SENTINEL OF SOLM

Aff. Fogado from FE: Engage. Golden Deer Student @ TOA

[fauxgado]

He's handed a bouquet of cheery yellow orchids, and that is just his style.

It's not the kind of party Fogado would throw himself, but it's a party nonetheless, and he's well equipped to make the most of it. On account of the occasion, he comes today dressed in Solmic fabrics tailored with the help of a local into the sort of style often worn here. Careful attention has been paid into ensuring it is light, breathable, and comfortable to move in.

It has to be, because he is sure he won't be done here until the sun comes up.

Bloom Tracker:

Rose: Hector, Berkut Orchid: Yunaka, Lene, Hugh Lily: Alear (F), L'Arachel, Céline, Sara Hyacinth: Estel Tulip: Shiro, Tsubaki

[fauxgado]

ooc - wanted plots for this month & more

Good morning gang!

I will be posting a proper wanted plots later in the month when I am back in the United States, but given the rush that comes at the beginning of the month, I wanted to post a semi-plotting post preemptively. I will be deleting this upon my return to actively comb through the wanted plots channel for threads.

I lost a good 1/4 of my total threadcount due to drops last month. I am not worried about being able to make activity this month, so this isn't a cry for help, but my muses are quite available if you'd like them. Poe especially is Unaffiliated, so if you need an Unaffiliated muse to carry your thread, I am interested in any of the prompts. Feel free to DM me if you want to plot.

Outside of that, I will be prioritizing writing/wrapping up ball minis this month and secondarily replying to aging threads in a timely manner. Thanks!

[fauxgado]

ACTIVITY CHECK - MAY 2026

Activity Check - Passed!

Claims

Claimed Last Month:

None

Skill Points:

+1 for Activity

Point Allocation:

+1 Bow (C+->C+)

Classes to Acquire:

None

Skills/Weapons to Acquire:

Dancer access (Ethereal Ball 2026) Playbill of a Comedy (Ethereal Ball 2026)

Threads (Tracker)

Waiting for Me:

It’s Never Too Late to Be Festive! - w/ Niamh A Faint Light - w/ Céline You Were So Busy Being a Gouda Boy That You Never Stopped To Think If You Were a Gouda Person - w/ Raven

Waiting for You:

To Temper - w/ Soren To Bravely Stand - w/ Joachim

[fauxgado]

[ FLOWER ARRANGEMENT ] - Plants are like people, but in none of the ways that matter. Though their last encounter involved an admission of incompetence, Sara catches his eyes landing on the spider lilies in her bouquet and offers one as a gift along with well-meaning instructions, "Wash your hands after you handle it. I do not wish to be responsible if you end up sick later. However if there is someone you wish to see fall ill, do not tell them, fufufu..."

He had been looking at her bouquet, actually.

No shame in it—the different flowers they have in circulation at this party are something else. The ones she in particular totes around are unlike any others he's seen, bright red and almost creeping in shape. He'd be the last to call himself an expert on flowers, and that may be why he feels like he can safely say he hasn't seen any like them before.

And then, she offers one to him with what sounds like a warning.

Fogado blinks, before he makes sense of the situation. Or, at least, he thinks he does. "...oh! You're joking. Yeesh, you keep a good straight face. You almost had me going," he says, seeming genuinely impressed as he reaches out to take one from her. With his bare hand, mind you, because he didn't wear gloves tonight.

He looks at her again, and he realizes:

she's not joking, is she?

"...or, you're actually serious." He looks between the crimson bloom and her, chuckling half-amused and half-nervous. Silently, he resigns himself to either being done eating for the night or taking a rain check from classes tomorrow. "Yikes, are they really handing out flowers that dangerous? And expecting people to pass them around? Kind of seems like a disaster waiting to happen, and not even the fun kind of disaster."

Actually, hold that thought about himself taking a rain check from classes tomorrow.

