Unchanged smile

Shall we dance? Blue Lions Assistant Sword Prof. ToA Affiliated. Laslow, as penned by Sam

[laslow]

A Man for Flowers

laslow ; ToA affiliated Laslow (Fire Emblem: Awakening & Fates) as penned by Sam.

⚘ Laslow is from his unpaired post-Conquest route

⚘ Assistant Sword Professor at Garreg Mach Academy; Blue Lions Affiliated

⚘ Quick Links: [ stats | about ]

⚘ Icon & Banner credits to Alina 

[laslow]

[ CHAMPAGNE ] - And from one of the finest bottles Adrestia has to offer. No student is allowed more than a single glass, and it looks classier to swirl it before it’s empty.

"Oh, thank yo--wait," Laslow squints, fingers stilling around the proffered glass. "You're a student," he continues. One Laslow doesn't know personally, but he's seen the boy around often enough. Leader of the Golden Deer, if he's not mistaken. Something with a C....

Cautious, Laslow takes the champagne all the same. He eyes the student critically--rules are in place for a reason, though he also understands there are times when bending them juuuuuust a little is warranted.

"Listen," he says, after taking a sip, "if anyone asks me, I did not see you with a glass. We're supposed to have fun tonight, right? We don't know when our next opportunity for something like this will arrive. And you students have been working hard--you deserve an evening to act like kids."

Impromptu speech given, Laslow tugs a rose free of his bouquet. "It's not a bribe, eh? Consider it a hope you'll enjoy the rest of the ball!"

[laslow]

[ COFFEE ] - More specifically, a mocha brewed with Almyran coffee beans and Dagdan chocolate and served with hot milk. A sweeter variation of the drink taking Fódlan by storm.

It's been a couple of years, but Sara still remembers how he liked his hot cocoa in good company and with a splash vanilla. Both are things that she doesn't mind providing, though he appears to be busy showing a special someone a good time, so she won't keep him long.

"Take a break, I brought you a drink," she presents the cup on a wide saucer to discourage spillage, handle side facing him, and feels generous enough to offer a spider lily too. "I think you'll be pleasantly surprised."

As the evening deepens, creeping past midnight and towards the new dawn, so do the temperatures. Even Laslow, for all his love of the cold, cannot stand outside with only his jacket without risking frostbite.

But the bracing weather feels lovely after the heat of the ballroom; he's just slipping back inside when a familiar face approaches. Laslow brightens. "Lovely Sara! My, don't you look positively grand!" He points to his own cheek. "And what a cute little addition! Did you paint the moon yourself?"

It truly has been too long since he's spent any significant time with her, a mistake he intends to rectify once he's slept off an evening of dancing--and pried himself away from his newly minted girlfriend's side.

He coughs into his hand, feeling a faint blush stain his cheeks. "Ah, what's this?" A faint hint of chocolate reaches his nostrils as he accepts the cup. "You remembered!"

Touched, he can only grin widely, bringing the cup closer to inhale the steam. He doesn't see the spider lily at first; when he does, he nearly drops the cup in his haste to accept. "Ah, forgive me. My fingers are still a little numb from being outside."

With some maneuvering, he tucks the flower away and pulls one of his roses free. "A token of our everlasting friendship! We should go for tea soon. I'd love to catch up with you!"

[fellsparks]

laslow asked: [ GODDESS TOWER ] + [ SNEAK ] Heartbeat loud in his ears, Laslow stares at the Goddess Tower. Moonlight reflects off the ancient stone and turns it faintly luminous where its not hidden in shadows. For all his time at the monastery, he's never ventured onto these hallowed grounds. Never had a good enough reason--it felt like tempting fate, entering a space meant for love-drenched wishes with only himself and his too-romantic heart. But being a dreamer has always paid off for him, in the end. Perhaps not exactly how he imagined it, and often far longer than he ever wanted. Still, he's never lost that sense of optimism, no matter what time has thrown his way. Laslow squeezes Nel's hand. "Ready? I'm no thief, though I am rather light on my feet." [Stealth check: 9! Laslow my guy I am begging here!] He steps forward just as a guard walks into view. Hissing, he pushes Nel back with far less grace than he should, hoping the shadow of a nearby tree will be enough to hide them until the guard passes by.

