A Party

[Cracker 4570]

The splatter of appetizers against a hard wood floor brought a sense of relief to Siegmund Carrion. People, even if they were dark elf servants, could still make errors without immediately cast out of the noble game. As Tanith picks up after herself, her mention of Lady Chivay brings a curious look to Siegmund. He stalks out the dance floor, eyeing the pair of Lorin and Aureas. The brief pause of music by Lord Blackmont's appearance brought Siegmund great satisfaction as the pair cut their dance short. He keeps to himself, noting an approaching Borric Tyrus but making no effort to speak up to the knight of Oren.

 

Siegmund's cold gaze simply darts between his liege lord Blackmont and the young Chivay girl, awaiting  the time to speak with either.

[Urahra 5780]

A sudden chill comes over Lorin, as if the temperature in the room suddenly dropped five degrees. She looks away from Aureas, glancing around the room curiously. Finally, her eyes land on Siegmund, who lurks at the edge of the dance floor. Between his black clothes and dark hair, he blends almost perfectly in with the shadows. "Excuse me, Aureas. Thanks for th' dance," she says, turning back to Aureas and giving the Rose soldier a smile. "It made me feel a lot better." She glances back toward the old man who had somehow made the entire band stop playing for a brief moment. From across the dimly lit room, she couldn't quite tell who it was, but she had a niggling feeling. And if it really was the person she suspected it was, he had some nerve to show up at her party. The last time she'd seen him, half his face was concealed under a red bandanna while he ordered his men to stab her friend's eye out.

 

Curtsying to Aureas, she turns and heads toward the edge of the dance floor to where Siegmund lurks. In all that black, he looked like he'd be more at home at a funeral than at a party. He looked gloomy and cold as usual. It irritated her a little. Siegmund had never struck her as the type of man who enjoyed parties, but the least he could do was make an effort to look cheerful. Maybe wear a color other than black for once. Lorin sighs inwardly. There was no altering Siegmund's character, it seemed. Despite all this, Lorin puts on a kind smile and offers her hand to the glum looking man in black. "I'm glad you came. I didn't think you would," she says. He looked a bit like he'd just woken up and washed his face - like he hadn't really made an effort to clean himself up for it. Maybe he hadn't intended to come and it was a spur of the moment choice. Who could tell with him?

 

Sighing over the state of her platter of hors d'oeuvres, Tanith takes the heavy crystal bottle of Vodka and strolls into the feasting hall. Approaching the Chivay table, she sets it down in front of Thomas's place setting and heads back downstairs toward the kitchen. The hired servants buzzed about, carrying goblets of wine up and down the staircase. The food was being kept hot in the kitchen until it was time to serve. Tanith had to worry a bit. The feast had to be massive to feed the swarms of guests, so she'd had to work on preparing it all well ahead of time. Still, she worried it would get cold before dinner came around. There was still a little time before the food was to be served and she had to keep it good and hot til then. 

 

Turning to one of the servants, she says, "Start bringing the food up into the feasting hall. I suspect we'll be eating dinner in a few minutes and the last thing I want to do is keep these people waiting." The servant nods. Motioning over a few other servants, he picks up a platter of food and begins carrying it up the stairs. Tanith dumps the ruined hors d'oeuvres in the nearby trash bin and sets the platter down. Tonight was going to be a very long night.

[Knightei 318]

Borric carries on his way to Seigmund. He noticed his averted eyes, 'Was he hiding something?' he wondered...

Then Borric turned to see a woman, in a black and yellow dress approach his cousin. She could only be Lorin Chivay. That last few yards he approached from behind Lorin, then looks at Seigmund and tilts his head.

His black beard cracks open, and words issue from his mouth "Hail Cousin. Miss Chivay." He nods swiftly to Lorin, then turns to Seigmund again, "Lord Blackmont is becoming a more common sight, especially in our lands. Care to elaborate?" He stands, holding his ale low in one hand, the other at his side.

He seemed to look similar to Seigmund, both with the same black hair, but Borric was the Beast whereas Seigmund was the Man. Borric was taller than Seigmund, and larger in build, his hair longer, more shaggy. He also possessed a beard, a full one at that. Even the dress reflected this, Borric also wearing black, like his cousin, but it being less fine, the boots and lower trousers being mud-splattered, a leather vest covering his chest.

