transient beings are we.

"Fruit is proof that the gods exist and love us. Just kidding! Life is meaningless.” - Azama ★ ★ ★ faith prof/closed blog affiliated with The Officers Academy

[carefreemonk]

ethereal ball 2026

"Oh. It's almost like they've done their research."

The bouquet of pink and cream tulips handed to him match his outfit, which tickles him, it does.

Azama wonders at what the night may have in store for him this magical eve. Perhaps it may even go absolutely normally this year: Mingle a bit. Have some snacks. Sneak a nap somewhere. Bother a few fine folks with his ever-cutting wit. Perhaps indulge in a dance or two if he finds any amenable spirits out there...

It will be a lovely time,

for he intends to make it so.

[[No context asks are 100% fine, I plan to at least Try the first bit of the ball non-italicized… but ngl it also sounds daunting as heck so 1-2 lines are appreciated/probably what I’ll be sending out in turn 🙏 0 pressure tho prommy, I’ll make it work either way ✌️]]

Traditional Hoshidan wear is his go-to for the eve. He's added a small ornament - lovingly made with care - to the haori's clasps.

ty chanel for feedback on hoshidan outfits i was at such a loss

Bloom tracker:

Roses- maria, Orchids- edelgard, Lilies- mitama, Hyacinths- tine, Tulips- shigure,

[carefreemonk]

[ SQUIRM ] "If I turn your limbs into jelly," Henry taps his chin, "do you think it'll make you really good at this game?"

Strange. Azama had not expected chills at such an innocent-sounding suggestion. Was this payback for shooing away Mr. Meow Meow?

... Hm. No.

The lad's cheerful and bright, and clearly possessed of an inquisitive spirit where theory is concerned. As a professor, would Azama not be remiss in losing the chance to encourage such wonder?

"Ha ha ha~! Asking the important questions this fine evening, I see. Hum... It would make you really good, or really bad, I suspect."

Azama taps his own chin where he sits, pensive. He beams at Henry. "Shall we find out?"

[corvusi]

Shall we find out, and Henry pauses, a tickle gracing the base of his skull. He tilts his head; his fingers tap away at his thigh in an unsteady rhythm. This is an oddity. This is really an oddity, but this is a beautiful oddity: someone giving him permission!

He nods, eager, as laughter bubbles out of him. "We should!" A raise of his hands as they point at the monk, alight in deep violet. "Are ya ready to become Garreg Mach's best — or worst! — jello?"

[carefreemonk]

Blithe chuckle accompanies laughter, and again, Azama wonders - especially with the magic ensconcing Henry's hands now - just how far the joke is going to go.

Because surely. Surely no one would actually…

He nods, beaming consent at Henry all the more.

"Yessir!" Arms splay wide in welcome, bouquet clasped in his right hand. "Jello me Up!"

[carefreemonk]

[ SAMPLE ] - Anyone who has attended the ball in the past couple of years is familiar with the fake mint candies that seem to make their way around the facilities as a popular prank. Hope your senses are well-trained enough to tell them apart without your sight!

After managing to fool someone on a whim, Hugh thinks he can get away with anything. So, the next time he bumps into someone, he decides this will be the next one he'll have some fun with. "Wild night, isn't it?" He says, trying to play it cool. He offers a mint. "Have you tried one of these? I accidently grabbed one too many."

"'Wild' indeed, yes! I hadn't expected the technology would advance to such a point so fast... But it seems the crowd is enjoying it very much." Easy small talk. That's what tonight's for, right? To an extent.

'Has he tried one of these?'

Sir. This isn't his first Ethereal Ball, thanks much.

But Azama doesn't scoff. Eyes crinkle with gratitude as he accepts the mint. He's intimately familiar with them, but that does not preclude him being fooled - in this case, however, he is banking on it.

"Why, thank you. Don't mind if I do."

It tastes about as bad as he remembers. Actually, might be it tastes worse, even, but that's just as well. Azama makes a face, and suddenly hand flies to his throat. Eyes widen, staring at Hugh and yet unable to focus.

"You- you've p... poi-- me--?!"

