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

[aenseidhe]

[ iorveth's bright green eye never leaves thranduil as he's pulling free from the garment, only pausing to tilt his head towards gwenaelle with a chuckle once his chest is bare, a mischievous but satisfied smirk there. ]

A year here and I've not yet seen you in real combat, you know that?

[ thranduil's been on missions, and iorveth has, and they've sat around in his bedroom and talked war stories and strategy and battlefield tactics, but iorveth's not actually witnesses the man's skill itself. only dreamed of what he might look like, all deadly elegance and icy violence, beautiful and terrifying, in the way natural disasters are.

by the sharp grin that pulls at his lips, it's clear iorveth is requesting to see that now.

fight him. fight him fight him fight him. pretty pretty please. ]

[elegiaque]

( few things are nearly so handsome to gwenaëlle as thranduil (and iorveth) doing as she bids, so she is more than pleased with this development; catches iorveth's discarded shirt and drapes it around her shoulders. he may or may not get it back, but she suspects he wouldn't mind—partly his affection for her and partly his disinterest in fine things, both. another day, she might allow also the thought iorveth might like her in his things nearly so much as thranduil does, but


they are still learning the precise lines over which they don't dance, now. that is probably one of them. )

No blood, ( she says, swiftly, translating iorveth's request as quick as he makes it. ) And not the face. I need that. For things.

[rowancrowned]

[ the rotation of the sword slows, rather than stops, and then it is laying, blade flat across his outstretched palms, bladed edge towards thranduil. the look on his face has shifted from hunger edged with lust to—solemnity. calculation. he adds on to gwenaëlle’s demands with a few of his own. ]

Practice swords, in the training yard. We fight to the yield, one round.

[ it won’t last long. iorveth might be able to drag it out, even as they’re playing and iorveth is high, and this is less courtship and more—thranduil isn’t sure what to call it. ]