind me backleading a little. I'll show step by step, so you can all practice before the music. I could give another pattern before the next song, if you like."

Aze does the same quick turn, but then after a brief pause, she continues the movement by pulling Siamus into a simultaneous turn where their backs brush against each other before they're face to face again.

Then she lowers her own hand to Siamus's torso and says, "Here, the Admiral can do a turn himself, and with my hand here, it'll be easy for him to find it again afterward."

So convenient! And if Siamus spins she will also be trailing her hand horizontally across his body as he does.

Siamus is right now being a better, more attentive, and more capable dance student than he has ever been for any ballroom dance lesson in his life. Dancing! Who knew?

"Now let's end with a cuddle turn," Aze says, and faces Siamus. "Do the same as at the very beginning, but keep hold of both of my hands."

As he does this, Aze spins in to fit snugly against his side, her arms crossed in front of her and his around her, holding both hands.

"You can continue to dance like this," Aze says helpfully. "And then, Admiral, just push me forward under our clasped hands when you want to spin me out."

Having completed the sequence in slow motion, Aze turns back to Siamus to let him practice it again.

Siamus repeats the sequence no faster than Aze had done it to demonstrate, but he does it fluently.

Colson leads Mordecai through the turns, flowing gracefully from turn to turn, in a way that seems deceptively effortless, as if he just absorbed the dance moves through the air from this single explanation. It is, in fact, actually just part of several core components of their usual routine, only done much closer than they usually do it.

If it's the lead's job to make the follower look good, then Colson is making Mordecai look downright skilled. This is almost the same muscle memory as usual, except the two of them are much closer.

"Oh," Lena says, watching the sequence of spins. "That is… a lot. Did you catch all that?"

"Absolutely not," says Shine solemnly. "But I am happy to try it."

Lena nods firmly. "Alright. The first turn at least seems straightforward enough, and then… let's muddle through?"

Shine nods at Lena. He casts a look around the room, watching Siamus repeat the turns with Aze, watching Mordecai and Colson, and then nods at Lena again. "Right."

They embark on a turn and muddle-through. A muddle turn.

Shine laughs back at her. "I didn't think I was meant to dislocate a shoulder, but maybe elven joints are different. Here we go." He repositions them to try it again.

Finley watches the demonstration like a man who is accepting that things are happening, and going to happen, and that he, unknowingly, signed up for these things to happen. He turns his attention to Joelle, waiting for the lead to… lead.

Finley has reached… acceptance! Joelle, who had thus far been attempting to mirror him, to give him a chance to adjust to the steps and the movements, now takes a more active role in leading, adding spins and close turns as it makes sense to him, still highlighting Finley's own dancing, as ordered. He, at least, is having fun.

The turns bring Finley a lot closer to Joelle. He's used to following dance concepts, but these are all a lot of foreign ones, and he's gotta keep his hips moving to avoid having a very attractive sin'dorei woman touching his hips, which is really not the sort of thing Finley's had a lot of training on, if he thinks about it. Which he's not. He's not thinking about anything at all. Which is probably why he nearly dislocates his shoulder as he mistimes the turning movement with his feet moving and his hips moving.

"Ah, fu — " he says as he drops his shoulder into the motion to prevent a wrenching.

Joelle slows the speed of the dance a little. "Are you okay?" he asks. "I can slow down more."

Aze pauses when she hears words like "Fu-" and "dislocate a shoulder" and calls out to the room in general, "Hey - don't force anything. If you hit resistance, let go. I don't want to have to pop any bones back into joint today."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good, just not used to that kind of turn with everything. I'll get it, just need a second to…" Finley pauses as Aze speaks. "To not force anything," he finishes in a dry voice.

"Oof, I like your shoulders where they are," Lena says to Shine. "Let's try again, but slower?"

Harvey looks up in alarm. Pain? People might be enpaining themselves? His eyes scan the ballroom until Ralaea steps on his foot.

"Focus on me," she says. "You're nowhere near good enough at this to be getting distracted now."

The words cause a small flinch in Harvey's expression, but he grits his teeth and continues to practice. They are still on basic movements.

Finley, who should be focusing on Joelle, focuses instead briefly on Ralaea. Whoops. That order was not for him. He sets his attention on Joelle, trying to make sure he's gliding through the motions, and not running into resistance.

Joelle continues to lead, a fraction slower, and this time, paying much closer attention to how Finley's body moves.

Ralaea, for her part, is doing much better at the hip movements than the footwork, occasionally tripping them both up in ways Harvey lacks the experience to prevent. If they try a spin, at least one of them will probably go down.

Isla watches the dancers with her eyes alight. "What do you think they're talking about?" she asks Brendol, rhetorically, it turns out, because she just keeps on talking. "You can just see where the romances are blooming, can't you? There's the Aspenwoods, and they look like they've danced this a thousand times together, they're in sync. And look how Siamus is, as if he was born for it, and Aze is just bringing out a past lifetime when Siamus was an elf, and she can just speak it right to him. Sintha and Lady Alaisa are simply perfect, just like I knew they would be. Do you think Lady Alaisa is like a princess? With her hair like that, she really could be. Rae's got Harvey, of course, because she's definitely the alpha of the two of them. And then there's Lee. He's not very good at it, which serves him right. Do you think he has appeal, Bren, as someone who isn't his family? I don't see it at all." She pouts, glaring at Finley.

Finley pays zero attention to his sister. He has like, seven other things he's trying to do right now.

Lady Alaisa, with her hair like a princess, is cheerfully guiding Lady Sintha through increasingly complicated turns and maneuvers.

"Finley? Oh. He uh. Knows things, I guess," Brendol says. "About… core muscles, and…" Nope, he can't continue, too embarrassing.

Isla wrinkles her nose, scrunching up her face. "Core muscles?" she asks. "Is knowing about them supposed to be appealing?"

Oh no, the questioning continues. "He said… girls like them. The muscles. Of the core." Doing great, Bren.

"Well, does Lee have good core muscles?" Isla asks, as she turns to Brendol, staring at him with the full force of her inquisitive gaze.

The only person right now who is probably getting a very definitive answer on that is Joelle, actually. For those wondering at home, Finley does, in fact, have strangely very good core muscles. Kinda weirdly so for a guy who is supposedly just a painter. His lack of body fat is more what gives the definition of his abs, rather than thicker muscles, but there they are, under the waistcoat.

Brendol chokes on… air. "I… I'm not a girl. So." Yes. Very smooth.

Isla frowns at Brendol. "What does that have to do with anything? Boys can like boys just as well as girls can," she tells him with all the vested authority of a prolific fanfic writer. She flips her attention to the Aspenwoods, and without any sense of proper manners, points at them. "See!"

Mordecai does not know he's being pointed at. He is, however, the most obvious example of 'boys can like boys' in this room at the moment.

Bren clears his throat and looks at, then quickly away from, the Aspenwoods. "I… see," he says. "Well I did not check Finley's… muscles."

Finley is trying to relax, but every time the closed position brings him very close to Joelle, it makes him more tense instead, his lips pressing into a flatter and flatter line. He is, unfortunately, definitely not making his partner look very good.

"Sorry," he mutters at Joelle as they go through another awkward turn. "Maybe it'll be easier with music. I can't keep the beat in my head and all the rest of it."

"Would you like me to sing?" Joelle asks, his eyes showing concern that perhaps Finley is not having fun.

"Ah, what — oh, no, that's fine. I don't want to throw anyone else off either," Finley says. Finley is definitely not having fun, but he gives Joelle one of his best pleasant gentleman smiles.

While people turn towards their own partners, Aze continues practicing with Siamus. She starts to add in subtle little rolling movements, when they're in contact with one another. Subtle body rolls. She's being proper and modest.

Siamus appreciates the subtle new movements. He is getting into the spirit of things himself, still not at the speed of an Aze or a Morson, still occasionally hesitating to recall a step or a hand placement, but yes. He is there. He is aboard this train. He doesn't seem overly concerned with his job as lead to make Aze look good, because he knows Aze looks good. Aze knows she looks good.

"Think they're ready for music?" Aze asks.

Siamus looks around. No, at least half of them are not. "Aye," he says, and lifts his chin to signal the band.

It's not disappointment in Joelle's gaze, but there is something, a hurt directed inward, as if there was some need he failed to anticipate, or a solution to the problem he is unable to find. But a decision occurs to not pressure Finley further, and the look only lasts a moment before he wipes it away, forcing a visible smile not unlike Finley's own.

Finley catches the look, and he's chagrined enough for it to show up on his brow and around his eyes. "It's not you, Elle. You're doing great. If not for me, you'd probably be top of the class." It's a small joke, a play on the words of top before. "It's just not as easy for me. I don't know what I need to do, so how could you know it, right? Just give me a bit. Maybe it'll all set together when the —"

And there the music starts. Oh. Great. Now he has to try to have this be the turning point. Ha ha any way.

Now That’s What I Call Amar’uel Music!

The music is clearly chosen for learners. It is piano and a little strings, and while the beat is strong, it is not fast. It might be a good song for a very flirtatious dance, or a very beginner one. The music continues steadily and simply, providing the beat for everyone to practice.

Lace guides Sintha to a stop, counts the two of them off quietly, and starts again, now on-beat to the actual music.

Mordecai stumbles, startled by the music, using Colson for support.

Colson catches Mordecai easily, turning the stumble into the start of another close clasp, using his hand to guide Mordecai's body into him. With the music starting, he starts their Routine. It's the same one as always, no variations or spontaneous flourishes, but it is consistent. Mordecai knows everything Colson is about to do, and Colson's grace makes it look effortless, and inevitable. It is most definitely the most advanced routine currently on the dance floor, full of complex spins and turns, slow reaches and bends.

Aze turns back to Siamus, and lifts her face to his. "That's it for the teaching part - I was helping to guide how you were leading before, but now I'll follow you completely. Whatever you want me to do."

"I'll do my best," Siamus assures her. "But there are children here."

He leads her into the dance in closed position, faster than in practice now that there's music for a guide, and fluid if not as gracefully-polished as the Aspenwoods. He misses a beat, catches it, and steps smoothly back into the rhythm.

"I think," says Shine quietly as they embark on another attempt, "this might be another that takes us some practice in private."

"I think you might be right," Lena says with a fond smile, as the music starts. "And I feel like I would like to practice more later, with you. But we can do some turns, can't we? As you like, I'll follow you."

"Oh, aye, we can do some of it," Shine agrees. "Or we can't. Either way we'll find out, and I'm still glad we're doing it. Or not, as the case may be." He grins at her, and they step into the dance as well.

Finley's distress may be making it worse, as Joelle's smile only widens. He's fine, see? See how fine he is? Still, he continues to lead, his focus now on at least not hurting Finley.

Finley's pretty easy to not hurt, all things told. The music does help, as it lets him start putting at least a few things on automatic-follow-the-beat, and focus on just one or two things at a time. Finley's way of dancing can best be described as subtle, and subdued. He moves like a man who isn't trying to draw any attention to himself or his dancing, which means being good enough to not be noticeable, and yet not impressive enough to be remarkable. If he has the capacity for being more impressive is unknown. But more and more, Finley is working through the steps to blend into the background noise.

He sets his hands into position on Joelle better, and gives him a friendly squeeze at his shoulder. "Tell me truthfully, how are you doing, Elle? Am I setting up for a third runner?"

"I wouldn't run from you," Joelle says, his gaze soft and genuine. "You're my friend."

"Ah, sometimes even friends run," Finley says, and he almost mistimes a hip movement into a step, catches it in time to salvage it. "Doesn't mean the end of a friendship. You can make up, apologize if needed. Clear up a misunderstanding." He glances ruefully over at Isla, but he has to get back to Joelle quickly, watching the other man's cues for the lead. "Trust me, I've got a lot of experience with it. I'll chase after, when it's called for." He does not yet realize how prophetic these words might be.

The Harvey Ralaea Incident

When the music starts, Ralaea and Harvey are forced into louder bickering to be heard over it. It starts with Ralaea trying to teach Harvey the hip movements. It ends there, too.

"You're like a limp fish!" Ralaea says, frustration bringing a bite to her voice. "It's like you've never danced a day in your life! You're doing this on purpose because there's finally a type of dance I'm interested in, and you're trying to sabotage it!"

"Do you really think I would submit to public humiliation just to make you miserable?" Harvey demands, his own voice reaching the upper levels of Indoor Voice.

"And to uphold your precious Noble dances," Ralaea says. "Where's all that bragging now? You're barely even trying."

Harvey's gaze grows cold, something in her words striking open old wounds. A moment passes, the music very much at odds with the tension settling between them. Finally, he speaks, his voice frosty and quiet. "Perhaps I should not have come."

Ralaea releases him and takes a step away. "Oh," she says, hurt mixing with anger in her eyes. "Then perhaps I shouldn't have either." She starts for the exit.

Siamus puts a hand on Aze's hip to still her, and stops to watch Harvey and Rae impassively. He is not going to intervene — yet — but he is not going to ignore it either.

Isla looks like she wishes absolutely desperately that she had some popcorn, right now. Oh my Light, the thrilling drama of dance parties.

Mordecai freezes as voices are raised above the music. He stops dancing immediately, listening, tension gathering in him.

Colson tightens his hold on Mordecai, gently, gathering the priest closer to him. He frowns, visibly, not out of disapproval (yet), but out of concern.

Mordecai huddles closer to Colson.

"It is all right, I have you," Colson tells his husband, not resuming the dance, just holding him gently to him.

Lena squeezes Shine's hand and looks toward the altercation with concern, but she doesn't stop dancing.

Shine continues smoothly — as smoothly as they are managing — but his head turns as they move, his lone eye steady on the argument. His hold on Lena tightens.

Lace does not stop dancing either, but she does look away from Sintha to watch Harvey and Ralaea with fascination.

Sintha does an unchoreographed and unprompted turn for the express purpose of turning to stare. She purses her lips disapprovingly at Harvey.

Finley halts the dance with Joelle as soon as the bickering reaches loud enough levels to get through the music and the realization of who is speaking. He glances rapidly back and forth between Ralaea and Harvey.

