• Closed • Party Tea Time

[Faith Augustin]

Saun 3rd 716

It was her third trial in her job and Faith was coming to the conclusion that she was never going to get through it, never going to survive in this job. It wasn't the cooking, per se, that she thought that she was beginning to get something of a grasp of. It was the heat of the kitchen. The heat was unlike anything that she had ever experienced before and Faith was clear that Jamal was really missing a trick in terms of punishments, because this was just gruelling.

On her first trial, she had been amazed at the people there, in the kitchens as she walked in, being shown to her place by the polite but distant manager, Alfonse. He had gestured for her to take a seat and Faith wondered at the four others that she shared this kitchen with. Each of them was in loose, light clothing, bare arms and sleeves. Now, the weather was good but they were dressed like it was even better. But it hadn't been a quarter of a break in and she understood why. The heat from the ovens was unbelieveable! The five of them worked in this small kitchen preparing breads and pastries. Five people, ten large ovens and no windows.

That first trial had been torture. Which said a lot coming from a woman who had been a slave all her life.

But now, on her third trial, she realised that it wasn't torture. It was a death sentence. She had to do something to get used to it, or she was actually going to die here. She had met the others and they seemed pleasant and friendly. All five of them were slaves, Alfonse liked to hire them because he paid them less, basically. He said so without concern or shame and why should he have either of those? It made good business sense. But this morning, or more precisely, in the dead of night as she walked in she realised that she was alone in the room. That was unusual, for what little experience of the place she had. She turned to Alfonse, but before she got the chance to ask, he answered the question she was thinking.

"They are ill" he explained, and Faith looked around with a sort of dawning horror on her face. "They are ill and we have the order for the party to fulfill. So yer going to be busy" he winked at her, slapped her on the bottom and walked out. Faith watched him go, not arguing or speaking she was simply too surprised and horrified to even consider such. But there was no point in arguing, they had a large order to get done before noon.

"Best get on with it, then" she murmured to herself and moved to where the orders were kept, so that she could see what she had to make and, importantly, how the hell to make them.

[Faith Augustin]

And on with it she got. Looking at the orders they had, Faith ran through the whole thing in her head. There was a party (and really, who held parties when things were politically so very tricky and on the brink of war, she wondered) and it was a fancy dress party where all of the party goers were going to dress up as birds. The order was for a number of sweet pastries, a cake (which thankfully just needed the final touches putting to it) and savoury pastries. Alright, Faith considered, she could do this. She had the recipies for the pastries and they were detailed and clear. If there was one thing that she was good at, she considered with a smile, it was following instructions. So, she sat and carefully read the six recipies carefully, then re-wrote them putting the steps she would have to do in the order she would do them. Two savoury small pastry cases, with different fillings, two savoury slices with different toppings on crumbly pastry and two small sweet pastries, one filled with cream, one with fruit.

Right. This made sense. She needed to get the pastry made, then she would be able to get it rolled out, shaped and then put to one side to rest whilst she prepared the more complex fillings. It was hard work, and it was hot work, but Faith threw herself into it with determination and she carefully started measuring out ingredients. In things like this, the young slave shone becuse she was careful and meticulous and her attention was on the detail. Especially in baking, she was discovering, that helped. Once she had the ingredients measured out it was time to mix them. That was hard, difficult and heavy work for quantities like she was working with, but she got on with it. Alfonse popped his head in a few times and nodded. She was getting on with it, it seemed. He would finish the cake, he told her and Faith smiled and thanked him. The pastries were just about manageable, she figured, but that was about the limit of her skills.

Once the pastry was made, Faith set about making the sweet fruit jam that was going to be one filling. That involved washing and cleaning a lot of fruits, then cooking them slowly in sugar and lemon, stirring regularly. As they cooked, she finely chopped some onions, tears pouring down her face unheeded as she peeled them, then fried them with minced beef and some salt and herbs for one of the savoury filled pastries. It was all coming along, but the place was boiling hot. Like, beyond warm and just baking hot. She was being branded tomorrow, and just how she was going to manage in here she did not know. But that was what it was and as it meant that she had to miss a trial of work tomorrow, she had informed Alfonse of it. He had nodded his head and waved his hand dismissively - she was entitled to one trial off a week, after all.