"Aren't you worried you're going to get sick later, then? You're the one carrying them around all night."

[shadoll]

Sara looks down at her hands, mostly to the bouquet and the spider lilies in question which are separated from her hands by thin, sparkly paper, and then looks at the boy whose expression betrays a measure of worry he projects.

"They're not dangerous." It is not a whole truth but a redirection. She clarifies, "At least not so dangerous that you would be beyond the help of a restore staff. Still, it is inadvisable to ingest food or touch certain orifices." And she had the decency to warn him out of the goodness in her heart, hence, mitigating the possibility of any harm to come.

Her lips twitch with a smile as flowers are shifted, the arrangement readjusted to account for having one less than before.

She has been around dark magic since birth and, in her humble opinion, turned out alright despite the dangers it posed at all times.

"Anyway, no, I'm not afraid and you shouldn't be either. My tolerance is higher than most, however that is beside the point, since the Church is good at cleaning up their messes. I saw another woman tonight with the same bouquet, so the potential disaster you speak of doesn't seem to be anyone's concern."

She laughs faintly, "Were you unaware of this side to Fodlan?"

[fauxgado]

The topic of conversation is taking a pretty serious turn, and to combat that, he lightens up his tone to soften it. “Well, I mean—and this is going to blow your mind—I wasn’t born yesterday.” Fogado is well acquainted with the fact that every continent had its shadows, as did every country, as did every house, as did every person. So it doesn’t surprise him that that holds true for Fódlan and its Officer’s Academy. “So when you tell me the Church is good at cleaning up their messes, yeah, I’m willing to believe that.”

They wouldn’t have lasted long if they couldn’t. Generally, back at home, he did his best to preempt issues so that his mother, and someday, his sister, wouldn’t have to clean anything up. Neither of them were the sort to put the Queendom into a position that would require that anyway. But in the case that he had to?

Yeah, he might. It’d depend on the circumstances.

He slips the flower into his bouquet, putting a layer of parchment between his bare hands and the stem. Even if it’s not that dangerous, she’d had the decency to warn him about them, and he doesn’t ignore that grace. “But some would call me something of an expert on the matter of parties.” He explains, pulling an orchid from his own bouquet. “Handing out something that can make someone sick is a questionable design choice. It seems like a pretty pointless risk.”

He offers the bloom to her—this one doesn’t need a warning, it is without toxin nor thorn.

“So it just makes a guy wonder: why take that risk?”

[fauxgado]

[ 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!

He had found them right before the lights had dimmed - fake candies that would not grant the coveted minty freshness that real ones could. He had considered them a funny enough prank for a certain few who'd find a laugh in the whole thing, but after darkness had blanketed the area, Hugh didn't have a clue whether the ones he held were the real deal or the 'fake' deal.

As he stumbles through the darkness, he accidently bumps into someone. Fortunately, the mints remain in his hands, but if he had any clue which were which? He definitely doesn't know now.

But hey, it could be fun to have an element of surprise, right?

"Whoops! Sorry about that." He offers a smile, though he's not sure whether or not the person before him can see it. "Want one? I picked up too many earlier, so I don't mind sharing."

"Hey, no worries—I know I tend to dazzle. People have been bumping into me all night," Fogado casually dismisses. It's a slight exaggeration—honestly, considering the circumstances, he's been pushed around a lot less than he would have expected.

In apology, the man offers him something from the palm of his hand. He's seen people passing these around, sometimes well-intentioned, sometimes as a thinly veiled insult—you know, as people did. And Fogado's not above a little candy from time to time; if asked, he'd even agree he liked it. Probably no one is trying to poison him here, in broad daylight public, and if they are, the church is probably prepared to deal with that.

So, after a subtle moment of thought while he unwraps it, he decides odds are good enough that he can pop this gift from a relative stranger in his mouth.

EW???