Now that she thinks about it, this is likely the closest she's ventured to the Goddess Tower since arriving at the monastery. The students generally had their little tales to go along with its significance, but Nel herself had no intention of sneaking onto the premises when its legends centered around affections unspoken-- now, though, with her hand in his, it seems like she's playing the role of a smitten teenager as they duck into the shadows as the guard moves past the two of them. She wants to laugh at his reaction, her other hand covering her mouth to stifle the reaction. There's a better way to do this. Across the walkway, she can spot the higher wall that leads into an open bay window-- her fingers tap on his shoulder as means of encouraging him to follow as she quickly drags him along. It's laughably easy to use her strength to hop just high enough to grab the ledge with one hand, letting go of his in order to haul herself up and over. Only a few seconds pass before her head peeks over with a smile, reaching down to offer him her hand. It's a simple enough endeavor to assist in lifting him up as well, easily out of sight of that lingering guard that would likely make another round through the grounds. A huff of effort is all she spares once they're both on even footing again, lithe fingers immediately finding his-- as if she'd hated even the scant seconds they'd been apart. She had, of course, but there's no reason to voice it. "I can see why students attempt to frequent this area." It's private, moonlight casting long shadows across the stone floors; there's stairs that lead upwards from what she can spot, but even here has a beautiful view of mostly clear skies. "This is... a first for me. I had no interest in exploring, initially." Well.. "At least, not until you came along." A light chuckle follows, brow arched as she glances over at him. "Fortunate, am I not?"

@laslow

[laslow]

Embarrassment floods him; he averts his gaze, face hot. "Don't laugh!" This is supposed to be special! Romantic! Not a failure before it's even begun!

Light fingers tap along his shoulder, the only warning he gets before she pulls him along. Laslow follows willingly, as he so often does. There's never any hesitation on his part. Perhaps it's a little pathetic--he just wants to be wherever she is.

He releases her hand with no small amount of reluctance. Lips part in surprise as she disappears over the wall, pulling herself up with the same ease he flips through the air during a dance. Nel's smiling face pops into view; he grins back on instinct, all incredulity and love and incandescent joy.

Their palms connect again; gravity momentarily abandons him, and then he's once more at Nel's side. "Well," Laslow says, breathless, "I never realize quite how strong you are!" He entwines their fingers with a little laugh. "Thank you."

He gives an absent nod. For once, he's not paying attention to their surroundings. Moonlight casts Nel in shades of silver and blue. She looks ethereal; something out of a fairy tale, glowing from within.

Her gaze turns expectant, the echoes of her laugh fading around them, and he realizes she's asked him something. "Ah, forgive me, my darling! Can't blame me for getting distracted when you look like a painting." His voice grows softer. "Lady Fate has smiled upon both of us, indeed. Shall we?"

It's his turn to lead her; with measured steps, they ascend the staircase. Empty tree branches stand watch beyond the windows, hiding Laslow and Nel away from the world. They emerge onto the rooftop a short while later, the low railing surrounding it offering them a nearly unobstructed view of the Academy grounds.

"Typically, I'm no fan of heights, but I don't mind this," he comments, though he does stick close to Nel's side. Just to ease that flicker of anxiety curling in his stomach.

Nerves of a different origin turn his palms clammy. He swallows them down, hoping she can't feel the way his pulse has quickened. "Ah, Nel....there's something I'd like to ask you."

Laslow faces her fully, briefly catching her eyes before settling on staring at the space between her eyebrows. "You are someone I've grown to cherish deeply. You're compassionate, witty, kindhearted...and rather strong, heh," he adds, if only to dispel his nerves. "That is, my heart dances whenever we're together, and it would be foolish if I never told you the depth of my feelings. After all, who knows what tomorrow shall bring, eh?"

Laslow pauses. Breaths deep. He's come this far without incident. "...I'm sure you've heard rumors of my, ah, flirtatious nature, but I assure you, my feelings are nothing compared to those shallow endeavors. Dearest Nel, would you be my girlfriend?"

[fellsparks]

Following him is as natural as breathing, she’s come to find— where normally Nel stands at the forefront, ever the dutiful lookout, his kindness and his concern enable her to relinquish the reins enough to leave her fate in his hands. To leave her heart in his gentle palms, palms meant to heal rather than hurt. It’s a distinction that separates the two of them… but a difference that cannot keep them apart indefinitely.

