knightsoflegend | after-party ♔ la lune trop pale caresse l'opale de tes yeux blases

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after-party ♔ la lune trop pale caresse l'opale de tes yeux blases

♬ Complainte du la Butte - Rufus Wainwright

WHO || Wynn, any and all Knights
WHAT || Squiring Ceremony Afterparty
WHERE || Knights Headquarters, the Ballroom
WHEN || February 1st, 2012, 9:00PM
HOW || Prose OR Actionspam

The "afterparty" is rumored to be the real main event of the night. A black-tie affair in the lavish, opulent ballroom, it is every new Knight's chance to mingle and meet some of their new brothers in arms. Of course, a couple hours are provided following the ceremony for everyone to change, do hair and makeup, and choose from the vast array of formal attire in the closets of the balcony "dressing rooms" located at the top of spiraled staircases on either side of the ballroom. A separate dressing room exists for men and women, and they include full bathrooms (with, thankfully, very modern plumbing).

The squires are usually among the last to arrive, and the ballroom is full to the brim with a fancy array of people, of all shapes, sizes and species.

Hope none of you are shy. They're all here to meet you.

Feel free to make your own open threads for people to come congratulate your newly pledged knight.

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[Francesca doesn't respond immediately, a plethora of emotions coursing through her, most of them incomprehensible in her inebriated state. She thoughtlessly flicks her cigarette but off the side of the balcony and turns to face him, hoping her face isn't portraying her inner conflict.]

Stalking? Really? [She wants to add: "Isn't that exactly what you were doing?" but stops herself. Barely.] And what do you think he would be looking for exactly? [While she's mostly accusing in tone, a hint of genuine curiosity can be noted in her voice as well.]

[He flits her the shortest of glances, enough to register what she's probably not saying, and then looks straight ahead again]

I don't know that yet. [The yet is added deliberately, making it clear that he's working on it, already. Somehow.] I have an instinct about him.

[She blinks and looks down, pausing for a couple moments. Now she just feels guilty for being upset at all.

She turns to face him, resting her elbow on the railing. She looks at him for what seems to her to only be a second or two, but is probably a little longer in non-drunk time. She finally notices he's actually dressed up tonight. It makes her breathe just a little faster.

She's definitely not mad anymore.]

I'm not mad at you. [There's an earnest look on her face now.] And I trust your instincts, [She pauses to find the right word.] indubitably. [She gives him a little smile.]

I just can't always be expected to know what you're planning. You didn't really give me a heads up, so you can't blame me for being a little thrown off. [There's a teasing tone to her words and she reaches in her jacket pocket for another smoke.]

[It's a long enough glance over in his direction to pull his attention back to her, and he turns as if to see what it is she's focusing on. But the look on her face that he finds there seems to relieve him a bit at least, some of the tension leaking out of his shoulders. He looks forward again, taking a drag, and then pulls his lighter back out to toss lightly to her]

Yes, well, I expected him to hone in on someone eventually, but there are certain complications with him having chosen to focus on one of ours. [He puts a great deal of weight on the word to make it clear what he means.] I hadn't had a chance to tell you yet. You were too busy making your squire feel right at home. [The sudden shift in his tone makes it quite clear that he's talking about her dancing with Ethan - that he somehow did see, despite not having been visible around the ballroom at the time. And that he still maintains a sentiment that dancing with one's squire is stupid.]

[Her stomach sinks, but she refuses to show it. Instead, she smiles wider. It seems easier for her to be as confident as she wants to be with some of her inhibitions out of the way.

She catches his lighter with ease.]

You know, just because you dance with someone doesn't mean you have to, like, marry them. [And then she realizes she mumbling while trying to hold a cigarette between her lips. She holds it in her fingers instead.] It's merely proper social etiquette at a party. And it's fun. [She points said cigarette at him to add emphasis.]

Besides, [And then finally lights her cigarette.] I wanted to dance with someone. I didn't get all dressed up for nothing.

[And she catches herself staring at his ensemble again and forces herself to look back at his face.]