And here, Azama collapses. (Maybe a touch too dramatically but shhh.)

Get reverse-prank'd, heh! Unless...?

[mercenarymage]

Hugh's surprised to see that the 'mint' was taken without much of a fuss. He's not sure if the fellow is too trusting or too naive, but he looks forward to seeing how the expression shifts when he's tried the so-called mint.

He certainly gets some kind of reaction, but it's absolutely not the kind that Hugh's expecting!! Sure, the guy's probably going to try and spit it out, make faces and wish he'd never had put it in his mouth in the first place. But the fact that he swallowed it, and now he's hardly finishing the words he attempts to speak? And hey hey hey, what was that? He can't seriously be thinking he's been poisoned, could he?

These things can't possibly be. Right? R....right?

"Huh!? Hold on, there's nothing like that in-" And there the guy goes, collapsing to the ground. Shit, is this guy allergic to it, then? Does he need to call someone over to check the guy over? Ah geez, ah man...

Hugh kneels down, deciding to take a look at Azama first. Is there anything a guy like him can do to help? Can't actually be poison, but if it's reacting badly, maybe he needs to get the guy to cough it up? No, wait, he should get a professional over, what does Hugh think he could be doing to help here?

"Hey, HELP!" Hugh raises a hand, trying to flag someone, anyone down who's able to provide assistance. "This guy needs a medic, fast!"

[carefreemonk]

Oh yeah, mister? How do you know there's no poison in there? Did you make these mints yourself?

Azama highly doubts that.

But anyway, he's busy right now. Hugh starts to shout, and Azama grabs at the front of his shirt, seeking his attention. Can't have a big ol' commotion happening just for the sake of a silly little ruse, can we? He coughs, sputters a bit into his other hand before scooping up forlornly fallen bouquet, and then he smiles.

"Actually, hold that thought, - I do think I will be quite all right!"

He hops up to his feet almost comically as if nothing ever happened. He pats Hugh on the shoulder, and then quickly dusts himself off. Taking stock of his person a brief moment, Azama nods to himself, seemingly satisfied.

"That was odd! For a moment, I thought you must have done something to the mint, but... I must have been mistaken. An upright man like you wouldn't feed a stranger something potentially harmful, I'm sure."

Actually though, the real pressing emergency right now is finding a treat or a drink with which to wash out his mouth. The mint's about as foul as he remembers.

"Thanks for the gift!"

Another cordial pat, and Azama darts off into the crowds.

[carefreemonk]

[ GOSSIP ] - For those who don’t want to be the center of attention, sitting on the sidelines and observing those who do is a time-honored tradition. Exchanging thoughts with another while doing so is a rite of passage for a student—it is a slightly worse look for the staff to take part.

"Nothing's happened tonight," Azama complains. "How dull."

Suppose he had been anticipating an uneventful ball, but even so! Where was the drama, the intrigue, all the usual fuss and hullabaloo the ball typically came with?

Had it all somehow been passing him by?

But then what good is his nose, known for sniffing out trouble? Tch.

"Do you think any fights will break out? I feel like there's always one or two." Suppose he shouldn't wish for them though. He doesn't want to be bothered with fixing anyone up, and nor does he intend to take part, himself. He sighs. It's not exactly that he's bored - if anything, Azama's glad for the moment of Mitama's company he's managed to steal this eve.

It's more that he's... antsy. Restless, even.

Had she seen the decoration he'd made to match hers...?

It's hard to care about what antics anyone else is up to when hers is the opinion that matters the most.

Lips pressed thin, Azama twirls one of the tulips from his bouquet a moment between index and thumb, before proffering it to Mitama. "Apologies for my whinging. If you'd indulge me in a trade, it would go a ways toward lifting my spirits, I think."

[verseandrhyme]

He is horribly, tragically, painfully obvious.

She wonders if he even notices what he is doing. The way he keeps turning and standing in a specific manner, the absent fidgeting with his outfit that calls attention to it. Had she not noticed it from how brightly the colours stood out with the rest of his outfit initially, it would be hard to believe that she would not as the conversation carried on.