It was slow, difficult work and Faith tied a cloth over her forehead, so that she didn't sweat into the food because that would be bad. She kept going, chopping and cutting, frying and slicing. Each step, she referred back to the recipies and so, eventually, she had everything in the ovens. It would be unsurprising to anyone who had ever met her to find out that Faith was a tidy worker; she kept her working area clean and organised and, as things cooked away she took the opportunity to clean down.

Alfonse came in then and looked around, in delight. "You have done well! You will need to bathe before tonight" he said, and Faith looked up at him in surprise.

"Tonight?"she asked with a sense of dread

"You will have to serve! There is no one else, I have a uniform for you to wear, and you will need to serve at the party. I have sent a runner to ask your Master and he has agreed" Alfonse said, knowing full well that her first thought would be that she had to get home to Master. Faith blinked twice, a sense of dread hitting her and then she sighed, slightly. Master had allowed it, therefore, there was only one answer.

"Of course. Thank you for the opportunity" she smiled. Alfonse laughed from the tips of his toes at *that* and walked out, leaving the slave somewhat nonplussed, but having to focus on her sweet strawberry glaze.

And if she had any doubts about *why* Alfonse had laughed, they were quickly dispelled when he brought in the uniform for her a break later. By this point she was packing up finished pastries but her eyes nearly popped out of her head as she looked at the.... "I am to wear that? It wouldn't keep a titmouse dry in a drizzle!" she exclaimed, horrified. Alfonse hung it up on the door, said nothing but just walked out, his shoulders shaking with mirth at the strangely prudish nature of the young slave girl.

So it was that Faith, some breaks later, was standing in a party surrounded by people who were all dressed very beautifully and very flambouyantly. Feathers in head-dresses, draped around frocks, on masks. There was beautiful plumage everywhere with the free men and women looking handsome and glamourous. Like the other two serving slaves (who it appeared belonged to the party organisers) Faith was dressed in a very skimpy outfit, epitomising the stereotype of maid. It exposed far more flesh than she was happy with exposing and she had endured a number of caresses, slaps and pinches already. She stood, holding a silver tray and making her way amongst the party goers. Of course, alongside the outfit (and frankly, Faith used the term loosely) they all wore quite obvious collars and cuffs denoting them as slaves, with a leather lead which attached to the collar and then hung loose down in front of her.

She didn't know how much money Master was paid for her having this job, but Faith really hoped, in that moment, that it was worth it. Hoping that, she stood meekly with the tray in her hand, waiting until the people in this group had taken their fill, then she would move on to the next group and so on and so forth. The heels on her shoes were ludicrously high and she was having trouble standing in them, her toes were screaming in agony and she sent a prayer to Famula, thanking her beloved Immoral for reminding Her servant of her place in this world, and providing her with an opportunity to serve once again.

[Yanahalqah]

“Remind me why I am here,” Yana spoke, her void eyes scanning the room as she entered the room, feeling the stares of some curious invitees on her body. Hannes, a fellow squire and the one who had dragged her to the party gave her an amused look.
“I was invited to this birthday party,” he smiled, enjoying this way too much, “and you are my plus one.”
Right, indeed. Hannes had practically begged her to come with him, the reason why her exactly still beyond her.
“You should have asked someone else. I hate parties.”
“I heard you the first time,” he spoke with obvious cheer, “but just stick with me, you'll have fun, I promise!”
“I most definitely will not. Especially with a boring person such as yourself.”

He chuckled, a hand held in front of his lips to hide it. “I'm touched. But seriously, can't you let go of that cold act for a night and just enjoy yourself? This is a party, you know. And having fun is what you do at parties. I would enjoy the lashings of your tongue any day, but not tonight.”
Yana frowned, not convinced in the slightest. But now she did know why Hannes stuck around her so much, no matter how clear she made it she had no interest in him. He was a masochist. Turning him down only made him happy.
“I think not.”
The male squire shrugged in defeat, not looking too upset. Well, with the permanent smile on his face and the gleeful eyes he possessed, that was not surprising. “Well, then you do you.” He ran a hand over his hair to make sure it remained in place; combed back and held there with pomade. “It might be for the best. I wouldn't want to hang out with those a copper nel a dozen other women anyway. They'd just agree with everything I say so they can get in my wallet.” Yana snorted, not able to be convinced by simple complements. “Oh! There's my uncle!” Hannes exclaimed then, straightening his necktie.