The prince visibly recoils—he's usually pretty good at neutering a reaction, but he was completely unprepared for this to taste like... well, that. He covers his mouth, coughing. Spitting it out is pretty tempting right now, but then he would be the guy who spat on the floor at a party, and that's not really the look he's looking to give off.

He's left with the distant second place option of swallowing it, which he does, with some regret.

"Alright, you got me. That'll teach me to accept candy from a stranger at a party. What am I, a baby?" Fogado wipes his mouth, as though that has any chance of getting rid of the taste. He almost wishes it had been poisoned, at least then he could probably be treated. On the contrary, he's not sure he's heard of any staves that make someone's breath stop smelling like garlic and onions. What a one of a kind taste for a candy to be.

...a one of a kind taste...

"Actually, do you have another of those?" He asks. "Got an orchid with your name on it if you do."

[mercenarymage]

Hugh stares on at the stranger as he watches everything go down. He had actually thought that he gave him the one that was nothing more than a mint - which means the other one in his hand is, isn't it?

But then he thinks harder, and he remembers that there's some in his pockets, too. If he was going to prank someone, he really should have given them a label. Er, well, wait, if they did, then how would he be able to fool someone?

The one in his hand is a legit mint, though. He's sure about that.

Probably.

"Yeah, I have another." He pulls the 'mint' that's in his pocket, and hands it over to Fogado. Did he actually like the flavor, or did he have plans to bother someone else with it? "Here, have one of my flowers, too. Least I can do."

Was it to say sorry? Maybe it was. But it was pretty funny seeing an expression like that come from a person like him. He doesn't even need to know Fogado well to tell - he's definitely the kind of person who knows how to smooth most incidents with a composed smile. Hugh wasn't going to see a face like that again anytime soon.

[fauxgado]

"You're the man. Or, at least, that's what I would say if this conversation hadn't started with you tricking me into eating one of these." Playfully, he retorts. Fogado swipes the ""mint"" from him, slipping it into one of his pockets. "I'm going to have to see if I can find a way to get this home. I know a guy—best chef you'll ever meet. He's got a sense of taste like no one else," he explains, gesticulating with his free hand to emphasize the point. There is a sense of warmth accompanying his explanation that clearly conveys that they are close. "And I've got to know what his opinion is on these."

(let one never forget—Fogado is a teenage boy. if he tastes something gross, he kind of wants to see his friends' reactions to it too)

And hand now free, he pulls the promised orchid from his bouquet, slipping it into Hugh's of his own volition. "Hey, word of advice, though—and I'm not talking about me, right? Just so we're clear." He leans in to offer his thoughts. It's fortunate that he's so good at projecting that carefree vibe of his, because otherwise, in the dark like this, it could be awfully menacing. "Careful who you feed those to. Lot of people at these kinds of parties who are not as cool as I am."

And then he steps back, turning to make his departure back to where he'd originally been headed.

"See you again!"

[florages]

Her laugh comes as a light hum. "Well, I do care, you know. And we Firenese are ever the hospitable people."

Firene's knighthood exam, and its focus on both domestic skills and martial prowess. Fond sentiments spoken in gifts of flowers and traditional embroidery, the never-ending tea times...

It was simply a part of her culture and education to be in tune with the preferences of others, to be able to read their emotions and moods, to take note of their cues, and to know what they liked and disliked to best satisfy their needs. It was their way of caring, of nurturing the soul, to truly foster friendship and peace with those they interacted with.

(Ulterior motives were not intended, but she would not turn her nose up at what these methods could yield. Not when it served the protection of her country.)

"A trade sounds lovely, I think. Eye for an eye, bloom for a bloom?" Céline steps closer to him, the stem of her lily pinched between her fingers as she holds it up to his lapel. "It seems I was right... this yellow complements the blue wonderfully."

[fauxgado]

“A huge win for Solmic-Firenese trade relations!” He celebrates, ghosting over her hand briefly with his own to take the lily from her and replace it with an orchid from his own bouquet. For the brief moment that they are side-by-side, it's hard not to notice that while the blossoms are different species, their color still makes them remarkably similar.

