(2025-01-21) Final Dance and Tea (Dance Dance Part 4)
Details
Author: Athena
Summary: The final dance has arrived -- the metaphor rich Alliance Quadrille. With this, the physical dancing comes to an end, but the social dance continues with tea and conversation. Finley sweats through another suit, and Siamus gets an explanation for choices made. Lukas Rhenardt meets many new people, and learns at least one (1) new, interesting fact about Avrenne. New games are planned for the future. 18k~ words. Part 4 of 4.
Rating: M for Mature 17+
Alaisa Lysander Aszera Sunstrike Lena Shine Duchess Avrenne Esprit Fallon Brendol Westwind Sir Colson Aspenwood Costentyn Shine Joelle Ebek Finley Boutille Harvey Mourningdew Isla Lenaire Mordecai Aspenwood Ralaea Lukas Rhenardt Admiral Siamus Fallon Sintha Fallon Tabiana Lynds
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Continued from Part 3

Between the Amar’uel and the Quadrille

The second dance is not especially long, although some might have the sense of it being much longer for the companionable to somewhat hedonistic silence, and when it comes to an end, it's a little like waking from a dream for at least few of them, the last lingering piano note hovering in the air and then silence once more.

Colson lets Mordecai lead them to a stop, a preplanned one of their dance, always the same.

Finley doesn't do anything as abrupt as shake off Joelle and run; in fact, he seems to be deliberately not doing that, carefully letting the dance come to a full and complete stop before he gently extricates his hands, staying where he is for several beats, smiling pleasantly, before he sticks his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels a bit. "Looks we made it through after all. Water?"

"To drink?" Joelle clarifies, perhaps a reasonable thing to do at this point.

Finley laughs, soft and low, as he leans forward a bit. "Oh, I earned that clarification fair and square," he says. "Yes, to drink."

Joelle looks a tiny bit confused, like maybe he asked the wrong question, but Finley is laughing, so it could be okay after all. "Okay," he says, heading in that direction. He glances over to assess Brendol on the way.

Aze concludes the song at rest against Siamus's chest. When the final note fades and she steps back, it is apparent that the dancing has helped settle something - her smile no longer looks forced, at least.

"Would you like a drink?" Aze asks Siamus. "Because I would."

"Always," smiles Siamus, and offers Aze his arm to escort her.

"Well!" Lace releases Sintha from the position they were dancing in. "That's the amar'uel. How do you like it?"

"Stars," says a breathless Sintha. "It was awfully fun, wasn't it?" She does a blithe sort of lean against Lace, bumping shoulders for a moment before straightening up again.

Lace nudges Sintha's shoulder and smiles. "I thought so. Now I'd better drink something before the next dance." She links arms with Sintha and strolls towards the refreshments tables. "I hope no one gets any bright ideas about throwing water on me."

Mordecai smiles softly at Colson. "Do you know which dance is next, love?"

"Yes," Colson answers. "The Alliance Quadrille. Do you know it?"

Mordecai's face falls a little. "Not well enough to dance," he says. "That one's very complicated, isn't it? I might just rest and watch you do it."

"If that is what you would like," Colson says, as he runs his hand down along Mordecai's arm to his hand. "It is the last one, I believe."

"I would like that," Mordecai confirms. "I like watching you. And I could use the break."

Colson nods, making a soft humming sound, leaning closer. "And I like when you watch me," he tells his husband. Mordecai knows this. He knows this very well. But, the paladin is all manners as he exhales slowly and asks, "Would you like to get something more to drink before you sit?"

Mordecai shakes his head. "I think… I'd just like to sit down." He squeezes Colson's hand once.

Colson squeezes back once, and brings Mordecai's hand up to his lips for a brief, very polite little kiss, as he guides them over to the chairs; once again, Colson remains standing.

Finley ambles alongside Joelle to the water, glancing over at Brendol and Isla with a bit more attention, but he keeps it brief. He does, at the table, take a drink of water. Plain, boring water. His eyes wander briefly over to the whiskey, but no, that's not a good idea right now.

"So the last one we've left is not something that can be taught in a few minutes. It's more of a demonstration. So, if you were thinking of resting up, or drinking something stronger than water, now's the time. You staying for tea?" he asks as he sips at his water. Plain. Water. Maybe he can imagine it's vodka if he tries really hard.

Joelle nods. "Maybe Tabiana will come," he says. If he notices the glance at the whiskey he says nothing of it. "Are you?"

Finley's eyebrows do a little jump. "Am I going to tea? I think so. Depends on what the Admiral has for me before." If he is dreading this conversation, he hides it well, although he drinks the rest of his water in a long, cold swallow.

Lena seems faintly surprised that the music has ended. She remains in place for a long moment, gazing at Shine, and then says, "I think that might be our last dance of the party? But we can always dance more later."

Shine casts another look around the ballroom. "Aye," he says to Lena with a smile, and lifts her hand to kiss it chivalrously. "I expect we will. I'll release ye into the wild again, if ye want to mingle."

Lena smiles and gives a slight curtsey, as long as they're doing chivalry. "I was thinking I might head to the drinks, at least, if you'd like to come with. I'm not sure if I'll do this last they've got planned."

"A drink, aye, I could do with." Shine smiles faintly and offers Lena his arm to escort her toward refreshments. "The last is the quadrille?"

Lena nods. "I've done it before, but I'm no expert. Have you done it before?"

Shine shakes his head ruefully. "I've seen it enough times to know I don't know how to do it."

Aze takes Siamus’s arm without hesitation and they head over to the drinks table. She pours herself a small amount of whiskey. Whiskey is clearly permitted or it wouldn't be here, and she's only drinking a little, because she is so polite. So mindful and demure. She tips it back in one gulp.

Taking a settling breath, she sets down the glass and smiles again at Siamus, "What would you like, Admiral?"

Water," he says to both Aze and the alert footman nearby, though the way he is smiling is probably just for Aze. "I'll have whiskey for tea next."

That sentence makes sense, he promises.

The footman offers him a glass of ice water. Siamus is not on-trend, and does not pour it on himself or anyone else; he just sips it and looks around.

Aze does not go for more whiskey, so maybe she actually is trying for polite. She turns slightly, surveying the room in her usual way, and then she tilts her head.

"Could we go speak with Brendol and Isla?" she asks. "I don't think I have, not Brendol."

Siamus smiles at her again. "Of course." He offers his arm once more, and squires her toward Brendol and Isla, the glass of water in his other hand. There's still time for him to dump it on someone, probably. Look sharp, Bren.

Aze raises a hand in greeting as they approach, smiling. "Hello! I hope these last dances weren't too tedious for you."

Isla bursts into an impromptu clapping, beaming up at Aze brightly enough that maybe it's visible in her aura. Or her voice. "Not at all. You all looked so lovely, and it's such an interesting dance. It was so much fun to watch. Bren and I were just having a little break, and he got a little warm, but Lee did it first, and Bren was raised by sailors, too, so really you can't hold it against him." She turns big pleading eyes up at Siamus. He won't hold it against Brendol, will he?

"It's not a real ball or anything, so of course it can be by just regular house rules, can't it? It was only water, not the soda wat — oh!" She seems startled as she suddenly looks around for, and unexpectedly finds, her soda water on the chair next to her. "That's where that went!" She picks it up in both hands; she has already spilled some on her dress, on the left side, the orange slightly visible on the yellow.

Siamus looks flatly from Isla to Brendol, and weighs the young man with paternal sternness. "Well," he says, and the look evaporates. "I'll make an exception for raised by sailors." He lifts his own glass for another sip, still watching Bren with dark eyed amusement.

Aze smiles at the compliments, relaxing, but then her brow furrows. "Did… what? Spilled water?" She doesn't wait for an answer, but continues, "Mr. Westwind, if you were interested in learning, I could always teach you another time. It really doesn't have to be a very tiring dance, if that's a concern."

Isla whispers — too loudly — to Brendol, grinning at him, "See?! It works!" Maybe you can even use it to get out of dancing lessons, Brendol!

en sits up straighter as Siamus andAze approach, still wrapped in his towel cape. "I-I'm sorry, sir," he says. "I had a… a moment. The water fixed it. Next time I will try to make it to the…" Oh, this sounds bad, but there's nowhere to go from here. "…bathroom," he finishes. "For… sink water."

He offers Aze an apologetic smile. "Maybe you could teach me in a few years?" he says.

Aze is now focused on Brendol. "If it's… due to an injury… I mean, my sister mentioned you'd been injured. We could work around something like that - I can be a patient teacher. If it's something else, though, I'll still be around in a few years."

How's that for planning for the future? True, the plan lacks a few details…

"And then I'll be out by then, so I could do it, too!" Isla nearly shouts, getting too excited for little things like 'indoor voice levels.' "Won't that be so exciting? I can't wait to see what sort of dress I could wear for it." Her eyes twinkle with hopeful stars of this Future Isla, wearing a slinky dress and moving her hips suggestively up against someone else's hips. Great. Now she's debuting at 50.

"Aye," agrees Siamus. "When you're thirty."

His eyes are bright despite his expression. Can Isla read the joke this time? Let's find out!

Isla starts the inhale of the horrified gasp, the dip of desp — "Oh!" She tsks and huffs, puffing her cheeks out briefly like a child in a pout. She actually stomps her foot a little under her dress. "Oh, you're teasing me again!" she accuses in a harmless teenager tiff.

Siamus inclines his head courteously, smiling. "I beg your pardon, miss. I am."

Finley looks over from Joelle, one eyebrow raised at Isla's temper. He says nothing though, as he evaluates the dancers in the room for how they're doing, and who might be ready already for the next one.

Joelle, having claimed his own glass of water, watches Siamus tease like he is some sort of magical genius to be able to get away with it. Or maybe it's the money, who knows.

"I guess thirty's pretty old for it?"Aze asks, with the air of someone for whom twenty is about the same as thirty. "I remember when I was your age, Isla, I didn't want to wait either." To…. debut? She was not a noblewoman. "Maybe I can give you some ideas for a good amar'uel dress? For, you know, your thirties."

"Oh, no, no, it won't be my thirties!" Isla says desperately. She adds in another little whisper, like she's making sure the storyteller of her life hears her, it won't be my thirties. She bounces in partial anxiety so much that she spills more orange soda water on her current dress. "Siamus is just teasing. I'll be 17 next month, and that means it really should be soon. If you do have dresses for it, then we could give it to Mr. Latour, he's our tailor, and he could make them for me, for then. Later, I mean, when I'm grown up enough for them, but not thirty."

Bren remains quiet for this exchange. He's probably just glad they're not talking about him, how wet he is, or the bathroom.

"Isla will debut at eighteen," says Siamus to Aze, and then considers Isla. "Or twenty."

Isla whispers to herself, twenty?! and takes a sip of her orange drink. But not too fast! Not this time.

"Those are good ages," Aze nods. "I'll have to give you those dress ideas soon then." She turns her attention back to Brendol, with an air of expectation that he has something to say.