The other defining thing about Borric was his eyes. One a deep and dark blue, with a large and bushy black brow above it. The other however, was a stark contrast. The Entire right eye was milky white, the skin around it scarred, as if burned. But not quite. The brow above the Milky eye was burnt off, a few scraggy hairs poking out of the tissue.

((Edit: Replaced a word with its synonym: Tilts, due to the filter )).
 

[Urahra 5780]

Lorin looks over her shoulder as the much taller man appears behind her. At just a little over five feet tall, most people (men especially) towered over her. Though she was not tall and stately like some of the fashionable women of society, Lorin liked to think she had her own charms. Her face was round and youthful and her figure full and curvy. While it would have been nice to have long, elegant legs, Lorin was more than happy with how she was. Still, it was a pain to have to tilt her head back to look at everyone.

 

"You're Siegmund's cousin?" she asks, leaning her head back to get a better look at the tall, sturdily built man. "Pleased t' meet ya. So that's Lord Blackmont over there aftah all, huh?" She looks back toward the old man chatting near the door, her nose wrinkling in disgust. "I wonder why he decided to show up here, of all places..."

[Knightei 318]

Nods at Lorin again, grinning faintly "I'm a Carrion cousin alright..." he also glances over at Lord Blackmont then speaks "I have no clue miss why he's here... I'd prefer him in a graveyard." Borric then looks down at Lorin,and goes to look her up and down, taking in her cut of clothing, physical build and how how face expresses. All of that is done out of habit. He then shakes his head, looking at Seigmund

[Coaster 2086]

The Lord of the Dreadfort once had a booming voice, thunderous and commanding. Now the guard adjacent to him had to crane his neck, straining to hear what the man had said. The various minor nobles directly next to him automatically lowered their voices as he spoke - it was no less eerie or threatening then the sharp contrast of his speech in his younger years. The man nodded once, uttered a low "m'lord", and paced towards his objective. 

 

The guard was of average build, especially distinguishable in his uniform, bearing the flayed man upside down. Before Lord Blackmont had "recruited" him he had been a poacher, even now nothing more then a commoner. Yet he walked with an arrogance and kept his head high in a confidence that few others in the gathering could hope to match. After a few moments, he reached the man he sought. The low born guard impudently grabbed at Lord Siegmund Carrion's shoulder, shaking him for his attention with unnecessary roughness. He jerked his head back to Lord Blackmont - who had taken to opening his fists and closing them again while staring intently at a knight. The guard kept his hand clamped tight onto Lord Carrion's shoulder as he whispered his message, finishing with a hiss. Promptly, he released his grip and made his way back to Augustus Blackmont, who now appeared to have fallen asleep while standing.

[Urahra 5780]

Lorin's eyes widen as the guard seemingly appears from the crowd and starts viciously shaking Carrion's shoulder for attention. Her pleasant smile fades immediately, her hands curling into balls. She glares severely at the guard as he strolls off back toward his master. "Wot was that!? How rude!" she exclaims, nose wrinkling with obvious displeasure. "I have half a mind t' go over there and tell 'im t' stop ruinin' my party!"

[Cracker 4570]

Siegmund took the young lady's hand with a penchant of relief. He wasn't quite sure how Lorin Chivay viewed him; a fatherly figure, an emotional anchor, a haggard man aged mentally beyond his physical years, or a true suitor. But her notice of his attendance made him confident it had to have been -something-, over the rotten corpse she had called him days ago. Borric had approached the Lord Carrion, but once more he failed to address Borric's inquiry of their liege Blackmont in lieu of making discourse with Lady Chivay.

 

"I could not refuse Lord Chivay's request for my attendance; no, that would be improper of friend and ally. It is good to see you as well."  

 

Siegmund took in Lorin's outfit with relative pleasure. With a touch of red, her outfit would have matched the colors of Carrion, and her figure was only accented by the form of the dress. He felt that he paled in comparison; he had only worn a clean set of charcoal black robes which made the pair look of opposite nature. Before Siegmund could continue to address her further, Borric had finally made comment which had forced Siegmund to react.