The squeeze she gives his hand is a silent reassurance: should you fall, I will catch you without fail. Should you step within harm’s way, I will shield you— body or soul.

Who knows what tomorrow will bring?

A being who has lived for thousands of years cannot begin to decipher what could unfold even hours from now; the ways in which fate can bend in even a second’s beat is something that goes hand in hand with life’s precious value. They are both here today— and she thinks she’s come to a conclusion on her own as he speaks soft words that kindle embers in her heart into a raging fire.

Her hands are calloused, always meant to be tools for war. With every moment that passes in his presence, after thousands of years, Nel believes— wants— yearns to grow. To use those same wearied hands for gentler pursuits, to use them to heal in the same way that he does.

To use them to love. To use them to gently cup his cheek when that question comes, even as her eyes widen and every ounce of breath leaves her lungs.

She doesn’t answer, because she knows that words aren’t enough. There’s no term in the language they share for how readily she will offer her heart to him— once before, she’d known that should he ask for her hand, she will give it. Should he ask for her heart, she will give it. Should he ask for the stars, she would take flight and give the noblest effort to bring them back to him.

When her lips meet his, it’s a manner of answer in and of itself. The smile that curves against him is wide enough to make her cheeks hurt, arms winding around his neck to close whatever distance remains between them. It’s not close enough, it’s never enough— but it will do for now.

She breaks away just long enough to whisper a “yes”, her forehead resting against his. The familiar prick of tears at her eyes is embarrassing, surely, but ignored in favor of her words. Even if her voice is thick with the effort of swallowing. “Yes. I will say it as many times as it is needed. Yes.”

Tomorrow will be a time for reflection and recognition of what this entails— tonight, a moment to feel alive, and a moment to love in the way she’s always been meant to.

@laslow

[laslow]

Roughened palms delicately cup his cheeks. Laslow latches onto the feeling, uses it to ground himself in the ensuing silence. Nel's eyes are wide, her entire being seemingly frozen in this endless minute, and he's too busy fighting off an explosion of anxious thoughts to realize she's the furthest thing from upset.

Lips part to offer something, anything--an apology, a backtrack, a half serious quip that he'll jump off the Tower and never speak to her again--when she kisses him sweetly. Shocked, he doesn't reciprocate until her palms leave his face and her arms are wrapping around his neck.

Returning her kiss is as easy as breathing. His hands flutter lightly atop her hips, like even now, he can't quite believe this isn't a dream. She pulls back; streaked in moonlight, dark eyes glittering with too many emotions to name, she is a dream.

Laslow can't hear past the roaring in his ears. He sees her lips move. Smiles a little stupidly as his hearing returns in time to catch the last half of her sentence.

"Say it again?" He asks, soft, fingers coming up to trail along the arch of her cheekbone. Perhaps it is selfish of him, to immediately take advantage of her offer. Earning her trust--dare he call it love--is not something he will ever take lightly. But tonight, alone underneath the night sky where he's always found solace, no matter what country, he thinks a little selfishness can be forgiven.

[laslow]

[ TEA ] - Just what it says on the tin! The only teas offered are Mint, Bergamot, Sweet-Apple Blend, Albinean Berry Blend, and Southern Fruit Blend, wrapped in small tea bags. Some students, having anticipated a small selection, bought their own tea.

"Ah, nothing quite like a fresh cup of tea to rejuvenate tired muscles, eh, Niles?" Laslow asks with a satisfied sigh. The teacup clinks softly as he sets it atop the matching porcelain saucer.

He leans a little closer, expression turning sly. "I see you've been dancing almost exclusively with Lady Camilla. You two do make a striking couple." He takes another sip, humming happily as he does so. "You know, I've only ever seen you this happy when Lord Leo assigns you some nefarious task or another. No matter our many differences, you deserve to feel that way all the time, not just in the service of a liege."

This is, perhaps, the most serious conversation they've ever had, outside of battle strategies or matters relating to their duties as retainers. Laslow hopes he won't come to regret it--one never really knows how the archer will respond.

Brightening, he sets the teacup and saucer down, pulling a rose from his bouquet once his hands are free. "Seems only fitting to have a rose when discussing affairs of the heart, eh?"