Oh, he's being looked at. Brendol rewinds in his head a little. "You mean my leg? I… that's fine, it's healed, it's more that… Wait, your sister?" More rewinding. Fortunately, Bren doesn't know many elves. "Syarra?" he guesses.

"That's the one, only one I've got," Aze says with a dry smile. "I didn't go with her to Voldrune, but I heard about it after. I'm happy to hear there was no lasting injury. But it's more that…" she prompts.

"My core muscles aren't all that interesting! Really, they're not! I have them, a little, but I'm sure other people have better, so there's no need to uh… check them or anything," Bren says quickly. "Yeah, so, um, how's Syarra these days?"

Aze raises her eyebrows at that, but what she says is, "I'm sure your core muscles are fine - I don't need to check them. As for Syarra, I… hope she's fine? I've written to her, but I haven't seen her in close to a year. She's over in the Redridge Mountains now, defending against the orcs."

Bren smiles, both with relief, and friendliness. "Redridge, huh? Maybe I'll visit. I like Syarra, she's nice."

Siamus is regarding Bren with raised-brow interest, as though Bren is an exotic circus animal of some kind and Siamus is waiting to see what other tricks he knows.

Aze smiles at Bren. "I bet she'd like that. It's probably a little lonely for her, being an elf in these parts. And, you know, undead. Is that where you met her, Voldrune?"

"What? No, I…" Bren shakes his head, a little embarrassed. "I can't say I really met anyone during that. I was in and out of consciousness. I met her when Ralaea was taken hostage by Kaela Mondragon right after Light's Hope. She, and Roper, and Harvey all went looking for Rae, and I joined them. They were all pretty fresh from the Lich King's control, but I remember Syarra looking out for me."

There's half a beat, and then Aze nods. "That sounds like my sister - I bet it was helpful for her, too, having someone to look out for. She hasn't told me much about that time. Sounds like she's done a lot for Rae, for your family. I hadn't realized."

"Well, to be fair, Harvey didn't remember much of who he was right away," Bren says. "He was leaning pretty hard on the whole 'Lord of Blood' thing. It was a rough time for them, I think."

"Huh," Aze says, shifting from one foot to the other. "I guess I didn't really know any of them at that point. She'd already been around for a while, by the time she found me. Maybe that was just, how long it took her to remember who she was, and that I was still around. We'd been - I'd been away. For a few years. And your 'Lord of Blood' I didn't meet till Northrend. But… I'm glad they had people like you around to help them through it, Yara and Mourn."

Mordecai settles down in the same chair as before, the one at the edge of the row. "Who will you dance with?" he asks Colson.

"Ah," Colson says, as he looks over the group. "I am not certain. I have no objection to anyone, so perhaps whoever requires a partner if their current one also does not know the dance."

Finley sets his water down on the table. All right. One last dance before his execution conversation with the Admiral. He gives Joelle a light masculine sort of tap with the back of his hand on the other man's shoulder. "Looks like we're about ready. You'll probably need to sit out for this one, until you know it better. I could show you another time, if you take a liking to it," he says.

Eighth Dance: The Quadrille

Finley strides out into the ballroom, drawing attention to himself by virtue of being tall and raising his hands to say, "If I could have everyone's attention for the last? This is the Alliance Quadrille, as was created around Year 22. It's a bit of a complicated one that usually relies a lot on knowing the choreography beforehand, for two pairs in a four set. There's quite a bit of swapping, and mirroring, and turns around all partners. The Quadrille is one of the best examples of a dance of unity among a group, to be aware of not just your immediate partner, but the whole of your set.

“I think we have enough knowledgeable dancers to possibly make two groups of four. And see our guest of honor today, Miss Sunstrike, a skilled dancer already in her own right, tucked in amongst us who know the steps well already." The words flow naturally; if they were rehearsed, there's no audible or physical give away for it. Silky manners trained gentleman Finley at his best.

Is this dance, with its inclusion of Aze in a dance of the Alliance that she will need to learn quickly a metaphor, a deliberate choice by the Duchess? Perhaps. Maybe it's just a nice dance for an afternoon dance party. Who can say.

"If I could have a volunteer to demonstrate the basic steps with? Someone who knows it very well, please," Finley asks the room, raising up one of his hands in indication of how to show a volunteering, glancing over at the dancers.

Colson raises his hand politely, as a person who does know the dance well.

Isla also raises her hand, practically jumping up in her chair. She knows it well!!

Finley gives Isla a flat, brotherly look. No you do not Isla Lenaire.

Siamus starts to raise his hand and then is distracted by also giving a No You Don't look to Isla.

Alaisa raises her hand lazily, but she's got a fizzy drink in the other hand.

Sintha does not raise her hand. She has no excuse.

Mordecai sits on his hands. Don't look at him.

There is an entire whispered debate, and a nudge from Ralaea before Harvey, clearing his throat, lifts his hand.

Finley glances at the options, and it probably means something that he ends up at Harvey, a choice, having seen the others as well. "Right then. Morningdew, if you'd join me out here," he says, moving his hand down from the raised up to hold out for Harvey to take.

Harvey is not giving Finley sus eyes, because that is rude, and he is being a gentleman, but he is probably thinking it as he strides forward and takes his hand.

Finley is already speaking to the group again, as he waits for the death knight to approach. "So much of the Quadrille's basic steps will seem familiar after things like the Minuet and the Allemande. The glissade and chassé, for example. But, you've got twelve distinct steps for this one, and you're doing them in patterns around each other. Some Quadrille's have as much as twenty steps, counting embellishments." He gives the room a light grin. "But we're not doing one of those, not to worry.

"A word of caution: if you have to choose between doing the perfect step or staying with the group, you stay with the group. It's a lot easier to recover back into the steps than fix a partner out of place trying just to get that one step right."

Finley nods to Harvey like there's nothing unusual about this man with his glowing eyes or his shadow grip hands, no sirree. "So, the steps to this one," he says, and he starts his usual routine of explanation, cueing Harvey for each part, clearly and easily, and if he does subtle things to showcase Harvey's skill, rather than his own, maybe it's just easier for Finley to have the death knight demonstrate while he talks to save Finley's breath.

Finley doesn't walk them through all the weaves and partner exchanges, just the steps as they are first. Only after those are through does he start him and Harvey back to a beginning, demonstrating the movements with invisible other partners, as the two glide through where it's easier to see how often the partners are swapped from the starter. It's clear as they go through it, that this is a complex group dance, far beyond the line dances of the Allemande, and well into another realm of human dances.

When the demonstration, more than instruction really, is over, Finley is sweating a little again, and his cheeks have warmed up once more. "All right then, of those who know it, if we could have seven of us here, and Miss Sunstrike for the full eight."

Alaisa leaves her glass behind and skips up to take her place. "You've got this," she says to Aze. "I can lead for you if you want."

Aze was counting under her breath faintly, possibly going through the different variations in her mind, and she actually startles when Alaisa speaks. Then she turns to her and says with a quick, nervous smile, "Yeah? That'd be helpful. I think I get all the different pieces, but putting it together… if you don't mind."

"Yeah. You're a pro. I got your back." Alaisa grins at her.

Aze takes a breath and grins back, relaxing a little. "Yeah, you're right. I am. I'll figure out my place as we go."

Colson rises to a graceful stand, giving Mordecai one more look, and a kiss to his hand before he goes to the center of the ballroom.

Mordecai smiles at Colson and remains in his chair.

Isla also starts to rise to a stand. Absolutely not, Isla Lenaire. Drink your drink. You cannot handle this dance.

"Ye sit this one out, I'm afraid, Isla," Siamus says good-naturedly. "Keep Mr. Westwind company."

He sets his water glass on the table, glances at Mordecai, and then strolls out onto the floor toward Colson. "Asp— Colson. As ye seem to be without your usual gentleman…?" He smiles and bows his head courteously.

Isla has never been so disappointed in all her life. She is morose. She is desp — Oooh! What's happening now?

Colson inclines his head politely to Siamus. "I would be honored," he says, formally, but that might just be his general permanent setting. "Would you like the lead, or shall I?"

"I'm more accustomed, if ye don't mind," Siamus says.

"Not at all. I am accustomed to both, and I have no strong preference," Colson replies. He goes both ways, is what I'm saying.

Siamus, in fact, does know what you are saying. But that's for a later adventure.

Sintha glides airily over to where Shine and Lena stand. "Mr. Shine, are you dancing the quadrille?" she asks him, big-eyed.

He smiles faintly at her. "I am not, miss."

Sintha turns radiantly to Lena. "Miss Coit, do you dance the quadrille? As you have been cruelly abandoned by your gentleman, please, allow me." She steps in and very solemnly offers Lena her arm. "I promise to return her," she tells Shine. "Maybe."

"I have before," Lena says, but she reaches out to take Sintha's arm. "I'll keep up with the positions, but I'll warn you now I might miss a step or three. So long's that's fine for you…"

Lena glances back to Shine before they head to the squad, and smiles. "I'll be back, whether she returns me or not."

Shine just smiles back at her.

"Oh," protests Sintha to Lena. "You have to give me a sporting chance at least! And don't worry about the steps, we will go in too much style for anyone to notice."

"There's no rule says I do, but I will dance with you," Lena says with a laugh. "And right or not, I'll make certain I have the right style."

Finley counts heads and pairs. Eight. Nailed it. "Right, so let's have Lady Sintha and Miss Coit, and Lady Alaisa and Miss Sunstrike in a four pair. Admiral, Lord Colson, with us."

He turns to Harvey. "It's your lead, sir," he says, a gentleman's deference, rather than a servant's. Harvey can tell that there's no fear in the young man, and if his eyes are guarded, that's just his usual setting.

"Oh, he's put all us ladies together," Alaisa says, smiling at Lena and Sintha.

Sintha beams and takes Lena's hand to swing it girlishly. "Remember, there's no need for us to go flawlessly; all that's required is that we're having more fun than the gentlemen. And looking better, too."

"Oh, that's wonderful," Aze says with delight, stepping over to the other three women. "And that sounds good to me. We should have the most possible amount of fun together."

"Absolutely." Alaisa grins and swishes her skirt.

Lena steps into place by Sintha, and surveys their little team with a smile. "Fun and style, I hope I can do. Just don't look at my feet."

"Oh, I never look at anyone's feet," Sintha assures her solemnly. "I mean — ugh, can you imagine?" She gives a dramatic shudder.

Mordecai watches Colson, waiting for a moment when Colson looks back at him. It'll happen at some point.

Colson's way of prep-talk for the man's four set is to stand there in stoic silence as he takes his proper starter place with Siamus with a proper dance bow across to Finley and Harvey, a mild neutral Aspenwood expression on his face.

Finley waits for Harvey to be in place before he makes the same bow to Siamus and Colson, looking to Siamus for the music cue, or for any inspirational words before they start.