This time, he does not halt the curse word he's not supposed to use as a gentleman, and shoots Joelle the briefest of glances. "Sorry just — " He pulls free of Joelle's hands, and he crosses the ballroom with the benefit of a man with very long legs who can really book it when things call for it.

"Ralaea!" Finley calls, not in the same way he calls for Isla to stop her. It's imploring, not scolding, and there's some concern in it. As soon as she looks at him, he taps his forehead three times, like it's a strange magic formula to get a Westwind to defuse, maybe? It's definitely a code of some sort. But…what does it mean? What does it do?

It's a bittersweet moment for Ralaea, as she turns towards Finley, the hurt still fresh in her eyes as she catches the signal she has been waiting for practically all day. She heads to the refreshment table at a full-on sprint, and if the attending staff aren't fast enough, she will grab an entire pitcher of water, rather than wait for a glass.

As soon as she has her ammunition, however much it may be, she all but launches it — thankfully without the container along for the ride — at Finley, hitting him square in the chest with cold water.

Well, now everyone knows what that signal does.

Finley gasps as the water hits him — wow that was cold — and then laughs, his softer, realer laugh.

Harvey, meanwhile, now that the doorway does not have Ralaea moving towards it, takes the opportunity himself, moving swiftly for the exit with only a slight pause as he sends a shadow hand for his runesword. Look, Finley, they do exist.

"Shit," Lace mutters, and lets Sintha go entirely. "Excuse me." She backs towards the wall and begins moving after Harvey at a brisk walk.

"I'm honestly not sure what just happened," Aze says, watching Mourn leave. "Did Finley get in between Rae and Mourn somehow?"

Siamus steps away from Aze entirely. "Ralaea," he says. "Finley." The Admiral would like some splaining.

Sintha nods at Lace and flicks a look over her shoulder as Lace heads after Harvey. She turns back to the room and gives Finley a look.

"Nice body shot, 2nd LT," Finley says. "Light above that's cold." He turns to face Siamus, brushing his hair back from his face. "Sorry, Admiral, sir. Entirely my fault. Was a bit overwarm, that's all."

Mordecai flinches and hides his face against the side of Colson's neck. He's trembling.

Colson sets his hand over Mordecai's hair. He murmurs something low to the priest, not audible beyond them.

Mordecai shakes his head minutely. "Mm-nn. What's happening?"

"It seems that Ralaea and Lord Morningdew had some words, and they fought. For some reason, Ralaea threw water at Mr. Boutille," Colson explains calmly.

Mordecai looks so confused by this explanation that he actually straightens up and looks around.

Aze steps back, trying to fade into the background. If there's a fight, she'd like to be forgotten thank you very much.

Joelle approaches Finley, the concern clear in his gaze again.

Siamus takes stock of his guests and looks at Finley and Rae again. "Finley," he says. "Ye'd best excuse yourself to change." His tone is cool and colorless. "Ralaea, do I need to have words with Morningdew?"

Finley bows — a servant's bow, not a gentleman's, old habits dying hard — his expression carefully blanked in a butler's blandness. "Of course, sir. Please excuse me, everyone." He does turn to leave, and he does exit the ballroom; if he lingers at the doors, for a little longer, just in case someone else exits as well, he's still intending to get on his way to change.

Ralaea shakes her head, crossing her arms. "I already had words at him. More won't help."

Siamus looks at her levelly. "Then d'ye need to have apologies with him? Or have we said goodbye to him for the afternoon?"

Lena draws to a stop as people start getting called to account. She keeps quiet, and doesn't let go of Shine's hands.

The band trails off at a belated gesture from Siamus, in no small amount of confusion.

Isla has lost the desire for popcorn, and is now looking distressed. Something bad has happened, as she wrings her hands together over and over and over.

Aze quietly steps over to Isla and reaches to put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Brendol remains in his seat, visibly cringing, but not wanting to move and draw attention to himself.

"I don't know," Ralaea says, avoiding Siamus's gaze. "But do I have to do it right now? I just yelled at him."

"Ye did just yell at him, aye. And as you're a grown woman and he's your fiance, I think ye can go and see whether ye can offer him an apology or he has one for you," Siamus says.

"Fine," Ralaea says, heading towards the door. Whether or not she actually has any intention of following Harvey is not something she voices aloud, instead taking her chance to make her exit. She gets about halfway to the door, then turns to everyone in the room, offering a polite curtsy. "Sorry for the disturbance." Then she continues on her way.

Siamus's shoulders relax a degree, and he nods once at Rae, curtly. Manners! She's got 'em. Like 2% of 'em. But it's some.

Isla is biting her lip, as she looks from Aze to Siamus to where people left the room. "Oh, that wasn't supposed to happen at all," she says. "The story got all tangled up."

"It's okay," Aze says soothingly. "Imagine how happy they'll be when they make up."

Siamus casts a hard, black look at the door through which Finley just disappeared, and then turns back to the others. "I apologize for the disruption, Miss Sunstrike, Aspenwoods, Mr. Ebek. We'll have a moment to regroup while the floor's cleaned up."

Colson inclines his head politely to Siamus, and the paladin is a little area of calm. "Of course," he says, his hands still full of his husband.

"It-it's all right," Mordecai says quietly. "No one was hurt."

Siamus steps closer. "Can I get either of ye a drink?" he asks quietly, apologetically.

Mordecai shakes his head. "No, thank you."

Sintha spins blithely over to where Isla and Aze are. "If you'd like," she offers in a tone of bright distraction, "I can show some Tirasian folk dances. But I'll need a broomstick, and some other shoes."

Siamus hears this and turns to eye her. "Sintha Mairead," he says.

Isla brightens at the suggestion. "A broomstick? Like a flying one? I've heard of them, but I've never been allowed to have one. Lee says I'll fly up too high and fall off and break my neck, but I think it would be really exciting to use one indoors, then I couldn't get too high up could I?" Isla Marie Lenaire don't you even think about it.

Siamus turns to find Joelle. "Elle," he says. "I apologize for that. We'll get it all sorted. Can I offer ye anything meanwhile?"

Joelle looks surprised by the apology, and shakes his head. His eyes show concern for Siamus. Probably because the other man is angry.

Siamus steps toward Joelle to rest a hand on his shoulder briefly — good lad, Elle — and then moves past him toward the refreshments. A footman is waiting with a glass of whiskey. There is a close, low-voiced conversation as another footman with some towels manages the floor-puddle.

Shine leans toward Lena and says under his breath, "I'm tempted to get Lady Sintha a broomstick."

Lena raises an eyebrow. "Do you know the dance she's talking about?"

Shine grins at her. "How to do it, d'ye mean? No. I'm not fast enough. But aye, I know the one she means."

Lena grins back. "If not now, perhaps I'll ask her sometime. Now I'm curious."

Sintha laughs gaily at Isla. "Not a flying one, darling, an ordinary sort of broomstick, like you'd use for… brooming things!" Whatever you call it. The thing staff does. With brooms. Brooming.

"I'm trying to imagine what one would do with a broom in a dance," Aze says thoughtfully. Her ideas may or may not be G-rated.

"Like sweeping things up? What do you need to sweep up in a dance? Oh, is it like in the play, when we villagers were doing things like, pretending to use hoes and things? Can that be a dance?" Isla has completely moved on from the worry of before, swept up ( ::fingerguns:: ) in the enthusiasm of this possible dance routine.

Sintha gives Aze a coy look. But no, Aze, it's not that.

To Isla, she says brightly, "Oh, there are dances like that too, yes! Harvest dances and things, where you do move like… farming and whatnot." She does a little skip-step and makes a graceful arm movement that could, debatably, look like someone scattering seed from a hip-pouch onto the ground.

Aze settles back next to Isla. "Those sorts could make a fun kind of… not formal dance party. Maybe in spring? Or whenever farmers do their stuff." Somebody was definitely not raised adjacent to farms.

"I think," Sintha says thoughtfully, "that the harvest dances are in the fall? But of course we could do a party for folk-dancing any season!" She looks over at her brother again. "Shay! I'm going to teach Isla and Miss Sunstrike Tirasian folk dance."

Siamus turns to give his sister a look which attempts telepathically to convey what a monumental, catastrophic disaster this would be with Isla involved. It is a subtle telepathy; mostly it involves raising his eyebrows at her and looking sort of tired.

Isla leaps upwards, clapping her hands excitedly. Her energy has not even remotely flagged from either exertion or emotional ups and down. Emotional ups and downs is Isla's Normal. "Oh, yes, please!"

"Looking forward to it," Aze says with a laugh, adding her own enthusiasm to the plan. "Hey, Lena, do you know any folk dances?"

Lena blinks at her, and when she answers, it's to say, "Not Tirasian ones, no. And I expect the Lordaeronian ones are the same all over."

"Oh," says Sintha, "I'll teach you some Tirasian ones. You can learn to do the broomstick with me!" She does not look even a little bit impish.

Lena smiles at Lady Sintha, and glances back to Shine.

Alaisa/Harvey Outside

Alaisa isn't lingering outside. She is still heading briskly after Harvey.

Harvey pauses, lingering just outside the house, unable to bring himself to fully leave.

"Hey," Alaisa says, slipping out the front door. "You can take a minute." She wraps her arms around herself - she hasn't put her shawl on, and it's a little chilly out here.

Harvey sighs, and turns to face her. "Would you like to borrow my jacket?" he asks, already in the process of removing it.

"Sure. Thank you." Alaisa smiles at him. "That was unfair of her. But you know that. You're a good dancer, but it's a set of movements that don't really have an equivalent in classic Alliance dances."

"I should have… anticipated it better," Harvey says, draping his jacket around her shoulders. "It was my error."

Alaisa holds the jacket in place rather than put her arms in the sleeves. It serves the purpose of keeping her warm. "The Aspenwoods knew it already. I knew it already. Everyone else was still learning. Don't feel too bad."

This earns a bitter laugh from Harvey. "It is carved into my very soul, to perform — to be — nothing short of perfection. I appreciate the sentiment, Lady Alaisa, but it is not such an easy thing to erase."

"I get that," Alaisa says, and she sounds like she actually does. "I bet you can perfect this one. It'll take more than an afternoon, but you've got the agility for it."

Harvey nods. "Much to my father's disappointment, I am no natural talent. It will take far more than an afternoon. But I knew this. I knew, and yet… I should have told her."

"Pride's tricky like that," Alaisa says with a wry smile. "Not too late to mention it, though. Want to go back in?"

"She will, I imagine, retrieve me when she is ready," Harvey says. "Until then, I suspect I am not exactly… welcome back inside. But I will not keep you."

"I'll wait," Alaisa says. "Fresh air is good for me."

Finley/Ralaea Hallway

Finley's there in the hallway when Ralaea exits the ballroom, arms crossed over his soaked waistcoat, leaning back sullenly against the wall. He raises his brows, and steps away from the wall, when she comes into view, his voice low to not carry.

"Well, that was something," he says quietly, bending down to even out their heights somewhat. "You all right?"

Ralaea looks a little surprised to see him. "Yeah. I just — yeah. Are you? I guess I should ask again tonight, after everyone goes home. We might be… in a bit of trouble. I'm sorry I forced your hand."

"It's fine. I can take the blame entirely. It was my call. Consequences be on my head. And I was overwarm," Finley says, still talking low. If there were other reasons, they're kept in his head for now. "I heard some of what was said. Sounded like an older fight was in it. It's been something before, was it? About trying, being two worlds apart, noble and not, and someone walking away?"

Ralaea shakes her head. "We'll face it together," she says. "You helped me when you didn't need to, and… You said it yourself. Same team. But… yeah. We've known each other from childhood, me and Harvey, and he always made sure I knew that he was the noble and I was the commoner. And I was always the one who took the first step. I kissed him."

Finley gives her that soft, barely there laugh. "Doesn't surprise me at all," he tells her. "And I know how that is. Being looked down on. I get it now, myself. I'm a gentleman, because Avrenne and Fallon say I am, but people know I was a commoner." He glances towards the front door, then back to Ralaea. Is he helping this right now? Maybe.

"It's hard being the one always taking the first step out. It can make it seem like you're the only one that really wants it to work. But, when a man like that wonders if he should have come here at all, it's because he's desperate to hear the girl he wants to say 'yes.' It makes it all worth it. The 'Mr. Morningdew.' The fumbling when he wants to be confident. The fading out around the room because he feels an outsider. You've got a lot of power over him, Ralaea. I don't know if you realize how much."

There is a moment where it looks like Ralaea might start to have Feelings. Okay. Moment over. She brushes it aside as the tiniest of smiles appears on her face. "Are you just going to stand there and drip?" she asks.

Finley smiles at her, and does the little arms out motion, looking down at himself, like he's only just realized he's soaking wet. "Unless you've got a pitcher of hot air stashed away, I'd best get myself upstairs and changed." He almost does something, a movement of his hand, and then he just sticks it in his pocket, makes a little sound through his broken nose, a nnmph. He starts off towards the stairs, long strides, the stairs two at a time, on eerily servant silent feet.

Harvey/Ralaea Outside

Harvey glances over at the sound of Ralaea approaching. "It seems we will not be waiting as long as I had thought," he says.

Ralaea nods in greeting to Alaisa. "Ally, right?" she asks. "Or uh. Lady Alaisa." She dips into a curtsy.

Alaisa grins at the sight and removes Harvey's jacket, offering it back to him. "Ally is fine. I was just talking to Harvey about dance. You should tell her what you told me, Harvey. I'll give you some privacy."

Harvey collects his jacket and bows. "Thank you," he says.

Ralaea curtsies again. Because manners, maybe.

Alaisa/Vane Moment

Alaisa curtsies to the two of them and slips back into the house, giving Vane a friendly wave on her way back to the ballroom.

Vane does not have any popcorn because Vane has never had popcorn in his life. Nor does he look like he wants any popcorn, because he is Vane and never looks like anything. But if anyone had some popcorn to offer him, he would not object, is all I am sayin'.

Unfortunately, Alaisa has no popcorn, so she merely continues down a hall and around a corner.