In a swift motion, he inserts the lily amongst the rest of his bouquet as one of the first of what will eventually be a multitudinous, colorful bunch. And after that brief moment of intersection, he steps back, reintroducing the distance to make his departure.

"I'm counting on it being the first of many."

——End

[dcggersedge]

Getting him upright again is way harder than dipping him was, but she manages it without stumbling or accidentally dropping him. "Hey, it's been a minute since we last saw each other like this! I've been practicing."

She really has, in so many ways. It's hard to believe that she's really achieved much of anything when there are still so many little things that feel so daunting that everyone else seems to treat like it's nothing, but she thinks she's been getting better. Enough at least that she's not ready to go screaming outta the room just yet.

One of Fogado's hands is released so she can swing herself back to her spot in front of him. "I'll do my best." Though really, she doubts that she could ever forget anyone she fought alongside. "Though I'm not really planning to get too big."

Going around and performing had been fun while it lasted, but going from no freedom to too much of it hadn't felt right either. She's not as hard monitored here as she had been growing up, but the consistent and busy schedule is nice too.

"I'm planning on hanging around here for a while, at least." It was still comfortable to stay. "Not expecting to get too much fame as a professor, anyway."

[fauxgado]

He’s back on his feet after a moment, which probably the least surprising thing he’s seen from her tonight—he’s seen what Yunaka can do, he’s not floored that she can manage to lift him.

And as they return to position, their little personal whirlwind passes. The music slows to come to its dramatic close. Simultaneously, it feels like minutes and hours have passed. “I get you. I go a little stir crazy if I’m stuck in one place for too long, but I’m thinking this place will make a nice little home base for a while, too.” In spite of the energy of their little performance, they’ve drawn basically no attention. That was the beauty of a bash like this one—as long as you weren’t the loudest person in the room, it wasn’t too hard to fly under the radar while others divided into their own little worlds.

“Next time I throw something, then, you’ll be the secret guest of honor. I’ll even swing by your side of campus to hand-deliver the invitation,” he says, offering a playful dramatic bow. “Maybe I’ll even stop by for a lesson sometime. Think they’ll let me do that even if you’re not one of my house’s teachers?”

(he doesn’t need an answer—it doesn’t really matter to him what they say is and isn’t allowed)

“Hope so, because if your teaching is anything like your dancing, I’ve got a lot to learn from you.”

——End

[fauxgado]

[ FLOWER ARRANGEMENT ] - Plants are like people, but in none of the ways that matter. Though their last encounter involved an admission of incompetence, Sara catches his eyes landing on the spider lilies in her bouquet and offers one as a gift along with well-meaning instructions, "Wash your hands after you handle it. I do not wish to be responsible if you end up sick later. However if there is someone you wish to see fall ill, do not tell them, fufufu..."

He had been looking at her bouquet, actually.

No shame in it—the different flowers they have in circulation at this party are something else. The ones she in particular totes around are unlike any others he's seen, bright red and almost creeping in shape. He'd be the last to call himself an expert on flowers, and that may be why he feels like he can safely say he hasn't seen any like them before.

And then, she offers one to him with what sounds like a warning.

Fogado blinks, before he makes sense of the situation. Or, at least, he thinks he does. "...oh! You're joking. Yeesh, you keep a good straight face. You almost had me going," he says, seeming genuinely impressed as he reaches out to take one from her. With his bare hand, mind you, because he didn't wear gloves tonight.

He looks at her again, and he realizes:

she's not joking, is she?

"...or, you're actually serious." He looks between the crimson bloom and her, chuckling half-amused and half-nervous. Silently, he resigns himself to either being done eating for the night or taking a rain check from classes tomorrow. "Yikes, are they really handing out flowers that dangerous? And expecting people to pass them around? Kind of seems like a disaster waiting to happen, and not even the fun kind of disaster."