Siamus, having made his own bow, smiles benevolently at the other three. "Gentlemen," he says, which seems to be simultaneously a greeting, a pep-talk, and a readycheck.

"My lords," Harvey says with his own bow. He knows his place, even if he hates every second of the acknowledgement of it.

Don't worry, Harvey. Everyone is equal within the quadrille.

Siamus turns to the band and nods at Alexa.

It's back to big orchestra vibes for the quadrille, both stately and high energy, something militaristic about it, and with clearly delineated parts of the tours the couples need to make, from the big sprightly start to a softer lilting, and then repeat again for the other couple. It's fast paced enough to be a challenge, but not so fast as to make it impossible to read the movements of the other couples or stay with one's lead even without being familiar with either the song or the dance, if one was a professional.

There are ordinarily helpful clear stops of the music for a full paused beat to show the start another part of the quadrille, but they are also potentially unexpected for a new learner, requiring quick reflexes, and for the person to not completely halt, thinking the dance is done (surprise! it isn't). When it does come to an end, the only indications that this is not just another pause are that the musicians begin putting down their instruments, and the experienced dancers know to take a bow or curtsey to their dance partners.

Aze's movements are much tenser than they were on the previous two dances, and her expression is more focused than happy. Still, she displays good situational awareness of her quad, and responsiveness to Ally's lead - or Sintha's as the pairs trade off. If her footwork is occasionally slow, she catches up quickly. All in all, she may not entirely know what she's doing, but she is a professional and she knows how to fit herself into an ensemble, when there is a clear place.

Lena, on the other hand, is both happier and less precise. She occasionally skips steps entirely, but she knows where her body is supposed to be at any given moment.

Alaisa does not improvise here - she executes the steps precisely, keeping in the correct place, a perfect mirror for Aze to model her movements on.

Harvey is able to coast through the dance on purely muscle memory. His thoughts are clearly elsewhere. It might, then, be an unintentional display of trust towards the other dancers in his pod. They surely know what they are doing well enough.

It's true. Finley knows the dance in and out, and he's good at reading even Harvey's mechanically correct steps, adjusting himself to the lead.

Colson is possibly enjoying himself? It's hard to tell with that face, but he dances gracefully in sync with the other men, and at a particular brief pause in the middle, looks over at Mordecai.

Mordecai beams at him and makes a little heart shape with his thumbs and fingers.

Colson smiles faintly back, using an opportunity to press his fingers to his lips, and send the kiss out across the room.

Mordecai pretends to catch it and then immediately turns red.

Siamus knows the dance. He dances it. He looks like he wishes he were doing the ama'ruel some more.

Sintha is having a lovely time with her ladies; she clearly knows the dance well, and clearly also doesn't care that much, breezing through it while beaming at the others and commending Aze's footwork or Lena's timing.

Shine has taken a seat near Mordecai — two seats over, so as not to be too near shy Mordecai — and sat back to stretch his legs out in front of him. He is watching Lena and only Lena, his expression footman-impassive but his gaze bright.

After the Last Dance

The dance comes to an end, at least the physical one; we may still be dancing the symbolic one of socializing.

Isla claps loudly for the dancers in the audience, enthusiasm rising high on her own enough that pretty soon she might even try a whistle. But no, some manners or distraction keeps her from it, because she leaps up — causing yet another chair total knock out behind her — and announces, "That's the last one!" She turns to Brendol. "Now I can ask Avrenne about tea tomorrow!" With that, she's already bustling out of the seating area, raising her skirts up slightly with both hands, as she runs walks! She's walking! but at a really fast pace towards the ballroom doors for the library. She has not yet said goodbye to any of the guests who will be leaving. Whoops.

Alaisa curtsies. "Ladies," she says cheerfully. "Well done."

Sintha curtsies deeply back. "It was an honor, ladies," she declares.

Both Aze and Lena curtsey back to Sintha and Alaisa, smiling.

"It was a pleasure to dance with all of you again," Aze says as she straightens, still smiling.

"Maybe we can all do it again sometime," Lena says, her face flushed with both happiness and exertion. "At the next wedding or whatnot."

"Oh!" Sintha breathes, and clasps her hands. "At the next wedding, of course." She stares at Lena.

She staa-aa-aares at Lena.

Lena stares back. She may be blushing. Who can say, her face is already pretty flushed. Still, her voice is perfectly calm and innocent as she says, "There does seem to be one every now and again, doesn't there?"

"There does," Sintha agrees, big-eyed. "They happen like clockwork, it seems."

"Mmhmm," Lena says mildly. "Who knows? We might next be celebrating Sil and Lady Cressidha. Or Ralaea and her fiance."

Sintha laughs brightly. "Yes, exactly. My thoughts exactly." She offers to link arms with Lena. "Let me escort you back to your gentleman, hm?"

Shine has sat up and is watching the pair of them, wearing his faint smile again.

Lena links arms with an answering laugh, and strolls over towards Shine.

Harvey Takes His Leave

Colson bows politely to the other two men, an appropriate bow of dancer to dancer, held for the correct amount of time. There is no sense of social class for this sort of bow, no difference between how he would bow to noble or gentry. He gives another to Siamus with a formal, "Thank you for the dance," before he's off walking back towards Mordecai.

Finley bows by rote, and exhales a strangely heavy sharp sigh after. Welp. Here we go. He seems ready to fade back into the background, waiting for Siamus' cue to speak with him.

Harvey bows as well, and makes his way back to Brendol and Ralaea. "We will be taking our leave," he informs them both.

"Yeah," Ralaea says, getting to her feet. "I figured. I can give your regards to Avrenne and Siamus. Siamus has to talk to Finley about something, so he'll be busy, and Avrenne… Well, you know."

"I should at least make the attempt," Harvey says, shaking his head. "I understand that mine is not a wanted presence here, but ignoring due curtesy will but earn more animosity."

Brendol gets to his feet to stand alongside Harvey.

"Farewell," Alaisa says to Harvey and Brendol, wiggling her fingers.

Mordecai rises from his chair and takes Colson's hand, smiling at him. "The dance was very beautiful to watch," he says.

"I am glad you enjoyed it," Colson says, returning to Mordecai's side. He notes the leaving motions and the farewell. "Ah," he says. "You are not staying then. Farewell for now, Lord Morningdew, Mr. Westwind," he says, as he executes the correct bow to a peer, held the correct amount of time, and at the proper depth. It happened! "It was an honor to dance with you today."

Aze waves farewell to Bren and Mourn, and then turns back to Ally.

Mordecai mumbles a goodbye to Harvey and Brendol, a bit late.

There is a prolonged silence as Harvey stares at Colson, and only at a nudge from Ralaea does he bow in return. "Lord Colson, Lord Mordecai, Lady Alaisa," he says. "The honor was mine."

Mordecai bows when Harvey bows. He almost forgot! Gosh.

Then Harvey very quickly makes for the exit of the ballroom to locate Avrenne. Brendol scrambles after him. Ralaea smiles and mouths 'thank you,' to Colson, then trails after the pair of them, after scanning the room for Finley.

Finley, meanwhile, remains in place on the ballroom floor, waiting for Siamus' decision to tell him where to go and what to do. He holds himself upright, arms at his side. It's more like a servant than a gentleman, but here we are.

Siamus approaches and puts a hand on Finley's shoulder. "Boutille. The Little Parlor, if ye please." He sounds perfectly amiable.

"Of course, sir," Finley says, steering himself towards the Little Parlor. He gives the Ladies a bow as he passes by, but doesn't speak. He goes to his execution friendly chat with a stiff upper lip. No Feelings, here. Nope.

Aze/Ally Gossip

"So, you know Lady Sintha well?" Aze asks Ally.

Alaisa links arms with Aze and leans towards her. "Well is a matter of perspective, but I'd like to think so. I taught her how to speak Gnomish, back in the day."

Aze leans in and says quietly in halting draenei,"[She does languages, too?]" before switching back to Common to add, "I don't know gnomish, just saying. And I ask because I'm hoping she'll be a friend. If she's yours, good or otherwise."

"She does a couple," Alaisa says. "It's more my thing than hers. She's my friend - what does 'good or otherwise' mean?"

"Good to know," Aze says, but then hesitates. "I thought… well, it's sort of a thing she says. Like, Aszera, I've heard you and the Admiral are such good friends. Don't worry about it. If you say she's a friend, I'll aim to be one of hers, too."

Alaisa blinks. She tracks Sintha across the ballroom with just her eyes, her head held still as she responds to Aze. "Well," she says quietly, "I hadn't heard that particular euphemism just yet. I don't think Sintha has any of those. Only her brother does, as far as I'm aware."

"Really?" Aze says, genuinely surprised. "Her brother's the one who told me it was her phrasing. But well. I'll keep that in mind. She is very flirty all the same, isn't she?"

Alaisa needs an extra second to respond to that one. "I… suppose so, but she doesn't mean it." A beat. "That I know of."

"She definitely wouldn't towards me," Aze nods, though she doesn't sound all that disappointed. "Given, you know. But anyway, like I said, I was hoping she'd be a friend. I don't know her enough to tell if she means it towards…" a pause, "…anyone else. You're staying for tea, right?"

"I am staying for tea." Alaisa leads Aze towards the ballroom door.

"I'm glad to hear it," Aze says, her shoulders relaxing a little. "Are you okay to head there now?"

Alaisa pulls a little compact mirror out of her pocket and checks her makeup, which Aze cannot help her with. "Yeah, I'm set."

Aze walks with Alaisa out of the ballroom and in the direction of the room for tea, where people are beginning to gather.

Off To Tea

Shine rises to his feet as the ladies approach, his smile warming. "Lady Sintha," he says. "That was very well done."

"Thank you, Shine," says Sintha. "I am returning your lady, as she has declined to elope with me. For now."

"I'm sorry to hear it," says Shine, not remotely sorrily, and offers his hand to Lena.

"There's always next wedding, if you'd like to try again," Lena says with a smile and laughter in her eyes. She moves from Sintha to take Shine's hand. "I hope it was entertaining to watch?"

"Very much." Shine smiles at her. "Ye looked to be having a good time."

Sintha bobs a curtsey at the pair and twinkles off to get some more orange fizzy stuff, a beverage to sustain her on her way to more beverages in the library.

"Oh, I was," Lena says, her smile brightening. "I think somewhere inside me I've got a child as delighted as Isla, though I try to act like I don't. Should we carry on to tea? Might be good to see Her Grace and all."

"Happiness suits you," Shine tells her. "And aye, let's, to see Her Grace and be sociable."

"Elle, are you coming to tea?" Mordecai asks with a faint smile.

Joelle glances at Mordecai and nods. His eyes are warm. "Tabiana might be there."

"We are too," Mordecai says, doing a little side to side wiggle.

Colson holds Mordecai's hand gently as he asks, "Would you like to go to tea first, or would you like a break before we go in?"

"We can go," Mordecai says. "Elle, you can come with us. I'm sure, um, Mr. Boutille will catch up once he and Fallon are done speaking." He offers his free arm - his left - to Elle.