Standing outside the ballroom door, the woman in the blue dress goes blank, completely devoid of expression. She stands, breathing rhythmically - in for five, hold for five, out for five, hold for five.

Harvey/Ralaea

“You got a pep talk too, huh?” Ralaea says, stopping directly beside him.

Harvey lifts a brow at her. “Who gave yours? Fallon?”

Ralaea shakes her head. “Nah, he was mad because I threw water at Finley. We’ll probably both pay for that later.” She does not look extremely bothered by that. “Actually, Finley waited for me, even though he was all wet. It was… a good talk. I should’ve thanked him.”

Harvey settles a hand heavily on the back of her neck, his fingers bridging her shoulders. “Ralaea, I apologize for —”

“You don’t need to,” Ralaea interrupts. “I was… impatient, and excited, and I got ahead of myself.”

“I know,” he says, squeezing gently. “And… I am sorry to disappoint you. Learning new things, especially activities such as dancing, has always been a struggle for me. I know what I know through countless hours of repetition, training it into my muscles so my mind can handle other tasks. It… was always a point of pride to make it look easy. Seamless. I gloated because I knew that the effort I put into learning had paid off. I did not mean to mislead you.”

Ralaea leans against him, and he wraps an arm around her in response. Which causes a shiver, because Harvey is cold. He drapes his jacket around her shoulders and tries again.

“I was always afraid of school,” Ralaea says. “Afraid of learning. Thought, what if, no matter how much I tried, I didn’t get any better at things, so I didn’t try. But it turns out, people who try, even when they’re afraid? Those people are heroes. It’s the ones that look down on people for doing their best that deserve a good kick. So, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you struggled so much, even though I probably should’ve. But your father’s not here anymore to hold you to his dumb ideas, we made sure of that. Remember?”

Ralaea slides a chain clear of the neckline of her dress, letting the engagement ring dangling from it catch the light of the outdoors.

“I remember,” Harvey says, with a smile. “I remember the disappointment when that Scourge-rotten corpse realized what I was. That I was like him, and our line would end with me. The look on his face was so… delicious.” The smile escalates.

“Okay, Mourn,” Ralaea says, pulling away, taking the jacket with her. “I’m going back inside, but I’m bringing your jacket so you can’t wander off. Well. You can, but you won’t, because you realize how much these things cost now, and you’re basically poor unless you go dig up your money. Come join me when you’re done with… all that.” She starts towards the house.

“Ralaea,” he calls after her.

She turns, a smile on her face, because she knows what’s coming, but he says it anyway.

“I love you.”

It doesn’t matter if it was Harvey or Mourn who said it. In reality it was probably both.

“I love you, too,” Ralaea says. “Thanks for putting up with me.”

She disappears back inside.

“Those words should be mine,” Harvey says, staring at the hand that held her moments ago. Time to pull himself together. He shouldn’t keep the lady waiting.

Back in the Ballroom

Mordecai, still standing out on the dance floor, looks over at the wet spot currently being mopped up. It is not close to them. He is not listening to the talk about brooming.

"I'm all right," Mordecai says softly to his husband. "Do you think we can still dance?"

Colson brushes a hand over the back of Mordecai's hair, his focus on Mordecai more than the others. "We can, if that is what you would like to do," Colson says, with all the confidence of a nobleman who is neither shy nor susceptible to fear of being stared at.

Mordecai nods. "We don't really need the music," he whispers so as not to offend the band.

Colson nods in agreement. It is true. "Would you like me to ask for Fallon to have the music resume, or would you prefer to dance without it for now?"

"Oh. If… if that's all right?" It is clear that this would not have occurred to Mordecai. "I know the floor's still drying, but… so Aze can see, at least."

Alaisa slips quietly back into the ballroom. Her hair is slightly windblown. "The couple is communicating," she reports to Siamus. "I imagine they'll be back inside soon."

"Of course," Colson says. He does not have to raise his voice very much to have it carry to Siamus; the man is not standing that far from them. "Fallon, while we wait for the rest of the party to return, may we have some music to continue to rehearse the dance with, please?"

Siamus nods at Alaisa. "Thank you, Lady Alaisa," he tells her, and a moment later glances toward the Aspenwoods as he's addressed. "Of course," he tells Colson. "The same again, or another like it?"

Colson looks to Mordecai for an answer. "Which would you prefer?"

Mordecai looks like he is trying to solve a puzzle, like there is a secret socially correct answer. "The… same?" he comes up with.

Siamus nods cordially at the Aspenwoods, and turns toward the band. "Alexa, repeat the last song, please."

Alaisa smiles and drifts towards Aze and Sintha.

Joelle drifts over to the chairs. He doesn't sit, however, and watches the door of the ballroom patiently.

Aze raises a hand in greeting as Ally approaches. "I guess this wasn't the crowd for it. At least Mr. Boutille can think more highly of his own teaching now. He didn't lose over half his students."

"Oh, gosh," Sintha protests. "You can't think that was to do with your teaching, darling."

Isla remains enraptured by the thought of a broomstick dance for another two seconds before she realizes the Zing! Dance is about to start up again, and claps once more. "Oh!" she says, as equally thrilled by this demonstration as learning a new dance herself. These two men dancing with their hips can fit so much educational romance material in them.

Alexa, the band leader, starts them back up at the beginning of the song, as if nothing has happened at all.

"Oh, don't get yourself down," Ally says, smiling at Aze. "Did you hear Ralaea say that she likes it? As for Harvey, well, do be subtle about this, he was very embarrassed, but I think he's a bit of a perfectionist who lacks natural talent," and here she nods at Sintha, look at this brilliant woman over here with her natural talent. "But he does want to learn it, it'll just take him more time. I bet he would really appreciate more instruction, if you can manage not to step on his pride."

Sintha bows her head modestly. She is a natural talent, it's true.

Lena looks over at Shine and asks quietly, "Would you like to practice more? Or we could just watch for now, if you'd rather a break."

"I'd like to dance with you," Shine says, equally quietly, and smiles.

"Then let's," Lena says, reaching for his hands and stepping back towards the floor, avoiding the water patch.

As the music starts back up, Colson starts Mordecai back into place of their routine — those watching who were looking at them before might notice it's the exact same routine, not a single thing altered. This is no improvisation, and the smoothness of their dance is likely due to this fact more than any skill or natural flair for the amar'uel.

Mordecai is locked-in immediately. No crowd. No audience. Only dance. He holds eye contact with Colson whenever their routine enables it, and whenever he breaks it to do a spin or another movement his eyes always find Colson's again after as if drawn by a magnet.

"I'm happy to help, but I've never been great at prickly pride," Aze says, and then she smiles for some reason, though she's still pointed toward Lady Sintha and Ally. "They've gotten better at that. But yeah, Mourn. He's not going to get any better if he's not willing to be a little embarrassed."

"Gosh," stage-whispers Sintha loudly. "Look at them." She stares delightedly at Colson and Mordecai.

Over to the side, her brother is also staring at Colson and Mordecai with a somewhat different species of delight, his arms folded across his chest and a glint in his gaze.

Alaisa follows instructions and looks at them - the Aspenwoods first, and then Shine and Lena for good measure. "Well, don't say that to him," she says to Aze. "Just be encouraging."

Colson is a strong lead, and the routine, complex as it is, seems effortless done by the two holy church men. It's an excellent example of what Aze was trying to convey — that one person in the lead can give opportunity to make their partner seem alluring, appealing, and incredibly skilled. His hands skim over Mordecai's waist as the priest moves sinuously, their hips move in rolling tandem, each turn is done with a fluidity that gives a sense of inevitability to the motion, waves of graceful sensuality articulated in each beat of the music.

"Let's be off to one side," Shine suggests with soft laughter in his voice. "So we're not in the way of — " He nods toward the Aspenwoods.

Lena laughs lightly and lets Shine move them over to the side, "Give it a little time, and I bet we'll catch up to them."

Isla's off in dreamland. She's taking mental notes. She's probably adding Debut Jail Time to her already long sentence, but that's Future Isla's problem. Present Isla is whispering, zing! zing zing turn zing! to herself.

Isla will debut when she is 41.

Worth it.

Aze turns, to make it more obvious that she's watching the dancers with approval. She shrugs and says to Alaisa, "I can't change reality just because he finds it inconvenient. I'm pretty sure I looked like a dying fish when I first started trying to figure all this out. But sure, I'll see if I can teach him to shake his hips… with dignity."

Ralaea returns to the door of the ballroom and peeks inside. Not finding what (or maybe who) she's looking for, she settles along the wall — the same wall Finley was leaning against while waiting for her — and watches the stairs.

Alaisa catches the door opening and shutting. She says nothing about it.

Aze's head twitches, and her smile looks a little like a smirk for a moment before she refocuses on the dancers.

Shine grins down at Lena. "I'm glad to practice it."

He definitely knows the step now, and he is sticking mostly to it alone because, while he can do the hips, he has still not gotten the hang of doing them at the same time as the feet. That is Too Much Moving.

Lena, for her part, is getting better at the movements, but she isn't doing them consistently. Maybe half her steps have accompanying hip motions, and her expression is intent as this absorbs her attention. She murmurs, "I feel like this is using muscles I usually don't."

Shine looks fascinated by the hip movements when they occur, and his expression is almost equally intent. Eventually he dispenses with the correct dance hold and just sets his hands on Lena's hips. Maybe he is hoping to absorb the talent by osmosis. Maybe he is helping. Maybe he's just… doing that.

Lena clasps her own hands behind his neck. This is not the proper amar'uel position, but she doesn't seem to care as they dance around their little patch of floor.

"I am sorry for rushing out," Alaisa says to both Aze and Sintha.

Sintha waves a blithe hand. "Oh, gosh, I'm sure you handled the thing better than — well certainly better than Shay would have, and probably anyone else here."

"Well, yes," Lace says, not particularly modest. "There truly wasn't much to handle, in the end."

"Do you know Mourn well?" Aze asks Ally, her focus still on the dancers. "I haven't spent that much time with him, but he used to hang out with my family sometimes." For a definition of 'hang out' that is missions of violence.

"I just met him properly today," Ally admits.

Aze tilts her head towards Ally in surprise. "I just assumed we had the same acquaintances. Or maybe, that Mourn was pretty well snug fit in society by now. I'll… try to be a little more understanding, from one monster to another."

Isla looks over at that, her brown eyes wide and clear, as she hears Aze and Alaisa talking. "Well, but you're not really monsters, either of you, are you? That's like the sort of thing people say when they're being cruel to people who aren't the same sort of people. That was a bit what our play was about, the one we were in. Having something that makes you different doesn't mean monstrous. Like the worgens. It'd be so unkind to think of them like monsters, and well, it's not right for us to think of you as one either. You're our friend, and you're Aze, and Harvey is Rae's fiance, and Harvey. Isn't that right, Sintha?" The young girl turns to Sintha with all the faith of a Higher Authority that she recognizes.

"Absolutely," Sintha concurs, with big, solemn eyes.

So it hath been spoken, and thus it hath been written, as Isla's worldview remains fixed in certainty, nodding enthusiastically at Aze and Alaisa. Sintha knows everything.

Sintha nods too. She does.

Alaisa smiles at Isla.

"Yeah," Aze says, with a quick flash of a smile. "You're right. We're all friends here."

As the Aspenwoods dance, if anyone is watching them particularly closely, they might see a strange shift in the lighting - Mordecai's skin seems to glow softly from within with an [Inner Fire]. He takes no notice of it himself, and it's hard to say whether it's deliberate. It fades over the next few dance steps, but Aszera can sense the Light still simmering beneath his skin.

And there goes the Morson Feedback Loop, a sense of the Light brightening around the paladin in reflection, a glow over his hands, even as he guides Mordecai through the last of the dance.
Siamus, arms still folded, has moved off to the side to lean hip-propped against a table, and is still watching the Aspenwoods with gleaming, narrow-eyed intent.

Sintha cranes at him, stretching upright in her chair, until she catches his attention.

Siamus focuses on her. Sintha mouths something at him and makes a gagging face, then turns primly away.

Siamus smiles faintly and resumes watching the light show.

"Oh, what's — " Isla starts to say, watching the Aspenwoods in a very different way now, her hands squeezing bunches of her dress. She still hasn't sat back down from when she leaped up earlier. "Is that the Light?" She's blinking at them, an odd expression on her face, something not quite worry, not quite fascination, not quite hope. She doesn't look at anyone in particular, but Aze and Alaisa can easily hear the girl with no sense of whispering for subtle asking.

Alaisa studies the two men on the dance floor. "Huh," she says. "Is it? Gosh, I think you might be right, Isla."

"Yeah," Aze says casually. Then she turns slightly to Isla. "Wait, is it visible Light?"

In The Hallway

When Finley Boutille comes down the stairs, each footfall an agile drop down that makes no sound whatsoever, still buttoning up his waistcoat, there's no Pleasant Gentleman face on. The Real Finley is there. There's a dark sullenness all around his expression, his brows pulled downward, and tense lips. He looks like a man who should have a personal doomy rain cloud following him.

He's also — hang on — is he wearing the exact same clothes? No, that can't be right. Wait, yes, there they are: differences! Those pants are an entire single shade darker, and the buttons on the waistcoat are a solid, rather than pattered, dark gold. And that shirt… okay, the shirt is exactly the same, but he probably just has multiple ones of the same color. He's holding another matching dark gold cravat in one hand as he buttons himself up, and his sleeves no longer rolled, the shirt collar button no longer undone. He's run a comb or brush through his hair; the wild waves that had descended into chaos have been put back into order.

He is getting control again. He is pulling himself together. He is getting back to the party mode. He is looking up and seeing Ralaea in the hallway, obviously unexpectedly, and making a startled ah! sound.

"Ralaea," he says, a little stain of color back in his cheeks, and concern coloring his voice, as he glances at the ballroom. "Shit. You've not been kicked out, have you?"

Ralaea watches every step, her lips pulling into the start of a smile when he finally notices her and startles. She's not laughing, but maybe her eyes are, a little. "No," she says casually. "Just waiting for you."