[He snorts at her comment about marriage. And fun. Pft. What's that all about.]

I don't know why we bother in the first place. It isn't as if it isn't the same song and dance that it's been for the past, oh, hundred years. [He glances back at her again but seems to think she's just staring because she's still holding his lighter. He reaches out to pluck it out of her hand and drop it back in his pocket.] Bloody waste of time.

You seem disappointed - did you really expect any of it to change? [She also knows quite well he'd be down-right pissed if it did.]

Besides, we come because we have no excuse not to. It's all the same, all of this. [She makes a slightly over-exaggerated sweeping motion with her hand. And then pauses before mumbling in a lower voice:] It's really been getting under my skin lately.

And my last mission was anything but satisfying. I just love putting so much time and effort into something that never comes to fruition. [She heaves a big sigh and shakes her head.] But I suppose having a squire will spice things up a bit, at least for a while. [And more meekly:] Hopefully it all works out well. [She hates how much her self-doubt weighs her down, even through a drunken haze.]

Edited 2012-02-08 20:46 (UTC)

[Her mumbled admission actually evokes a look of curiosity from him, and for a second, he seems to study her, as if trying to decide how he feels about that. But then she moves onto safer subjects, and he looks away again, dangling the clove between two fingers over the railing. He doesn't offer comment on either her feelings of discontent or her dissatisfaction with her mission.]

Do you have a reason to think it wouldn't?

♬ Stranger Things Have Happened - Foo Fighters

[She looks down at her feet.] A rational one? No, not really. [She thinks hard on how to put her fears into words without sounding completely ridiculous - and comes up with nothing.

She sighs again and looks back up at him.] I guess I don't need to be unloading all of this on you. I'm sorry. [And she tries to think of a change of subject real fast.

Her voice brightens significantly as she attempts a sloppy segue:] Speaking of changing things up, you got all dressed up tonight. [She gives him a wide smile, but her mouth seems to dry up suddenly and she adds in a much lower tone:] You look incredible.

Edited 2012-02-09 02:38 (UTC)

[This time, his look over at her is far from subtle, his head swiveling to regard her at the unexpected compliment. There's a heavy pause for a moment as if he's trying to work out how to respond to that, but he doesn't look any less composed and manages to sound smug about it.]

Oh? [The little smirk on his face makes it clear that he's quite pleased, but then he tries to sound dismissive] It isn't as if I was endeavoring to impress anyone.

[And then, quickly:] One more way to pass the time, I suppose.

[Francesca just smiles even wider.] Well, you've impressed me, for whatever that's worth. [She tries to make the comment as casual as possible, but she literally can't stop smiling now.

She twists herself so her back is up against the railing, using the change in position to move closer to him. She rests her elbows on the railing behind her as well, just in case. She arches her back to look over the edge for a moment, gauging how far of a drop off it would be, as if to remind herself to be careful. She brings her attention forward again, feeling a light wave of vertigo. She takes a long, slow hit of her cigarette, and it seems to pass.

Then turns her head to look back at him, an extra charming smile ~~(DC 49)~~ lighting up her face.] I'm glad you did decide to come tonight. And I'm sorry you apparently had to spend your night babysitting me. [She turns back to her cigarette after a couple moments.] I owe you one.

[Well, now he's just ULTRA AWARE of her being all up right there, and then she smiles at him like that and he just stares for a moment like a deer caught in the headlights. The sexy headlights. FUCK. WHAT ARE WORDS.

Thank God she eventually turns her attention to her cigarette again. He clears his throat. And oh so charmingly asks:]

... How much have you had to drink?

[Francesca is taken aback by his question and turns her attention back to him. She's obviously aware she might be slightly intoxicated, but it's not like anything she's said isn't completely true.

She looks honestly confused.] Why are you asking me that? [And she's still just as charming as before, her smile barely faltering in her confusion.]

Because I'm not certain you've been keeping count. [/whatever he is so good at avoiding saying things you want him to say]

[She gives him something between a snort and a laugh, but it's more dignified than it sounds.] Thanks for your concern, but it's only human wine. I'm fine.