"Oh," says Joelle, taking Mordecai's offered arm. "Thank you." He peers at Colson.

Colson returns the look with a mild neutral Aspenwood face. He nods to Mordecai, as he escorts the two linked men out of the ballroom to the library.

Shine and Lena move together out of the ballroom, speaking together quietly. They may not be going directly to tea.

Siamus is polite to whomever as necessary in a very normal and polite fashion before ambling off to the Little Parlor himself.

Outside the Ballroom

Out through the open ballroom door, Isla's voice can be heard, not clearly because her voice doesn't carry well, but loudly enough to indicate that she has located Avrenne somewhere in the foyer. Avrenne's voice cannot be heard — not because she can't be loud enough, but because she is enough of a lady where she does not raise her voice above a certain level without genuine cause.

There's a pause, and then sound of a very morose, poor little teenage creature dragging herself upstairs, thump, thump, thump while also being in the deepest depths of despair.

The Duchess continues her descent into the foyer. The reserved walking dress has been exchanged once more for the Party Dress, with its elaborate jeweled fabric, the detailing over her fuller décolletage, and the deep low drape of the back. The stiffened bodice with strategic folds hides the evidence of her recent pregnancy, again giving the illusion that she has nearly instantly returned to her previous size. Her hair and cosmetics now make sense once more as part of the whole, and the new hair ornament has a place of honor amongst the gold coil.

Avrenne is therefore easy for the Westwinds and Harvey to find — she's the 8 foot tall^ blonde woman standing in the foyer, whose head turns as if on a suspended elegant string from the ceiling, noting their approach. "Mr. Morningdew, Mr. Westwind, Ralaea," she greets impassively, her hands in a light clasp in front of her. "I trust the afternoon was enjoyable."

"It was, Your Grace," Harvey says courteously. "I thank you for the invitation. Brendol and I will, however, be taking our leave now, as we have a prior commitment to attend to. Keep well."

"Thank you," Bren echoes.

"Of course," Avrenne says. "I expect that it will not be so long an interval before we next hear from you, Mr. Morningdew? With the turn of the season towards spring, there are more social events coming up, which will hopefully include a celebration of victory over the current threats to the Alliance." Like, you know, that giant black dragon out there. "Mr. Westwind, do remember that you are welcome to the house, and your sister has made significant progress in her writing. Silence in these times can be taken the wrong way, and cause for worry."

Her eyes flick to the side as Siamus and Finley slip into the Little Parlor. There's an undeniable touch of brightness to her face at the sight of Siamus, but she holds her composure as she dismisses Harvey and Brendol. "Do be cautious on the roads. They can be slippery in the winter." She looks at Ralaea. "Tea will be in the library, as usual, if you would like to join us there, Ralaea." With that, she sweeps out of the room towards said library.

Ralaea escapes up the stairs to her room. She is probably going to change.

^ Some Duchesses may be shorter than advertised upon closer inspection.

In The Little Parlor

Siamus does not knock at the door of the Little Parlor; it's his house, and also he knows who's in there. He lets himself in and strolls across the room to the window, where he twitches a curtain aside and stands gazing out blandly at nothing in particular.

"How d'you think it went?" he asks the window.

He's probably not actually asking the window.

Finley stands near the fireplace, his hands in front of him, his left hand circling his right wrist in a hold. It might be a genuine effort for him to keep his face not in Butler impassivity, and even with effort, there's a hunched tightness to his shoulders. "I — sorry. How do I think… what went, sir?"

"The party, Finley," says Siamus, still gazing out the window. He clasps his hands behind his back. The phrasing is impatient, but his tone is still mild.

"It's not my place to judge, sir," Finley says carefully, with the tone of a man who is picking an answer on a test and half certain it's a trick question, but here he goes. "I had my instructions from Her Grace, and I did what I could to carry them out faithfully. I apologize for the clumsiness of it, and for my behavior that caused a greater disruption to the planned event."

"Can you explain that behavior to me?" Siamus asks. He's still looking out the window, and his tone is still bland, almost affable.

"The… yes, sir." Finley exhales audibly. He speaks to the floor, his eyes cast down. "While I was dancing with Ralaea on the Minuet and Allemande, with an objective to evaluate her response to Elle, we gained a rapport we've not had before. Because now we're Team Wards, under the same House, same family.

"When she saw me overheating in the instructing and dancing, she offered to find a way to dump some water over my head. I didn't want to disrupt the rapport. I thought it might be a harmless little bit of mischief for her, something that could be done at the end, a reprieve from holding her manners for so long. And I had planned to change between the end and tea. A glass of water, I thought, so no real harm. So I gave her a code, a signal. When I took my jacket off a bit after, she sent a glare my way. She was really was looking forward to it, the mischief. I told her, 'later,' and she was happy about it.

"At the argument, I had the feeling — " The slightest pause before he continues, "that if she walked out right then, like that, full anger, and Morningdew as well, she wouldn't be back. Even if she was stopped, she'd be too angry, too deep in her head to listen. And if she didn't go after him, he'd leave and not come back, because he knows he's not welcome without her say-so. And she wouldn't ask him back fast. She'd remember this day with a black color over it. She might hate the dances for the memory, be less inclined to try another party like it in the future. She might even resent Miss Sunstrike for no reason but that it was her dance that set Morningdew off.

"In the moment, I thought if I could just get her out of her head for a pause, a bit of mischief, her mood would turn enough for her to listen and be more willing to hear some reason." Finley's voice goes dry. "I wasn't expecting the pitcher, sir. But," he adds, almost under his breath, "when does Ralaea ever do anything anyone expects?"

Siamus makes a syllable's worth of sound. It is a little too abrupt to be a thinking-noise; it might have been… a laugh? It does not repeat.

"A rapport," he says.

"Yes, sir," Finley confirms.

"And when ye returned subsequently, arm-in-arm with her and Morningdew, that was a rapport, then?" Siamus asks the window.

"Yes, sir," Finley says, more cautiously. "I had offered to take the blame for the disruption. It was my call that escalated it into a scene. Ralaea insisted otherwise, to have the consequences be on us all. After Ralaea and Morningdew reconciled, I offered to go in with them. I'd intended just as I was, but Ralaea held out her hand for my arm. I had a feeling — " Again, that tiny pause, but he continues, "that if I told her in words that we were a Team, but rejected an offer in action, she'd believe the action. Even if I had tried to explain to her what it might look like to those who don't realize we're family, she'd just feel the rejection. Proof in action, not words. So I took it, and thought we might sneak in with the music going. Not make anything of it. No ado, no fuss. I realize I mistimed it though, sir."

Siamus nods equably. He stands in silence for a time.

After a long and increasingly awkward silence has elapsed, he asks the window dryly, "Would ye say ye were sweating worse in the ballroom or right now?"

There's a pause. "Honestly, it's about evenly split, sir," Finley admits, with a pained half-wheeze that isn't a laugh. His tone is self-deprecating as he adds, "And I'll say if Ralaea burst in through the door with another pitcher, I'd not take it amiss."

He sobers in sincerity. "I do mean the apology earnestly. I acted with thought for Ralaea and Morningdew, and the purpose I had, but I did not properly account for the rest of the room. I should have done better for the whole as well, and I will strive to do so in the future."

Siamus turns to face Finley now, propping a shoulder against the window and folding his arms across his chest. He's wearing his sardonic half-smile. "Naturally I'm pleased to hear ye've found a rapport with Ralaea. She's a prickly lass and that's a hard thing to manage, so it speaks well that ye did. It seems to me ye made sound — if unorthodox — judgements in the moment.

"I would ask that ye have a better care for appearances. But this was a small gathering of friends, and I naturally assume ye would have such a care at a proper public event, so that's that.

"Am I correct in adjudging that there is as yet no mutual interest between Ralaea and Elle?" He arches a brow.

Finley's wearing his real face, which means behind those guarded eyes is the genuine relief of a man who’s just heard he has a stay on his execution, and perhaps parole in his future. He nods at the assumption of more care in a proper public event, the flush of color still high on his cheeks and genuine sweat on his brow.

At the last, his head tips slightly to the side, his eyes starting a squint, and he seems about to speak, before he halts it. He lowers his shoulders deliberately, straightens his posture. When he's collected himself, he asks, "Permission to offer my honest opinion on the matter, sir?"

Siamus raises his eyebrows. "I believe I told ye a year and a half ago that anything other than your honesty wouldn't serve usefully. I don't recall saying otherwise since. We're private in here; ye don't need my permission." He makes a brief, beckoning gesture: Out with it.

Finley nods, making eye contact with… the window. Well, close enough. "Everything I heard about how Ralaea spoke about him, and herself, and what Elle has said and done, they don't have any interest in each other at the moment. Ralaea needs, and has enough self-awareness to know she needs, someone who can push back at her. Time to time just to show they're no pushover, but especially when she's a mad idea of some sort.

“And that can't be someone afraid of a spat here and there, but someone who won't just turtle up, shut down if she fights with him. Elle's not that kind of man. He walls off, goes internal, and tries to make himself what he thinks the other person wants. He wants to solve problems, and he needs someone who won't mind when he does something odd to do it. Needs someone who can read his intent, and not take it personally that he's trying to help. Morningdew's too proud to speak his mind clearly when he needs help. Someone just doing something for him? Elle would try, and trip over both their prides and prickles.

"And Elle's sensitive, sir," Finley says, trying to impress the level of it with his eyes as he finally meets Siamus' gaze. "He doesn't seem it, but he is. More like Otto in some ways. Gentle, without guile, but much easier to hurt. And someone that sensitive, and who hides it just as often to deal with it? That can't be good with a death knight in the mix. I've a feeling even someone — maybe especially someone with as much control as Morningdew has, with someone who picks up small hurts all the time could be dangerous. Morningdew's too accustomed to command, and he'd order Elle around. Elle would just take the orders.

“I feel like they'd crush him without meaning to, or wanting to, if they could even be persuaded to see him favorably. You could tell Elle to pursue them, and he would. But he'd be unhappy with them, is how I read it.

"It's not a good fit from what I've seen and heard. And I don't think they should be encouraged towards each other, sir," Finley concludes with a swallow.

Siamus nods thoughtfully. "Right. Well, it's for the best, then. Elle seems a good lad, and I noted the sensitivity. Bit like Otto, as ye say; I had the same thought myself."

He straightens from the window and shrugs. "So we move on."

He crosses the room to Finley and puts a hand on the younger man's shoulder again. "Well observed. And ye know I wouldn't press an unhappy match on Ralaea, aye? Nor on Elle. Nor on any of you lot.

"Now let's go and have some tea before Ta and Isla conspire to eat all the sweets."

Siamus, you don't eat sweets.

Shhh.