[fellsparks]

laslow asked: [ GODDESS TOWER ] + [ SNEAK ] Heartbeat loud in his ears, Laslow stares at the Goddess Tower. Moonlight reflects off the ancient stone and turns it faintly luminous where its not hidden in shadows. For all his time at the monastery, he's never ventured onto these hallowed grounds. Never had a good enough reason--it felt like tempting fate, entering a space meant for love-drenched wishes with only himself and his too-romantic heart. But being a dreamer has always paid off for him, in the end. Perhaps not exactly how he imagined it, and often far longer than he ever wanted. Still, he's never lost that sense of optimism, no matter what time has thrown his way. Laslow squeezes Nel's hand. "Ready? I'm no thief, though I am rather light on my feet." [Stealth check: 9! Laslow my guy I am begging here!] He steps forward just as a guard walks into view. Hissing, he pushes Nel back with far less grace than he should, hoping the shadow of a nearby tree will be enough to hide them until the guard passes by.

Now that she thinks about it, this is likely the closest she's ventured to the Goddess Tower since arriving at the monastery. The students generally had their little tales to go along with its significance, but Nel herself had no intention of sneaking onto the premises when its legends centered around affections unspoken-- now, though, with her hand in his, it seems like she's playing the role of a smitten teenager as they duck into the shadows as the guard moves past the two of them. She wants to laugh at his reaction, her other hand covering her mouth to stifle the reaction. There's a better way to do this. Across the walkway, she can spot the higher wall that leads into an open bay window-- her fingers tap on his shoulder as means of encouraging him to follow as she quickly drags him along. It's laughably easy to use her strength to hop just high enough to grab the ledge with one hand, letting go of his in order to haul herself up and over. Only a few seconds pass before her head peeks over with a smile, reaching down to offer him her hand. It's a simple enough endeavor to assist in lifting him up as well, easily out of sight of that lingering guard that would likely make another round through the grounds. A huff of effort is all she spares once they're both on even footing again, lithe fingers immediately finding his-- as if she'd hated even the scant seconds they'd been apart. She had, of course, but there's no reason to voice it. "I can see why students attempt to frequent this area." It's private, moonlight casting long shadows across the stone floors; there's stairs that lead upwards from what she can spot, but even here has a beautiful view of mostly clear skies. "This is... a first for me. I had no interest in exploring, initially." Well.. "At least, not until you came along." A light chuckle follows, brow arched as she glances over at him. "Fortunate, am I not?"

@laslow

[laslow]

Embarrassment floods him; he averts his gaze, face hot. "Don't laugh!" This is supposed to be special! Romantic! Not a failure before it's even begun!

Light fingers tap along his shoulder, the only warning he gets before she pulls him along. Laslow follows willingly, as he so often does. There's never any hesitation on his part. Perhaps it's a little pathetic--he just wants to be wherever she is.

He releases her hand with no small amount of reluctance. Lips part in surprise as she disappears over the wall, pulling herself up with the same ease he flips through the air during a dance. Nel's smiling face pops into view; he grins back on instinct, all incredulity and love and incandescent joy.

Their palms connect again; gravity momentarily abandons him, and then he's once more at Nel's side. "Well," Laslow says, breathless, "I never realize quite how strong you are!" He entwines their fingers with a little laugh. "Thank you."

He gives an absent nod. For once, he's not paying attention to their surroundings. Moonlight casts Nel in shades of silver and blue. She looks ethereal; something out of a fairy tale, glowing from within.

Her gaze turns expectant, the echoes of her laugh fading around them, and he realizes she's asked him something. "Ah, forgive me, my darling! Can't blame me for getting distracted when you look like a painting." His voice grows softer. "Lady Fate has smiled upon both of us, indeed. Shall we?"

It's his turn to lead her; with measured steps, they ascend the staircase. Empty tree branches stand watch beyond the windows, hiding Laslow and Nel away from the world. They emerge onto the rooftop a short while later, the low railing surrounding it offering them a nearly unobstructed view of the Academy grounds.

"Typically, I'm no fan of heights, but I don't mind this," he comments, though he does stick close to Nel's side. Just to ease that flicker of anxiety curling in his stomach.

Nerves of a different origin turn his palms clammy. He swallows them down, hoping she can't feel the way his pulse has quickened. "Ah, Nel....there's something I'd like to ask you."

