open | your baddest behavior

[cozen]

WHO: Alexandrie, Bastien, Byerly, and their captive audience
WHAT: Mandatory etiquette and dance lessons
WHEN: Justinian 15, 9:45
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: See the OOC post and IC announcement for more information! If you didn't sign up, you can still participate in Parts A and D, and just handwave the other two, without needing to sign up or get an assignment. If you want to do B and C, you can find your own dance partner/seating group OOC, or you can sign up now and we'll dole out new assignments if we get enough latecomers to do so. If you signed up and are missing from the lists when you shouldn't be, I'm sorry and please tell me!

disclaimer: event less fancy than pictured

Seating Assignments
— Table One: Gwenaëlle, Iorveth, Matthias, Athessa
— Table Two: Flint, Ilias, Darras, Med Seller, Yngvi
— Table Three: Julius, Thranduil, Anders, Brienne
— Table Four: Benedict, Colin, Valentine, Six, Derrica
— Table Five: Teren, Salvio, Bartimaeus, Osana
— Table Six: Freddie, Petrana, Kain, Merrill, Silver
— Table Seven: Yseult, Cosima, Steve, Inessa
— Table Eight: Sidony, Fifi, Nell, Fingon
— Table Nine: Thor, Nathaniel H., Solas, Skadi

Dance Partners
— Cosima & Nathaniel H.
— Athessa & Anders
— Teren & Flint
— Freddie & Bartimaeus
— Yseult & Darras
— Nell & Julius
— Merrill & Colin
— Skadi & Benedict
— Gwenaëlle & Solas
— Petrana & Salvio
— Osana & the Medicine Seller
— Sidony & Matthias
— Six & Thranduil
— Brienne & Valentine
— Fifi & Steve
— Thor & Fingon
— Ilias & Iorveth

Comments

[limier]

"Bracelets," Her brow lifts, elbow quirks toward mark. She's busy peeling off her own gloves. "For the palm."

Dangly. Fashionable. Or that was the plan — Ashara's been gone long enough, and while Yseult may have contributed to the venture, Wren suspects other priorities.

"Can you spot the others?"

The anchors. The privileges of authority may be short for this world, but she's been content to invoke them for a late arrival. A final tug: Something small crunches; leather pulls from knuckle, air from her teeth. Observation. Wasn't that the point of all this?

(A party. Other priorities, again.)

[radiosa]

Oh shit, a quiz, she doesn’t say.

“Ah,” she does say, which is basically the same thing.

A quiz, and a quiz from Commander Coupe—the first person she asked to have pointed out to her by her tour guide, because knowing a Templar was in charge here was one of the only reasons she hadn’t just cut her hand off the moment it began glowing.

(Don’t worry about the future. She’ll be fine.)

“My dance partner—the Medicine Seller,” she says, which is cheating, “and one of the men at my table,” which is also cheating, “and the tall woman.”

(Wait, she won’t be fine, she’s going to die of the quiz.)

She folds her own anchor into her fingers and drops her hand to her side, looking at Coupe’s gloves and then her face instead of at the crowd and its possible trove of unnoticed hands.

“It’s nice to meet you, Commander,” she says, which is a little bit trying to be polite, a little bit trying to get out of naming any additional anchor-bearers.