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| Details |
| Author: | Athena |
| Summary: | After a late arrival to the Fallon Charity Gala of 29, Lathrik, Natalyah, and Reniya meet up with at least one of their hosts, Siamus. 1700~ words. |
| Rating: | T for Teen |
Whether or not Lathrik can be a fashionable playboy is still to be determined, but he is at least late, mostly because Natalyah is late.
But she's all electric glow, radiating happiness at the realization that her parents were snubbed, and while Reniya scans for someone to flirt with in the crowd, she's looking for a more specific person, one of their hosts.
"Well since they didn't, I want to have much nicer words with our hosts, like 'thank you,' and 'haha, I win,'" Natalyah counters. She starts floating up higher. "Where is Siaaa…..Looord Fallon?" Nice recovery, very smooth.
Shalord Fallon is, in fact, making his way through the crowd toward the trio at this moment. He moves in a slow, sociable progress as he is greeted by or stops to greet others. The young woman floating a little above the crowd makes an easy landmark, however, and it is clear he is navigating in her general direction.
(Coincidentally, he is also bringing someone for Ren to flirt with. Which is to say, he's alone.)
"Are we doin' the 'Lord Fallon' thing here?" Reniya asks, glancing at Natalyah.
"There're nobles here," Lathrik says, which does not really answer the question. He might be scanning for Count Amerith. You know. Casually. While smiling.
"I have to at least. People will make assumptions otherwise. There's a hundred stupid rules in here, and it's only fun flouting them when it gets you into Milady Moth, not when it splashes back onto someone else you like," Natalyah answers tartly. "There he is!" She wiggles her fingers at Siamus.
Siamus, who has paused for a moment's respectful (and perhaps Respectful) conversation with a statuesque middle-aged woman in an elegant amethyst-hued gown, catches sight of the finger-wiggle and flashes a smile past his conversation partner at Natalyah. He does not actually wink at her because he is a gentleman, but his expression suggests a wink without actually being one.
The woman he's addressing turns to look over her shoulder to see who he's not-actually-winking at, but Siamus draws her attention back with a few smiling words and kisses her hand when he takes his leave of her.
Well, he doesn't actually kiss her hand. In the same socially-correct vein as the not-quite-wink, it is a not-quite-kiss. He moves smoothly away to approach the Dinnsfield-Kensington-Whits and Reniya.
"Miss Kensington-Whit," he greets Natalyah, wearing that slight, sly smile. "What a very great pleasure to see ye." He looks her over in a manner that suggests it is a very great pleasure to see her, but in a frankly admiring rather than lascivious way. "And gentlemen, good evening. Ye both look very well."
Natalyah improvises a suggestion of a curtsey by floating up and down ominously with a one-handed flourish of her gown's skirt that sends it floating in the air around her leg (scandalously above the ankle, revealing the smooth tan of her shapely calf), and the wide impish smile on her face suggests she's more making fun of the convention than obeying it.
"Lord Fallon," she says, that tipping point of teasing using someone's proper title in her voice. "I'd give you a hug if it wouldn't scandalize everyone within thirty feet and possibly send someone into a swoon in shock. You scorned my parents for me! I'm very pleased."
"Oi, we're missin' out on a shock swoon?" Reniya asks, a smile perking his lips. "Evenin', Admiral."
"Milord," Lathrik says with a slight bow of his head. Despite the strong showing made by his customary lazy smile, there is a warmth in his gaze.
"'Fallon' will do for a friend," Siamus tells Lathrik, and offers a handshake. "Even at a party. Or 'Admiral,' if it must be a title." To Ren he says, with an answering slanted smile, "I'm to give a speech shortly, and I'd prefer people take it with some seriousness. We can give them shock and swooning later in the evening. They'd be disappointed without it."
He turns his attention back to Natalyah. "Your parents?" he inquires in a polite I'm-not-sure-I've-heard-of-those-people tone. "The Elwynn Kensington-Whits? Can't think why we would have. Her Grace may know more about 'em" — he manages to make it sound like Her Grace might have some unfortunate Dirt on them — "but as far as I'm aware the only noteworthy thing they've done is produce the foremost lepidopterist of our age. Her Grace and I both greatly admire a scientific lady."
His voice has lifted a degree or two in volume. It is still casually conversational; perhaps he only wanted Natalyah to hear him over the rising sound of the crowd and music around them. He does possess that effortlessly carrying commander's voice, however, and so it is not just Natalyah to whom he is audible; a few heads turn nearby.
It's a rare time where Natalyah has no words at the ready, no quip or tease, no head toss or witticism. Her face is a storm of emotion, parts of gratitude doing war with triumph mixed with a touch of guilt, tears starting in her wide eyes as her smile wobbles back and forth. Siamus' hand is already out for Lathrik's, and Natalyah impulsively seizes onto his forearm with one of hers, squeezing it in a make-shift hug.