 

"I have no clue miss why he's here... I'd prefer him in a graveyard." 

 

"Borric, you speak ill of my liege. I cannot tolera-."

 

It seemed Lord Carrion chose his words well, as the bold Blackmont guard had grabbed hold of him, quickly murmuring into his ear. He didn't mind the act in itself, but insult laid in the man's rank; a lowborn acting in brash nature had nearly brought Siegmund to annoyance. However, Siegmund knew Lord Blackmont all to well; he made his decisions clear for a reason, and the pale Carrion made faith that his liege did what was right, even if not fair. Siegmund quickly revealed a sealed letter and handed it to the bodyguard, who returned back to a slumbering lord.

 

Turning to Lorin, the young Baron quickly remarked

 

"You must get used to Lord Blackmont. Challenging him will only bring further displeasure. Though, I hadn't clue this was your party. Unless you enjoy Carrion vodka, I have no gift for lady of honor."

 

He makes an expression of displeasure, hoping for the Lady's pardon.

[meg 1994]

Uthor smiles brightly down at Elene, the stress of doing his duties and others duties leaving his mind. The thoughts of the assaults of his family members and personal self from several elfs from another nation. One he wishes he could crush and burn but Elene keeping him from doing so with her "Hopes" of it being saved at the end, but that hope seemed to fade every day. He steps side to side moving as one With Elene his arms around he side holding her fairly close to him. The pains of the past that drove him into a brief, yet changing dark rage induced insanity spree, of the innocents he killed only him knowing of it, due to no survivors, his code he broke, and the pain he had caused. These thoughts usual gave him headaches and made him easily mad. But while he was with Elene, and having her in his arms, nothing seemed to bother him. Not even as he sees the old, worn out August Blackmont previously flay come into the Manor eyeing people down. He just continues to smile and chuckle as he takes a step back attempting to twirl Elene around a bit not a care in the world for the utter bullshit that continuously comes to his doorstep. As he does so he speaks to Elene as they dance."Surpised one with yer past knows how to dance, who knew an ol' work-o'-Holic Elven Princess, who was the sole reason her nation had any good thin's with oren could dance so well?" He Chuckles as he either waits for her reply or simply continue to dance

 

Elene looks up to him, a wide grin on her face. "I found time, besides, I think that part of me is gone...and I kinda like it that way..."

[Urahra 5780]

Lorin sighs, waving off Carrion's remark as though it were an irritating bug. "It's fine. It's nice that you showed up. Though you could look a little less grim. Wearin' all black wiff that gloomy expression on your face -- it looks like you're at a funeral, not a party! No sour faces are allowed here, so says th' lady of honor." Lorin huffs in mock indignation, pouting up at him. "I'll have to figure out what it takes to make you smile more. So far, you only smile when you're laughin' at me an' that's no good." With that, she turns to Borric, her hands on her hips. She tilts her head back, looking up at him with a steady, penetrating gaze.

 

"You must know somethin' about your mysterious cousin," she says, gesturing to Carrion. "Seein' as you're family an' all. What's it take to make this fellow happy?"

[Knightei 318]

Borric stares at Seigmund intently, "I speak ill of a man who has betrayed our nation and who's men flout our rules. His men was the reason my face was hidden for eight long years of healing. You have been here for a year at most. You have missed a lot cousin." Borric shakes his head and looks to Lorin, his annoyance seeping from his very pores, his muscles tense.

"And Miss Chivay, I have no clue what makes Baron Carrion happy, I have known him for a lower amount of time, or even at that, not as well as you miss. I have more pressing matters normally than my family, such as Duty." Borric chuckles slightly, his body un-tensing and anger dissipating  for this occasion he would do what he wants, with his duty allowed to be put aside for once. He then shrugs "And even then, family is something I haven't had for the majority of my life. I was born on the streets, raised a peasant and fought my way to my position, the knowledge of family was absent."

Borric then thinks on what to add to specifically make Seigmund happy, but Borric simply didn't know Seigmund well enough, the only thing he would know Siegmund would like is something all men would, but even then, he was dubious about this. His family were Soldiers, brothers Knights, and his father Duty.