Laslow faces her fully, briefly catching her eyes before settling on staring at the space between her eyebrows. "You are someone I've grown to cherish deeply. You're compassionate, witty, kindhearted...and rather strong, heh," he adds, if only to dispel his nerves. "That is, my heart dances whenever we're together, and it would be foolish if I never told you the depth of my feelings. After all, who knows what tomorrow shall bring, eh?"

Laslow pauses. Breaths deep. He's come this far without incident. "...I'm sure you've heard rumors of my, ah, flirtatious nature, but I assure you, my feelings are nothing compared to those shallow endeavors. Dearest Nel, would you be my girlfriend?"

[laslow]

Mysterious. Unsettling. Unexplained.

Everywhere Laslow went, a heavy weight like a stone would bear down upon his shoulders. A sharp poke of eyes would drill into him from afar with insidious and demonic pressure. Though there was no fog to be found, a smog of death-dealing miasma was imaginable nonetheless, bogging the air with thickness and cold as if a ghost full of vengeance had attached itself to the young man without hope of exorcism.

And a ghost would be right. Every time Laslow should turn, these same forces would be nowhere seen or felt, only to resume in full force the moment he swiveled around anew. Every time he spoke to Nel, all paranormal energy would flare as if with the fury of a thousand curses and spirits.

The source? But a single Fell Dragon glaring absolute death at him from behind a pillar. Seeming not to want for flowers but for a sacrifice to sate his bloodlust.

A sacrifice named Laslow.

Laslow first notices a prickling on the back of his neck after emerging from one of the moving picture rooms. He thinks it's a side effect, at first; seeing something real, something tangible, but not quite.

Yet the feeling persists long after he's left the room. A quiet dread builds; the anticipation of danger burns just underneath his skin. It's an instinct he's learned to never ignore after a lifetime of fighting. But when he turns around, there's no evidence of a threat. Just an invisible, mounting fear that makes his hair stand on end and his fingers itch for a sword hilt.

He sets aside his cup of tea, appetite ruined in the face of these unexplainable nerves. He should check on Soleil. Make sure she's okay, that no harm has befallen her. Then all his loved ones--in fact, he should patrol the entire ballroom, see if he can discover the source of this unease.

"Nel," he says, voice a touch shaky. "Excuse me a moment? I think I need to, ah, freshen up."

Or find a weapon.

[laslow]

[ SPOTLIGHT ] - One of the lights in the main hall is mistakenly left operational—and its angle readily adjustable. Set up for an impromptu performance of your own, or play the world's most extra wing-man by making a friend the center of all attention. ৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻)

He's distracted by the butterflies. A few of them have remained in the main hall, floating on imaginary wind currents, their illusory wings leaving a faint afterimage with every flap.

Something about it captures his imagination--he could create a dance to emulate them, he thinks, with the proper costume. A silk scarf or two, in a light blue. It would require precise timing and careful control of the material, to ensure nothing tangles or flutters too soon. Still, with enough practice, the result would be beautiful.

Lost in the half-formed choreography, he begins spinning lazily, following the butterflies. He hops from one foot to the other, half turning as he does, the way the creatures give stuttered turns as they float higher--

Blinding light arrests him mid arm raise. Laslow pauses, blinking at the sudden intrusion. Heat immediately flushes his face. "Hah, caught in the act!"

He squints in the direction of the light, barely making out a familiar silhouette. "...Sneaky, Dorothea! Care to join me?"

[laslow]

[ SWEET BUN TRIO ] - Three delicious, bite-sized buns from Faerghus. The first bun is filled with sweet cream and topped with icing and a candied cherry. The second is a sweet roll filled with almonds, pecans, and dried cranberries and glazed with honey. The third is a bun sliced in half, filled with almond paste and whipped cream, dusted with powdered sugar on top.

she looks like she wants to say something, mouth abruptly opening and closing at least a few times now. there's something that's been weighing on her conscience for years at this point but—oh, never mind! bernadetta scurries up to him, shoves a familiar dessert into his arms, and bolts off in the opposite direction. (if a flower from her possession's been included with the sweet buns, then don't worry. she won't be missing it much.)

Cool glass seeps through his jacket as he leans against the window, chilling overheated skin. He sighs in relief, sinking further into the pane while the ball continues around him.