She seems aware of the possible looks, ducking her head down, pulling herself closer to the ground, breathing shakily in and out as she tries to hold her emotions in check with limited success.
Lathrik, who had been mid-handshake, releases his hold as Natalyah grabs onto Siamus's forearm, and, after a glance between the two, shrugs and retracts his hand, sticking his thumb through his belt. He is not bothered by the heads turning their way. Nope, not at all. His smile seems to relax even further.
"Always knew ye for a fine judge of character, Admiral," Lathrik says lightly. "And ye can give my respects to your Lady Wife as well, if we don't cross paths tonight."
Reniya gives the onlookers a charming smile.
Siamus does not seem to know what to do with the arm-hug. He freezes as though a butterfly has just landed on his arm, and regards her with some gentle perplexity for a moment. Don't get emotions on the suit, madame.
"I will be sure to pass it along," he says to Lathrik. His expression says silently, Does the young lady need some air?
Natalyah makes a huffy sound of annoyance, and lightly swats Siamus' arm with the hand previously hugging it, tossing her head, her hair floating around her face eerily from the movement.
"I don't swoon," she declares pridefully to the unspoken words, tucking herself back onto Lathrik's arm to hold herself in place. Still, there's enough gratitude to hold its own against the irritation.
"Aye, that's good, imagine what it'd look like with the floating," Reniya chimes in.
Siamus offers Natalyah a slight, slyly smiling bow — conspiratorial rather than mocking — and says gravely, "I confess I can't even imagine it."
He manages to stay straight-faced at Ren's remark, apart from the flick of a glance in that direction.
Natalyah sets a narrow eyed glare on Reniya. "You keep me out of your imaginings," she orders him imperiously. "The only thing you have my permission to imagine is that provocation ends up with a nearly seven foot tall pissed off floating worgen."
Wait, she considers again with Reniya's proclivities, and then snorts. "Never mind, I revoke all imagining permissions."
Siamus might be wondering whether this means he does have permission to imagine Natalyah. His expression gives nothing away.
Reniya staggers, clutching his chest. "Swallowtail, you wound me," he says. "Can't I even imagine you as an actual pipevine swallowtail, dangerous to whoever might prey on her?"
"What if no one imagined anything and we jus' enjoyed the party?" Lathrik says, the smile helping to keep the grouch out of his voice.
Natalyah cannot stop a trill delighted, evil laughter, or the pleased sway she does in midair, Reniya as readily and swiftly forgiven as condemned for speaking her language.
"As if you don't provoke me precisely in the hopes that I will wound you," Natalyah says to Reniya with an aristocratic sniff. She then leans up to peck a kiss on Lathrik's cheek, all electric good cheer and glee once more. "And you, take your own advice. Enjoy the party! It's free food and drink, and at least five people to scandalize. And also you're free to imagine whatever you'd like of me."
"I hope all of ye will enjoy the party," Siamus says. "And ye may make free of the downstairs — the library's open to guests generally, but I believe ye know also where the games room and parlors are, and friends are welcome to those. I'm very glad to have the lot of ye here — it's been years too long, Miss Kensington-Whit." He considers her for a moment and then adds with a smile, "I've a proposition to discuss with ye later, but I needn't steal ye from the party for it. Someone will have to supervise Dinnsfield to see he enjoys himself."
Lathrik's ears turn a bit red. "Haven't seen Ralaea yet," he says, a possible distraction. "Ye hidin' her fiancé in a closet someplace? Might pay a visit, if he's in."
"Speakin' of ladies and wounding," Reniya says with a slight smile.
Natalyah looks at Siamus curiously, arching a brow, but she can't argue with that reasoning. "You know where to find me. If you give me any warning, I might find an appropriate embroidered handkerchief for it," she says to Siamus. And by Appropriate, we mean probably something wildly Inappropriate but funny.
She tries to rise up like a human balloon to peer through the crowd again.
"Aye, Morningdew is here," Siamus tells Lathrik. "Ye'll find him in the Red Study, off the rear foyer. He's not mingling generally. I expect Ralaea's with him at the moment, if she's not in here." He turns to peer across the crowd himself briefly, shakes his head and turns back. "Aye, the Red Study. And I will be sure to find ye later, Miss Kensington-Whit, handkerchief or no." He slants a smile at Natalyah.
Natalyah gives Siamus another impish smile, and the mocking-the-curtsey ominous bobbing up and down with skirt swishing for emphasis that bears little resemblance whatsoever to the proper form. An etiquette instructor catching sight of it downs his drink too quickly. Light, have mercy.
Lathrik, she tries to drag him forward by the arm she's attached to, achieving all the forward momentum of a helium balloon tied to a person's wrist, as she says, "Come on, I want to get some strawberries before everyone else eats them all."