"Oh. Ah." Finley walks closer, bending slightly, as he wraps the cravat around his throat, tying it with long, nimble fingers. He smiles back at her, warmed up by the laughter in her eyes, even if the raincloud doesn't fully disperse. "Unified team front, is it? I appreciate it." He glances at the door, and then back at her. "Morningdew's not back in yet, I gather?"

"He's not, but we're fine now. He just has to fix his face, I think. I should…" Ralaea shifts a little on her feet, tucking her arms behind her. "I meant to thank you. For the talk. Truthfully, I was just going to go back to my room, so. Thanks."

Finley's cheeks go a little redder, his shoulders moving in a quick shrug, but he's smiling. He's also messing up his cravat tying. "And you're welcome, then. I had a feeling you might've. And that would have been a shame. Wouldn't want you to end the party on such a sour note," he says. He pauses, thinking.

"When you say 'fix his face,' are we talking literal or metaphorical?" You have to ask with Ralaea, even Finley knows that. "I mean it in the most complimentary way, but I've a feeling you've got a hell of a right hook. That was some mean feat with the whole pitcher like that."

"Oh, I didn't hit him, he just…"

As if on cue, Harvey steps inside, a wild grin on his face, matched by the bright glow of his eyes. He is radiating arrogance, as if he expects everyone who sees him to kneel at his feet. Fortunately, he doesn't say anything of the sort. Ralaea scowls at him anyway.

"Thought you were going to fix that?" she says.

"There is nothing to fix," Harvey says, turning his attention to Finley. "You're fortunate she kept hold of that pitcher, or someone would be cleaning your blood off the floor." It is said conversationally, but his eyes trail down to where the water hit Finley, as if he is imagining it.

"I have better control than that," Ralaea says dismissively. "And you're better off not talking about blood."

After a moment of hesitation, Harvey seems to force himself into a bow. "My apologies."

Finley pulls himself up to his fuller height — he's got an entire three inches on Harvey — but with no threat, a man used to nobles pulling rank, and knowing how to not provoke them. He watches the back and forth between Ralaea and Harvey, his eyes guarded, and the smile he wore before blends into a pleasant non-expression, as he takes in the tone, the mannerisms, and what seems to be working on the death knight.

His cravat, not tied correctly, remains where it is as Finley gives Harvey a bow in return, a gentleman's bow, not a servant's, but it's still deferential, an assumption of Harvey's higher rank.

"No offense taken. I meant to be hit by the water, to cool off. Maybe I'd have dodged the pitcher, if it'd come with it. We'll never know," Finley says, sticking his hands in his pockets, talking to Mourn like he's just Harvey, casual conversation. "Truthfully, I might've been glad enough for the disruption. I was struggling with the dance. It's not really like anything I've done before. Sort of a come down from an instructor, to be one of the learners, and not exactly a stellar one. Much longer, and I'd have signaled Ralaea anyway just for a reprieve, pitcher or not. So, in we go all three then? To face the music, both literally and figuratively."

Someone fix this man's cravat before he walks in there like this.

Harvey takes him in, running his own calculations based on his words and manner. He glances sideways at Ralaea. "So. Your definition of a hero, then?"

Surprise and embarrassment flashes across Ralaea's face, but she doesn't say anything to refute it, looking away towards the door instead. La la la, she's not listening to Mourn and his dumb observations.

"Very well." Harvey's gaze returns to Finley, and he notices the cravat. No, he more than notices. He stares at it. First his hand twitches, then his face. It might even be physically bothering him. "Come here," he says, reaching for it.

Finley's brows go up at Ralaea's reaction, and he glances rapidly back and forth between them, his face giving little away, but his own cheeks are redder. He's still computing what that was, and it's probably the nobleman's tone, and Finley's distraction with trying to figure out what that exchange meant, because Finley — still looking at Ralaea — takes an entire step towards Harvey with a, "Yes, sir," before he realizes…what he's doing, what he's said. He freezes.

Okay, well, now. Options are limited from here, and he knows what his job is supposed to be, which includes getting those two back in the ballroom, and not start an entire Incident here in the hallway.

It's not exactly smooth, but it seems a deliberate choice of following some instinct, perhaps. Finley forces himself still — thundering heart rate pulse visible in his neck aside — and keeps his hands in his pockets. Pleasant smile. Casual tone. Bland non-direct eye contact with Harvey. And a deliberate inner step away from fear into nothing being out of order. Just a helping hand from one man to another. "I'd be obliged for the help."

Harvey's own expression is one of grim determination as he corrects the cravat with the speed and accuracy of a man who has been drilled on this very thing. He could probably tie one upside-down and backwards with his eyes closed, which, in this case works in his favor, as he is able to pull back away from Finley's neck before anything can go wrong. If death knights could sweat, though, he would probably be sweating.

He takes an entire two steps away when he is finished, and half-turns towards the door. "Now, then," he says. "Shall we?"

Ralaea seems to have missed that entire tense exchange, still caught in her own thoughts, but when Harvey moves, she takes his arm, holding her free hand out for Finley. "Strength in numbers, right?" she says.

Finley, not a death knight, is sweating slightly. It's fine.

Uh, oh. Decision time now, Finley. Did he think this through? Evidently not. He was going on gut feeling moment to moment, not planning a strategy multiple steps out. So, the hesitation shows, the start of a hunch of his shoulders, as he looks at Ralaea's hand like a man suddenly realizing he's about to make one statement to one person, and potentially an entire other one to a group of people. Instinct says, though…

Well. Here goes nothing. Finley offers Ralaea his arm, a gentleman again, light and breezy. Nothing significant here. He tilts his head towards the ballroom. The music is still going. Maybe they can still make it in before it ends and no one will look over at them. A man can dream. "Right, team effort," Finley says, as he starts walking quickly for the ballroom.

Harvey's gaze lingers appraisingly on Finley for a moment, before the three of them step into the ballroom.

In The Ballroom

"I should probably apologize to Aze," Ralaea says, scanning the room for her. She hasn't let go of either of them. Maybe she expects to approach Aze as-is?

Across the room, the (1) person definitely still watching the door, Joelle, sees them enter and begins to approach.

"Got a bit of a list going myself. At this point, it's the whole room, in general, and then a few in particular," Finley says to Ralaea. He might not have an exit strategy yet for the arm hold. As Elle gets closer though, he up-nods the other man, keeping his voice down under the last few bars of the music. "Elle, you doing okay?"

Joelle falls in peacefully on Finley's other side in a show of solidarity, maybe. He seems fine.

Siamus straightens from where he leans against the table to turn and survey the returning group.

He stills. He raises an eyebrow, slowly. Which is not easy, by the way. (Good muscle control.)

"Welcome back," he says blandly. He is looking very hard at Finley like he is trying telepathy again.

Don't give him that look, Siamus, Finley doesn't know how he ended up here either. He was following his instinct. Was this wise with Ralaea "Child of Chaos" Westwind? We'll see. There's a flash of a young man just muddling his way through before he sweeps it up into the Pleasant Face.

When Siamus bids them back a welcome, Finley pauses to give him a proper bow, a tone shift from the quieter voice to a more definitive one. "Admiral, sir. Please excuse the disruption." He's doing this now, he guesses. It's that kind of day. He turns another bow to the room at large, now that the music has unhelpfully ended. "I beg your pardon, everyone."

As the three return to the ballroom and make apologies, Aze sits impassively by the side of the room with a faint, polite smile on her face.

Mordecai, no longer literally glowing, smiles at Colson as the music ends. It's not one of his soft, dreamy smiles, it's more pointed and appreciative than that. He releases Colson slowly, takes a step back, and bows to him, and by the time he straightens up again his smile looks soft and dreamy once more.

"It's over and done," Siamus says mildly. "No harm. The three of ye ready to join us again? We were just carrying on some more practice while we waited." He pauses. "Boutille, I'll have a word with ye later, before tea."

"Just him?" Ralaea asks. "The water was my idea."

Siamus turns a pleasant look on Ralaea. "Just him," he says. "I didn't say it was to do wi'the water, did I?" He pauses and surveys Rae. "But I find I'm not surprised, either." There is just the hint of a smile before he manages to wipe his expression to neutral again. "But we're not discussing anything on the dance floor at present. Come rejoin our friends."

"Of course, sir," Finley agrees, a bit like a man who knows he's got an execution scheduled for later, but first he's got to get through dancing. In a lower voice, leaning down towards Ralaea, lips barely moving, he says, "We'll talk about it later, Ralaea. Just leave it for now, for Miss Sunstike's sake. I'll be fine. And if not, well, it wasn't a one time use signal, right?"

He straightens up, and nods, gently unlinking his arm from Ralaea, and turning back to Elle, smiling pleasantly. "You ready for attempt number two?"

Ralaea squeezes his arm before he lets go, but mercifully doesn't say anything further, aside from maybe with her eyes as she shoots a suspicious look at Siamus.

Joelle looks a bit surprised by Finley's question. "You… want to?" he asks.

Isla has torn her attention from the Aspenwoods to look at Finley, Ralaea, and Harvey, and oh no. Are those… are those fanfic wheels turning? Except she frowns, like she's not sure why those things would be happening. She narrows suspicious eyes at Finley, like she suspects he's held something back from her. What are you doing, Lee?!

Finley ignores Isla. He's used to it. "I wouldn't want to be rude to Miss Sunstrike," he says to Elle. "So, I want to give it at least another try. If that's all right by you? I'd understand if you'd like to consider swapping out with another."

Shine and Lena stopped dancing as well when the music ended, but Shine seems to have forgotten to let go of Lena. He stands there watching the conversation with a footman's impassivity and his hands on Lena's hips.

Lena doesn't seem to mind. She keeps her arms around his neck. This is a perfectly normal way to stand.

Colson misses the trio's entrance entirely, absorbed in Mordecai's smiles. And so when he lifts his head to listen to the conversation, he rejoins in awareness with it halfway over. "Ah," he says.

Joelle nods, glancing towards the whiskey, then back to Finley, a question in his gaze.

Finley follows the look, and gives a soft laugh. "Light, no. That's the last thing I need to be doing right now. But it's a kind thought," he says. "Maybe I'll sneak some into my tea later."

Finley Marie Boutille, Ralaea is standing right there. Don't give her any ideas. Don't give Elle any ideas. You're going to have two people adding whiskey to your tea until it's just whiskey-with-whiskey.

Ralaea turns her gaze to Finley. "Do we need a signal for that, too?" she asks.

Joelle might just be tucking the information away for later.

Harvey watches in silence, though the smile seems to be growing unchecked.

Finley leans towards her. "For the what — for the whiskey? No …" He pauses, glancing over at the rest of the group forming up. "Well." Finley, this is what gets you into things like this. Are you sure you wanna… "Maybe a distraction signal wouldn't hurt. If you were to drop a napkin at just the right time. Make people look the other way while a man tips a bit of whiskey in his drink? I could brush my left sleeve three times."

Ralaea smiles. "Yessir, Lieutenant," she says. She will drop that napkin, and she will pick it up verrrry slowly.

Finley's own smile grows briefly at the sight of hers, and then he glances over at Harvey, evaluating the other man's smile. Some decision must be getting made in that gut of his because Finley says, "I'll probably need more instruction from Miss Sunstrike, after this good faith attempt with the music. What do you think, Morningdew? Care to join my Team Needs Another Run Through Instructions?"

Harvey's grin returns full force. "Yes. When I am through with this dance, it will be begging for the sweet release of—"

"Yeah, so, dances aren't alive, Mourn, but I guess whatever helps, as long as you're… having… fun?" Ralaea shrugs and shakes her head. Death knights. Still, she gives Finley a grateful look.

Finley's startled into something of a soft, low laugh, but it's the tone of someone laughing with Mourn rather than at him. "Yeah, I know the feeling. If I could, I'd hold the dance for you to punch, Mourn," he says, using the name with only a barest hesitation. Go with the flow, Finley. "But, I guess we'll just have to satisfy by proving that it can't win against us, hm?"

He nods towards the dance floor to Elle, who he has not forgotten. "Right, let's find us a place on the floor. You keep the lead, and we'll just take it a bit slow." He starts towards the middle of the room to get back into place.

Harvey lifts his chin, but his gaze on Finley contains approval. There is nothing more to be said, as he leads Ralaea to a spot on the floor.

Joelle follows Finley. "I can help guide, if you want," he says. "Your hips."

Finley looks down at his hips reflexively, like maybe they started doing things on their own. They are mercifully behaving.

"Ah, no, I don't think that'd help," he answers. "External, versus internal. It's less each part on its own. Probably not holding the concept all together right. Or too much together. Something." He sets his hand on the back of his neck, pulling a little pressure on it, as he gives Elle a wry smile. "S'what I meant before. If I don't know what I need or what I'm doing wrong, how can I show you to see it? It's on me, Elle. The more I try it, better I'll figure out what I'm not getting." He leans closer, brows raised. "Just because we don't solve the problem fast or at first glance doesn't mean it doesn't get solved together eventually, right?"

Joelle nods, content to leave it at that. If there is a bit of lingering concern in his gaze, he opts not to speak on it.

Siamus strolls across the room to check in with Aze as to whether she's ready to resume the lessons. On the way, he pauses by the Aspenwoods and says, "Lovely," bowing his head in appreciative fashion. It is the sort of appreciation that may remind Colson this guy has hit on him before.

Mordecai startles at the reminder that there are other people in the room. "Th-thank you," he says to Siamus, ducking his head. He reaches out to grab Colson's hand.

"Thank you," Colson echoes, holding Mordecai's hand gently. He seems not at all affected by a little appreciative looking, in either direction.

Siamus flashes a smile at both and continues toward Aszera.

As Siamus moves on, Mordecai turns back to Colson and says with hushed delight, "He said we were lovely!"

Colson smiles gently at his husband. "He did," he agrees. He moves Mordecai's hand up to his heart. "Would you like to lead this next time, or would like me to do so again?"

"I'll lead next." Mordecai sets his free hand on Colson's shoulder and steps in closer. "How are you doing?"

"I am happy," Colson answers. "And I am remembering how long that carriage ride back to the city is."