Laslow's so entranced watching a couple flawlessly execute the Ostian court dance he nearly misses the little mouse scampering up to him. A flash of purple hair, a plate shoved in his arms, a glimpse of wide eyes, and then Bernadetta is gone, lost amid the sea of sparkling gowns and royal suits.

"Thank you," Laslow whispers after her all the same. Smiling, he looks down at his newly acquired treats, stomach giving an anticipatory rumble.

But it's the flower tucked among them that catches his attention. The placement feels shy, as if the bestower wavered before including it. He's careful as he plucks it free, inhaling the sweet scent before tucking it reverently in his own bouquet. A shame he couldn't return the favor with a rose of his own; if Lady Fate smiles upon him, perhaps he'll stumble across Bernadetta later in the evening.

[laslow]

[ SWEET BUN TRIO ] - Three delicious, bite-sized buns from Faerghus. The first bun is filled with sweet cream and topped with icing and a candied cherry. The second is a sweet roll filled with almonds, pecans, and dried cranberries and glazed with honey. The third is a bun sliced in half, filled with almond paste and whipped cream, dusted with powdered sugar on top.

Laslow needs a snack. Definitely more water, if the slight pounding at his temples is anything to go by.

He'd had enough champagne to feel pleasantly buzzed, the world just a little fuzzy around the edges, and he's been dancing long enough to earn a burn in his calves.

Blinking, he stares at the table, waiting for all the treats spread along it to come back into focus. Water. Right. He's here for water, first and foremost. There's a pitcher near his left hand; his movements are a little uncoordinated, a far cry from his usual grace. But he manages well enough, only spilling a few droplets onto the tablecloth below as he pours a glass.

The first sip calms some of the ache. Soothes the scratchy feeling at the back of his throat. Laslow feels a little less off balance, at least, some of the fuzziness fading from his vision.

Movement catches in his periphery moments before a plate of sweet buns enters his line of sight. He follows the arm holding them and nearly blames the alcohol for making him see things. How did he not know Chrom is at the Academy?

"Milord Chrom!" Laslow chirps, belated, a wide grin splitting his face. "How're you? How's Ylisse?" His gaze drifts down to one of the sweet buns. "Mind if I steal one?"

[laslow]

[ FLOWER ARRANGEMENT ] Henry blinks. Yup, that's him for sure! Arranging some flowers, huh? A quick thrash of his hand in some form of a wave, and he jogs his way over. "Inigo! Didn't know you were around, nya ha! I've got a whooooole buncha flowers for you to add to your bouquet—!"

A rustle, and nearly all of Henry's orchids are dumped onto the table.

Staring at the mess of flowers and confused students gathered around, Laslow considers turning this into an impromptu seminar. And then he thinks of Nel, lost somewhere among the crowd, waiting for him to return and whisk her away for another dance.

A class on the intricacies of flower language will have to wait. He could turn it into a series of lectures, maybe, explore how different countries assign different meanings to the same flower--

That familiar cackle jolts Laslow from his thoughts. "Henry?! Thank you, but I..."

The orchids fall as if conjured by Henry's own magic, and Laslow finds himself searching for the distinct sound of ravens cawing as he blinks down at the mess before him.

One bloom in particular catches his eye--a dark purple stark among the lighter yellows and pinks. He picks it up, tracing a silk-soft petal before tucking it behind his ear. "Do I look dashing now?"

Grinning, he pushes aside some of the tulips in search of his own bouquet. One found, he tugs a rose free, handing it over with a flourish of his wrist. "Consider this a token of my appreciation!"

[laslow]

[ FLOWER ARRANGEMENT ] - No matter how many flowers you gather, your bouquet won’t look its best unless you have the skill to make it so. A couple of students have taken upon itself to imbue their peers with the knowledge of flower language and the art of flower arrangement, and as a result the garden has become something of a workshop.

A half-formed flower crown sits in front of him; chin propped in a hand, Laslow's fingertips drum against his cheek. "What do you think?" Should I add baby's breath, or is that too much, with the tulips?"

Laden with far too many bouquets--even by his standards--he'd opted for something different with the leftover blooms. He doesn't know the girl next to him, other than there's something vaguely familiar about her eyes. But she knows her way around flowers, evident in her quick fingers and the delicacy with which she crafts her own bouquet.

"I'm Laslow, by the way! Pleasure to meet you."