The amount of tension that leaves Finley's body at well observed almost undoes the other man's posture like a flash-cooked noodle. He keeps his spine straight through sheer muscle memory. He gives Siamus a flicker on-and-off smile and a nod, looking younger in his relief, the smile dodging back in and out. "Thank you, sir. And no, I'd not think you'd want them unhappy." He glances down at himself with a half-soft laugh. "I should still change before tea. I've sweat clean through my shirtsleeves, I'm sure."

He hesitates before he says, "There was one other thing. Just an odd sort of thought that came up when Ralaea and I were talking. It's probably nothing, and it's nothing but a feeling, sir. I have no evidence whatsoever. An odd thought, like I said." This disclaimer thoroughly prepped, he licks dry lips. "When Ralaea and I were speaking, coming up with just little bits of mockery for the — for Deathwing, she said something. About farmers. How they sometimes burn the land on purpose to make crops grow better. She was saying it for mocking him for not being a good 'death bringer.' But suddenly I was reminded of what the Archbishop said on Remembrance Day. Just came into my head. The way he talked about the divine fire cleansing and a new age. And I just got a chill. Of what if he hadn't been talking about the Holy Light. What if he was talking about Deathwing?"

His eyes are guarded, and filled with a strange mix of things. Like as if on one hand, Finley wants Siamus to take the gut feeling seriously, and on the other, equally so, to tell Finley that he's totally mad, and no, there was nothing sketchy about that speech, what is Finley even thinking?

Siamus's expression smooths blandly as Finley speaks. He makes a dark-eyed study of the young man in silence when he's finished.

"Did ye discuss this with Ralaea? This suspicion of yours?"

Finley's face contracts in chagrin, but he answers honestly. "Yes, I did, sir. I was thinking out loud." He sighs. "She did agree that the wording sounded, her phrasing, 'culty.'"

Siamus grimaces. "Aye, well, Ralaea couldn't keep a secret if ye gave it to her in a locked box. I'll have to sort that out with her."

He folds his arms and surveys Finley again. "You, on the other hand, can, so I'll tell ye this: We know the Twilight's Hammer have embedded themselves in Starmwend, and no doubt in some high places. I'm looking into it already, together with Lords Ference and Tennerow. And aye, at the moment we do have… questions for the Archbishop. He's unfortunately not been much help in answering them yet, as he's suddenly felt the need to make an urgent trip to the Dragonblight." Siamus glances toward the library door. "I'm going to speak wi'the Aspenwoods about it at tea, in fact."

He looks back at Finley. "I tell ye this because ye've sniffed something out yourself, and because I expect ye might identify useful information if ye hear any, and bring it back to me. I don't want it going to Ralaea, because… secrets, aye? And knowing Ralaea, she'd march into the Cathedral and demand the Twilights show themselves."

Finley winces and half-laughs at the same time. "She would, too. I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking it was — it seemed a mad sort of thought." He looks at Siamus from under tight brows, and he loses the battle with not crossing his arms, as he folds them tightly over his chest. "Right. Listening. Identifying. They have me already set for an art exhibition in couple of months. Trying to suss out Twilight's Hammer among the bored and moneyed. If the Archbishop really is — " He shakes his head. "Fuck," he says, barely voiced.

He straightens with an exhale, pulling back on Gentleman Finley, forcibly uncrossing his arms, tucking any feelings of fear far, far away in a little corner where we don't go in Finley's head. "I understand the orders, sir. If I hear anything, or even just a feeling, I'll have you know it as soon as."

"Good man, Boutille," says Siamus, and nods once.

Finley nods his head in a servant's reflex, but catches it enough before it turns into a bow. Gentleman Finley is on. "I will see you at tea, sir."

With that, he makes his way to the door to go back upstairs and change into what is very likely the third near identical boring brown suit he has. What an exciting game of Spot the Difference the young man makes.

Tea

The library is only just not quite chilly, a warmth barely there encouraged by a purposefully low fire and open curtains that let in the cold from the glass windows, intended to be comfortable for a group of people who have been exercising for nearly two hours.

Lady Fallon enters at five minutes before 4pm, which means she is on time for Duchess Time.

She gives Lukas a polite nod with her simple greeting of, “Lord Graves.” This is all the attention he is allotted, before she turns to First Footman Durand to signal him to have the tea service sent in shortly in anticipation of the arrival of the household and guests, as she goes to take her preferred single, stiff backed creamy white chair in the center of the room, sitting elegantly, arranging her dress, and her hands together. She looks as if she’s ready to have her portrait done there, from the set of her features to the placement of her body.

Lord Graves accepts his allotted attention with a curt bow and the cautiously bewildered air of a man who has no idea how he got here or what he's supposed to do next, but perhaps he will find an opening for escape if he waits carefully. He eyes the food but does not approach.

The tea service is led by the tea itself: two choices available between an expensive imported Tirasian black leaf tea, brewed to a point of coffee strength, and a delicate orange blossom white tea, ideal with a touch of sugar. There is, unusually, also coffee available, to a smaller amount, from Shattrath specifically, brewed neither strong or weak. For the tea and coffee, the usual additions are available, milk, lemon, sugar, and honey. Other milk, clearly meant for drinking, has been already portioned off for at least one potential person taking tea.

Of the savory food selection, there is enough for a large group: bite sized yellow quiches with bright pops of color from peppers; oak-smoked salmon with dill infused cream cheese and chicken coronation with curry sauce and raisins sandwiches; and savory imported white Gilnean cheese scones still wrapped in heavy white cloths to preserve their warmth. For the sweets, sharing the cloth blanket with the savory scones are sweet orange scones with winter strawberry preserves; vanilla mousse with almond sable and red fruit compote, mini dark chocolate tarts with whipped cream, and ginger infused cream miniature eclairs.

They await hungry dancers, a three-tiered serving display on each table.

Tabiana, dressed in a plain, dark grey dress, slips into the library, her dark hair up in a tail as usual. She finds a blue chair on an edge of the room to stand near and await the guests, after politely greeting Avrenne and Lukas with a curtsy.

"Miss Lynds," Avrenne greets her, rising to a stand. She turns her attention to Lukas. "Lord Graves, allow me to introduce the head of House Lynds, retainer to House Fallon, Miss Tabiana Lynds."

Lukas, stone-faced, bows his head politely. "Miss Lynds," he says, gravel-voiced.

That seems to be all he has to say. Yup.

"Lord Graves," Tabiana says in response, inclining her head in turn.

What a talkative bunch in this room.

You just have to listen to the subtext.

That actually still might not be enough text.

Luckily, another group comes through the open library door, as Colson escorts both Mordecai and Joelle into the room.

"Lord Colson, Lord Mordecai, Mr. Ebek," Avrenne greets them, as she takes her seat once again. "I am glad you decided to join us for tea. Please, sit where you like, and help yourselves to what you would prefer for refreshment. If you have not yet had the pleasure of meeting, may I introduce Lukas Rhenardt, Lord Graves, a friend of House Fallon, leader of the worgen pack the Gravehowls, and fellow member of Cobalt Company."

Lukas surveys the newest arrivals impassively. He offers a stiff bow. "Gentlemen," he rasps. "A pleasure." He does not appear to have taken pleasure in anything in his life. "I trust you all enjoyed the… party?"

It sounds like he isn't really sure he's grasped the concept of 'party.'

Mordecai releases Colson and Elle to bow. "Mmhm." He inches towards the tea and food and surveys his options, looking a little overwhelmed.

Joelle bows as well. He heard the word Lord in there.

Colson bows to Lukas, and then nods. "Yes, thank you. It has been an enjoyable afternoon, and it is an honor to meet you." He also doesn't look like he's glad, or had a good time. That might just be his face though.

Wait! An expression! Colson turns a faint smile on Mordecai as he asks softly, "Would you like me to make up two plates while you rest?"

Mordecai shakes his head and whispers, "Um, I just don't know what everything is."

"Would you like me to ask?" Colson asks gently in a low voice to Mordecai. He's not likely audible to anyone in the room except, of course, the worgen.

Let's hope Avrenne also remembers that keen hearing Lukas has when Siamus is back in the room. Or not. That could be exciting.

Mordecai nods.

Without any sign of discomfort in doing so, Colson asks, "Would we be able to have a listing of the food and drink available, please?"

Avrenne flicks her eyes to the first Footman, Lior Durand.

That gentleman, a distinguished-looking middle-aged man, bows his head courteously to both Aspenwoods as he steps forward to the table. "My lords." With a white-gloved hand, he indicates each item carefully as he speaks. He speaks with a clipped, formal Lordaeronian accent.

"These are the roasted pepper quiches. The sandwiches are oak-smoked salmon with a dill-infused cream cheese, and coronation chicken with curry sauce and raisins. The savory scones are white Gilnean cheese, and the sweet scones — just here — are orange with winter strawberry preserves. We also have vanilla mousse served with almond sablés and red fruit compote; dark chocolate tarts with whipped cream; and ginger-cream éclairs."

He bows his head again and steps back.

"Thank you," Colson says, as he turns his attention back to Mordecai, with an air of someone with infinite patience, waiting for what Mordecai would like to do from here.

While the Aspenwoods are working all that out, Avrenne leans forward in an elegant, purposeful line, exposing the low back of her dress, to begin pouring the black tea into a delicate, simple white porcelain cup. "Lord Graves, is there a particular refreshment you would prefer? Tea, coffee?"

Lukas is gazing doggedly (tee hee) straight ahead, at nothing in particular. He seems to startle slightly when Avrenne addresses him. "Yes," he says, and then there is a long silence as he fails to answer the question further.

Joelle, seeing Tabiana at her edge of the room, slips over to join her on the other side of the chair. That neither of them is sitting in, or plans to. She looks faintly surprised to see him, but it isn't an unwelcome surprise, and the pair stand in companionable silence.

As the Aspenwoods are sorting out their food and drink, Aszera Sunstrike opens the door, moving into the room arm-in-arm with Alaisa Lysander.

Mordecai clears his throat. "Um, is it all right if I take more than one thing?" he asks Durand. He looks anxious, but it seems to be a serious question and not a joke.

"Of course, my lord," Durand says, also perfectly seriously.

"Hello, hello," Alaisa greets everyone, the picture of good cheer. She curtsies to Avrenne and looks curiously at Lukas.

Aszera curtsies to Avrenne as well, smiling. She pauses for just a moment longer than usual before rising, as if she's noticed something odd.

Lord Graves stares stonily at the two newcomers. Or maybe that's just his face.

"Thank you," Mordecai whispers. He adds a salmon and cream cheese sandwich to his plate, followed by a Gilnean cheese scone, and there's a moment of hesitation before he snatches an eclair to add to his plate. Durand didn't say he could have three things, technically, and he hunches a little defensively over his plate as he moves out of Colson's way.

Colson fills up a plate with one of everything in a regular tea serving, moving along with Mordecai for a place to sit and consume the little foods.

Durand is generally too well-schooled to smile at anyone, but he makes a small, deliberate exception in Mordecai's case. Li'l sir seems like he could use a smile.

It seems to help, actually. Mordecai smiles timidly back.