Mitama faces the crowds before them instead of him and hopes that, in doing the same, he does not quite notice the way she fights against the twitching corners of her lips, desperate to pull into a smile.

"I am certain if we give people enough time, their minds will grow so dull that they fall the most brutish of entertainments." The monastery was usually very good about providing lots of shiny distractions at these events. It made it even more remarkable then that some would still think fighting the best use of their time.

Ah well. If it does happen, she will simply have to find her father later and make sure that he knows.

The tulip enters her line of sight and brings her gaze, finally to him. "We must find you a hobby if a lack of buffoonery is enough to damper your spirits." Even so, she pulls out a lily from her own bouquet and offers it in turn, as requested.

"....where did you find that trinket anyway?"

[carefreemonk]

"I have plenty of hobbies," he scoffs. Because yes, badgering people, messing with people, and driving people a little stir-crazy counts as three separate things, yes, it does!! Azama is, of all people, best placed to know.

He takes the lily cautiously, almost reverently, and it is tucked away with just as much care.

As for her question…

Starry eyes alight, but:

"Secret," is all he mumbles coyly in return.

[carefreemonk]

“Oh, Azama! So you're here too. Have you been watching the 'movies'?” Leif asks, meeting with the man in the hallway outside of all the offered techno-magical plays. “I've been watching them too. The more I think on it, the more I think it looks like things they had in Virato. Did they have things like this in Argent too?”

They shared the same setting, but two sides could be entirely different in terms of access to what they had. Leif remains aware that in that world where he was Haven's Golden Boy, he had been put in a position with a silver spoon.

Perhaps his opposition wasn't so fortunate.

“I've been thinking also... none of these stories quite feel like the ones some people would watch in Haven, do they?”

Yet still, he asks this follow-up, as if Azama might know.

“Even when we seem like we're matching up with Virato, the differences still feel so obvious...”

"Oh, Leif. How do you do?" Hands fold into sleeves, and the weary smile he wears is fond - if cautious. For all that Leif had left Azama with a precious gift, the instinct that decries the boy an enemy is… troubling in its persistence. Like a mosquito that simply won't give up, or a nose hair that refuses to meet its maker. The echoes of Virato at times subside…

But seeing anyone Azama had entered the mirror with is oft more than enough for its claws to sink right back into him.

He doesn't fault Leif for this. If anything, his ease for speaking of Virato with such a light heart, full of wonder… it leaves a favourable impression, even if the aftertaste burns of envy.

"I've managed to watch a few," Azama replies with a nod. Curiosity had been his own better, as well. "Argent indeed had some… Though I was less interested in them than some of the other technological advances at hand." Like the vehicles and weaponry, or the funny little spinning carpet Nel had fallen from (and he smiles here at the memory), or even the concept of the rhontites as a whole.

"… Hum. From what I have seen of these movies, you are… correct, though. Perhaps the difference is born of a cultural divide? The pacing, and even the angles shown, the artistic flair and sheer capabilities, technology-wise…"

Silver dreams of gold... The author had lived many lives so different to the rest of them.

And then Harken had deigned snuff her light.

Lips tighten, briefly.

"I think there is yet a ways to go before Virato's likeness ever becomes reality." But Leif's right here, too. Eyes crinkle with something akin to amusement. "Suppose we could have a hand in fashioning such similarities and differences, whether consciously or not. Hm?"

[carefreemonk]

Her head inclines at a peculiar slant, eyes narrowed to squint at a wrist obscured by a combination of Azama's long sleeves and a large bouquet of multi-colored tulips. The pretty shade of white and pink together meld into a reminder this man is the father of Mitama even if Sara has never once seen them in the same room.

"Azama," she greets when she believes he has noticed her staring after a passing moment, clutching her bouquet against her chest. "It's a pleasure to see you here."

Well, pleasure may be overselling her feelings, but his presence doesn't offend her nor is there any issue to be had with affording him some of her tonight.

"What do you think of the quest we have been sent on this year? While these bouquets may be a little more intrusive than bracelets, I think I prefer spider lilies to starfish."