[She holds up an accusing finger to him, as if she knows exactly what he's thinking.] And don't just dismiss everything I've said because I've been drinking and you think I'm beside myself... or however you would put it.

[She seems to be smiling more to herself than him as she looks down, shaking her head.] In vino veritas.

[Is that an actual smile he cracks?? Maybe. Don't tell anyone.]

I wouldn't dream of it.

[He doesn't seem to know what else to say for a moment. So, silence it is. And finally:] You're in a good mood. [He manages to make it sound not just like an observation, but like something to be suspicious of, in general.]

[She gives him a big smile in return and finds the brief silence comforting, as opposed to awkward.]

Is that a bad thing? [And she actually laughs as she says it.] Or really just that unusual?

Less usual, as of late. [... Not that he's admitting to paying attention to your womanly moods. QUICK, SAY SOMETHING DICKISH.]

I thought perhaps you were afraid you were losing your touch after the way things went in Slovechnia. [Wait, that was overcompensatingly dickish :( wat are happy mediums]

Lovely Head - Goldfrapp

[Her face falls instantly and when she finally responds she just sounds tired.] Thanks for that. [She clasps her hands together and looks down at them intently.] I hadn't really thought of it that way, but perhaps you're right. [Her voice is even and calm as she tries to hold back the sudden rush of feeling beating against her insides.]

But, since you asked, my moods really have little to do with Slovechnia in particular. It just happened to illuminate a lot of realities about myself, and my life, that are particularly dissatisfying to me. It amplified them, I guess.

[And with a humorless smile, she adds:] My professional skills were not among those realities, however, but I suppose I might as well add that to the pile now.

[She waits a few moments after she's done talking before she finally looks back up at him.]

That wasn't what I meant. [It was just, you know. What he said. 8| He can't really look at her, preferring to feign an interest in a particular patch of snow on the lawn]

You do exemplary work.

[She just softly murmurs:] Thank you. [And leans her arms on the railing right next to him to look out over the lawn as well, trying to remain as close to him as she can without it becoming weird.

And she definitely doesn't want her night to end on this. She wishes she could just be in that fantastic mood she was in, what, thirty seconds ago?

She turns her head just a fraction in his direction to talk to him.] Look, Christos, I didn't mean... [And she sighs, her shoulders slumping] I'm sorry to be so... sensitive. I'm fine. I'm over it. [She gives a tiny smile as she turns her head more to actually look at him, knowing they're probably a little to close and liking it that way.]

[Apologies make him uncomfortable, so he just straightens up, saying in that loud voice he uses when he wants to talk over subtext and feelings:] I think I should probably go back inside and see what that Spike fellow is doing with himself.

[And she can't help but look a little hurt and more than a little embarrassed.] Yeah, sure. [She shakes her head and turns her back to him, knowing exactly what he's doing, and feeling all the more an idiot because of it.]

Oh, Christos? [She doesn't turn to look at him as she speaks.] You probably really should just disregard everything I've said and done tonight. I've obviously had way too much to drink and I don't even want to think about the ridiculous things I must have said. [She tries to say it jokingly, but fails miserably. So it just comes off like she's trying way too hard.]

[He turns to regard her, now that she's faced away, and there's a heavy pause for a moment before he says, simply:] Consider it forgotten.

[Which sounds so brusque and dismissive, but he doesn't think of it that way at all. If she really feels embarrassed by her behavior, and would rather it be dismissed, who is he who to begrudge her that? It's what she WANTS, isn't it?

He looks down at the floor, trying to think of something to say and fails, so he just turns to go.]

[Francesca stays leaning against the railing for several minutes after Christos leaves until she feels like she can no longer take the cold, or stay emotionally composed. She heads down the balcony towards a different set of doors that lead to a different part of the castle and continues to her room for the night having no desire to return to the party.]

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after-party ♔ la lune trop pale caresse l'opale de tes yeux blases

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