Avrenne finishes pouring a cup of tea, and as the other guests arrive, she uses the opportunity to rise to an elegant stand, bringing over the hot cup of very strong black tea to Lukas.

Apparently yes means tea. If he would rather something else, this is the time to speak up or forever drink your tea, Lukas.

"Lady Alaisa, Miss Sunstrike," she greets them. "Lord Graves, may I introduce Lady Alaisa Lysander, youngest of House Lysander, and a fellow member of Cobalt Company. And Miss Aszera Sunstrike, our guest of the House."

Lukas accepts the teacup, and then briefly appears to forget how to bow while holding a teacup.

He remembers, whew. He bows curtly to the two women, and his opaque gaze lingers on Aze. "A pleasure to meet you both," he says. It sure doesn't sound like it.

Alaisa gives Lord Graves a little finger-wave as she makes her way over to the food. "A pleasure to meet you in person." When it is her turn, she loads up a plate with miniature tarts and eclairs. She does like her tiny food.

Aze does not seem to mind, and her smile doesn't falter at all at the lack of pleasure in his voice.

She answers his bow with another curtsy, and adds, sounding as if she means it, "I'm delighted to make your acquaintance, Lord Graves."

Then she follows Ally over toward the food table, and when it is her turn she chooses a salmon sandwich, a cheese scone and vanilla mousse with red fruit compote.

Lukas looks at his teacup like he can't remember why he has it. "Thank you, Your Grace," he says belatedly and in response to neither of the young women who have just addressed him.

"You're welcome," Avrenne says in that cool, composed way of hers.

Then she pitches her voice to not carry as she leans a little closer, turning her head in such a way to hide her face from most of the room, as she sets her hand briefly in a very light touch to his wrist not holding the tea cup. "We take tea informally generally. You need not be worried if you forget some manners, or if they come slowly to you. If you would like something else to drink, please do so. I will not take offense. You may have anything in the room that you want," she says, unfortunately clarifying with, "for refreshment, and serve yourself as it pleases you."

As if she's done nothing unusual, she straightens, removing her fingers from his arm, and sweeps off back to her chair, that rogue gold lock fluttering a little over her shoulder in the movement.

Lukas stares impenetrably after her.

After a moment, he takes a careful sip of tea.

Alaisa gets herself a cup of honey, milk, and sugar with tea - the lighter blend. She settles down on the center cushion of one of the couches.

Aze pauses by the drinks table and breathes in, then pours herself a cup of black Shattrath coffee. She casually steps over to sit at Ally's left side on the couch.

Mordecai stands next to Colson, shoulders hunched, huddling against his side as he eats his sandwich. He has not bothered to get a drink.

Colson remains standing with Mordecai, with a lady still standing in the room — and put sugar in it! Amazing. He didn't put milk in it though. He probably would like it more if he had, but it's fine. He takes a sip, and recognizes it. "Ah, this is from Shattrath, is it not?" he asks.

Avrenne looks up from pouring herself her own cup of tea. "Yes, it is," she confirms. She sounds mildly surprised, as if of all the people in the room who might identify it, she did not think it would be Colson.

Colson smiles faintly. "It is very well brewed," he remarks, leaning gently into Mordecai.

"I am pleased to hear it," Avrenne says. She does not add anything to her tea, as she takes it black, and while she has turned in her chair so she can see the others, her eyes flick repeatedly to the library door, as she awaits the entrance of the Admiral.

The Admiral enters.

Siamus is still in his dressed down mode from dancing, sleeves rolled and hands in pockets as he strolls in. His gaze goes immediately to Avrenne, and he inclines his head to her. "Your Grace," he says with all the grave courtesy of another guest. His coffee-black gaze is gleaming.

Then he sweeps the room with a look, and it catches on Lukas. "Graves," he says warmly. "Ye stayed. What a pleasure, man." He moves directly across to him, offering out his hand.

Lukas goes practically weak-kneed with relief, which is to say his eyebrows relax slightly. "Fallon," he rasps, and accepts Siamus' hand to shake it.

"Admiral." Avrenne's face lightens at Siamus' entrance. She might have stood, but as he continues directly to Lukas, she sits back in her seat.

Siamus steps to Lukas' side to survey the group again, smiling now. He sees Tabiana standing by the chair with Joelle. "Miss Lynds," he says in a tone of warm consideration. "Please, why don't ye take a seat?" He gestures at the chair beside her in chivalrous invitation.

Aze is already smiling politely when Siamus enters, so the only change in her manner is that she turns her head to face him. She takes another sip of Shattrath coffee.

Mordecai turns a pleading look towards Tabiana. Please sit down. Please.

Avrenne's eyes flick to Tabiana takes note of her standing, the state of their guests forced to still stand with her, and the second (2nd) correction of it in this situation, from someone who is very aware of the social rules at play. There is Strong Disapproval in the Duchess' expression. That will be addressed, later.

Tabiana sits.

Now that the ladies are seated, Mordecai sinks into a couch cushion. Thank the Light.

For now, she pours another cup of tea for the Admiral. "Lord Graves was hoping to speak with you on a matter of ships, and perhaps other nautical means of transport," she tells Siamus, in that cool, controlled voice of hers, enough so that the somewhat… unusual phrasing and specification might not sound particularly odd. There are submarines now? Maybe that's it. "Do let me know if this causes any alterations in the intended schedule for the rest of the afternoon." Just normal things like married people who organize their day like a business meeting. What a cold marriage that must be.

Siamus turns his startled attention back to Lukas. "Shipping, is it? I'd be glad to have a word with ye here at tea, if it can be covered in that time, but I'm afraid my schedule for the rest of the day is quite fixed. Her Grace manages my agenda ingeniously, but there's some business I'd hate to put off at all."

"That's — fine," says Lukas, and remembers to sip his tea. He's super casual. Supes cazh.

Siamus claps him on the shoulder — don't spill your tea, buddy! — and crosses to Avrenne and the tea she's just poured.

Avrenne passes over the teacup, filled with the the tea could beat up the coffee in pure strength Tirasian blend, a rare treat, and there's a certain look in her eyes as she meets his, a smile that curves the set of her lips beyond strictly controlled parameters. "As you say, Admiral," the Duchess says. As she uses the opportunity of their proximity to stretch her neck into a fine, elegant line and whisper, in a voice she likely assumes is more than quiet enough to not be overheard by a worgen with sensitive hearing — an assumption that may not be correct — "And fortunate, for I am not wearing anything under this dress."

She sits back, so prim, so proper, so cold. Such tea drinking.

Siamus nods solemnly at her, his brows drawn together. "I'll factor that in, aye."

Across the room, Lukas forgets how to drink tea and has a brief coughing fit.

Avrenne's eyes flick to Lukas, a consideration in those dark eyes. The timing is Suspect. Well. Too late now. Nothing for it but to keep on as if nothing odd has occurred. She sips at her tea as a demure and mindful Duchess.

Siamus straightens to take a sip of his tea — mm, tar! a sailor's favorite beverage! — and ambles over to the food. He considers the sandwiches and quiches intently, and then when no one is looking — no one is looking, are they? — he picks up a miniature ginger-cream eclair and eats it in one bite.

Nobody saw that, probably. He selects a smoked salmon sandwich and turns back to the others. Tar and fish, a sailor's favorite meal.

Alaisa, who sees everything, does not comment. She's eating her own tiny sweets.

Aze, who sort of sees nothing and sort of sees a lot, finishes off her scone and starts on the sweets.

Mordecai turns a very worried look towards Colson.

Colson sits alongside Mordecai, and sets a hand gently over his thigh, raising his eyebrows faintly in question. Colson doesn't seem worried. But, then again, he rarely ever does.

Mordecai fails to communicate telepathically, unfortunately. He huddles against Colson's side, plate in one hand and sandwich in the other.

Colson is not good at mind reading or face reading in general, but he knows Mordecai well enough to know there is Something. "Is there something wrong?" Colson asks his husband quietly.

"Just… if he's so busy… when do we talk to him?" Mordecai whispers.

"There is up to two hours of tea time," Colson whispers back, reassuringly. "He is aware of his schedule, and he asked to speak with us. He will know how long he has. I believe he has accounted for it."

Siamus, now armed with sandwich and tea, wanders back over to stand casually by Avrenne's chair, just behind her shoulder. They could be posing for a portrait entitled "Her Grace the Duchess Esprit, Plus Hot Guy with Sandwich."

Except then he eats the sandwich, so it couldn't be called that after all unless the painter was really fast.

"Asp— Mordecai," he says, gesturing with his teacup. "Take your time wi'the tea, but when ye have a moment, I'd like to show ye a book in the Blue Study." He has an unhurried sip of his own tea.

Mordecai looks up at Siamus. His relief is visible. "A-all right." He hunches over his food, picking up the pace a little despite suggestions to take his time. He doesn't notice Shine and Lena in the doorway yet.

In the doorway, Mr. Shine appears with Lena on his arm. He has also not reclaimed his suit coat from the ballroom yet, but now he looks slightly more disarranged than the dancing explains. His cravat and collar are slightly askew and it's… possible…? that his shirt has recently been rather hastily tucked in.

He looks perfectly impassive: pro footman face.

Lena's face is still a little flushed, and her hair is possibly slightly less tidy than it was when she left the ballroom. Haha, that dancing really takes it out of you. Lena smiles at the assembled people, and then looks curiously at Lord Graves.

"Shine. Miss Coit," Avrenne greets them as they enter. She doesn't stand, because she doesn't have to rise with each person entering. Sorry about the leg day, men. "Lord Graves, allow me to introduce Miss Averlena Coit, Fallon Fleet's estimable first warlock, and one of the founding members of the Warlock's Ethics Bureau.

Lukas's expression does nothing, though he gazes at her opaquely for a moment before bowing curtly. "Miss Coit."

Oh. Ladies are here. Mordecai rises to his feet so quickly that he knocks the plate off his lap.

Colson moves to catch it, in time to get the plate, but not all the food — part of what was left falls to the carpet. He also rises to a graceful stand, now holding two plates.

Lena shoots an apologetic glance to Colson and Mordecai and then looks back to Lukas, her face returning to a polite, amiable mask. She nods again and then waits to see if Shine will head for the food. It's snacktime - dancing is hungry work.

A burly footman who looks like he might be prepared to tackle Colson moves forward, but — oh, no. He just whisks out a napkin and bends to address the fallen food efficiently. He straightens and bows to the Aspenwoods, then offers with a silent gesture to relieve Colson of his plates if necessary.

Tabiana rises at the new entrees and then, almost as if unsure of what to do with herself, curtsies and politely dismisses herself. Joelle trails after her like a shadow. She may or may not be aware of him.

Shine draws Lena aside to let Joelle and Tabiana pass, and nods courteously to them both. He leads Lena around the sitting area toward the fireplace side, and thence toward the refreshments on the coffee table.

As they approach Avrenne in her chair, Shine bows his head to her with a faint smile. "Your Grace."

