The Ball was... beyond lovely. It reminded her of all the celebrations she had decided were worthless as a student. Yet, now, decked out in a new dress, one of many, and hidden behind her mask, Ilithyia finally allowed herself to smile. She could enjoy the evening without further worry. She and the twins would take care of the reconnoitering later; tonight was for socialization and re-imprinting herself on old teachers. Illy had nothing much to do but wander, greeting familiar faces. Whether they'd been friends or enemies in school, this was a masque; no one was themselves.

Tossing long hair behind her, Illy sipped at her sweet punch. As in school, she had planned ahead to be a wall flower. Her gown was of a soft cut, more feminine and glamorous than she would have picked for herself, and dove grey. At the shoulders and necking were silvery bits and small stones, and the dark sash sat high on her waist. It fit with the soft, gauzy grey and cream of her feathered mask; Ilithyia was a moon moth, complete with sickle moon pendant resting at her brow. Her hair was gathered in strange ways, mostly down but some braided sections looped this way and that. Nothing too gaudy or glitzy, and she in fact was quite subdued in comparison to many others.

Grinning at the looping and dancing couples, Ilithyia sipped her punch. She could dance a few, certainly, without feeling guilty. Nothing like a lovely swirl on the floor to get your blood going. Lightly setting the feathers on her mask straight, Illy stood a little straighter.

Hunter skirted around, hoping to catch Officer Lutgardis a little by surprise. Likely his field would give him away first. There was a little knot in his stomach and he couldn't figure out if it was his concern about the costume or something else.

The ensemble suited her, but it was something he would not have expected her to pick. Sure she had a good enough eye, but her sensibility had seemed more... self-conscious about her femininity.

Hunter noted the direction of her gaze.
"Thinking of having a go out there, Mistress Moth?"

Hunter had indeed taken her unawares; her thoughts drifted with each turn of the song, often coming back to her darker purposes for coming to Brunnhold. Heart lightened at the familiar voice, and not just a little surprised he had found her so quickly, Ilithyia turned to speak when she found herself totally speechless. A Chrove mask filled her vision, and a general from the darkest corner of nightmare decked in his finest was her questioner. It was highly stylized, and her eyes could pick between fashion and function, but it was still impressive. And... it was a uniform. Always nice.

Smiling, Ilithyia curtsied, trying to hide her momentary flush. It was so awkward being womanly. She preferred the androgynous bow of the Seventen.

"Yes, actually I was, Lord Chrove. I haven't danced in... oh, ages, really. It looked like it might be fun!" Her voice was shaded with self-concious amusement; she must look a fine sight indeed, trussed up and formal. The last time she'd seen the boy she had smelled strongly of Chrove and sweat, and she had acted less the lady. Now she was at the whim of social conduct and it felt quite strange.

"Why aren't you out there yourself, my Lord? Have to be plenty of lovely ladies to call upon such a striking figure as yourself." In it's own way, the question was asking why on earth would you choose to talk to me over them? There had been a blonde in a red mask that seemed close to Hunter's age; surely he'd prefer the company of a pretty girl.

"Ha-ha! I've already been brushed off twice tonight. Don't tell me you're to make it a third. It seems Lord Chrove is not in the popular mode. I think for some girls I'm just not high enough in the social scheme of things. Or it could just be that I've waited too long to get involved with my fellow students."

He held out his hand to her in a gallant manner.
"Perhaps you'd be willing to help me show them what they've turned down?"

His description hit a chord with Ilithyia. As an unpopular student in school, Illy had often been partnerless for dances, only attending so she wouldn't disappoint her mother's fancies, gowned in awfully ill-formed dresses. She had no political power, no real means or prospects save for interesting brothers. Memories of lonely dances, sitting stiffly on the floor as the happy laughing students passed her by made her heart ache with anger and sadness.

Placing her punch on the table, she smiled from under her mask and delicately inclined her head. Well, she could make up for it now, petty as it might be. It seemed somebody wanted to dance with her after all.

Smoothing her light dress, Illy wondered why he wanted it, anyway. Perhaps because she'd been kind... she knew she didn't compare to the other women, and even many of the girls were lovelier than she. "It would be my pleasure, my lord." She extended her hand. Oh well. She'd enjoy the dance no matter the motives behind it.

