This is based off this post I did a bit ago. Honestly I kinda just ran with it, don't know if it's good. I'm just avoiding doing my final projects and I fight with my executive dysfunction/depression or whatever.
"Guest of honor" his ass. Mere months ago, the madmen squad was just that, madmen. No one looked twice at his squad. Many just stayed as far away as possible so they wouldn't catch the ire of Rem or be extorted by Krais.
So why, pray tell, was the leader of said madmen squad being forced into clothes that cost years worth of his paycheck and made to sit in a room with other overly dressed people who used way too much perfume?
At least they gave him something close to a military garb, but it just seemed impractical.
A crisp white shirt was tailored to his body, only being loose around his shoulders in a frightening show of tailoring, with cuffed sleeves and a high collar. On top of that was a dark blue military blazer that was thankfully looser than the shirt, but was made to hug his torso before fanning out at the back with coat tails. The blazer was cut to have a deep v-neck, two gold buttons closing it at his stomach. Three delicate rows of gold cords decorated his front, connecting the space left behind by the deep v-neck. His shoulders were similarly decorated with gold epaulets, a small chain connecting the epaulet on his right shoulder to a broach decorated with the kingdom's coat of arms, which was attatched to a pocket on his chest. His bottoms, thankfully, were much simpler. Clean white pants were fitted to his legs, a few more clasps and chains hanging from his pocket, tucked into a pair of black boots that shined blue in the right light and were embroidered with gold thread at the heel.
Getting fitted and dressed by others was an experience Enkrid would like to never repeat unless it's to get this outfit off at the end of the night. At least his hair is easier to deal with, most of it slicked back with some becoming side-swept bangs. Hopefully the fancy gel they used would come out as easily as the staff put it on.
What he never expected was to have makeup put on him, mostly a bit of powder, some blush and a bit of gloss to his lips. It wasn't the worst experience he's ever had, but now he has to resist the urge to scratch at his skin lest he smudge his makeup or get it on the simple white gloves he has on.
Let it be known, he was never good at sitting still. Unless it was to train his senses, Enkrid has always been on the move, always progressing forward until he hit a wall and got to figure out a way to overcome it with a feral grin on his face.
But now he's been tasked to remain stagnant. There's no enemies to be fought here with a sword he wasn't even allowed to bring lest he be charged with starting another war. Here, it's a game of words, smart quips and social etiquette that toe the line of childish mockery and a slight to spill blood over.
In the middle of that is Enkrid, a soldier who grew up as an orphan, talking more with a sword than with words, who is now being faced by people in fancy clothes who want to get him on their side after they've heard about his military prowess.
Sachsen already briefed Enkrid on what many would approach him for and Krais jokingly told him not to "break too many hearts," whatever that meant. Apparently the whole squad agreed with him though, even their elven commander joining in to taunt him too, once again claiming to be his fiancé.
He would take their teasing over this situation any day though.
In front of his is three women, all of them dressed in puffy dresses and adorned in jewels. They approached him as the speeches wrapped up, muttering to each other behind their fans. Thanks to Sachsen's teachings, he was able to hear them whispering about who should approach him first and how he looked in his outfit.
Enkrid only wanted to train. Still, this was technically a job, so he steeled himself as they approached, bowing and kissing each of their hands in greeting as he was taught.
Hopefully he did it right because all three women were flushed as they fanned their faces and giggled. He was about to ask them if they were feeling well when one of them suddenly asked him to dance.
This technically wasn't part of his orders. To put it very bluntly, he was there to sit and show face for the military and his squad as the madmen were an integral part of the fight. Or so he was told. Still, a part of this order was to interact in a socially acceptable manner. Considering his standing, he doesn't think he's allowed to turn the lady down so dancing it is.
He bows deeply in acceptance before straightening and holding his hand out, a small smile on his lips, "It would be a pleasure."
He swears he hears a tea kettle noise coming from the other two women, but pays it no mind as he and his now dance partner move to the dance floor.
He never danced, but thankfully Rem and Ragna (he was also surprised) knew how to and taught him. Thankfully for his men, his footwork wasn't bad and he was a surprisingly quick learner when it came to dancing, no deaths required for once.
The next song begins, both partners bow and curtsy respectively before they get in position. Enkrid's left hand holds his partner's while his right finds its place at her waist, the woman's free hand on his shoulder.
The steps come easy to Enkrid, falling into a natural rhythm with the music as he and his partner glide around the room. His partner is flushed, but she's smiling so he hopes his lessons have paid off. He feels other's staring at them, but keeps dancing as none feel all that threatening aside from a few glares from men and women alike.
Enkrid spins his partner as a note drags before seamlessly pulling her back into place. He leans in, not wanting to make a scene.
"You seem to be pretty popular, my lady."
His partner looks taken aback for a second before chuckling, "What gave you that idea?"
Maybe he read the room wrong? "A lot of people are staring, I think they might be jealous of me getting to dance with you first."
The music picks up, the dance calling for a dip. As Enkrid leans the woman back, holding her by the waist, she laughs. It's unrestrained, a full belly laugh that shakes her shoulders and makes her eyes crinkle in the corners. As he lifts her back up he's met with an incredulous laugh.
As they separate the woman kisses his cheek and wordlessly waves goodbye as she joins her friends.
He's all the more confused when he's met with many more women asking for a dance throughout the night as well as many men handing him drink after drink.
By the time the night is over his feet hurt and he's slightly tipsy, his face a bit red underneath whatever makeup has survived the night. Thats not even mentioning the headache thats been forming behind his eyes due to the massive amounts of perfume his dance partners wore. He wants nothing more than to go back to the barracks and rip these too-fitted clothes off before calling it a night.
The carriage ride back to the barracks helped him sober up a bit, although he still feels a little hot due to the fancy clothes he's still wearing. Apparently these were a gift, so at least Enkrid doesn't have to worry about getting in trouble for dirtying them anymore. The cold night air is heaven against his face as he walks back to 444th squad's tent, fancy boots already loosing a bit of their polish to the dirt and grass.
At this time of night, not many soldiers are out, dinner having already been served, the few that are though do double takes as he walks by.
He figures the clothes are a bit silly.
He finally opens the tent flap to his tent, the promise of his bed and looser clothes calling him like a siren. Instead, he's met with five pairs of wide eyes and a nod of approval from Esther before she curls back up in his bed.
Krais is the first to break, "Does he know?"
A collective no sounds out from the rest of his men.
Enkrid has no idea what they're talking about and is too tired to deal with it right now, so he gives up. He had to tell them to shut up when they keep talking about a prince and asking him about his make up. One question makes him pause though.
"You sure you don't want to be a host?"
Enkrid gives the flattest look he can before turning over to sleep. Maybe he had too much alcohol, he swears he can hear them talking about him being powerful enough to topple a kingdom. Sleep takes him before he has time to question that.
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