Lena follows suit, bowing her head slightly to Avrenne, and then looking up innocently to Siamus.

"Shine," drawls Siamus from behind Avrenne. "Ye look well." They just saw each other like ten minutes ago.

Siamus is grinning at Shine. He tries not to grin at Lena because he is a gentleman, but when he bows his head to her in greeting, he's still grinning anyway.

"Fallon," says Shine blandly, and leans to peruse the refreshments without acknowledging him further.

Mordecai looks like he might be about to cry on the spot as he holds out his hands. Does he want the food that fell on the carpet?

Colson inclines his head politely to Burren, but he shakes his head. He still has his food on his plate, and he can keep hold of these two. He looks at Mordecai. "It is all right, darling," he says gently. "Would you like me to get you another serving?"

"I can still eat it," Mordecai says weakly.

"Do you still want it?" Colson asks patiently. He has no time crunch, and nothing more important in his day than solving this distress of his husband's. "Forgive me for not catching it sooner, but I am sure there is no issue in getting another one."

Mordecai nods helplessly. "Please, I don't want it to go to waste," he says, his voice breaking a little.

"Of course," Colson says, as he holds the plate out to Burren. "If I may have the scone and eclair back, please?"

Burren bows again. "Of carse, milard," he says with perfect courtesy and a broad Tirasian accent, and unfolds the napkin to lay the offended pastries gently back on its plate as though he were presenting a formal dessert at table.

"Thank you," Mordecai whispers, and gently brushes off the side of the scone that touched the carpet, then the eclair.

"Milards," says Burren, and bows again before stepping back to resume being vaguely invisible near the wall.

Colson takes his seat gracefully, holding onto both plates still, looking at Mordecai. There is no sign of embarrassment in the paladin.

Avrenne watches this exchange between the Aspenwoods with cool flicks of her eyes, and then deliberately speaks to draw attention to something else. "Miss Sunstrike, how did you find the selection of the dances today? I hope they were of interest for some history behind the human kingdom's social dances," she says to Aze.

Shine straightens and murmurs to Lena, "May I pour ye some tea? Coffee? What will ye have?"

"Tea would be lovely," Lena murmurs back. "Maybe the Tirasian?"

Shine nods courteously. Lena likes the Tirasian: that tracks. He pours her a cup and offers it to her so that she can address any cream or sugar herself, before pouring himself a cup of coffee.
Lena adds a little milk to her tea, humming under her breath.

Siamus has, blessedly, turned his attention from the pair toward Aszera, waiting for her answer to Avrenne. He has completely ignored the fallen dessert crisis.

Aze brightens at being addressed, and nods at Avrenne. "They were certainly interesting, Your Grace. I feel as though I have a much better understanding of the dancing traditions of Lordaeron and Stormwind than I did before. I enjoyed seeing how the quadrille tied so much of it together, as well. A tapestry of history and culture."

Aze cannot see the brief small smile of approval, but it doesn't do anything to adjust the Duchess' cool voice. "I am pleased to hear so. Perhaps in the future we might have another afternoon to explore more of the other kingdom's dances, if you would enjoy the experience. Kul Tiras, Gilneas, Alterac, and Stromgarde all have their own unique dances and interpretations of the dances, such as the Allemande, and some that never made their way to Lordaeron or Stormwind, and all are worth preserving, to correctly hold a place within the greater scope of the allied human kingdoms under the Alliance. We add our cultures and perspectives; we do not subtract." It's Alliance Math, you see, Aze.

Mordecai sits back down and takes his plate back, setting it on his lap. He quickly eats his scone, shoulders hunched, not looking at anyone.

Colson rests comfortably next to Mordecai, his left hand once more gently resting on his husband's knee, as he eats and drinks, listening to the conversation.

Mordecai pops the entire mini eclair in his mouth. He did it, he ate all the food he picked. He holds onto the plate in his lap with both hands as he chews.

Aze nods her understanding. This family is big on math, she gets it. "Lady Sintha has already volunteered to teach everyone folk dances of Kul Tiras, which is a little different, I know, but another area of dance worth preserving. I would be interested to see the differences each human kingdom has introduced into the various dances. I will not forget them, once learned."

Avrenne's eyes are evaluating at the last, and she gives nothing away of her inner thoughts as she makes an noncommittal, "Mm." She sips at her tea. "How fortunate to have such a good memory," she says, ambiguously. "And, naturally, we thank you for sharing your own cultural dance with us today."

Siamus nods gravely. "It was a fine lesson."

Finley walks into the library in the same suit he — wait, no. Hold on, those pants and jacket are one shade lighter than his original brown suit. The waistcoat is also different; the gold buttons are slightly larger, by 10%. The cream shirt is again, identical, but probably because he has a lot of them. Okay, that cravat is probably the exact same one he was just wearing, but it's been retied from how Harvey did it. He's been returned to his original form of put together, hair combed into intentional slightly rakish arrangement, and everything buttoned up that should be.

"Finley," Avrenne greets him.

Finley cuts a bow. "Your Grace." He surveys the room, and the positioning of everyone in it, as he starts to stride forward towards the tables on the other side of the library, and his attention catches on Lukas.

"Lord Graves, allow me to introduce my eldest ward of the House, Mr. Finley Boutille," Avrenne says.

Finley's expression clears in recognition, and he bows politely to Lukas. "Lord Graves, it's an honor to meet you at last."

"Yes," agrees Lukas, who is still recovering from an earlier shock. "That is. Pleased. To meet you." He sips tea and then belatedly remembers to bow his head in return.

Mordecai holds tightly to his empty plate and does not startle.

After the next round of introductions, Aze says,"It was my pleasure. I was happy that I was able to contribute something of myself to the gathering."

Finley makes his way to the food, and tea, filling a plate with everything except the seafood, his expression a pleasant gentlemanly bland. He eats standing, where he can see the whole of the room, and the door, as he watches to see if Ralaea is joining them.

"Much of the amar'uel is unique," Finley adds, conversationally. "A true challenge to learn in a single day. It's very fortunate for all of us that we have your expertise for longer than just an afternoon, to better refine our learning of it."

"I would be happy to continue to share my expertise, of course, anytime you like," Aze says, turning slightly towards Finley. "As I hope there's also time to for me to learn subtleties of different versions of Alliance dances, as Her Grace mentioned."

"Mm, it would be interesting to learn Gilnean styles," Lena says, as she moves with her snacks to take a seat near Shine.

"How about it, Graves?" Siamus looks toward Lukas, tipping a brow up. "Gilnean dances?"

"I'm afraid not," says Lukas.

Siamus, who is familiar with this guy, waits.

"That is — " Lukas clears his throat. "I don't know any. Someone in my pack may. I can inquire."

"I quite enjoyed myself today," says Alaisa. Oh, she's still here. "I am grateful to have been invited."

Siamus looks to Alaisa. Oh, she's still here. He smiles at her.

Lena nods at Lukas agreeably.

"You're an excellent dancer, Lady Alaisa," Aze says with a warmer smile. She has not forgotten Ally is here. "And that is only one reason I was happy to see you here."

"Why, thank you," Alaisa says, smiling. She does not ask about the other reasons.

Colson finishes off his tea serving with the habitual efficiency of a man who spent most of his adult life in the military, rather than in having afternoon tea among the nobility.

Mordecai looks at Colson's empty plate, then hands his own empty plate to Colson.

Colson now has two plates again. This is very normal, don't worry about it. He sets both down, and carefully arranges two of the knives meant for their scones and spreads at the 4 o'clock position on their plates to indicate they are finished.

Lena looks over to Colson and Mordecai. "It is good to see you all again, now we don't bump into one another in Cobalt anymore."

"Or Outland," Aze adds quietly.

Lena smiles. "It was good we had some people already practiced up together on the elven dancing."

Colson sits back once more, smiling faintly at Lena. "We have enjoyed the amar'uel very much," he says. "It can be done with much less room than others such as the waltz, and with Cobalt Company's deployments as they have been in recent years, we appreciate the portability of the space saving option it affords us." Is that a gleam of humor in the paladin's eyes, an awareness of just how uh, ahem, space saving those closed positions are?

Avrenne's brows raise. Space saving option? She flicks her eyes to Siamus. Sailors do love space saving options.

Mordecai peeks up at Lena and nods silently, his hands twisting together in his lap.

Colson moves his hand palm up in offer.

Mordecai quickly takes Colson's hand and squeezes twice.

Siamus finishes his tea and steps aside to set the cup on the fireplace mantel. As soon as he's turned away, a maid retrieves it before it can start living there.

Colson looks to Mordecai, as he attempts to puzzle out what it is that Mordecai wants from him.

Mordecai tilts his head faintly towards Siamus.

"I can see that benefit," Lena nods. "Its a dance one could do in a… a simple room."

"Yes, it's more… social," Aze supplies. "Than presentational. You don't have to take up a lot of space, if you don't want to."

Colson glances at Siamus, and back at Mordecai. He's distracted briefly again from this failed reading of facial nuances by @Alli Lena and Aze. "Ah, yes, exactly," he replies, nodding to Aze and Lena before turning his attention to his anxiety husband.

Finley is quiet, as he watches the Aspenwoods non-obviously, in between eating and glancing at the door. "Is that typical of elven dances, Miss Sunstrike?" he asks after a beat, all pleasantness. "Or is there a variety with personal and presentational dances?"

"If I recall correctly, there was a development of ballet in Quel'Thalas, although I admit I have never seen any of it performed to gauge how different it is from the Lordaeron version," Avrenne remarks, still only drinking her tea. She has not taken anything to eat.

Siamus sets a hand on the back of Avrenne's chair and raises his eyebrows at the Aspenwoods. "Mordecai. Ye have a minute for me to show ye a book?"

"Oh, there's a variety," Aze answers."Some more intended for display than others. And, of course, dances that can be non-partnered, like ballet. I would say that most are… a little more shifted towards amar'uel, in the style of movement. Maybe one day…" Avrenne can see the ballet? Is that likely? Aze hesitates. "I could teach some of the more formal styles."

Lena, meanwhile, quietly sets her hand over Shine's.

Mordecai gets to his feet very quickly, nodding. "Thank you for tea," he mumbles, and tugs Colson's hand.

Colson might not be a great face reader but he is a good tug boat, as he rises to a graceful stand with Mordecai. "Thank you," he echoes to Avrenne.

Avrenne moves her head in a gracious partial nod. "You are welcome," she says to the Aspenwoods.

Finley makes an appreciative conversational sound at Aze. "I'd be honored if you'd be willing to share more of them. I can't say I've any intent for becoming a professional at dancing, nor the skill for it," he says modestly. "But, I feel you can learn a lot about a place from its dances. Someday, of course. There's no rush, is there?"

Mordecai does not run out of the library, but he exits at a brisk walk, shoulders hunched and head down.

Colson is tugged along.

Siamus speaks to the Aspenwoods.