Actually, hold that thought about himself taking a rain check from classes tomorrow.

"Aren't you worried you're going to get sick later, then? You're the one carrying them around all night."

[fauxgado]

[ TEA ]

"Wait-!" She called out to this stranger, holding two cups of sweet smelling tea! Lene didn't mean to grab two, but she doesnt want it to go to waste.

"Sorry- I grabbed two of the same drink- I only really need one and you happened to be the closest person to me..." Thats when she noticed the flowers "Oh! Are those Orchids? Uhm, after I give you the tea... is it okay if we could trade? I know its random but...! It would be wonderful"

With as many people around as there are, you can't exactly tell when someone's calling for you over anyone else.

Especially not when the voice is unfamiliar. By the time Fogado realizes the girl is talking to him, she's close enough that he can make out the details of her appearance. The soft pinks and organic shapes of her dress make her look right at home in a ballroom full of flowers. She's definitely got a particular charm to her.

"That's one tempting offer. I love a good trade—but you're selling yourself short, aren't you?" In other cases, Fogado might not point it out. Navigating discussions of trade came with the position; Solm, as a desert nation, would be little if not for its people's wit in the arena of commerce. Here, though, stakes are low, and his greatest concern is ensuring everyone has a good time—he can leverage that instinct in favor of that. "How about this: you give me that cup of tea and a flower from your bouquet, I give you that orchid you're looking for and find you something to eat with that drink. Deal? No deal?"

He offers the flower from his bouquet with a grin regardless.

"I take counteroffers, too. Hey, you can even try haggling me if you want!"

[fauxgado]

[ SHADOW ] - An intense tango that celebrates the diversity of desire. Incorporates sharp, rhythmic movements that shift effortlessly from dependence and independence on one’s partner, intimate closeness and playful distance. The result is a dance that looks almost as much a competition as it is a collaboration.

"FOGADO!! HEEEYYY!"

Should Pandreo be asking himself why his Prince is here, of all places? Yes. Should he have noticed said Prince's absence sooner? Absolutely. But those trifling details don't matter right now. What matters is that Pandreo and Fogado have arrived at the same party, and all joyful hell is about to break loose.

"GET OUT HERE AND DANCE WITH ME, COME ON!" Pandreo is heedless of the space made around him on the dance floor; momentarily, they're going to need it. "AR-AROOOOOOOOO!"

Fogado is having about the night he expected to, even in spite of the circumstances. The food and drink are great, the dancing has yet to reach any sort of lull, and while they've turned off the lights for some reason, it's not all that different from throwing a bash under the Solmic night sky, so he can't complain. As someone who considered himself pretty much a veteran when it came to this sort of thing, he'd been prepared to enjoy it all from the start.

And then, he hears a familiar voice that he doesn't expect to hear.

"Pandreo!" Shock and cheer are both evident in his response, and with damn good reason—if Pandreo had been here, he would've known. His friend would've found him, or he would've found his friend, whichever had happened first. So that he's here now is definitely a recent development.

Then again, that his showing up coincided with the institution's biggest celebration is so very like him that Fogado himself almost feels the fool here for not expecting it.

Fogado joins him as swiftly as he can manage without being hasty—he's already been bumped into once, and he's not looking to repeat that with someone holding something less benign than candy. "All the howling must be doing something to your head, because you've got the ears of a wolf if you heard the party from all the way back home." He asks, jovially settling so naturally back into what it's like to have him around that it's like they were never apart. "Which one of us was loud enough to reach you: Panette, Prince Alcryst, or me?"

[fauxgado]

[ 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!

He had found them right before the lights had dimmed - fake candies that would not grant the coveted minty freshness that real ones could. He had considered them a funny enough prank for a certain few who'd find a laugh in the whole thing, but after darkness had blanketed the area, Hugh didn't have a clue whether the ones he held were the real deal or the 'fake' deal.

