#small bell 1

[sayhwaet]

[Water ]

She ain't much a fan of fancy drinks. Too rich for her blood, as they say. Simple things make her happy, which is why she's content sippin' her water.

The crystal glass is a bit much.

A faint smear of the sticky lipstick she'd swiped on for this evenin' remains on her glass when she pulls it away. No matter; she was growin' tired of the tacky feelin' anyhow.

Calil's voice floats through her head unbidden. Lessons on bein' a lady or some such, includin' a lady always looks her best. Nephenee assumes that means makin' sure her makeup remains intact.

She turns to the closest person at her shoulder. "'Scuse--excuse me. Does my lipstick look messy?"

When Beowolf turns to see, there's already a grin forming on his lips- he knows that any talk of lipstick would inevitably turn to a) how easy it would be to remove, a task at which he was always happy to oblige, or b) how kissable it made the wearer appear.

The answer to which, as before, Beowolf was always happy to oblige.

But the sight that awaits him nearly causes him to jump - and he does flinch at the awful smear, a twitch of his hand that sent a splash of champagne to the hem of his teeshirt - but to his credit, rather than laughing, or worse, lying and leaving it be, he tucks his hand into the crook of her elbow and tugs her away from the lights of the floor and nearer to a quieter table.

"Crusaders on high, lady, you made a right mess o'yerself, dincha?" Steering her to a place where prying eyes would not follow, he nabs a glass of fresh water and a linen napkin. Dabbing a corner into the water, he sets to work at the delicate task of fixing this stranger's makeup.

"There," he says when the shape is presentable, if he does say so himself. Cocking his head, he finally allows himself a laugh. "Don't gussy up much, do you? Not that a pretty lass like yerself'd need it, hey?"

[blaiddllodi]

[ Sweet Bun Trio ] it's practically impossible to miss him in the crowd. he stands tall and proud, his presence princely as ever. her keen eyes miss nothing, catching every hushed whisper and giggle that trails in his wake.

best make her move now!

dorothea glides forward, delicately lifting the hem of her dress to avoid stepping on it. she approaches with a bright smile, quickly dipping into a small curtsey. "dimitri!" she says sweetly, "you look more handsome than ever. i didn't think that was possible." a gloved hand extends to offer a small dish, plated with a sweet bun that ought to be familiar to him. her eyes linger on dimitri, watching intently for a reaction. "would you care for a sweet? i've heard these are a specialty of faerghus'. " and then, a laugh. "i thought i'd swoop in now before all of your admirers snatch you away for the night. you'll save me a dance, won't you?" her bottom lip juts out ever so slightly, "why, i would simply be beside myself if i didn't get to dance with you at least once!"

He feels as though every step of his is being watched - they are, most likely, and isn't that his lot in life? is this not the performance that he must put on, tiresome as it was? - but never so obvious as the gentle tugs at his elbow.

A dance, Your Highness? A drink, Your Highness? Oh, Your Highness, you're looking quite pale, would you like to come and sit with me?

To hear his name is almost a relief, for at least he knows it comes from the mouth of a friend and not a wanting stranger.

He smiles at Dorothea's approach, though the gesture is tight in spite of himself. "Dorothea," he returns her greeting with a bow at the waist, rising and cocking his head. "You look lovelier than ever."

It's the sort of vapid greeting that he knows she is well acquainted with and he is not, but somehow it feels easier to practice the pretty nothings with someone like her, who means them exactly as much as anything else she says.

He inclines his head at her offering, an instinctive thanks, but the edges of his smile soften and become more sincere, lighting his eyes. "They are, yes! I do admit a fondness for them. Er. Perhaps you'd care to share one with me, then? Before my next dance?"

It is a plea as much as an offer.

The birds of prey ever circle.

[peerlessscowl]

[ Gossip ] - Sure, the majority of attendees tonight have donned masks, but that doesn't mean you can't have a delightful little chat about them all the same.

Oh, there was Raven. Though, as Sephiran thinks back, he had seen said student more often around the town recently than he would have expected. He had not said much then, given his own concerns at the time, but he could say something now. 

Could, being the keyword. It was somewhat embarrassing, having difficulty striking normal conversation after meeting in odd situations so often. 

“Good evening,” he begins, before trailing off. “...Have you been skipping class?”

//when you go to the town at around the same time:

There was a moment where he stiffed, that instinct that came from knowing that perhaps something was about to happen, though he knew not what would be coming for him. It wasn't necessarily that the clergyman was a harbinger of doom by his own merits, it just seemed that strange things happened to Raven whenever he was around.

After forcing himself to relax, he offered a nod in greeting, then furrowed his brow.

"Class...?" A beat. "Ah."

It had not occurred to him until that moment that he might have, at one point, been a visual staple for those who had moved around the monastery in their daily lives. He wouldn't have claimed to have been diligent about his facade, the playacting at being a young noble boy acquiring the education his parents had always wanted for him, but neither had he squandered the time there - attendance as unremarkable as the assignments he completed.

Nor had it occurred to him that he might have been noticed, or worse, missed?

He cleared his throat, looking away for a moment, before admitting. "I have...there have been some changes in circumstance. The Academy no longer counts Raymond of Cornwell as a student," he hedged, keeping the verbiage deliberately vague. Another beat, then a shrug. "I'm just a man now, I suppose. ...Sorry if that's concerned you."