She was a beautiful woman, but there was definitely something sad and a little bit awkward about her. Hunter wondered if perhaps she had been snubbed as a student. The same things about her that he appreciated tended not to be appreciated by his peers. Likely it had been much the same when Ilyia was at Brunnhold. And she would have had the full ten year dose. Well, then. She was about due for some fun on the floor!

Hunter took her left hand in his and confidently escorted her into the dance. After a polite bow, he placed his right hand firmly on her shoulder. It was a formal stance, but one with which Hunter was comfortable. He led Ilyia through the motions with a firm touch, relaxing slightly once they had each others' measure. He wasn't certain of her dancing skills, so he figured a solid lead was best. If she wanted to try anything more than a basic step, he would be ready to adjust.

"I wasn't certain that you would be here. In fact I was a little surprised to find you. A most pleasant surprise to be sure."
He gave her a cheeky wink from behind the mask.
"You seemed not to want to visit this place the last time we spoke. I'm glad you reconsidered."

She was taller than him, but that was not unusual. He was used to adjusting for a higher center of gravity. An attentive partner, he found himself looking into her blue eyes. This was so much closer than their earlier encounter. Of course there was no big cat waiting to gobble him up if he made a mistake. The thought made him chuckle and brought the most sincere smile he had managed since the entire ghost incident.

"Heh. I wonder what Spondola would say if he saw us now."

Ilithyia was impressed by Hunter's very mature handling of the situation. She had met his bow with another curtsy, actual amusement now warming her smile. She didn't fight his lead, though it was a bit heavy to begin with he soon relaxed some of that firm control. He wasn't taking any chances; he was going to make sure this was a good dance, or at least it appeared so.

Keeping the gentle rhythm of the step, Ilithyia followed along with the smalltalk. "Aha, I wasn't too apt. A few... acquaintances had some business to take care of in Brunnhold, and I could offer them quality lodgings. And I wanted away from Vienda very, very badly." The dance took them through a turn, and Ilithyia managed to avoid brushing Hunter, in an attempt to keep things polite. "In fact, I'm taking a vacation from the grind of work. A ball sounded like just the thing."

Laughing, she suddenly tapped the Chrove mask lightly on the tip of one horn. "Besides, how else am I going to make sure you're keeping out of trouble?" She had to admit, it was nice seeing the boy again. She could be a little more relaxed around him.

"As for Spondola, I doubt his attention would veer away from the snacks and punch. Though I must ask, was this one of the reasons for your project, or did meeting Spondola inspire this number?" She nodded to the finery. His black Seventen was interesting, and politically volatile. But he was a student. He had time to get it out of his system.

Scuro and Chiaro arrived fashionably late, as they were both late and fashionable. They had come decked as their moas, with Chiaro in a gown of deep red, gold, and black and Scuro in a deep brown, trimmed with gold. They had left their hair down and wore feathers at the center of their hairlines. Combined with their masks, they were quite the sight to behold, even if their fields hadn't preceded them.

Scuro perused the offerings of company available in the Hall, and her eyes caught sight of their partner in crime, so to speak.

She nudged her sister in the right direction, communicating that they should wait for the two to finish their dance to speak to her.

Hunter relaxed into the dance. His partner was comfortable with the movements, so he had no need to guide excessively. He kept a solid frame for the steps and path.

"Project? Oh no. I suppose Spondola deserves credit for inspiring the mask. I may have gone a tad overdramatic on the costume interpretation though. Still, it's nice to draw notice for clothing that isn't rumpled or torn for a change."

The boy was used to wick dances, where there was usually a bit more flinging about of both one's body and one's partner. And considerably more physical contact. He was unfazed by the proximity under the circumstances and reflexively started to pull Ilyia closer as they sped through the turns.

"No, the project would have inspired a more gruesome costume... or a botanical theme perhaps."
Or perhaps a romantic theme which might have saved me from alienating Alisoina...
"Do you know there seems to be a substantial ghost population on school grounds?"
There was a manner of whimsy to the question's tone. As if he might ormight not be serious.

Illy smiled again, finding it hard to not to around the kid. He was so... refreshing, compared to the politicos and roughnecks of the Seventen. Better honest and lucky than lying and skilled any day... she found the direction her thoughts were heading but pushed them away. I love Al. Mostly. Maybe.