Mordecai makes a faint noise of amusement and guides Colson into a slow back-and-forth sway, since they're still on the dance floor. It isn't particularly amar'uel-like, but it's fine, they're between dances. "I haven't forgotten at all."

Aze rises and nods to Siamus. "Maybe a little group practice time before song two? I think… I've probably given people enough to work on already." Too much, says her expression.

Siamus nods to her. "You're the instructor," he tells her with a smile.

Lace reaches out for Sintha's hand. "It looks like everyone else is getting ready. Shall we?"

"We shall," Sintha decrees, and sweeps regally to her feet, accepting Lace's hand.

Lace leads her out onto the dance floor and then takes her other hand. "Aze," she calls. "Anything you want to review?"

Aze reaches for Siamus's hand and walks to the center of the room again. "I don't think so. I appreciate all of your willingness to try a dance that might not be like the sort you're familiar with or prefer. Maybe we can just take a little time to practice the things. I'll just… circle around, and you can tell me if you need clarification on things. I'm here to help, if so. How does that sound?"

It sounds to Finley like he better start hula hooping his hips faster if he wants to avoid having Aze commenting or touching them. He's sweating enough already to nervously roll his sleeves up again. Finley, you just got here.

"All right," Mordecai says to Aze. A little more shy, he asks, "Did you - did you see?"

Aze smiles at Mordecai. "I saw. You two are doing excellent. Maybe you can help people, too, if they need it?"

"Thank you. Oh. Um. All right." Mordecai looks at Colson, then at the rest of the dancers, looking a little uncertain.

Colson inclines his head to Aze. "Ah, I thank you for the compliment, but forgive me, I do not think I know the underlying principles of the dance well enough to correct someone," he says, honestly.

"Oh." They were allowed to refuse? Mordecai didn't know that. He looks around the ballroom.

Aze nods. "That's fine, then. I'll circle around, and help anyone who needs?"

Colson nods. He is now one of the only men in a suit shirt and waistcoat with his sleeves down, and he's just been doing an entire sensual dance with his husband. Hm. Is this the moment for Casual Colson?

Yes. This is the moment. Colson releases Mordecai's hands to unbutton the cuffs, and carefully, and precisely, fold up his sleeves to an exact 3/4 length. That might be less casual. However, in doing so, he reveals that he is, in fact, the fourth (4th) tattooed person in the room — black writing wrapping around his left arm to his wrist. So maybe that evens out the casualness again. He keeps eye contact with Mordecai as he does it, a faint smile on his face.

Mordecai waits for Colson to roll up his sleeves, smiling back. He takes Colson's left wrist in a loose hold, casually swiping his thumb over the word PATIENCE on the tattoo, before taking both of Colson's hands properly.

Aze glances up at Siamus. "Do you want to come around with me? Or should I just come back when it's time for music?"

"I'll go if ye might need a partner to demonstrate. But if I'll be in the way…." He shrugs genially.

Isla sits with a plop, propping her head up on her hands, resting her elbows on her knees, watching avidly as people start up again. She takes notice of the fact that the paladin! man! has tattoos?! Who would have thought. She cannot read what they say from here, so all she does is squint as she leans forward…more…and more… Isla Lenaire, that is far enough. You're going to fall out of your chair if you keep going like that.

"Well," Lace says to Sintha. "Since you are a natural, I wonder if she has anything more advanced to teach us? After she's done with the beginners, of course."

"What sorts of advanced things, do you think? Honestly I don't think this is the right dress for some of those things she was showing us earlier, but I'm game to try," Sintha says.

"I don't entirely know, or I'd be trying them right now. The Aspenwoods were doing some things with their arms that I haven't been taught yet, but I have a feeling Lord Mordecai would try and crawl under the floorboards if I asked him, and Lord Colson said he didn't think he was qualified." Lace idly swishes their hands back and forth.

Shine/Lena

Aze considers. "Let's go see if Lena and Mr. Shine need any help? They seem… the least stressed out, of the beginners." Because conflict avoidance is a key skill for dance instructors. She lowers her voice to add, "And then we can see what needs to be done from there - I probably should go help Rae and Mourn alone, for his… dignity."

Siamus immediately looks delighted. Yes, please, let us interfere butt in assist Lena and Mr. Shine. He nods to Aze and sets his hand on her lower back to usher her in that direction.

Aze smiles at the couple as they approach. Just to note, since tattoos were a topic, the ends of hers are visible on her forearms. "How are things going, getting the rhythm of it?"

Lena glances over, a kind of dazed smile on her own face, and hastily pulls her hand to Shine's shoulders, which is also not the right place for them to go. "I think so, yes."

Lena looks to Shine, to see if he has any questions.

"Oh." Shine looks like he has not, for some reason, been thinking of technical questions at all. "I think… ah."

Siamus is grinning at him.

For the sake, perhaps, of not acknowledging that look, Shine says, "The part I'm having most trouble with is putting, you know… the movements together."

Siamus does not say anything, but in kind of a conspicuously Not Saying Anything way.

"Oh, sure," Aze says, letting go of Siamus's hand and stepping towards Shine. "Do you want me to just demonstrate again, or should I walk you through it physically? Whatever you're comfortable with."

"Ah." Shine considers. "A demonstration, I think, will do."

Aze walks through the steps slowly, counting out with each movement. The effect might be a little distracting, but her manner is carefully neutral, rather than seductive.

Shine walks through the steps she demonstrates, watching her feet. The problem remains the same: he cannot do anything hips at the same time as anything feets.

Siamus, if you say a word you're a dead man.

"That's pretty good," Aze says, nodding. "But you need to move your hips on the off-beat. You've got the feet down, I think."

Shine tries again, slower this time. He is very clearly counting in his head. He gets it though, sort of; things are starting to occur together. Slowly, but together.

Aze nods encouragingly. "Yeah, you're getting the hang of it."

Lena is carefully doing the step as well, trying to match Shine's movements.

Aze glances between the two of them, and then steps back. "Right, I think you can match Lena, Mr. Shine. It's good for partners to learn to mirror each other."

Shine smiles lopsidedly at Lena. Siamus smiles at them both. Siamus, this has nothing to do with you, actually.

"Also, though, let me remind you the positions," Aze reaches up to pull Siamus in, and demonstrates the hand-to-hand open position, and then the standard closed. "It's important to keep the connections, like I was saying, so you can tell her what you want her to do with her body."

"Right," says Shine. He reaches for Lena's hands again, to return to standard closed position. "I can manage that." He is so serious-faced, though he is Looking at Lena in a certain way.

Siamus tries not to have an aneurysm from self-restraint. He nods his head respectfully — Respectfully — to the pair.

Lena is not serious-faced. However, Aze cannot see her amused smile and raised eyebrow. Both the boys can. She does, however, move into the appropriate closed position. "Thank you, Aze, Admiral. I expect we can practice from here."

Lena is happy to continue practicing, and she tries her best to match her own hip movements to Shine's.

Colson/Mordecai/Isla/Brendol

Colson glances at the room; people are working on the parts of the dance again, not yet ready for another music attempt. "While the music has not yet started, would you like to get some more water, Chaplain?" Colson asks Mordecai. It is most definitely not a slip of the word. "Or would you prefer to remain here?"

The seating area currently contains only Bren and Isla. Mordecai braces himself for the flow of potential Isla-ness coming at them as soon as they get into proximity. "All right, let's." His face is a little red, but then again, he was just dancing. He moves around couples towards the refreshments table.

Colson escorts his husband to the water table, and when he gets there, he leans ever so slightly to set his hip against the table. W-woah.

Isla watches them for just a bit, peeking over to try to see Colson's tattoo, but the Aspenwoods are actually being the least interesting couple in the room at the moment, as far as she can tell, so she goes back to watching what's happening with Shine, Lena, Siamus, and Aze.

Mordecai passes the first poured glass of water to Colson and takes the second for himself. "Thank you," he mumbles to the server, and goes to sit down on the very end of a row with his glass.

"Thank you," Colson says as he accepts his water with a gentle smile, following Mordecai to stand next to him, his hand on the back of the chair, as he drinks his water from his breakable object, following The Rules.

Mordecai drinks his water quickly. He was, apparently, very thirsty. "Hello," he says quietly to Brendol.

Bren is staring just a little, and continues for about three seconds before he realizes he's being addressed. "The bathroom was " Oh. That was not what he wanted to say. Well. No way out but through. " to your liking, I hope?" He peers towards the door. What if he just, didn't talk? What then?

Mordecai blinks at Bren. "Um, yes, thank you," he says, and falls awkwardly silent.

Isla rotates to look at the both of them, absolutely baffled by this exchange. That was weird, Brendol. But! Maybe she can help!

Finley, in the middle of hula hooping his way towards hip-foot-coordination-success glances over at Isla, his eyes narrowing. He can feel her nonsense from here.

"Well, you know, if you didn't, there are other bathrooms. A whole bunch of them. I've been in all of them, except for Avrenne and Sia — the Admiral's, of course. I do have a favorite one, but it's also mine, so it has all the things I like in it for that," she enthuses. "Did you want to see more of the house? It's ever so large, so there's so many rooms to see. Bren's seen a lot of them. He's been a guest before, that's why he would know which bathrooms are so pleasant, and be helpful finding them."

Color slowly creeps back into Bren's cheeks, and he stares at the door. How many more dances are there?

"Um," Mordecai says. Wait, does Isla expect an answer? "I… wouldn't mind… a tour? Another time. Um. We'll be dancing again once the music starts."

Isla bounces twice excitedly, clasping her hands to her chest. "Oh, I would love to give you a tour!" There were some other important words in there, Isla. "Another time," she allows. She turns back to watching the dancers. "Isn't this just the most exciting dance you have ever seen?"

Mordecai looks at Colson for help. Is it the most exciting dance they've ever seen?

"Ah, well," Colson hedges for a moment. "I believe all dances have something to recommend themselves of interest. The amar'uel seems particularly unique compared to other more familiar dances, and that is always an interesting part of witnessing something new. Are you fond of dancing?"

"Oh, sometimes. It's really mostly that it's so exciting to have an entire dance party, don't you think? If it was just me here, and it has been many times, there's really nothing interesting about dancing. It's just a lot of moving, but if it's with someone, then everything becomes better. And of course with a party, there are so many things happening, and all the people looking a certain way, and it just all adds up. It's so beautiful, don't you think?" Isla asks Colson and Mordecai and Brendol.

"It is so beautiful," Colson agrees softly, looking directly at just Mordecai.

Brendol considers forming words. Then he remembers his record for that so far today and decides against it. He nods instead.

"Mmhm," Mordecai agrees. He glances up at Colson, blushes, and quickly drinks the rest of his water.

Sintha/Alaisa

Lace leans conspiratorially towards Sintha. "How long have Lena and Mr. Shine been seeing each other?" she asks.

"To be honest, I have // no idea// myself. She came to live here… gosh, I don't know, last year?" Sintha eyes the couple with bright interest. "I believe he was teaching her to sail, at Shay's request? But this part, I have no idea."

"I find it oddly delightful that they seem to have missed each other in Cobalt Company - he joined after she left - but I had no idea about this until today." Lace smiles. "Good for her."

"To be honest, I don't know her very well at all. Shine's a darling, though." Sintha smiles benevolently.

"Oh, do tell me about him." Lace looks hopefully at Sintha. "Or I can ask him myself, but he seems occupied today."

Sintha laughs. "He does rather, doesn't he?" She gives the pair an impish look and then turns to focus on Lace. "He's been Shay's best friend for… gosh, it must be half their lives now. They met in school, went into the fleet together, he was Shay's lieutenant." She lowers her voice. "He was hurt badly at Theramore — the eye, hm? — and left the fleet but came to live here and work. He is absolutely the most loyal and the most discreet man you will ever find, and he is constantly noticing things when people think he's not."

Sintha glances over again at Shine and Lena and her lips curl in another smile. "Although today he doesn't seem to be noticing much in a general sort of way." She turns back to Lace. "Imagine Shay but with none of the ego or temper, four times the common sense, and the ability to keep his mouth shut, and that's approximately Shine." She pauses, tilts her head, and then brightens anew. "Oh, and he makes watches. Honestly, the cleverest."

"He seems worth knowing," Lace says, and flashes Sintha a grin. "I adore loyal and discreet people who notice things."

"Don't you just?" Sintha sighs dreamily and then grins back at Lace.

"I am, after all, one of them myself," Lace says with mock-seriousness.

"Oh, top of the list, certainly," says Sintha solemnly, and then laughs gaily.

Finley/Joelle

Finley has got the steps going, and boy is that man moving his hips like his life depends on it, and he seems to have the muscles for it (kinda weird for an artist gentleman, if you think about it). He can step with Elle, and he can do the entire back and forth. The second a turn or spin or reversal is introduced, the entire thing falls apart.

"Is it the dancing?" Joelle asks, completely out of nowhere and with zero context.

Finley, focusing on attempting adding in upper body movements, messes up in an entire line all the way to his stepping, and has to pause to correct it. "Sorry, what?" he asks, refocusing on Joelle's face. He doesn't sound impatient, as he leans towards Joelle, clearly interested in the actual line of thought happening. "Is what the dancing?"

"Your muscles," Joelle says, ducking his head a little. Did he mess Finley up by talking? "Are they from dancing?"

Finley hesitates, but maybe he's just concentrating on the dancing and the talking. "Ah, some of them, probably. I do a lot more of it than I did before, parties and the like. I exercise differently now that I can, and not spending so much time standing about as a butler." He smoothes out his step, step, step, tap again. There we go. Basics at least.

"You can talk to me, Elle. I'm not trying for any dancing medals. I'd rather talk with you than get the dance perfectly. It's not like I'm the only one struggling, at least. So, muscles? It can't be that you're asking because you want my workout routine," he says with a half-laugh. "You're clearly more fit than I." He doesn't ask, exactly, just leaves it open if Joelle wants to talk more.

But you were trying so hard, says Joelle's gaze. Still, Finley's reassurance is enough. "Mira—" Oh, a slip. Joelle tries again. "My mother believes that many things can be learned from others, especially workouts and exercise. So I was curious. Do you like exercise?"

