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

fashionably!!!!

[elegiaque]

Gwenaëlle has never been the most subtle woman in the world (and it's unlikely that she ever will be), so the way that she brightens upon realising who she's come upon is unmistakable even with the upper half of her face disguised by moonstone and ivory. She's a far cry from the cold, damp, businesslike thing she'd been when they met at the rift, though even there it'd been obvious enough to a familiar eye that there was money behind the sturdy, practical clothing she'd worn into combat.

“Brienne,” she returns the greeting, delighted, snagging her elbow when her hand is not in immediate evidence. “You'll dance with me.”

This seems like it should be a question, and yet: it isn't.

[servility]

In truth, Brienne had precisely zero intention of further dancing. In fact, she's only attending as long as seems necessary to satisfy the 'mandatory' part of the event. But all at once she finds she's been commandeered onto the dance floor (in Gwen's defense, Brienne hardly resisted), and she may as well take it in stride.

"I don't seem to have much choice in the matter," she says, the faintest quirk of her lips indicating good humor rather than genuine complaint, as she escorts the smaller woman out onto the dance floor.

It's only once they turn to face one another that it seems to occur to her that she's not relegated to the stifling role of 'follower', and she pauses for just a moment, shifting gears. Then a hand lifts to await her partner's, the other boldly finding Gwen's waist.

"I've not led in quite a few years," Brienne says now, "So I can't promise this won't end in disaster." But she'll do her very best.