"I truely know not what Seigmund likes, 'owever, I wouldn't mind a dance, so miss, will you honour me with one?"

[Urahra 5780]

Lorin glances briefly over Tyrus, taking in the details of his appearance. He stood very tall over her and he was very stout - built like a warrior for certain. One could also not help but notice the thin, flaky layer of grime that seemed to cover him. Still, despite his poor hygiene, Borric's candor was a bit refreshing. He too seemed to have a coarse sort of accent, which made Lorin feel less uneasy about her own. She smiles up at the larger man. "I'd be more than happy to dance with you," she replies.

The looming shadow of Carrion once again catches her eye, though. The knowledge that he was one of her suitors seemed to hang around him like a fog. She seemed to recall Carrion mentioning once that he knew how to dance. The very least she could do was give him a chance to impress her. Her smile to Tyrus turns somewhat apologetic. She glances sidelong at Carrion. "Well, actually, I think I owe the Baron here a dance first, if he's interested. He's a friend of the Chivays, so I don't want to snub him. But the next song will definitely be yours, sir." She turns toward Carrion, looking up at him expectantly, and offers him her hand. "Well? Would you like to dance?"

[Knightei 318]

Borric nods courteously to Lorin, and smiles slightly "Of course miss, I'm a terrible dancer anyway and I'm sure my cousin could use the cheering up." He grins at Seigmund, due to his new situation and turns, starting to walk off, chuckling like a fool. 'Seigmund will dislike that for certain, both the forced dance and the words I had for his 'Liege' - a curse upon him -, but nevertheless, now to seek new company. One that posses people I know and people who can find joy in life. And Drinking.'
 

Borric takes a drink of his tankard again, frowning as it empties. He swiftly goes to replace it, then wanders off into the crowd.
 

[Cracker 4570]

Siegmund observes the discourse between Borric and Lorin with a glum expression. His first encounter with Borric had his uncle dub him "Baby Borric" and the name still held fit. Lord Carrion had some respect in how  the un-legitimatized Carrion crawled his way out of the streets of whores and beggars into prominence, yet Borric Tyrus' notions of romanticized duty and the knights as childish was nigh intolerable. His constant complaints of his liege and idealistic nature of Oren had made Siegmund view the bear as a mere cub.

 

Yet, the "brat" held his worth and Siegmund could find no reason to dismiss the bear. The chatter between Lorin and Borric seemed as a haze, banal talk of Oren's court. There wasn't much room for Siegmund to butt into the conversation. However, Borric's proposal to dance had unsettled Siegmund. While his introverted nature brought discomfort to such public courting, there were signs that patience in courting did not have the same affect as patience in the battlefield. Could he lose this battle? Luckily for his frame of mind, Lorin decided to ask him over Tyrus.

 

Lorin's request quickly confused him. "Owe a dance?" What did that even mean, thought Siegmund. The poor Carrion spent moments simply contemplating the context of the phrase, giving a brief pause in the flow of conversation.

 

"I would enjoy dance. But how could I let other man take the last dance with Lady Chivay? That is poor courting, no?"

 

Carrion's words drawl out in his traditional accent. He takes Lorin's hand nonetheless, awaiting response.

[Urahra 5780]

Lorin draws his arm around her waist and plants it on the small of her back. "It's just dancing. It doesn't mean much," she says, placing her now-free hand on his shoulder. "No need t' take it so seriously." Looking around the ballroom, Lorin could see several couples dancing who weren't even courting. Some women danced with men who weren't their husbands. Some men twirled women who weren't their wives. It was nothing but a harmless diversion, after all - a social activity and that was all. Carrion's hand on the small of her back felt more than a little uncomfortable, but Lorin resolved to ignore it. Carrion had never seemed too shy about touching her. Lorin wouldn't forget how he'd suddenly embraced her in the basement of Sarkozy's mere days after they'd met. If by some twist of fate he became something more than just another hapless suitor, she'd have to get used to him touching her anyway.

Taking his other hand, she gently tugs him toward the dance floor with the other couples. The bards had begun to strum their lutes again, filling the hall with a pleasant melody. "You know this step, don't you? You lead, you're th' man," she instructs him, carefully falling into step with the other couples on the floor. "And don't you dare step on my feet."