There's a flicker of Finley's lashes, but he moves his eyes off Joelle, looking to the right like he's just thinking about it, so maybe it was nothing. He's not moving his upper body well again.

"Like it. Eh," he hedges. "Maybe it's more true that I like what it gets me." He meets Joelle's eyes again. "I want the results more than I enjoy the process, I mean." He starts to ask something, and then stops himself.

Joelle nods at the answer received, and then… waits. He doesn't seem particularly rushed or expectant, he is just there, if Finley wants to continue.

Aze nods, and reaches for Siamus's hand to continue her cycle around the room. She approaches Joelle and Finley, and says, "Elle, Mr. Boutille, anything I can help with?"

Finley barely catches the movement out of the corner of his eye soon enough to straighten up into position, and not jump half a foot away as he recalls that yes, the ballroom is filled with a lot of other people, and some of them are moving into his area of dancing.

"Ahh," he says, helpfully. Come on, Finley. Take one for the Team Needs More Help. He glances over at Harvey and Ralaea, and then back at Aze. "I guess, if I'm being honest, I'm not pulling it together well. The basics I think I'm hitting enough when it's just them. But, soon as I try a turn or move a position, falls apart."

Aze inclines her head in understanding, and makes no move to get closer to the couple. She might've noticed the tension. For such a flirty dance, she's surprisingly matter-of-fact as she answers, "Right, yes, really you'll want to just practice the footwork until it's second nature, and then the rest will come easier. But here, let me show you…"

Aze steps back, turns to face Siamus, and executes a turn. She does most of the turn on the second step, snapping around to face Siamus again. She explains, "What you'll want to do is to regain eye contact as quickly as possible - I can't really demonstrate that part well, but… oh well. And imagine…" she reaches out to touch the center of Siamus's chest. "…a line going from your chest to Elle's. That's what you want to recover as quickly as possible. It always comes back to your partner."

Siamus is perfectly at ease being a Demonstration; he's smiling down at Aze. Perhaps he is imagining a line going from his chest to Aze's. Perhaps he is just thinking about Aze's chest. Perhaps he's just having good, clean fun at a party and excited to have tea later.

Finley watches Aze demonstrate with Siamus with the look of a man who in another world just experienced the extreme awkwardness of an erotic scene in a movie playing while his parents are on the same couch watching it with him. It's not a zing when Joelle touches him, but there is a startled jolt that he covers with a series of movements with his body like he's just warming up, you know, the fluidity of his limbs.

"Right, sure." Finley stares at Elle's eyes. "Line to the chest. I can do that," he lies, and he lies well. Maybe he can get away with it if he doesn't imagine anything. Who will know? (Besides me, obviously.)

"You wanna give it a try, then, Elle?" Finley offers. As the follow, it's not his place to introduce the turns.

Aze's brow furrows slightly at Finley's reaction to the touch, but she doesn't say anything, just steps back to let the two dancers give it a whirl.

Joelle glances at Aze, but doesn't say anything, nodding to Finley instead. He leads him through a few basic steps, then tries again with the turn.

Whatever is going on in Finley's head, and if there are lines or not doing anything with anyone's chest, the turn comes out a lot smoother, although he definitely forces the snap back to his partner, like a man checking off a check box a little too aggressively, as he makes eye contact with Joelle. If he had tried to keep going after, rather than the hard stop he did, there would have probably been a moment out of sync.

Well? Finley looks over from Joelle to Aze. Did he do it? What's the grade looking like, Dance Lady Instructor? Is he at least at C passing? He'll take C passing.

Joelle, too, looks to Aze. He does not actually know if what he's doing is correct, or what he looks like doing it. All he's doing is following the instructions.

Aze nods. "I think you're getting the hang of it. We'll leave you two to practice. Let me know if you need anything else demonstrated."

You hear that, Elle? C passing! Finley does not high five Elle, because he's really not that kind of guy, but he gives him a smile.

"The hang of it, doesn't sound so bad. You really should give it a try with someone better at it though, when you get a chance. After this one, if you've a mind. You don't have to, but maybe think about it?" Finley suggests.

"Do you have someone in mind?" Joelle asks, curiously. Seeing Finley's smile seems to put him at ease.

"For you, do you mean? It'd be your preference, not mine," Finley says, back to doing the basics. Hips, hips, hips. Open position, good position. "Just want to make sure you're having a good time, like I hoped you would when I invited you. Hate to think that here we are at the last few miles, and it's become a job for you."

"I like having a job," Joelle says, and there is sincerity in his eyes.

"Who doesn't?" Finley says, rhetorically. A man likes a job, this is known. "But there's a difference between the enjoying having a job, even when the job's unpleasant. Then there's having a job, and liking the doing for itself, that you'd do even if no one told you to. So, even if today's a job for you in the end, better the latter."

Joelle looks a bit confused by the idea. "Do it without being told…? I like to help people, but I was told to help people. I like to exercise, but I was told to exercise. I like working as a guard, but I was told to work as a guard." His steps and movements remain exacting and timely, but his focus seems to have turned inward.

"Right. Just because you're told to do it, doesn't mean you won't like to do it. If I'm thirsty, and want a drink, and I know I'm off to get it, what does it matter if someone tells me to do it while I'm doing it?" Finley says. Somewhere, a certain worgen former-noblewoman narrows her eyes. "And there's nothing wrong with liking being told to do something. Especially when it's telling you what someone wants, and you want to do what they'd like. Lot of situations that's good in." Wait, no, don't think those through Finley. Delete, delete. He clears his throat. "But I guess what really matters is do you like being told what to do? The clarity of it, in particular."

Joelle nods. He likes it. He probably likes it. Has he ever functioned any other way? Computing… Insufficient data. He likes it. That is the easier answer.

Finley watches his face, the computing, and the easier answer selected. If there's anything the guarded young man is thinking of, or comparing, it's hidden behind the wall in his eyes. He glances away for a moment, and then sets his eyes back on Joelle's, a pleasant gentleman. He works on the dance in a gentle sort of silence, and he keeps his thoughts to himself for the moment.

The Aspenwoods and Isla and Bren

Aze reaches for Siamus's hand and turns away, saying quietly, "Okay, then Mourn and Rae. I'll handle this one alone?"

"Aye, as ye like," says Siamus. He casts a wary look toward Harvey, assessing, and then says to Aze, "I'll go and wait wi'the Aspenwoods."

Siamus, released from his Demonstration Duties, ambles in the direction of the Aspenwoods with his hands in his pockets.

Mordecai passes Colson his empty glass and mumbles, "I'm done." This means it is now Colson's task to set the breakable object down (and not refill it).

Colson takes the glass, and steps away briefly with an, "I will be right back." He really is — it's not that long of a walk to the water table, drop off two glasses, and walk back to the chairs, and he arrives in time to nod to Siamus in hello.

"Hello," Mordecai says politely. He is not good at small talk, though, and immediately runs out of things to say the way he did with Brendol.

Colson stands by Mordecai's chair, this time with his hand on his husband's shoulder. "I confess, this is a familiar sight. It took us all some time to grow accustomed to the amar'uel's components when Aze first introduced it to us several years ago. You have picked it up very quickly," he observes politely, without envy.

Siamus considers this. "It's more interesting than the usual," he says. "I'll pick a thing up faster when it's interesting." There's no insinuation, no sly emphasis on interesting: He is only offering a fact. "But the pair of ye looked very fine out there, I must say."

He raises his eyebrows and nods at Colson's arm. "How long have ye had the ink? And where'd ye get it, if I may ask?"

Colson looks down to his arm. "Oh, ah, this one?" Wait, there's more than one? Oh, ho ho ho. Where? "For three years now, by a tattoo master in Ironforge." He obligingly holds out his arm for Siamus to see better. The tattoo is writing, and it seems to go up beyond the line of his shirt, but the parts visible read… […paradise. With the power of the Light, you can overcome anything. It's like a symphony just keep listening and pretty soon you'll start to figure out your part. With courage and kindness hold onto your faith. Vanquish evil, protect the innocent. Walk in the grace of the Light. Compassion, patience, tenacity.]

Oh, it's a bunch of Paladin Light Stuff.

Mordecai turns in his chair towards Colson and Siamus.

Siamus leans, turning his head at an angle to read it. "Ah," he says. And then, "It's very clean line work. Three years, ye say?" He nods, impressed.

Colson nods back. "Yes. I had it touched up when I had another done, over a year ago. I have been pleased with the work." He doesn't… look pleased? but that's probably just his face.

Mordecai sets a hand on top of Colson's hand on his shoulder. "I don't have any," he confesses to Siamus, sounding almost apologetic.

Siamus looks faintly surprised by the apology, and then smiles wryly. "Certainly no fault in that. Ye must forgive me, I hope, for indulging a special interest." He looks to Colson again. "And ye have another? I won't ask" — the implication being that if he can't see it in Colson's current state, Colson is not required to strip further to show it off — "but the same artist, then?"

"Yes," Colson confirms. He sets his left hand over his heart briefly, to show the place. Oh, yeah, he'd have to take his shirt off to show it. He rests his hand back down at his side, as he looks at Mordecai. "Would you like to demonstrate it?" he asks his husband, softly. Oh ho! A tattoo that has a demonstration? Is it a tattoo of Mordecai looking sexy?

"Oh." Mordecai glances at Siamus. "It's a Fear Ward," he explains. "An inscription against fear." He holds out a finger that trails golden Light behind it as he draws a shape on Colson's shirt, over his heart. It's drawn fluidly in a single motion, a perfect circle and the symbol within. "The tattoo itself isn't, um, magic, yet," Mordecai explains to Siamus. "It's just… symbolic. Of, of how we protect each other."

Wait, yet?

Colson's eyes close on a soft, long exhale as the Fear Ward takes hold. When he opens them again, there's an even greater sense of peacefulness around the stoic paladin.

Isla, nearby, c r a n e s her neck as she watches, wide eyed, and openly staring. Manners? What manners?? This is Research Time!

Siamus looks fascinated. In fact: "Fascinating," he says. "We have — sailors, that is, aye? — our language of symbols in them." He lays his own left hand over his heart and spares a brief smile for Colson. "Quite a few prayers. Ye might ask Mr. Shine over there — " He turns to look at where Shine and Lena have done a pretty good job of syncing their hips and are maybe creeping past PG-13, oblivious to the rest of the room.

Siamus clears his throat and turns back, smiling. "Later ye might ask Mr. Shine for his. But… none of them have any magic beyond faith. When ye say yet…." He looks at Mordecai, his gaze alight with interest.

"Oh?" Colson says, an Aspenwood Interest noise. He looks back to Mordecai, smiling faintly at his husband, a quiet, steady presence at his side, as the paladin does the conversational equivalent of the amar'uel, showcasing his partner's appeal, and how interesting a person Mordecai is.

"It's still, um, very theoretical, but I've been studying the art of inscription under Ambassador Paluuva, one of the draenei," Mordecai explains. "There's the pigment, there's the symbols, there's the paper. But if paper could be skin instead… well."

Siamus folds his arms across his chest, looking faintly wonderstruck. "That's — well, it's brilliant, isn't it? If it works? Tides below, ye must tell me, will ye?" He turns again toward Shine, drawing a breath as if to call the man over, and then sees… right. Yes. Another time, then. "That's brilliant. Ye must tell Shine, as well."

"In theory, um, conceptually, it's very possible," Mordecai says. "The question is, well, will the tattoo do what the glyph normally would? Anyway, um, I'm still studying the glyphs and the pigments." He smiles shyly. "I haven't really started looking for people willing to volunteer to test it yet. I can tell you. If I figure it out."

"Do, aye? Please. And if ye want volunteers when the time comes, I can probably get ye your pick of a few dozen delighted to try."

Siamus is clearly, briefly still enraptured by the idea, gazing into space, and then he gives the slightest start, the suggestion of a man shaking himself off after climbing from the water. His smile has a slightly different quality now, the warm light gone from his eyes. His tone is perfectly pleasant, though, when he says as though it's just occurred to him in the last moment or two, "The pair of ye are both Church men — I wonder if either of ye is acquainted personally with your Archbishop?"

Mordecai shivers. There's no obvious reason for it, but he leans a bit more towards Colson. "I am," he says softly. "Although I wouldn't say I know him well."

Colson's brows raise faintly, and his hand is steady on Mordecai's shoulder. "For myself, I have been personally introduced to the Archbishop Benedictus, but I could not claim it a close association. I knew slightly better Archbishop Alonsus Faol, but only in the barest passing way, as a paladin of the Silver Hand many years ago," he says mildly, and truthfully.

"Why… do you ask?" Mordecai sounds oddly hopeful as he looks up at Siamus.

Siamus's gaze has sharpened at Mordecai's shiver, the way he looks for Colson. He appears to be assessing something. At last he says, "I find I have — a couple of my fellow House members and myself have some questions for the man. He's proved elusive."

Colson's brows now dip down slightly. "Hm." His fingers skim along Mordecai's shoulder encouragingly. "That is odd," he remarks.

"He's not in Stormwind," Mordecai tells Siamus. Somehow, he knows this already. "I, um, don't know when he's expected back. Nobody knew that."

Siamus looks to Colson. His gaze is less bland, more intent by the moment. "It is, is it? I did think it might be."

To Mordecai, he nods. "Aye, he's in the Dragonblight, allegedly. To lend aid to the Dragonflights against Deathwing. Allegedly." He studies Mordecai. "And no, no one does seem to know it."

Colson's face is the same as it usually is, although it doesn't seem to be by choice or effort. "I believe there are established mail routes to Dragonblight, as they were there when we were in the region working with the Dragonflights not long ago," he says, slowly, as if he is choosing his words carefully and thoughtfully. "Hopefully, he will be in contact again soon."

Mordecai's face is much easier to read. He seems surprised that the Archbishop would be in Dragonblight, and for some reason he looks worried rather than reassured. He bites his lip and looks to Colson. "Um…"

Siamus raises his eyebrows and waits pleasantly.