Indeed, a large man in a three-piece suit came marching their way, a half-empty glass of a golden bubbling beverage in his hand. His face split in an enormous grin when he was only a couple steps away from them. “Hannes!” he bellowed, his cheeks and nose a tint of rose. “How is my favorite nephew?”He spread his arms, and Hannes unhooked his arm from Yana's, drawn into his uncle's bear-hug.

“We both know you like my brother more!” he grinned, his chest almost being pushed into his back, and only when he started tapping his bear-uncle's back did the man release him.

“That might have been true,” his uncle grinned -the exact same grin as Hannes- “but Fredrick's too busy kissing the King's royal ass to make it to my party. ” He made a face as if he'd just tasted something nasty. “So you've been promoted!”He laughed loudly, and so did Hannes.

When he was done, the man's eyes drifted to Yana, going over her body a few times before he turned back to his nephew. The Yludih felt ridiculous in the yellow cocktail dress she'd been forced to wear, not to mention it was quite uncomfortable. She liked her uniform better; this made her feel vulnerable and exposed. Not without reason, the open back showed a lot of skin, and her arms weren't covered either. At least her legs were, but her feet were stuck in heels, which didn't add to her fun. She could walk in them, sure, but that didn't mean she liked wearing them. The shop clerk had told her yellow was the fashionable color of the season, and while Yana wasn't into fashion, the dress did contrast well with her periwinkle skin, each making the other richer. She suppressed a sigh.

“Nice plus one,” the uncle commented in the meantime, giving Hannes a big thumbs-up. “She looks somewhat familiar though.”

“Ah, that's Saeri. She's a squire just like me.” the male squire explained, grinning even wider than before. His uncle nodded, searching his memories.
“Isn't she the-”
“She's a little eccentric,” Hannes phrased, “but she's fairly nice when you get to know her.” His uncle nodded again, this time in consideration. Hannes beckoned Yana to come closer, and formally introduced them. “Uncle, this is Saeri. Saeri, this is my Uncle Bernard, one of our knight captains.”
“A pleasure to meet you, sir,” she curtsied, but Uncle Bernard dismissed her polite words with a wave of his hand.
“Please, call me Bernard. Save the sirring for when we're in uniform.”
“Yes, si- Bernard.”
The man smiled and nodded, and excused himself, starting to walk to a group of people that had caught his attention, but not before giving his nephew another thumbs up -a double one this time.

“See? That wasn't so hard, now was it?” Hannes beamed, his hand going through his hair once again.
“It is not hard, no. It is tiring. Which is worse.”
Hannes only laughed and took her hand, raising an eyebrow at her when he felt it being slightly moist. “Oh, I see how it is!” He grinned in triumph. “You act tough, but on the inside you're just a girl going to a fancy dress party with a handsome young man, feeling out of place and worried about her appearance!” He was remarkably close to the truth there. “But don't worry my dear, you look stunning in that dress.”
“I am going to punch you,” Yana decided, about to grab a pastry from a silver platter held out to her by a meek girl in a rather revealing maid outfit.
“You can punch me all you want after the party,” the male squire said with a wink, “but now I am getting us a drink.” And he was off, striding to where his uncle stood, probably to ask what the best drink they served was. Yana sighed for real now, finally grabbing one of the pastries presented to her. The slave -seen only with her subconscious- appeared familiar, despite the skimpy outfit, which she was certain she hadn't seen before in her life -maybe for the best. But the slave was what caught her interest, not the clothing she had appeared in (although it was worth pondering how much skin was allowed to be exposed so the clothes would still be considered clothes).

She'd gained some weight, that much was certain, as well as some new clothes -though perhaps calling them clothes was giving them too much credit. But the dual brands made her identity quite clear. Along with the pounds and outfit, perhaps Faith had gained a new master as well. After all, old Jamal would have never allowed his slave to participate in such activities. At least, that was the impression she'd had of him at the time... “Do I know you from somewhere?” Yana asked, probably having scrutinized the girl a little too long for her not to notice.