Mentally chastising herself for flightiness, Ilyia recalled a dip was coming up in the song and wondered what Fred would do. Whatever, I'll enjoy it. I love dancing. The student pulled her closer and she tried not to let her surprise (or the flush that threatened) come to her face. Well, she had been impeding some of the steps with her distance...

"Well, I for one think you're quite dashing when all finely done, Lord Chrove." She liked the titles; it was easier to banter and play socialite with the mask than the boy, easier to pretend this wasn't a school dance.

"And yes, there are ghosts everywhere here, fine sir. Brunnhold is older then memory, almost as ancient as The War of the Book. There's bound to be a few spirits lingering here and there..." She leaned closer with each statement, til she was whispering eerily into his ear, her fey nature pone to teasing. Somehow, it felt like tonight wasn't real, it was a mere simulacra of life and anything said or done wouldn't matter in the morning. So, she dared to dance closer, living up the feeling of having a partner who actually knew what he was doing on the floor.

He knew she was teasing. Under most circumstances he would simply have laughed it off and then made some cryptic reference to his own recent experiences. But Hunter wasn't quite his normal self this evening. The pressures under which he'd been living lately had pushed in upon him in such a way that he was more prone to relax to an equal extreme once it was possible to do so.

Hunter let her lean into him, into a more closed version of the dance. He used his shoulder to lead, confident that if she felt uncomfortable she would simply pull away and they would resume at a "safer" distance. It had been too long since he had danced with a woman so closely. The softness of the dress made an alluring contrast with her muscular tone and the deadly force contained beneath delicate skin. Mistress Moth she may dress but he knew that she was, in some ways, quite a good partner for Lord Chrove.

He should have said something - perhaps continued the banter or maybe even confided something about the haunting - but he made the mistake of looking her in the eyes. The feathery grey and cream of the mask framed them in such a way that the blue leapt out at him. The blue of a cool oasis against the desert's map. No, not cool. Warm, like the clean clear waters of an Islands lagoon. No words came. Hunter let himself be the dastardly Lord Chrove using the dance to get closer to Mistress Moth. If she wanted to play, who was he to deny her?

There was a dip coming up. It might have been problematic except that Hunter had always been shorter than his partners. He knew simply to signal and support - not push or overextend. The key was balance as well as strength. They'd danced long enough for him to know her center of gravity. As long as he kept his own force in line with it and she kept her weight properly distributed, she could take it however far she pleased. From beneath the mask, he flashed her a look of challenge.

Hunter didn't pull away from her, and in fact, held her closer. This wasn't a mere polite sweep about the floor, more for conversation than motion; they were dancing, pressed close and swirling. He led firmly, and Ilithyia pretended her breath wasn't coming shorter, that she could feel the strength of the boy who held her with such control. Leaning til her cheek rested against his hair, she tried not to think about anything else but the steps, the twirls and movements. To think of anything real would only pull her from this strange elation.

And for once, she wasn't fretting about Alstair. He was as far from her mind as all of her troubles in Vienda were.

Grinning at the boy, she glanced into his green eyes, and saw a certain fire there that she was no stranger too. Challenge... and something more. It was that look, the idea of contest and the affirmation that she was indeed more than she had once been, that decided her next moves. Wickedly smiling, Ilithyia flowed into the dance, trusting his strength and her own, perfect propriety forgotten as she just enjoyed the rhythm.

When the crucial moment came, she spun with effortless control, and sinking into Hunter's arms again, she allowed herself to fold back... low. Her hair brushed the floor, then pooled slightly, and her expression was that of a the opponent. The dance had just become a battlefield in her eyes, and Illy had every intention of winning before the final chord was struck.

Music and masking, the interplay of costume and sleek muscle, the need for escape... all played together to orchestrate something of a spectacular experience for the young man. Ilithyia was an excellent match, perhaps even too good of a match. There was an intimacy unwarranted by the casual social relationship that the pair had established. As the dance neared its end, Hunter felt the stirrings of his own inner animal. There was a certain flush to his skin and tension in both field and body that bespoke eminent arousal. If she brushed against him in just the right manner, it would be difficult to conceal. At a wick ceremony it would not have been a problem, but in Brunnhold society it might not be considered appropriate. So as the music wound down and the last few steps were danced, the student re-established a "proper" distance between lead and follow. He resisted the urge to let his hand linger and stroke along the side of her neck.