[fellsparks]

painting flowers for you

@laslow cont. from here

[fellsparks]

For many of the people she's indulged with a dance, her concentration had remained focused on each and every step. Avoiding bumping feet, ensuring that her partner's pace was suitable for the movements she leaned into, judging their enjoyment of the matter-- with him, there's no need for any of it. His guidance and his flow are effortless, a perfect contrast to her own strength and habits; testament to his skill, yet also a testament to their own bond. This bond is not forged by tempered steel and the stench of salty iron on the battlefield. It's far gentler, far more personal, and interesting in the way that they can seemingly predict the other's adjustments. Had she grown up in a lifetime of peace, perhaps her friendships and allies would be forged in a manner similar to this. When his hand rests on her cheek, it only makes sense to lean into it, breaking out into a smile with no hesitation. He's warm, bright, brilliant in all the ways that the lights from the ballroom are-- but there's no light strong enough to drown him out, even as it tinges part of his hair in a muted yellow. (Absently, in the back of her mind, she suddenly understands why he chose the name Soleil for his daughter. It seems it runs in the family.) "Flatterer," Nel mumbles as she feels his thumb pass over her lip. Anything eloquent and put-together has long since left her mind, all attributed to the fact that there's only one thing she can properly think of-- the press of his lips against her own. Her arms wrap around him more tightly, pulling him in, almost as if she believes he'll disappear the second that the two of them part. She has some sense of decorum, though. Breaking away is a hard task, breath coming in shallow bursts as it's accompanied by a laugh. "How convenient for you, then. I intend to have no other with me- reserved for you and you alone." Those implications are deeper than surface-level, easily seen in the way her gaze averts for the briefest of seconds. "As for yourself... devilishly handsome. Consider me surprised you have not been accosted for dance after dance; I may begin to get jealous after a point." As if. The sparkle in her eyes says as much, their noses bumping together. She'll remember to give him one of her roses later; she thinks it'll compliment his hair nicely.

@laslow

[laslow]

Laslow hums softly in agreement. Flatterer is the least of his sins; he'll wear that title like a badge of honor.

Cool air fills the scant inches between them. Laslow leans in, missing her warmth, the pressure of her lips against his. Her laugh sparks a breathless one of his own. How did he get so lucky? What twist of Fate brought him here, to this exact moment?

Reserved for you and you alone. Laslow blinks, smile falling away as his lips part in shock once the words fully sink in. Nel can't meet his gaze, like even she's taken aback by the promise lacing her words. He's too slow to turn her attention back to him; she recovers far faster than he, already moving on with a compliment that sends pink along his cheeks.

He knows she's teasing--they both have friends and loved ones to spent time with. Still, he understands her sentiment.

"Oh, didn't you hear?" He replies, voice low, guiding her into a lazy turn. "My dance card's full. This beautiful, beautiful woman named Nel claimed all my open spots." Their noses brush; he presses a kiss against hers, hoping it'll earn him a laugh.

The song inside ends. Laslow continues moving them in a slow four-step, ears pricked as he waits for the orchestra to start up again. A lonesome violin rings out; he counts the measures, grins a little as the rest of the instruments join in. "One more waltz? I'm not ready to head back quite yet."

[laslow]

[ MINT CANDY ] - For when your breath isn’t as fresh as newly-fallen snow.

"Oh, hello, Raven! Fancy meeting you....here...." Laslow trails off, squinting at the mint candy. Sheesh, is there some kind of conspiracy going on around here? Does he really smell that bad? Surely someone would have told him by now--kindly pulled him aside, told him to go freshen up. Not play mind games with a damn piece of candy!

One hand curls on his hip, fingers bunching the fabric of his jacket. "You're the second person to offer me one of these tonight," he says in a clipped tone. "I'm starting to think people are trying to tell me something."

The forced levity falls flat; he's not trying to take anything out on Raven, and after their initial misunderstanding, Laslow has come to respect the guy. But still. "So give it to me straight, Raven. Am I offending everyone's sense of smell?"

[peerlessscowl]

What?

Raven's features twisted into a grimace, frowning his confusion at the immediate offense taken by the relatively harmless gesture. Laslow had proven himself to be a generally pert and optimistic man, but if his confidence was so easily shaken by a piece of candy, Raven had to wonder how he had become so terribly self-conscious.

