closed.

[exequy]

WHO: Caspar, Kostos, Lakshmi, Lexie, Marisol, Nell, Nikos, Petrana
WHAT: Coming into a Merchant Prince's house, on the day his daughter is to be married, and asking him and all his friends to quit with their stupid neutrality. Plus Truth or Dare.
WHEN: Mid-Harvestmere
WHERE: Antiva City
NOTES: Will update with CWs if needed.

Comments

[exequy]

Kostos would like to be elsewhere, somewhere with fewer people, but barring that he wants to be near the people who are familiar—even only passingly familiar. He loses Nell and Marisol to the crowd, at some point, and Petrana to the dance floor, and that leaves his brother (no), his aunt and uncle (no), Alexandrie (with his brother, so no), and Lakshmi. He doesn't know her, but standing behind impressive women while they impress is familiar even if the woman in question isn't, and he winds up hovering nearby at the same approximate distance as a bodyguard, black-clad and silent.

Mostly silent.

"I'm sure she's lucky," he says into his wine glass, quietly but not quietly enough, "if she comes at all."

He's helping.

[shri]

He is not helping.

Which doesn't mean it's not hilarious, granted. The choke of laughter that bubbles up from around them. The immediate flustered Lord. She at the very least pauses, her face too blank to say that she's not laughing behind it. Right, time to get out of here before this got worse.

She rises, taking small steps underneath the long amounts of material that really aren't made for too much movement at once. Her hand lifts to indicate to him, to draw him close that he can lead her off. "I'm tired of sitting, are there gardens we might walk in?"

Get them out of here before they somehow offend a one day contact she might need.

[exequy]

For a moment Kostos looks at her hand like he isn't sure what it means, not because he doesn't actually know, but because he's currently more interested in goading her new friend into throw a punch than escaping to look at flowers and petulant about social customs in general besides.

But the moment passes, hastened along by a glance at the lord's pink face and a decision about what a short and anticlimactic fight it would be. And how much trouble he would be in. And how nice it would be, actually, to not be in this room anymore. So he comes close enough to offer her his arm.

There are gardens—not empty ones, with the size of the crowd, but the comparatively dim lighting and distance from the food and music mean they are at least more sparsely populated, and a significant portion of those there are very distracted by whomever they're there with.

"I should apologize," he says, which isn't the same as actually apologizing.

[shri]

"You should," is the affirmation, not letting him off the hook by simply saying he should. "But if you didn't something wretched, I would have next. He wants a rifter to be his whore no doubt because it is mysterious, but he doesn't risk his reputation with someone else's wife or sullying himself by fucking his household staff. So you spared him his life when I had to challenge on behalf of my honour."

It's a frank sort of assessment, but her voice doesn't rise and fall in ire. It is pleasant as remarking on the sky, smiling pleasantly at anyone that passed her by. The brief acquaintances she'd made so far. Her hand light, poised, careful with every gesture that communicates in its own way.

"But at least we're away from it now, thankfully. So that will do for now."