"My dear, had I been shirking any more in my exercise routine recently you might well be carrying me to the infirmary, Mistress Moth. Well danced."

She loved dancing. She loved it so much she didn't even pretend not to anymore. If she'd had a partner like this in school, Illy very much wondered if Alstair would have been the one to have his particular honor with her. Her blood was thrumming and she was grinning and Hunter's field was a tingling friction against her own, like embers from a camp fire sizzling and hissing on her skin, scent of perfume and sweat like smoke on her senses. The last crescendo flowed through her like freezing fire, and she twirled and caught herself, panting and far from sated.

Realization slowly cut through the fog of endorphins and growing sensations, and Ilithyia became aware of her behavior. She had-- and he had-- and they had been-- Shit. She had been anything but a proper lady, and yes she'd told her mother she couldn't ever live up to that stupid ideal but hell she'd been doing so good...! Hunter stepped away, recreating a semblance of propriety, and Illy tried not to regret it.


She smiled, a touch of shyness in her eyes, a bit of awkwardness. He'd gone from being a good kid to... well, a kid didn't dance like that.

"Haha, I believe you deserve just as much praise, Lord Chrove. I haven't been reeling like this in... awhile." Almost a month, to be exact. Since sparring, since the roof. Only this had no double meaning, no stupid revolution. She just-- she just wanted, and it was rather frightening. Her eyes flicked over Hunter in a way that wasn't mentorish at all. He was... what, eighteen? Seventeen? so young!

That didn't stop Alstair.

To give him credit, Al had been dealing with a repressed, totally single-minded woman with a stubborn desire and a hair trigger. Yet she was still that woman, that girl. She was still a person with needs and wants, and Alstair was treating her much more as a compatriot, not a woman.

She saw Scuro and Chiaro lingering at the fringe of the dance floor, and bit her lip, expression half resignation and half exasperation. Oh yes. Not just a pleasure trip. She sighed, wondering if perhaps she could somehow escape politics for one evening. A glance in the direction of the headmistress and the ambassador ruined the hope. No, no such luck.

Turning to Hunter, she curtsied low, attempting to suppress her own mixed emotions, also trying to keep her gaze open without the touches of heat that threatened to remind her of their closeness, the brushes of muscle and cloth...

"Thank you again for taking pity on an awkward girl and dancing with me. It was brilliant, and you've certainly made this a night to remember." She would have clapped him on the back just minuted before, but now... well. One could ignore protocol with kids and friends. Hunter was slowly becoming more. If he tried, she feared he could become a lot more. "I have to go meet with my acquaintances. But--" She leaned in, hand delicately smoothing a lock of hair that had fallen over his mask, "Save me another dance."

Scuro walked onto the dispersing dance floor; the song now being over, couples were shuffling, leaving the dance floor, and new couples entered in preparation for the next song.

"Miss Lutgardis," she said with a slight bow, "you appear to be enjoying yourself. Perhaps you would care to introduce us to your dance partner?

"Very sharp costume, I must say," she looked him over with a critical eye, seemingly pleased with what she saw.

The touch was light and welcome, and it made him reluctant to give her up quite so easily. He reached for her hand before she could withdraw it, intending to bring it to his lips-

-but instead brought it down to waist height and used it to turn them gracefully toward the field that he'd almost missed in one last, lingering pose of the dance.

Unaware of the newcomer's relationship to Ilithyia, Hunter waited for his companion to handle the obligatory introduction.

Hunter grasped her hand, the sudden contact sending a jolt up her arm that felt like liquid ice, and Ilithyia felt the flush rise to her face as he raised it slightly, and--


Scuro had the best (or worst) timing, and Ilithyia wondered what sort of mischief had taken her down this path that timing or lack thereof was of importance. Hunter spun her lightly, her reaction to his lead effortless and easy. She found it difficult not to let her mind... she shook her head. No, I think that's enough punch for you.

"Ah, Scuro. I was just going to talk to you. This," She removed her hand from Hunter's, trying not to feel guilty, trying to avoid making herself look like flighty thing she was, "is Frederick Vespasian, a future hopeful for the Seventen. We met during one of his ventures to Vienda and have kept up correspondence." She smiled at him, straining to make her feeling merely friendly, merely appropriate. It was still difficult, even with the audience.