As he stumbles through the darkness, he accidently bumps into someone. Fortunately, the mints remain in his hands, but if he had any clue which were which? He definitely doesn't know now.

But hey, it could be fun to have an element of surprise, right?

"Whoops! Sorry about that." He offers a smile, though he's not sure whether or not the person before him can see it. "Want one? I picked up too many earlier, so I don't mind sharing."

"Hey, no worries—I know I tend to dazzle. People have been bumping into me all night," Fogado casually dismisses. It's a slight exaggeration—honestly, considering the circumstances, he's been pushed around a lot less than he would have expected.

In apology, the man offers him something from the palm of his hand. He's seen people passing these around, sometimes well-intentioned, sometimes as a thinly veiled insult—you know, as people did. And Fogado's not above a little candy from time to time; if asked, he'd even agree he liked it. Probably no one is trying to poison him here, in broad daylight public, and if they are, the church is probably prepared to deal with that.

So, after a subtle moment of thought while he unwraps it, he decides odds are good enough that he can pop this gift from a relative stranger in his mouth.

EW???

The prince visibly recoils—he's usually pretty good at neutering a reaction, but he was completely unprepared for this to taste like... well, that. He covers his mouth, coughing. Spitting it out is pretty tempting right now, but then he would be the guy who spat on the floor at a party, and that's not really the look he's looking to give off.

He's left with the distant second place option of swallowing it, which he does, with some regret.

"Alright, you got me. That'll teach me to accept candy from a stranger at a party. What am I, a baby?" Fogado wipes his mouth, as though that has any chance of getting rid of the taste. He almost wishes it had been poisoned, at least then he could probably be treated. On the contrary, he's not sure he's heard of any staves that make someone's breath stop smelling like garlic and onions. What a one of a kind taste for a candy to be.

...a one of a kind taste...

"Actually, do you have another of those?" He asks. "Got an orchid with your name on it if you do."

[starrook]

put a rock on her hand

continued from here

[starrook]

"I... suppose I could," Alcryst admits quietly. "I'm the only one stopping myself, aren't I?" He already knows the answer to that.

"Thank you, Fogado..." He can't say his fears are completely dismissed, but he feels lighter knowing that someone else hears and understands them. "That's enough about me, I think. I'm sure you have lots of stories from Elyos to share!" Alcryst refills his and Fogado's teacups, much more eager now that he's not at the center of attention. "What's been going on with you, my friend? And don't leave anything out!"

- End

[florages]

"And be caught mining for compliments? Oh, perish the thought."

Céline picks up a napkin from the table, dusting her finger off on it before wrapping it around the bottom of the bun. As carefree as he might like to act, she refused to be so lax that she would forgo simple dining etiquette.

The pastry was rather delicious though, the scent of berry jam nearly lulling her to take a full bite.

"I do not particularly dislike it, you know. There is a certain elegance in subtlety, but I would rather not have all my conversations be riddles to decipher." A laugh, "Sincerity is far more endearing."

As long as he meant the things he said, he could compliment to his heart's content.

She reaches for another one of the buns, offering it to him. "I believe this one may have an orange marmalade filling. You are fond of fruits, are you not?" A smile, "Or I could part with this lily instead, if you'd prefer. It would suit the colors of your ensemble nicely, I think."

[fauxgado]

"After all this time, you remember everyone's favorite foods," He remarks with an impressed shake of the head, as though he doesn't have a running list in his own head as well. He picks up the indicated pastry that she has sussed out to be his likely favorite of the trio. First Yunaka, now Céline—well, if the piece of information about himself that breaches containment ends up being as benign as his favorite foods, he can't complain. "I get what you're saying, though—it's a lot easier to get to know someone when they're showing you their true self."

Really, he can see the appeal. He can attest to it himself, even—coaxing people into being open with him was about half of his job, and he liked to think he was pretty good at it. And when the opportunity allowed for it, he preferred to be sincere, too.