Brushing a careful hand past a cluster of vivid, red petals, she continues, "Breaking off a piece of their arms, however, may give you more than you bargained for. Do you know the difference between poison and venom?"

Has he noticed her staring? Has she noticed him staring? The world may never know, for Azama stirs only - and only just - when called upon.

Head tilts to the side, and he doesn't bother to hide the mirth twitching at the corners of his lips.

Hers is not a greeting he is accustomed to, nor is it a one he might have expected from her.

"Likewise," he chirrups in turn, beaming. There is no overselling on his part. If this quirky young lady has approached him, it is likely with a purpose, and truly? Azama looks forward to unearthing it.

And without further ado, there it is! More or less.

He can't divine the why, specifically, from her words, But he finds with the riddle(?) he's been posed, it doesn't really matter.

"If you bite it and you die, it's poison. If it bites you and you die, it's venom." Is that not so? He offers a tulip: a harmless thing, mostly. He hums. What manner of test is this? And, more importantly: did he pass? "… What of it, if I may ask?"

[carefreemonk]

[ SEQUESTER ] - Some rooms remain unused, and while by the padlocks on their doors you suspect they are meant to remain that way, some poor sap seems to have forgotten to make sure they were locked properly. They make for an excellent space away from the chaos of the rest of the ball—though you may not be the first one there.

Ah, there he is. Wordlessly, Mitama walks up behind her father and rests her forehead against his back. Once she is certain that he is not going to move and let her fall, she lets out a whine.

"Father. I am tired."

It takes just a moment to place the sudden pressure at his back. A faint smile slips to the surface.

Sure, he'll happily play the part of an impromptu pillow for daughter dearest. It's the least he can do. He shifts lightly, so very lightly, so as to afford what he hopes is a more comfortable perch.

"So rest a moment then."

Tomorrow will come whether we will it or not.

"I'll be here as long as you need."

It's a promise he hopes he'll never break again.

[carefreemonk]

[ CHOCOLATE ] - Stefanelli's has partnered with the monastery to make the most of the supplies left in excess of their workshops earlier in the year by offering packages of sweet chocolates for attendees. The offerings appear generous... that is, until you open your box to find it only half full.

Azama gestures with one of the boxes toward Yunaka. An invitation... and a question both.

"Whatever do you think their logic was with this scheme?? Not just for a conversation piece...?" It'd be disappointing if so.

And yet! Surely it was not merely the handiwork of some bored lone thief. That many a box, if not the majority, have been said to have been found half full (or half empty if you're a silly pessimist)... it speaks to some manner of preplanning.

That said, curiosity shifts on a whim. Starry eyes crack open for fellow star-adorned comrade.

"... Half full or half empty, in your opinion?"

[dcggersedge]

"Does it matter?" Yunaka asks in return, still frowning at the boxes. "I'm missing half my stuff either way.'

Not that she thinks she could tear through a whole box of those things in a single night anyway, she's not that into sweets, but she still wants the whole of what she asked for!

Yunaka frowns at the boxes for a moment longer before sighing. "So we're just gunna steal an extra box each, right?"

[carefreemonk]

"We're gonna what??"

Starry eyes crack open again - a rarity - but this time less with curiosity and more so with an inkling of disapprobation.

"Soooo the graveyard wasn't a one-time occurrence for you, then?"

He studies her carefully, single brow quirked. Then, he smiles - the same old smile he always wears whether he's truly tickled by something or he's judging internally.

"Just joshin' ya. That said, I am still a holy man, so I'd prefer if you simply accepted mine instead. It's the least I can do for an old partner, hm?"

[carefreemonk]

[ SAMPLE ] - Anyone who has attended the ball in the past couple of years is familiar with the fake mint candies that seem to make their way around the facilities as a popular prank. Hope your senses are well-trained enough to tell them apart without your sight!

After managing to fool someone on a whim, Hugh thinks he can get away with anything. So, the next time he bumps into someone, he decides this will be the next one he'll have some fun with. "Wild night, isn't it?" He says, trying to play it cool. He offers a mint. "Have you tried one of these? I accidently grabbed one too many."