"Frederick, this is Scuro Viverti. She's another Seventen officer, and she and her sister are guests at my home while we do business here." Good, keep things informal, keep them light.

So, this is one of the mentioned "acquaintances"... another Seven, one of at least two that she is meeting here. To do "business". Did she not say earlier that this was a break from work? My dear Ilyia, I do not blame you for keeping your true reason for visiting from me, but you must be more careful about your covers.

Something about Ilithyia's body language or field - not to mention her words- made Hunter suspect that this Scuro was not a casual friend. Best use caution then and court her with subtlety. He made a correct but not too formal bow as he was introduced.

"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Viverti. Your moa guise is quite stunning. Such beautiful graceful creatures, but also such strength hidden beneath - have they not?"

"Indeed," Chiaro sauntered up to her sister with two glasses of punch, handing one to Scuro, keeping the other for herself before turning to Frederick. "My deepest apologies, young sir, for missing the introductions. You are a friend to our gracious hostess, Miss Lutgardis?" She smiled and gave a polite bow, "Then it would be an honour to meet you, Mr...?" She waited patiently for the introduction.

Ilithyia smiled, still struggling with her growing, slippery feelings. Well... things aren't what they appeared to be. He isn't a boy, he's almost a man, and I'm not a strong woman I'm still a girl of fifteen with a heart so big as to give at the slightest chance. She was off balance and tremulous and none of it was getting past her skin. Her field was still the same, but, perhaps just a little more helpless anxiety.

Damn yourself into the void, girl, and just get this over with.

"Ah, Chiaro! Hunter, this is Scuro's twin, Miss Chiaro Viverti. As I said, they're staying in my home while they attend to things." She lowered her head politely to the twins.

"Now this is Frederick Vespasian." She lightly tapped his shoulder, both playfully and informally. "He's a student here, and has shown interest in the Seventen. We talked in Vienda about different issues about our guys in green, and we've kept in touch." She hated being repetitive... but alas.

Trying to keep herself firmly under lock and key, she curtsied to the assembled company, a sweet grin curling across her pink lips. "Well, ladies, if you'll but give me a moment, we can to speak to the Headmistress and her group, pay respects and whatnot. I'd like to finish my conversation with Frederick, first." She tried to seem totally polite and giving, the pinnacle of graces.

But she feared the light flush on her face was giving her away.

Scuro took the offered drink with a nod, though it sat in her hand as mere decoration-- she hadn't forgotten her last soiree.



"Yes, you did say that," she said dryly. She was so used to the succinct communication between herself and her sister, she was easily bored and irritated at repetition.



Scuro nodded sharply, turning her head in search of the headmistress, catching sight of her quickly, "Yes. Enjoy yourself," she gave Frederick a sharp bow, then turned to Ilithyia, "be quick."

Hunter gave an appropriate nod of parting to the Misses Viverti.

He waited until the sisters were out of earshot and leaned in close to whisper to Ilithyia.
"I would like to spend more time together as well, but perhaps it would be a mistake to put off your friends on your vacation."
He smiled, with just a hint of cheek to it.
"I fear those two will take issue if you make too much of my company. Especially as you introduced me as a potential recruit, eh?"

"I suppose I have my own networking to get on with," he snaked his hand out to take hers once more, "But now I will have pleasant thoughts to keep me company as I sift through social mores."

Fred's honesty hit Ilithyia hard, and she forced herself not to reel to much. He understood this was flirting... well, he would. Brunnhold was the place for it in any case. But what was difficult to stomach was that she had returned each grin with her own coy smile. She was acting like she should have in school. Am I just using him to recapture my lost years? The thought occurred to her with some trepidation, because while it would be easy to surmise that and be done with it, she was also certain it wasn't wholly that.

"Agreed. I think you have some understanding then of the situation." Ilithyia's eyes sparkled with mirth and uncertainly. "Pleasant thoughts indeed, Lord Chrove. Enjoy yourself." She grasped his hand for a moment as he held hers, running her thumb over the knuckle of his. She then pulled away to follow the twin, not able to deny the electricity in the movement. Damn it, I don't want this. Yet she still smiled, still self-conciously tucked hair behind her ear.

I need a vacation from my vacation.