"Are you joking? There are bowls of them everywhere, for everyone to eat. I guess you've been employed at this Academy longer than I was a student, so you would know better than me whether or not they would deliberately leave something out for their guests to insult one another."

Raven withdrew the offer, taking the mint into his own mouth and fitting it between back molars with a quiet little clack. He sucked on it contemplatively for a moment, considering Laslow through narrowed eyes before shaking his head with a sigh, and turning on his heel to walk away.

"I can't speak for the other person, but mine was merely a greeting. Perhaps you should check with them as well, before someone else does you the same grievous injury."

[laslow]

Groaning, Laslow drags a hand down his face. He's just being oversensitive in the wake of that jerk's actions. "I'm sorry, Raven. This other person...I've spoken to him enough for the next year."

He lets out a hollow laugh. "No, no, the insults are purely driven by personal issues." How shameful of him, allowing one bad interaction to color his entire evening! He has plenty of wonderful things to focus on, like his date (his date!) and his little girl and all the friends he's made over the years.

And, of course, the dancing.

"Wait, before you go--" Laslow tugs a rose free from his bouquet and gallantly holds it out to Raven. "Perhaps I'll see you on the dance floor, eh?"

[laslow]

[ YLISSE ] - The successor of the Archanean minuet, this waltz suits modern Ylissean tastes with easy-to-learn steps, a faster pace, and a closeness to your partner that continues to scandalize the older generations in Ylisse

"My, my, Lady Camilla, you are as radiant as ever!" Laslow grins as his hand slides into hers. "Purple is such a lovely color on you."

It is tradition to share a waltz with Camilla; he looks forward too it, though he'd never tell her. "Say," he lowers his voice, ducking his head a touch closer to hers, "did I see you with Niles earlier? A romance blooming right under my nose!"

He shakes his head with a laugh. "He won't come stomping over here in a jealous rage, hm?"

Laslow casts a dramatic look over his shoulder without missing a beat, secretly relieved when he doesn't spot a thunderous looking assassin bearing down on him. "Heh, and that's all my teasing for the evening."

The music swells for one final turn, and then he's bowing deeply to Nohr's princess. Once he's upright, he tugs a rose free from his bouquet. "For you, my lady."

[laslow]

[ MINT CANDY ] - For when your breath isn’t as fresh as newly-fallen snow.

"Oh, hello, Raven! Fancy meeting you....here...." Laslow trails off, squinting at the mint candy. Sheesh, is there some kind of conspiracy going on around here? Does he really smell that bad? Surely someone would have told him by now--kindly pulled him aside, told him to go freshen up. Not play mind games with a damn piece of candy!

One hand curls on his hip, fingers bunching the fabric of his jacket. "You're the second person to offer me one of these tonight," he says in a clipped tone. "I'm starting to think people are trying to tell me something."

The forced levity falls flat; he's not trying to take anything out on Raven, and after their initial misunderstanding, Laslow has come to respect the guy. But still. "So give it to me straight, Raven. Am I offending everyone's sense of smell?"

[heriteur]

[ 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.

"I couldn't help but notice the person accompanying you... Lady Nel, hm? A good match."

Diamant stands at the edge of the ballroom with one hand in his pocket, his other fiddling with the clasp that held his cape in place. He smiles to the man next to him, both intrigued and delighted by the unexpected relationship development.

"She's strong, compassionate, sharp..." A chuckle, "Certainly one to keep you on your toes. I figure just about as much as that dancing you love so much."

@laslow

[laslow]

Breathless, Laslow adjusts the star headpiece valiantly trying to keep his hair in place. It's more decoration than function, at this point, but he loves it all the same.

Already pink cheeks darken a shade further. "Ah, yes, I have been blessed by Lady Fate herself." He returns Diamant's grin and resists the urge to scan the dance floor for Nel. They'd lost track of each other at some point--dragged away by friends and the allure of the ball itself. They'll find their way back to one another eventually.

"Do you know her?" Come to think of it, they hadn't much discussed their friends. Too caught up in figuring this new....thing between them. "Heh, most definitely. She's incredible, truly. A little intimidating, truth be told, but I think she's one of the kindest people I've ever met."

A little sigh. He really should steal her away for another dance or two. But curiosity wins out; playful, he nudges Diamant's shoulder with his own. "And what of you, Diamant? Are you here with a date?"