"'Wild' indeed, yes! I hadn't expected the technology would advance to such a point so fast... But it seems the crowd is enjoying it very much." Easy small talk. That's what tonight's for, right? To an extent.

'Has he tried one of these?'

Sir. This isn't his first Ethereal Ball, thanks much.

But Azama doesn't scoff. Eyes crinkle with gratitude as he accepts the mint. He's intimately familiar with them, but that does not preclude him being fooled - in this case, however, he is banking on it.

"Why, thank you. Don't mind if I do."

It tastes about as bad as he remembers. Actually, might be it tastes worse, even, but that's just as well. Azama makes a face, and suddenly hand flies to his throat. Eyes widen, staring at Hugh and yet unable to focus.

"You- you've p... poi-- me--?!"

And here, Azama collapses. (Maybe a touch too dramatically but shhh.)

Get reverse-prank'd, heh! Unless...?

[carefreemonk]

[ SLIP-UP ] - This darkness was no joke! Especially with everyone backlit by these huge screens, Hilda couldn't see a thing. She moved through the rows of partygoers, seeking the theatre performer she'd been speaking to just a moment ago. She had stepped away to get a drink, and now she had no chance of finding him again!

Unless... Aha!

"There you are," she said, lying a friendly hand on his shoulder to let him know of her presence.

As he turned and his features became more visible, she withdrew her hand quickly, like she'd been zapped.

"Oh."

Well... This was unfortunate.

"You."

He turns to face her,

smile blooming ominously as he does so.

"Me," he deadpans then, feigning affront. But it's a mask that falls swiftly, replaced by curious lilt of his head in question. "You don't seem best pleased. Not who you were hoping for, I take it?"

Honestly, what has he ever done to earn Miss Hilda's ire?

... Oh yeah. There was that whole blackmail-adjacent thing, come to think of it. And the whole quite-thrilling experience of running from spiders and worms at-the-time bigger than they were. Was she still dour about all that...?

His smile widens a fraction. He reaches to offer her a tulip from his bouquet.

She can stay wary if she likes.

"I forgot, but I wished to thank you for your advice last year. It allowed me to take a quite nice photo of my daughter, if I say so myself."

[carefreemonk]

[ SQUIRM ] "If I turn your limbs into jelly," Henry taps his chin, "do you think it'll make you really good at this game?"

Strange. Azama had not expected chills at such an innocent-sounding suggestion. Was this payback for shooing away Mr. Meow Meow?

... Hm. No.

The lad's cheerful and bright, and clearly possessed of an inquisitive spirit where theory is concerned. As a professor, would Azama not be remiss in losing the chance to encourage such wonder?

"Ha ha ha~! Asking the important questions this fine evening, I see. Hum... It would make you really good, or really bad, I suspect."

Azama taps his own chin where he sits, pensive. He beams at Henry. "Shall we find out?"

[carefreemonk]

[ SAMPLE ] "Pfleh-" It's undignified, but Forde spits out the terrible-tasting candy. "I was sure that was a mint..."

Brows shoot high.

"Wasting food? My, I'd thought Ruthalia would have struck such a notion from our spirits for ages enduring, but it would seem humans bounce back quite fast in the end..."

It's a faint smile Azama wears. He shakes his head. Maybe it's too soon to joke about that particular field trip still.

"... That said, I've fallen prey to those blasted mints before and can hardly blame you. They hardly count as food, do they?"

He hums in thought, then reaches toward Forde's bouquet of orchids, clearly intending to steal himself one. It's for the sake of conversation, see? "These, however? Perfectly edible, or so I hear... But if you try one and get sick, you didn't hear it from me, ohoho~!"

[carefreemonk]

[ MORFISIAN ] - A sophisticated dance that celebrates the wondrous beauty of fire magic. In lieu of the Elementals gifting you the ability to perform this dance as intended, the club BOOMS has stepped in offering to help out. Fire magic dances upon your fingers and gives your face an ethereal glow.

Elemental magics have never really been Azama's forte. He can weave a fine charm, mend a wicked cut, shut an annoying opponent's gab with a well-aimed flick of his hand, but fire-? fire's new.