(to be frank, it's not like his compliments had ever seemed to sway her, so it's not like he had much reason to say anything untrue)

"But, hey, if you're the expert, and you're being sincere when you say that flower would suit me, who would I be to say no? Will you turn me down if I say it should be a trade?" He offers in turn, gesturing to his own bouquet, each bloom a bright but soft yellow. "You can tell me if I'm wrong, but from where I'm standing, my orchids seem just your style."

[dcggersedge]

The dance changes in the same way battles do, shifting and following the tides of the music. It's not in the slightest what they're "supposed" to be doing according to the music, and Yunaka follows along laughing all the way. If more crowded events were like this, maybe they wouldn't be so bad.

(Nevermind that she's actively avoiding thinking about how many people might be looking their way right now.)

Their burst doesn't last long, but that's fine. It's more fun that way, she thinks, as the competitive grin on her face grows in response to the taunt. "Oh, think you can handle what it's like when I lead?" She's only lead a few times before, but she's delusional enough to think that will carry over.

The strike doesn't come right away, of course. A good fighter knows when to hold back and wait for the right moment. There's a few more steps of them swaying to the beat before Yunaka finally takes action. She lifts his arm again, except there's no turn this time. This time, she steps into place behind him and catches his other hand, crossing his arms over each other. Once she's got him captured, she guides him over sideways until she can lower him into a dip (with her leg extending beneath him, just in case). "How's that?"

[fauxgado]

Alright, the wink and the twirl were within the realm of possibility for Fogado. Then he gets dipped (so unexpectedly that he absolutely lets out a sound of undeniable surprise), and he almost has to wonder if he has the right girl. It's a big monastery. He's sure there's one or two or five people who share a name. Doppelgängers? Less likely, but who's he to rule the possibility out?

...no, that really is their Yunaka.

And that realization has him laughing now, too, exuberant without a hint of mockery. "Alright, miss charmer, alright! I see your game!" He says, "Last time you end up sopping wet in an attic, this time you've got all your moves on lock. Next time you'll be running the joint."

He can't even take credit for whatever's happened here, but he loved to see it anyway. Unless she's become a better actor than he is, she's really having fun. Those feelings, and that growth, are contagious. Fogado could almost be a little jealous himself. More than that, a little seed of intrigue plants itself in him—it's hard not to wonder what has happened while he hasn't been around to see it.

But that's something to pursue later.

"You'll still remember us little guys when you go big, right?"

[fauxgado]

[ CHAOS ] - A dance that is difficult to define by virtue of its nature as a medley of popular dance moves across history that somehow come together to form an entertaining, if chaotic, whole.

(Alcryst is getting into the Solmic dancing spirit. "Should we awoo??")

Fogado had been spot on to suspect that Alcryst could be broken out of his shell tonight—which doesn't come as a surprise to him because by this point, he felt like he knew him pretty decently, and regardless, he usually had a pretty good read on that sort of thing.

Long since have they abandoned any notion of the more formal of the dances. The Leicester had been fun, but the dance they perform now is all self expression and merriment and individualism. This part is always his favorite part—not dancing the way he wants to, but seeing how everyone else does.

"We have taught you so well, Prince Alcryst!" Fogado celebrates with a full laugh. The Brodian princes had always seemed so restrained anywhere but the battlefield, but beneath it all, it was clear at least that Alcryst at his core was the same as anyone else. Hell—if he wasn't careful, he'd be out of a hype job. "You know what, I can feel it. The stuffy atmosphere here is just about at its breaking point. The people here want a real party."

He throws a fist up in the air. He's gotta give this one his all, in his retainer's absence.

"And a little howling is just what we need to ring it in! AR-ROOO!"