Colson meets Mordecai's eyes, and waits patiently for Mordecai's decision to speak his mind or ask for a change of subject, an unshakeable cornerstone of support.

Mordecai looks paralyzed with anxiety. "Colson, could - could you tell him?" he manages after about thirty seconds.

"Of course," Colson agrees instantly, without hesitation. He reaches for Mordecai's hand to hold as he turns his attention to Siamus.

"We were present in the crowd on this Remembrance Day past," he begins, that Military Report tone immediately coloring his voice. "There was something about Archbishop Benedictus' speech that rang a warning bell, rather than a believer's clarion call to even fellow brethren of servants of the Light. The language he used seemed an unusual choice, over-zealous in a way that we have seen before with the Scarlet Crusade, as a warning sign, to speak of cleansing in that way.

"We were also unsure as to why the Archbishop would have not immediately healed the king when and his son approached, still wounded, and while we acknowledge that His Holiness has not been in the field in some time, the length of time he did not act was much longer than we would expect from a healer of the Light, speaking from a personal standpoint as healers. Mordecai and I ultimately healed the king ourselves. We have no satisfactory explanation for the Archbishop's behavior or words that day, sir," Colson concludes.

As Colson speaks, Mordecai hunches his shoulders, sinking lower in the chair. He holds Colson's hand tightly and keeps his eyes on the floor.

Colson squeezes Mordecai's hand gently once.

"Ah," says Siamus.

He addresses Mordecai's bowed head directly. "I did want to be sure, ye see? Because I'm not a Church man myself. I've never said three words to the man, and don't know what the view of him within the Church — by men such as yourselves, aye? — might be." He pauses, weighs something for another moment, and then drops his voice. "But I'd be very glad if ye'd speak to me at tea or afterwards, Mordecai, because the Twilight's in Starmwend and this whole thing smells rotten as hell."

Mordecai gradually un-tenses. He squeezes Colson's hand once, very late, and nods. "Mmhm." He does not look at Siamus.

"Ah. Then you understand why we have our concerns, but have not spoken of them extensively, to not wish to cast aspersions even with private doubt. I have personal experience in the past with a holy man of the Light turning to Twilight's Hammer," Colson says quietly, a twitch of his right hand in Mordecai's.

"I know all too well how unfortunately easily we can turn from the true path to their radicalism, and how once caught, a person cannot resurface. Cobalt Company has been fighting against Twilight's Hammer for the past year, including infiltrating them to extract a hostage, and I have seen firsthand how they work to control and expand their followers. Their recruitment is extensive, and if they have targeted His Holiness with their rhetoric, we may be looking at a devastating effect within the Church, the likes of which we have not seen since a dreadlord took the place of Sir Dathrohan. We do not want to doubt His Holiness, but we must acknowledge that we servants of the Light are not infallible, and we all have the potential to leave the narrow path of faith. No matter how high we rise, it is always possible to fall."

Mordecai rotates Colson's hand in his grasp and gently presses his thumb into Colson's palm. Again, he nods.

Siamus nods mildly at Colson. "I am — as ye may know — not over-concerned with giving offense much of the time, and your light-church has nothing to do wi' me. But there are a great many reasons to go carefully here beyond possible offense, and for the good of the kingdom. And your church."

That last is clearly tacked on. Oh right those guys too.

"I've not as much experience wi'the Twilights, but I spent most of the Narthrend campaign scouring the Scarlet Onslaught from the coasts and their strongholds, until we'd cornered their new dreadlord. So I do know how insidious and consuming this sort of thing can be. The Twilights are far subtler, and I think even more dangerous for it."

Yes good it's a party over here. Someone ask about logistics next.

Colson inclines his head in agreement. "Twilight's Hammer also has a way of compulsory conversion that I have not seen used by the Burning Crusade, using the Old Gods and their corruption. We have found a way to sometimes reverse it, when caught quickly, with certain herbs. However, the longer it has been since the person was converted, the less effective it is." He glances at the ballroom, filled with people doing things like, uh, dancing at a Dance Party.

"Ah, forgive me," the paladin says. "I am accustomed to speaking of work, and less so of dancing." He turns his attention to Mordecai. "Would you like to dance again, my Beacon?"

Mordecai looks up in surprise. "Oh. Um. That's right. Is it time…?" He gets up from his chair and looks shyly at Siamus' shoes. "We'll talk later. Thank you. Um."

Isla, awkwardly, tries to scoot closer, drawing attention to herself as her big dress bunches up around the chairs.

"Aye, of course. Thank you." Siamus reaches out as if to put a friendly hand on Mordecai's shoulder, but doesn't actually do so.

Colson nods to Siamus, as he begins to escort Mordecai back to the dance floor. He glances over at Aze and Harvey, with a healer's mild evaluation.

Mordecai glues himself to Colson's side and whispers, "Thank you. You were wonderful."

Colson holds Mordecai's hand to his heart, and then gently sets them into place with Mordecai as lead for the dance. "Anything for you," he says back. "You are wonderful." Oh no, it's compliment tennis. Colson always loses this game.

Ralaea/Harvey

Ralaea and Harvey stand on their edge of the ballroom, and Harvey appears to be guiding her through the footwork, while she instructs him on hip movements. Neither of them are particularly patient with each other, but at least nothing too inflammatory is being said.

Aze takes in a deep breath, lets it out, puts on another smile, and heads over to Rae and Mourn. In a tone set not to carry far, she says, "How's it going? I'm circling around to everyone, to see what I can help with, and you two are next."

"I don't think there's any helping him," Ralaea says, turning to Aze. "But at least he's trying. Sorry for… earlier."

Harvey straightens and regards Aze. "How do I defeat it?"

"Defeat…" Aze repeats, raising an eyebrow. To Rae, she adds, "No problem, it happens. And you came back, so… this whole dance, it really is a thing you learn. No one's born knowing how to do any of this. Do either of you mind if I touch you? Or do you just want me to demonstrate and like… critique?"

Ralaea points at Harvey. "You can touch him," she says. "It's like Finley said, you probably can't fix my footwork by touch, unless you have shadow hands or tentacles. Do you?"

Harvey does not object. "If you touching me is this dance's weakness, then I leave myself in your care," he says.

Aze actually considers that one briefly before she answers, but then she shakes her head. "Nothing that would work like that, no." She takes a step closer to Mourn. "Alright, I think what you were struggling with is like how to move the hips and the torso, right? So I'm going to step behind you, and help guide you with my body. This is a dancing thing, I don't mean anything by it, okay?"

"Hmph. As if it needed to be said," Harvey says. "Few would mean anything by it, and fewer still of the warm-blooded variety."

"Am I supposed to be taking offense, or is that a compliment?" Ralaea asks with a scowl.

Harvey seems content to leave that to her imagination.

"I'm not saying you're not… that Rae doesn't probably find…" after a few false starts, Aze gives up on trying to not be insulting. It is too complicated. Instead, she steps up behind Mourn without any sign of revulsion, stopping inches from contact, and runs the tips of her fingers down his sides, "Anyway. I want you to relax just here. This part of you should be… flexible. Not tense."

Harvey achieves this on one side of his body, at least. On his left side, there is a strange, almost defensive tension, a flinch when her fingers near it. It's possible he doesn't even realize it.

Aze rests her hand more fully on his left side. "You're getting there, but relax. Take a… okay, whatever, you can still breathe, even if you don't need to. Take a deep breath," she pauses. "Or is there a wound or something in the way?"

Harvey glances down, studying the position of her hand. "An old one, perhaps," he says, and with very deliberate effort, he relaxes the muscles there.

At the mention of a wound, an understanding seems to dawn on Ralaea. "Oh," she says. "That's the one that killed him."

"Ah, I wasn't thinking… Yara didn't…" Aze says, and there's a flicker of pain, banished nearly as quickly as it arrives. Aze hastily smiles and says, "I think you've got it, so now take the first step with me, and shift your weight."

Harvey's eyes brighten at the taste, and the glow doesn't fade when Aze's pain does. The reason is Ralaea. Her gaze is fixed on that spot, difficult feelings flowing freely across her face. It's been a while, but she will never get over it.

Harvey closes his eyes, perhaps to better focus on the steps and the movement, but in part it might also be an attempt to block her out. "Guide me," he says to Aze, authority in his voice, only to soften it a moment later with, "I will follow."

Lead Up to More Amar’uel Dancing

"Right," Aze lowers her hands to his hips and presses herself lightly against him without hesitation, pulling him with her as she takes the first step, shifting her weight, the hip following through after. Quietly, she adds, speaking quickly enough that she probably isn't thinking about the words, "I just don't think she did. Have a death wound. She did that paladin thing where you die for somebody else. So I didn't think about it getting in the way of dancing."

"Divine Intervention, then," Harvey says, his expression one of forced neutrality as he follows Aze's movements. The tension returns to his left side, breaking up his smoothness, but he does mostly manage to end up where he needs to. "Did they live? Whoever she used it on?"

"No," Aze says, her breath hitching as her hands tighten in a decidedly non-sensual way on the death knight's hips. She has no glib answers for that question, nothing to rattle off without thought, and the grief is sharp and sudden. She doesn't take the next step, pausing her motion to focus on not being a snack buffet. There is no immediate improvement. "She was my… She was not viable for reanimation. I didn't ask for more details."

Harvey stills, his muscles tensing. His eyes snap open, revealing an intense and hungering glow, and the start of a laugh escapes him, smothered almost immediately by Ralaea's expression. He forces air through his lungs, in and out, his gaze fading into some middle distance, somewhere between reality and memory.

Ralaea reaches to her side for a sword that isn't there, frustrated that she is without at a time like this. Her gaze snaps instead to his runesword. She waits.

"I hope your loss meant more," Aze says, in an oddly detached voice. She takes a breath. Then another breath. Then the pain is banked, if it isn't gone entirely, and she cautiously loosens her grip on Mourn's hips. She smiles. Amazing the things a person can do with their lips, whatever else they're feeling. "We're good, Rae. Mourn, focus. Next step. Foot, weight, hip."

Back at the seating chairs, Siamus turns around to eye the bunched-skirts-chair situation. "Isla," he says mildly. "Are ye still having a good time?"

Isla's eyes are twinkling with excitement, and she looks ready to burst with it. "This is the best day of my life," she tells Siamus, a little too loudly, and with all the earnest honesty she can muster, making intense eye contact with him as if she can impart just how much she means it if she stares really hard at him.

Siamus smiles at her. "I'm very glad to hear it. I trust it will tide you over until your debut, when you're 25?"

Behold Siamus, crusher and destroyer of debut dreams. Isla's whole face collapses into the saddest, pleading face. "25? But that's — I'll be so old!" she protests, very much not in a good indoor voice. She looks like she might cry.

Finley, who is already 26, going on 27, looks over from his dance with Joelle, raising an eyebrow.

That's it. That's too many miseries. Harvey begins to laugh — loudly — a wild grin on his face. Ralaea, still wearing Harvey's jacket, takes it off and throws it over his head, as if that will somehow solve the problem.

It… does? Aze puts her pain away before Harvey gets further than laughing, and he falls silent under the jacket, rather abruptly.

"Sorry," Ralaea says to Aze. "He can't help that. You probably know. But, also, sorry. About your losses."

Colson gets the final compliment after all because Mordecai is immediately distracted by first Isla and then Harvey.

Siamus laughs at Isla — not unsympathetically — and goes over to her to rescue the chair beside her from her skirts so that he can sit down. "I'm joking," he tells her. "I promise."

Isla's entire descent into the darkest depths of despair shoots back up into enthusiasm. "Oh, really? Because it would be so tragic to debut at 25. I don't think I could wait that long. I'd have to do something like join the theater." Another thought, and she bounces with it. "Or Cobalt Company, like Lady Cressidha and Lady Dara did! I suppose you can't really be thinking of debuting as anything exciting if you're off fighting hordes of demons and undead!" She sounds absolutely thrilled by this prospect.

"Aye," says Siamus entirely seriously. "Ye'd be quite on the shelf by 25. Nothing to do but pack ye off to fight demons." He gives her a fond, crooked smile.

And then immediately stops having a Dad Moment when his attention is caught by the Death Knight Commotion across the room. He shifts in his chair as if to rise, but before he can, Rae and the jacket have intervened.

Siamus sits back again, looking warily impressed.

Lace, who had ended up teaching Sintha some arm movements after all, catches sight of Harvey and starts laughing.

Sintha turns to look as well, and clasps a theatrically astonished hand to her bosom. "Stars above."

Aze doesn't turn towards Rae, but she shakes her head. It's not clear what she's negating at first, but she reaches up to pull the jacket off Mourn's head.

"Yeah, it's fine. I can work with awkward laughter," she says. She repeats. "It's fine. And I grieve for yours as well. But later, let's grieve later."

Harvey stares down at Aze blandly, his hair now a complete mess.

"Looks like we're good," Ralaea says, nodding to Aze.

Harvey grunts in response. He is not quite back to words, yet, but maybe he can move, at least.

Aze swats him on the hip, as if all he's done is be a mildly incalcitrant student. "Let's go again. You were doing pretty well. Keep your left side limber."

And so Harvey does, loosening up again despite being stared at, and surrendering to the steps of the dance. Ralaea continues to practice footwork, her nemesis.

Finley is watching the interaction and interplay between Ralaea, Harvey, and Aze with a Butler's non-expression, bland to the point of having no personality. He has managed to keep dancing, but only the basic steps.

Shine did actually stop dancing for a moment there at the wild death knight laughter, and shifted away from Lena as if to approach the minor commotion. But it's over almost as soon as it's begun, thanks to Rae and the jacket, so Shine just stands for a moment looking sort of perplexed — where did all you people come from and what the hell are you doing? — before he turns back to Lena.

"He isn't a criminal," Joelle tells Finley with confidence. "He's Lathrik's friend."

Finley looks back to Joelle. There's a shift as he reorganizes his face back to the Gentleman's. "That's what I've heard, yeah. Ralaea's known the man since childhood, she'll know how to handle him," he says. "Probably best practices for Morningdew, having a small gathering like this. Larger crowd must mean a lot more opportunities to get caught up in someone's mood. Don't envy the man that."