Aze's brow furrows as Siamus pulls the Aspenwoods aside, but then she very carefully shifts her focus back to Finley.

"I'd be happy to, but indeed there's no rush, Mr. Boutille," Aze says with a smile. "I've already said I'll be around in a few years time, to teach Mr. Westwind and Miss Lenaire the amar'uel, so I imagine you'll be able to reach me wherever I end up."

Siamus follows the Aspenwoods out of the library at an unhurried pace, and turns right toward the foyer.

Finley makes the start of a sound, and a break of his Pleasant Gentleman Face into Outraged Overprotective Older Brother at the mention of Isla learning the amar'uel. "I —"

Aze's own smile fades at the sound, and her expression shifts through confusion to regret.

Avrenne says nothing, she just Looks at Finley, that Cold Duchess who has given a prior order, and expects it to be obeyed, Finley Boutille.

Finley shuts his mouth on the nearly escaped opinion, taking a breath in as he slaps his persona back into place. If he's gritting his teeth, it's only internally. "Something to look forward to," he says lightly. He finishes his tea in a tossed back sort of swallow. It is still not whiskey or vodka or tequila even if he drinks it like that, but here we are. He sets it back down softly on the table, and then sets his silverware to indicate he's done with the plate. "I hate to take my leave so early, but I should probably get back to work. It's been a lovely afternoon, all. Lord Graves, again a pleasure to meet you. Please excuse me." He gives a general bow to the room, and another deeper one to Avrenne, before he heads for the doors at a very unhurried pace.

But Finley ultimately doesn't say anything, so anything Aze might add at this point would just make it worse. She turns toward Finley as he leaves, and then shifts her attention to Alaisa and Avrenne.

Avrenne dips her head graciously at him, turning her attention to the others in the room. "Lady Alaisa, may I ask if you have heard from your older brother recently? I gather he is not currently at home."

"I have," Alaisa responds. "He is still fighting at Tol Barad. He says the island is overrun by ghosts, and that it feels like he's faced down just as many ghosts as Horde by now."

"Mm," Avrenne says, unsurprised by the information about Tol Barad. "Does he plan on remaining there to any particular date, or until victory is achieved to his satisfaction?"

"He has not mentioned any particular date," Alaisa says, and shrugs. "He didn't so much as return home for Winter Veil. But he's always been like that. Unless Cobalt Company requests his presence somewhere specific, he'll probably remain there."

"I see," Avrenne says, as she tucks that information away. "It's good to hear that he has found satisfying occupation."

Aze does not ask any questions about the conflict between the Alliance.

Lena, though, says, "Literal ghosts? Of who?"

Shine is listening intently, looking somber, though he doesn't comment. He watches Alaisa.

"To my understanding, ghosts of all sorts. The former inhabitants of the island, soldiers, prisoners, pirates…" Alaisa shrugs. "Though I haven't made their acquaintances myself."

Shine looks into his coffee cup.

"Do you have plans for the next month or so, Lady Alaisa?" Avrenne says, once again steering the conversation, this time more clearly away from discussing Tol Barad in front of the undeclared neutral person in the room. "I was not able to get all the details from her, but Isla mentioned something of you coming to visit sometime?"

"I'm generally kept quite busy with work in Stormwind and Ironforge both, I'm afraid," Alaisa says. "At least two weeks is ideal for scheduling purposes. I may be able to get some time around the holidays."

Aze turns curiously to Alaisa. "You work in… that does sound very busy. Were you and Miss Lenaire planning something?"

"I do transcription and translation work for the Kingdom of Stormwind and for Cobalt Company," Alaisa explains to Aze. "I attend plenty of official meetings, trials, and so on, to record or translate or both. As a bonus, I also do paperwork."

"They're lucky to have you. You're an excellent translator, and that takes much more than skill with languages," Aze says with a smile.

Avrenne regards Alaisa with that composure of hers that hides her opinions and thoughts, as she drinks the last of her tea. She sets her cup down. "I shall bear your scheduling preferences in mind for the future, Lady Alaisa," she says. "Thank you for taking the time out of your schedule to join us today. If I may ask, are you riding or hearthing back to Stormwind City?"

Alaisa smiles at her. "It was my pleasure. I'll be using my hearthstone. Time always feels in short supply, but it was well-spent today."

Avrenne does not smile back, regarding Alaisa will cool, evaluating eyes. "Mm." She adjusts the drape of her dress before she rises to an elegant stand. "Do enjoy the rest of the day, and thank you for joining us today," she says to Alaisa and directed to the rest of the room, her eyes flicking from one to the other.

"You will excuse me, I have a schedule to keep to." Avrenne doesn't wait for permission or dismissal or returning pleasantries; she's a Duchess, and she has places to be. She sweeps out of the room, moving in a direct line of the shortest distances to where she is intending to go.

Lukas — yes, he is still there — gazes after her.

Lena nods a friendly farewell.

Aze raises a hand in farewell to Avrenne, and then turns to Ally. "Is that — are you heading out soon? I know you said you're busy. I do hope I'll get to see you again soon, for dancing or other games… when there's time. I'm a little idle right now," which likely just means she hasn't killed anything or anyone since she arrived, "but I don't know what the future might hold, exactly."

"I've got another couple hours," Alaisa responds. "Don't worry.”

Lukas clears his throat and turns to the nearest desk to set his teacup down carefully. He turns back to the group, bows sharply, and announces to no one in particular, "I will go and wait for Fallon in the foyer."

He takes two steps in that direction, halts to add, "A pleasure to meet all of you," and then resumes his escape exit.

Shine gazes after him with a faintly incredulous air.

"Farewell, Lord Graves," Alaisa says politely.

Lena stares after Lukas for a moment, and then observes to Shine, "You know, I thought he was a bit ill-tempered with us, but… d'you reckon we all might've frightened him?"

"Frighten the man? He's a… wolf person, isn't he?" Shine replies, low-voiced because wolf-people have pretty good hearing he's been told.

"Maybe he's shy," Alaisa suggests, waving a hand.

Lena shrugs. "Maybe so. Or might be he wanted to be quit of us. Or might be there was just a bit too much of the fel in one room. In any case, I'll suppose I'll try to be more welcoming next time we meet, and see if it makes a difference."

Shine raises his eyebrow at the word fel. He clearly hadn't considered that, and nods slowly. "Or shy," he agrees with Alaisa, in case anyone starts feeling bad about the fel.

If there's a time Aze was going to start feeling bad about the fel, it's not today. Honestly, it was probably a few years ago already, so she's used to it by now. But she just nods agreement with Shine, and says, "Yeah, sure, I'll try to be more welcoming too, next time? Though that does kind of backfire on me sometimes."

Aze sits back in her chair and adds, "I wonder what book the Admiral was going to show Mordecai and Colson. Or wait, I wonder if… " she freezes a little as she trails off, and then smiles and finishes up with, "Well, I hope they won't be stuck in Uldum all the time, so we can catch up more."

"Don't worry," Alaisa says, nudging her shoulder.

"I try not to," Aze says, nudging back. Then she finishes her coffee and sets down the glass, turning to include the three of them as she asks, "Would you all like to play a game - like in the game room? Or… maybe some music? If you've not had your fill of music already with the dancing."

Lena looks to Shine, trying to gauge his preference. "It was quite a lot of dancing."

"We could go to the games room, aye," says Shine, who may have more than one ulterior motive for not wanting people in the music room. He finishes his coffee and sets the cup down.

Aze turns towards Ally, for her answer.

"Which games are in the games room?" Alaisa looks towards Shine for that question.

"Billiards, chess, board games, cards, some puzzles for the children" — which in this house is the age range from 10 months to 25 years — "and — I'm not sure what else. No darts. There was… an incident." He delivers this information extremely blandly.

"Oh, I love chess," says Alaisa, looking at the others. "If you have two differently-styled sets in there, we might swap the pieces of one color between the two, so that Aze could distinguish the white and black by shape and size instead. Aze, do you play?"

Lena quirks an eyebrow at the incident comment.

"I… could… play chess… if you like," Aze says with a smile, though the hesitation may give away the fact that she's literally never played the game in her life. "Maybe if you could remind me the rules?"

"What are some games you enjoy, Miss Sunstrike? Perhaps we can work from that direction, see what everyone might be interested in," Shine suggests.

"I'm not going to be very good at board games or cards, so that leaves billiards," Aze says, wincing apologetically. "I could always watch a chess game, just, you know, to brush up on how… that all works."

Lena carefully doesn't laugh at Aze, but she does add, "I'm no chess master myself, though I do know the rules of the game. Shine?"

"I can play," he allows, and surveys Alaisa with narrow-eyed amusement. "But I don't expect to be much obstacle to the likes of you, Lady Alaisa. I've played Lady Sintha before as well, for a given definition of 'played.'"

Alaisa chuckles and doesn't deny it. "Where is Sintha, anyway?" she asks, looking over at the library door. It sure would be nice if Sintha walked in right this second.

"I haven't seen her since dancing," Lena says, shaking her head. "Maybe something came up with work?"

"She's a cat," Shine says. "Ye never find her when ye look, and then when you're not looking, ye trip over her on the stairs."

"Maybe she'll turn up mid-game," Aze suggests with a laugh. "Try to summon her with chess."

"Are either of you two secretly a chess master?" Alaisa asks, and here she looks directly at Burren, then Durand.

Burren regards Alaisa blandly, though there's a sort of wary light in his gaze. Is this… the sort of problem one is supposed to help the Gentry with? It has not come up before.

"I am not, miss," says Durand with impeccable, regretful courtesy and a little bow.

"Ah, well." Alaisa smiles at them and turns back to Aze. "I can teach you, if you'd like to learn the rules, although you might be more evenly matched with Lena. Or one of you can teach me billiards."

"I could teach billiards," Shine offers. "But I don't know… ah." He regards the blind woman again with some consternation.

"Oh, I was practicing that," Aze says with a grin. "I'm pretty sure I can keep track of which is which, if you point each ball out to me in the beginning. But I'd also be fine to learn about chess. I like learning new things. Lena?"

"I'm not half bad at billiards myself," Lena says modestly. "I could do either."

Shine turns to Lena and leans away from her a little to look her up and down like he's never seen her before. "Is that so? Ye never mentioned it."

"Have I not?" Lena says, her voice all innocence. "I reckon I might not be all that good right now, as I've not really played in a few years."

Shine narrows his eye at her. He's smiling. "Oh, that's so, is it?" He looks across at Alaisa and Aze. "Billiards, then?"

"I'm in," Aze says, already moving to stand. "Maybe chess next time, then, and I'll…" What will you do, Aze, read a book about it in advance? "I'll make sure I'm ready to learn."

"Sure. Billiards it is." Alaisa pops a chocolate tart in her mouth and leaves her plate behind as she rises.

Shine rises to his feet and offers Lena his hand. "Then let's go and see what we all learn," he says, smiling down at her.

Lena takes his hand and rises. "I expect it'll be an interesting game."

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