There isn't much time to sit back and admire it though. He mustn't keep Tsubaki waiting.

"Did you know the Morfisian Elementals blessed the monastery some few years back? They shrank everyone to the size of your thumb. It even lasted through the end of that year's Ethereal Ball. Made for quite the memorable experience, ohoho~"

Flames dance in smooth arcs from hand to hand, shimmying, swaying, wending along like a fish in a river - graceful, vibrant, alive. Inhaling, Azama readies to pass the fire along to his partner.

... But he has a reason for this particular tale to surface here and now, beyond the current dance being on topic.

"... You really never learn what to expect from this strange land, even after being here for some time. You'll be careful, yes? I know Lady Sakura would hate for you to come to any harm."

Not only that but, well,

from one father to another...

Fodlan does make it quite easy to worry.

[carefreemonk]

[ GODDESS TOWER ] - No effort has been spared in surveillance or suspicion this year, and you know as much now that you find yourself alongside another answering to an ornery guard the moment you entered its vicinity.

"I have heard the view from above is beautiful. Surely that is not the sole reason why security is so tight, though?"

Azama huffs - it's a half-smothered bark of laughter.

"It surely is not," he confirms. But going into detail would be... hmm. He's not sure he feels like it. But it strikes him squarely as the kind of question the Nel he Knew might have asked, and Azama softens some despite himself.

"You could fly your beau up there with you and find out for yourself what it's all about, if you really wanted to. Or was the dragon part of you an aspect unique to Virato?"

There is no bite to his words - there is merely genuine, meandering curiosity, and perhaps a smidge of mourning.

[fellsparks]

Nel finds it to be an oddly amicable exchange between two people who'd been thrown together by some strange twist of fate-- their bonds a mere ghost of what had apparently transpired between them in an alternate world. Sometimes, she wishes she knew more about those bonds; more about herself in that mirror image, more about their lives as a whole. A moment passes where she stiffens at the question. Almost as quickly as it comes, though, her shoulders relax, and a long breath is exhaled. "No. It was not unique. Before you stands a Fell Dragon, one of the last of my kind. A situation as dire as that battle required that I bring my all to bear-- it was the only choice I could have made." And even then, there had been plenty that fell to sustain grievous wounds. "I believe the appearance of a dragon would alarm quite a few ball-goers, though." Now that is said with a hint of amusement at least. "Should you want to see the view from on high, though, I suppose I could remain covert enough." @carefreemonk

[carefreemonk]

A Fell Dragon?

A Fell Dragon?

A Fell Dragon??

Well then. "Huh. Don't see one of those every day." Azama scratches idly at his chin, at the stubble absent this eve. He'd spoken quietly, in mixed wonder and befuddlement. "Aren't your ilk more. I don't know. Destruction-y? A bit more murder bent-y? Usually?"

Wait. Wait wait wait. Never mind that. More importantly: he's finally registered Nel's offer. Brow flexes in annoyance and amusement both.

"Whaaaat? No! I said you could take your beau -- as in, the bloke you walked into the ball with at your arm. The Goddess Tower is for couples, not for... whatever we are." Azama waves her off dismissively, with an indignant snort. If he's going into the tower, it's not going to be with her. In fact, given his last year's experience, he isn't keen on reentering it anytime soon. And, of course, there's the fact he knows the 'bloke' in question - Laslow, ohhhh, dear Laslow. Honestly?

Good for him!!

[carefreemonk]

[ GOSSIP ] - For those who don’t want to be the center of attention, sitting on the sidelines and observing those who do is a time-honored tradition. Exchanging thoughts with another while doing so is a rite of passage for a student—it is a slightly worse look for the staff to take part.

"Nothing's happened tonight," Azama complains. "How dull."

Suppose he had been anticipating an uneventful ball, but even so! Where was the drama, the intrigue, all the usual fuss and hullabaloo the ball typically came with?

Had it all somehow been passing him by?

But then what good is his nose, known for sniffing out trouble? Tch.