Mordecai turns back towards Colson. "So, we're staying for tea, I'm afraid," he says. "And that's before the endless carriage ride."

Colson leans closer, his voice down to a low murmur of a baritone, a tickle of his breath along Mordecai's ear. "Although we also have it on good authority there are multiple bathrooms in the house, should I require any assistance with my hair, or anything else that has become too unsettled," he says.

Mordecai gives this fact due consideration and nods very seriously. "We'll see."

Aze walks the death knight through a few more steps and then releases him, stepping back. Her attention is on Mourn as she asks, "Does that make more sense now? Did that help you get a better feel for how to move?"

"Yes," Harvey says quickly. He faces her and bows, a gentleman's expression. "Thank you. If my question… was insensitive, I apologize."

Aze shakes her head again, smiling at him. "No apology needed. Curiosity is allowed, I just… I didn't mean to react like that, either, or to grill you on your whole… situation." Aze did not, actually, visibly react in any obvious way, but he probably knows what she means. She's used to being around death knights, too. "I'm glad I could help. Let me know if there's any other questions that come up."

Aze turns to Rae. "Just the footwork, for you? I'd say keep practicing till it feels natural. Music will help."

Ralaea nods. "My training will help too, to be more aware of where my feet are."

"You could not have known my situation, Aszera," Harvey says politely. "If I was caught at all off-guard it was by my own fault. We will let you know if more questions or struggles arise, but I suspect from here it will be a matter of practice."

Aze reaches out to clasp him on shoulder, if he doesn't move away, a friendly gesture, and says to both of them, "Okay. Just remember, everyone here is practicing. I hope you two have fun. That's the point, really. Fun."

After any words from them, Aze turns away, trying to locate Siamus. She's a little less swift at this than usual.

Siamus catches her look and rises from his seat beside Isla. "I'm off again to the wars," he tells the teenager with an air of grave regret, and then moves across the ballroom toward Aze.

Isla gasps with a little delight and fumbles around her dress. She does not find what she's looking for, but oh! Brendol! "Quick!" She demands of the poor lad. "I need your handkerchief!"

"Wha — um, okay," Bren says, reaching into his pocket for it. It is plain, boring, white. He holds it out to Isla.

"You're amazing," Isla tells Brendol. She waves it in a very particular little flutter at Siamus, her expression of exalted joy completely at odds with the sad little hanky flutter. "Oh, I have always wanted to do that! Just like a tragic heroine seeing off her knight back to the wars."

"Isn't he… basically your dad?" Bren asks. Someone had to.

Siamus unfortunately has almost reached Aze at this point and does not catch the tragic heroine's hankie flutter, but he would be entertained if he had.

"Well, yes, obviously," Isla says as she sets the hankie back down in her lap. "But what does that have to do with imagination? It's the spirit of the thing that's the point, especially for one's experience, to practice, just like with the waltz. Can you think what it would be like if you suddenly found yourself in the situation, and you know what would be called for, but you'd never practiced your proper tragic heroine hankie wave? Did you see though, he didn't even see it! I was too slow and unprepared. What if this had been for real, then I would have had the knight go off and he never even knew that I'd sent him off with the flutter. And that's the most terrible thing I can think of for that moment."

Can't fault that logic. I mean, you probably can, but will you?

She clasps her hands to her breast with the handkerchief. That handkerchief is seeing significantly more upper body action than Brendol has probably ever actually had with a lady. She sighs with her full entire body as she looks off into space, imagining things.

"Miss Sunstrike," Siamus greets Aze, and offers her his hand. "Is it time for the next?"

Aze nods, and if there's something fixed about her smile, it's probably not terribly noticeable. "Yes, I think we're ready for music. Ready for another dance?"

Siamus smiles back at her. "I am." He sweeps a look around the room, assessing everyone else's readiness, and then turns to the band again. "Alexa, next song."

Seventh Dance: The Amar’uel Again, But Better

Alexa doesn't miss a beat, as a responsible band leader, and the band strikes up the next amar'uel song. If they have been talking amongst themselves during the break, they've been quiet about it, and the pianist is ready the moment the signal is given.

Mordecai is ready, since he heard Siamus request the song out loud. He smiles at Colson and leads the two of them into…

It's exactly the same routine as the one they just did, except that this time Mordecai is leading. There's no variation. It's the same dance.

Colson smiles gently as he now is the one performing all the same moves that Mordecai did before, including some very sinuous, suggestive sensuality moves that reveal the paladin is actually pretty flexible. Interesting note.

Finley is not entirely prepared for when the music starts again, and he fumbles a bit to try to get his stepping now to the actual beat speed that exists instead of the one he was using in his head. Off to a great start.

Joelle adjusts to Finley immediately, making an effort to smooth out his steps, increasing speed in small increments until they are caught up again. His gaze is soft and encouraging.

Finley's look is self-deprecating, but he's giving his best. It's… fine? He's not going to be impressing teacher today, but you can see how if you just gave him a few months to practice, he'd be Intriguingly Good at it. For now, the more he stays in the open position, and keeps it simple, he can manage it. He's completely forgotten about making conversation though. That's one too many things.

Joelle keeps his gaze light, and his lead gentle and friendly. He seems to be simply enjoying the company.

Aze seems to have partially forgotten the plan of dancing decorously, but she's at least dancing gracefully. She is also, at least, keeping to the polite closed position, and following Siamus's lead.

Siamus's lead does not particularly call for decorum. He is smiling down at Aze intently enough that he doesn't even notice the flexipaladin shimmy.

Mordecai notices, though.

Aze does not seem inclined to starting conversation for the moment, instead throwing all her attention and skill into the dance. She does not seem to notice anything or anyone else in the room, her focus intent on Siamus.

Lena smiles at Shine and says, "Ready to try again with music? Whatever was up with Harvey seems to have passed."

"I am," says Shine, and smiles at her. "Beg pardon. I thought there might be — " It doesn't matter. It's dancing time. He moves into the closed position with Lena so they can resume increasing the audience rating of the scene.

Lena does her best to increase the audience rating with seductive dance. She murmurs, "I don't think they were close to violence. The girls would've reacted more."

"What?" says Shine. "— oh. Aye. No. Maybe."

Having offered this all-purpose answer, he returns his focus to the dance.

"Finally, music." Lace leads Sintha in a wildly improvised amar'uel that switches fluidly between open and closed positions during the dance. Sintha is, of course, given plenty of opportunities to show off.

Sintha shows off happily — occasionally with more élan than skill — and laughs at Lace as they improvise.

Brendol/Isla

Harvey and Ralaea seem to be ignoring the music entirely, moving at their own pace as they focus on learning. They are notably no longer bickering, and Ralaea's hand has settled over Harvey's left side, at odds with the position they are supposed to be in. Firm eye contact is held between them.

There is something about the way Ralaea and Harvey are dancing — perhaps he has noticed the hand placement — that causes Brendol to lose a shade of color, his gaze growing distant. He might be sweating a little.

Isla hits some sort of thought in her daydream. "If Avrenne does allow me to invite Harvey to tea tomorrow, what would be something we should have, do you think? Would you want to come with him? You really should, just because then it would be really more like a party again. We could have something of your favorite," Isla asks Brendol. "Imagine what sort of cakes we could have, because you count as a guest and that means we can ask for anything so long as we say it's for you!"

Bren makes a noncommittal noise, wiping a hand across the back of his neck. He tries to focus on something else, like Isla's words. Isn't Isla wording good?

Harvey's gaze sharpens from across the room, and his eyes fix on Bren. He keeps dancing, but it may be due to Ralaea's encouragement more than anything else.

Isla is somewhat used to her chattering going without reply, but she takes her attention off the dancers for a moment to look at Brendol. She doesn't know his noncommittal noises well enough to translate. She seems concerned, but not overly yet.

"Are you too warm, Bren? You know you can take off your jacket if you are. Siamus did already. That means it's all right. Avrenne always says to look to the head of the House for leadership on what's acceptable in any situation. Although there are other rules, too, about how if you are the head of the House then you can do it, but other people can't, but most of those aren't in a ballroom. Would you like some help? Or do you just want something to drink? You really should try the orange soda water if you haven't, it's such a delight." Give him like, a half second to respond to a question, Isla.

"Water, please," Bren croaks, attempting to remove his jacket. His arms get stuck in it somewhere behind him, and he wriggles his shoulders, trying to get free. This does not help with the sweating.

With perhaps shocking competency, Isla catches onto the jacket at the shoulders, using a definitive and impersonal touch to turn Brendol, so she can remove the garment with the practiced ease of a servant. She did train as a lady's maid for years, much as she did not always do it. She doesn't get full marks though because she dropped the handkerchief randomly, and when she stands up, it's going to end up on the floor.

"There we go," she says brightly. She sets the jacket to the side on another chair, as she gets up. As prophesied, the handkerchief lands on the floor. "You stay right there, and I'll get some water."

The jacket removal provides some relief, and Bren nods meekly, leaning his elbows on his knees, almost like he could collapse onto himself at any moment. He waits for water.

Isla does not skip or flounce to the water, because she is on a Mission, and she returns to Brendol with two things in each hand — risky business — but she's being very, very careful. One is an orange glass of soda water, and the other is plain water.

"Here you go, Brendol, it's not as cold as before because Rae threw all of that one at Lee, but it's still very nice," she says, holding out the water to him, luckily not close enough to cause a disaster when he sits back up. "I brought both just in case you wanted another thing after you cool down." Concern is now more obvious in her tone and manner. "Are you all right?" she asks him delicately. "Did something happen in your head, with a thought somewhere when you got too warm? That happens to me sometimes. It can be awfully sudden, and then I can't always explain it well."

It may be the overheating influencing his judgement, but when Brendol takes the water, he does not drink it. Instead, he tips it over his head, gasping from the shock as it cascades down him.

Mordecai looks across the ballroom at the sound of more water hitting the ground, fully missing a step. "Oh," he mumbles. "Brendol's wet this time." He shakes his head and focuses, continuing their routine.

"I'm… I'm okay," Brendol says, blinking up at Isla. "Thanks. It was… a memory, yeah."

He looks down at himself, water dripping from his hair. Oh. Yes. Now he's soaking wet. He did not plan this far ahead.

Isla watches with a little oh, and she sits next to him again, looking for the handkerchief she stole from him — oh! there it is on the ground, mysteriously. She swoops to pick it up, spilling some orange soda water on her dress. She doesn't pay any attention to it, holding up the handkerchief to Brendol's hair. "I'm sorry. Do you feel better now with the water? Sometimes that does seem to help a lot with people. Siamus goes swimming a lot, even when it's very cold. Avrenne could dry you off just like that, but we'll have to make do with towels because she's in a Business Meeting." The Capital Letters are Audible.

"Sometimes, when the memories happen with me, I just don't want to be alone for a little while. Do you want me to stay and talk or be quiet? I can be quiet, but sometimes it's nice to hear someone's voice, to remind you that you aren't really there in the memory. Sintha does that for me. I can't stay in my own head when she says so many interesting things."

As Isla speaks, one of the staff is already coming towards the duo with a towel, ready for another spill clean up. "Oh, thank you," Isla says as the white towel just appears in front of her, and she picks it up by dropping Brendol's handkerchief again. "Here we are."

Finley glances over at the younger duo, with the sound of Isla's chattering still going under the loudness of the music, frowning as he picks up the state of Brendol, and the water glass still in his own hand. There's a longer moment where Finley seems to be really evaluating both of them, and his realer face shows in the sharpness of his eyes.

"Westwinds," he says, shaking his head a bit, before he focuses back on Joelle, all Pleasant once more. "Mysterious. Don't know what she did to get him to toss water on himself, but I'm the last person to point a finger I suppose."

"Thank you," Bren says, managing a smile. "Thanks. I… I'm alright, now. You can talk, if you want. I know where I am."

Isla sets her fizzy drink down on the chair next to her in a precarious position and uses both hands to tuck the towel around Brendol like a little cape, smiling brightly back at him. She sits back into her chair. "Besides, Lee did it first, so we can always blame it on him, or say that it's because we've been raised by sailors," she tells Brendol cheerfully.

Joelle follows Finley's gaze when he can. He looks… actually a bit surprised. "I didn't think he was the kind of person to do something that would get him noticed like that. Not on purpose."

Finley glances to the left and right of them quickly. "If he was looking for the best time, this is it. No one's looking at him. Everyone's watching their partner closely," he says. He might be thinking of something in his head, but the thoughts are obscured in his murky eyes.

"I was in part," Bren says, staring at his hands in his lap. "Raised by a sailor. But it was Harvey who saw me to adulthood." He lifts his gaze back to her, offering a subdued smile as he allows the little towel-cape to happen. "You're really nice. People probably tell you that all the time, but, you are."

Joelle tilts his head. "It was planned?" he asks Finley.

Finley shakes his head slightly. "No, wasn't. He just got lucky." He seems very sure of that, for some reason. "Isla didn't shout though, so it wasn't too unexpected. Some sort of mad Isla-Westwind logic was involved, probably."

Now it's Isla's turn to blush. Not because of Finley. She has no idea what he's saying. Because of Brendol. She puts her hands over her pinked cheeks. "Oh! Well — I … not… all the time." She smiles, humming along with the music in a pleasant soprano, as she does a little bobbing dance side to side. Gosh! A compliment! From a boy who is not related to her! What if this is what being Out is like! "This really is such a good day! Oh, and thank you, for the compliment. It was kind of you to say." She remembered her manners. Truly, a triumph of socializing.

Joelle falls silent, trying to imagine what Isla-Westwind logic might be.

"I didn't say it to… I mean, it's true, is all." Maybe the water gave him a buff to confidence. Bren looks out over the dance floor, intentionally avoiding looking at Harvey and Ralaea. He's not going there again.

Isla kicks her legs back and forth, still dancing to the beat of the music, pleased as punch. Or soda water.

Continued in Part 4

_completedalaisaaszeraathenaaverlenabrendolcolsondance-dance-daydigestellebekfinleyharveymornislalogmordecairalaearated-mre:paluuvasiamussintha
Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License