[dcggersedge]

@fauxgado | cont

He can fathom a guess that she's talking about Seadall, because the only other dancer she could be referring to is Pandreo, and he's prettysure she's not talking about him. "Best, huh? Well, I don't know—I don't really do superlatives like that," He says with a playful shrug. The orchestra is only a couple measures into the song by the time their hands link, and the tempo is still slow. Subtly, he taps a foot against the tile to find the beat. "It's a wide world out there, right? There's room for the way the stuffy clerics at Lythos do it, and the way Pandreo does it, and the way Seadall does it, the way yours truly is going to do it here–" He winks in invitation. "–and, hey, there's room for you to put your own Yunaka-like spin on it too." And with the intro of the song coming to a close, he decides that's their cue to seamlessly begin. As long as they act natural, it's just like they were there all along. For the time being, his steps more or less align with everyone else's, albeit looser and less obviously-practiced. "Not going to lie, though, a beach party? Sounds right up my alley. A little sand, a little sun, what's not to love?"

Dance might be subjective, but it doesn't stop that flare of Brodian competitiveness that still pops up. She'll try to reign it back for his sake though, this is all good and fun after all, and the joy of spending time with people she thought she might never see again far outweighs any potential "wins" to be had.

She finds the beat to the music easily enough. While Fogado is looser, she feels like it's clear she's not familiar with the dance. The ones in their shows had often been crafted for the specific performance, after all. Still, she follows his lead easily enough.

The memory of last year's ball has her adding her laughter as back up to the music's beats. "Try getting stormed on so bad you've got to find shelter in the host's house!" Not to mention how cold the water had been even before that. "Scrambling to find a place to crash out for the night was a nightmare, I ended up passing out on some old furniture in the attic."

She sees an opportunity and strikes. She adjusts her grip on Fogado's hand, then lifts them both up so she can give herself a quick spin under his arm. Then it's back to position with a wink and grin.

[fauxgado]

Sorry, was that a wink?

That's what he likes to see. But in contrast to the mood, Fogado offers a pensive-bordering-solemn nod of recognition instead. "Ahh, I see. So that's what happened..."

The tempo kicks up a notch, and his partner's having fun, and that's as good a cue as any for him. Seamlessly he meets the new pace of the song, leading Yunaka with him for one, two, three, four measures–

"You came face-to-face with one of my arch nemeses: a blown-up blowout."

–and then, with a grin to match hers, he transitions from 3/4 time to 6/8.

Immediately the dance at hand becomes alive. An extra step on a new beat here, a little flourish in the lull between notes there. The rhythm is stronger. His heels click a little louder on the tile. It's all improv—paradoxically an art he has long practiced to make it look as natural as it does here. He keeps his hand gripped around hers just firmly enough that she can come along for the ride.

He did promise her to show her, after all, and he is nothing if not a man who follows through on those promises.

And after a few measures, he returns to the usual steps. "And you came out of it all the stronger! Are you sure you don't want to try leading? That look you just gave me says 'I'm feeling bold!'"

[fauxgado]

[ LYTHOS ]

Fogado’s got to admit—the party here isn’t half bad.

It’s a little more formal than the sort of shindig he usually threw back at home, but the vibe is what counts, and the vibe here is pretty good. On top of that, just about the whole monastery is here. For his purposes? It's perfect. Have a little fun, eat some good food, get to know who all is here along the way.

And oh the people he will get to know.

This one is tall, dark, and handsome; he exudes that sort of noble air that Fogado expected to find in the students at a place like this, and the exact sort of air that he stifled in himself. So it follows: this is the sort of person he needs to know about. "If you're looking for someone to show you how this one's done, I know a step or five," he offers. "Picked it up on a trip I took back at home." By which he means: he'd seen it performed for himself the time he'd stowed away to sneak into Lythos, and he'd brought it back with him as best he could remember it.

But he's not sure yet if this guy is fun enough to appreciate that sort of story.

He holds out a hand in invitation. "How about a trade while we do: you give me your name, I give you one of my handsome little orchids when we're done. Deal, or deal?"