"Do you think any fights will break out? I feel like there's always one or two." Suppose he shouldn't wish for them though. He doesn't want to be bothered with fixing anyone up, and nor does he intend to take part, himself. He sighs. It's not exactly that he's bored - if anything, Azama's glad for the moment of Mitama's company he's managed to steal this eve.

It's more that he's... antsy. Restless, even.

Had she seen the decoration he'd made to match hers...?

It's hard to care about what antics anyone else is up to when hers is the opinion that matters the most.

Lips pressed thin, Azama twirls one of the tulips from his bouquet a moment between index and thumb, before proffering it to Mitama. "Apologies for my whinging. If you'd indulge me in a trade, it would go a ways toward lifting my spirits, I think."

[carefreemonk]

[ GOSSIP ] two hoshidans walk into a bar and stare at each other. kidding, kidding — they’re actually just sandwiched between noble A, who dons an extravagant headpiece that towers over them all, and noble B, whose oversized puffed sleeves could be drawing out all the oxygen in the room. 

“he’s called off our engagement!” wails noble B. shiro blinks at azama. “that villain!” barks the other. “I’m sorry to say, margaret, but you should’ve known. his dastard of a brother left not one, not two, but three women at the altar!” 

shiro’s eyebrows skyrocket.

Presumably, Azama's blinking back, but you wouldn't know it looking at him. He simply smiles, observing the back and forth.

"That was his brother! Not him!" Margaret seethes.

"Maybe it runs in the family," Azama supplies helpfully, staring (?) straight at Shiro. He brings a finger to his lips. Shhh. Hehe. May as well have their fun while they're trapped here, no?

"Yeah, Margaret, maybe it runs in the family!" Noble A readjusts her headpiece a moment, huffing in triumph.

"But I'm different!!" Margaret shrieks, puffed sleeves puffing out even further, as though her wrath might be inflating them somehow.

"Different how?" Azama chimes in again.

"Yeah, Margaret, different how, exactly? You were all brunettes, all the youngest daughters, all of middling height, all good at poetry and not much else-" Yikes! Who needs enemies with friends like these? "-And all passingly pretty but hardly the belles of the ball..."

"And all fans of of gaudy fashion, presumably," Azama adds.

Both nobles A and B turn their gazes on Azama. Ah. Ha ha ha. Looks like the jig is finally up. He pushes insistently on Shiro's shoulder.

"Quick, little prince, let us away!"

Better escape while the escaping's good!

[carefreemonk]

[ LIGHT ]　/　putting her hands in a stranger was pretty bold——and dangerous, for that matter. but she'd agreed to this. . . or something. really she thought she'd at least be picking her partner before they put the blindfold on her, but everyone was blindfolded, so maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

with that thought, she puts the moment of worry behind herself and reaches out with both hands palm down, feeling around until they brush and then touch what feel like hands——no, arms? an elbow? she tries a little lower. "a whole lot easier if i wasn't groping you, i bet," she says, half-laughing to make light of it until her fingers finally find their opposite. "there we go."

she even makes a little curtsy motion with her legs, though they can't see it. like she's a proper lady. "i'm ananke. it's nice to meet you."

"Oh, I don't know about that." It's but light teasing, a fair enough turnabout when she's hit him with a line like that, he thinks. He plays docile enough, patiently waiting for his impromptu partner to finish with her, ah, exploring. Hers isn't a voice Azama immediately recognizes. Maybe that's for the best. If it's going to be the blind leading the blind, he prefers someone he can learn to distrust rather than someone he's already got little or less faith in.

Hands finally join together, grip firm, comfortable. From here on, they are each other's lifeline.

"Ananke - a strong name. Mine is Azama. It is likewise good to meet you." He hopes she can hear the easy smile in his voice. He'd like to live up to the confidence she's shown him so far. "I am not quite familiar with this dance, I'll warn, but..." Curtsy - sensed, not so much seen - is returned with the motion of a bow, from which upon rising monk places a chaste kiss on the back of the hands he's been entrusted with. "... I dare say I believe we will be able to pull it off. Shall we go ahead and put on a show?"