Dinner and Diatribes

Lasair stepped out onto the outdoor deck where her summer-night masque was in full swing, her arms wrapped around her fiancé's with her cheek tenderly leaning against his shoulder. She looked up to the strings of candlelight and gently flowering wisteria branches that crisscrossed the deck, to the dancers on the floor who clapped to the end of another boisterous song. With the help of Valentin Toussaint's (admittedly astounding) assistance on the guest list, everything seemed to be going smoothly. There were a fair amount of nobles who needed some semblance of familiarity after Hagia's destruction, and they intermingled with those that rescued Faline in the Hunt, those mages that had stopped its path of destruction from leaving the city walls. It was a public display of appreciation towards mages from a charitable family of nonmages, and it was an important statement to make, especially after the turmoil at the docks.

They passed by tall candelabras with garlands of lavender and ivy wrapped around the posts, trays of sweet summer food and drinks fit for an army, and servants in livery who all wore simple black masks along with the Andraste house uniform. She'd given leave for those finished with their tasks for tonight to join if they wished, for a happy household was less likely to sell your secrets than a bitter one, and she rather thought she could see John dancing somewhere with his wife, her hair strung with flowers for the night.

Lasair and Basileios, as hosts of the event, were stopped constantly for comments on the lovely masque under the candlelight ( who didn't love a reason to wear a mask, after all), the tasteful decor that suited both sensibilities of the higher and lower classes without leaning terribly one way or another, and congratulations on their engagement. Lasair never left his side, smiling sweetly to every word with a rosy color to her cheeks that was probably a better application of rouge and lighting than anything she truly felt.

When they were left alone for a moment, she held a particularly....quiet way about her that was unusual. It wasn't lent to scheming or patience for things to unravel, it was mere simple thoughtfulness amidst the occasional glance up to her companion. They made quite a pair as they toured around the perimeter of the dance floor, her dressed in silver and lavender like a star that'd fell just for tonight, with little glistening gems in her hair that winked in the candlelight and a mask of sheer silver lace, leaving very little to imagination.

She leaned against his arm much like that night at the White Elephant as she murmured up to him, tactful and mild in case they passed anyone with a curious ear, "You really did keep your word. You look very handsome tonight, my dear." With a glance to him, she hesitated, then said softly, "...I wish to apologize for the afternoon in which I asked for your attendance tonight. It was not my proudest moment."