[Faith Augustin]

And really, just when Faith was beginning to think that every lesson to learn had been learnt now, and that she had been reminded of how kind and merciful Master was to her, how much better her life was and how Famula had smiled upon her; she had been taught that lesson and reminded to be grateful to Master, to remember her place and to serve Master completely and with every fibre of her being. Well, just when she thought that, then she realised that she still had another four breaks of this.

And then, there was this rather strange woman. She was staring at her and doing so rather more than was reasonable or comfortable as far as Faith was concerned. But still, she wanted to, and needed to, be polite and so she stood, under the woman's scrutiny, and Faith stood and she remembered the conversations with Master that she had had. She remembered the new rules, the new things, the ones that stayed the same.

And then, she asked that question. Did she know her from somewhere? Faith was sure (rightly or wrongly) that she had not met her before. After all, she had met so very few people that she could remember them all very well indeed. And so, she shook her head "No, I do not believe so, ma'am" she said, politely and with a polite bow of her head.


What was going to happen now, what was happening here, she wondered? She would never have spoken such if Jamal had been her owner still, it would have seemed rude to have not addressed her as Mistress. But he was not. Master owned her now, and he had told her - she was his slave, not anyone else's to use or abuse at their will. And these people would do that, she knew. And here, in this place, in these clothes (the woman in front of her, like so many others, looked stunning and completely comfortable in a yellow cocktail dress. She was really very beautiful, Faith considered) Faith was more vulnerable than she had ever been. So, she had to remember that in this moment she was slave to House Venora. Because Master had told her, clearly, her place in the world was different now. She was his slave and so she must be proud. She must be strong because she was Venora property. So, other than the obvious physical differences, the woman in front of her might notice a very subtle, but very genuine shift in Faith's attitude; she was more *confident*

Because Master told her she should be.

[Yanahalqah]

Expectedly, the slave had indeed noticed Yana's stare, but she did not say anything about it, nor did she flinch. The girl just stood there until the void eyes of the Eídisi-imposter slid off of her body and she was asked a question instead. Faith seemed to think for a moment or two before responding with a negative. No she hadn't. Of course she hadn't. This was their first meeting after all... their second first meeting, that is. The blessing and curse of having two appearances. When talking to someone you knew well in one form meant taking care when speaking to them in another, taking into consideration what she should or shouldn't know. A tedious and difficult task, considering that no matter how great one's memory was, there were still things they forgot. Like what they had for dinner yesterday. Or on the seventh of Saun last year. With whom they'd spoken on this day at that break. Thus, Yana tried not to run into people she'd met while having assumed the identity of one alter ego when having currently donned the other. But it didn't always work out. Like right now, but that mainly was her mistake.

“Yes, of course not,” she agreed, letting her gaze drift through the room, observing the different groups for a moment. “Probably just my imagination.” The Yludih was glad having two faces, it meaning that she wasn't here as Rayna. No matter the dress, but such festivities were no place for a mercenary to attend. Plus, while the prospect of being free to toy with Faith without a care in the world was really tempting, she didn't want to be seen in a dress. Whether she was considered beautiful or not was not important, she felt naked in a dress, without her weapons at her hip and with her scars on display. For a warrior they might be trophies to be proud of, but Yana considered them to be blemishes. They were hideous. Ugly. They needed not be seen by anyone who did not understand the world of a soldier. Thus she would not wear dresses in that form, at least not for these people. Wealthy nobles who'd never worked a day in their life, who devoted their whole lives to vanity and lavish lifestyles. Most hadn't even gathered their fortune themselves, instead having inherited it. And on top of that, all but a few 'eccentric' ones, all nobles could be carbon copies of each other. A boring sort of predictable people.

But, she needed them. For connections. Get in their good graces, find out the dirt they've been hiding, and use it when necessary. This was the only reason she'd come with Hannes. It wasn't in her nature to do anything that served no purpose, that wouldn't benefit her in one way or another. Still, she wasn't really pleased with the thought of having to mingle with these people. In contrast, Faith was the better company, but speaking with a slave the whole time was as pathetic as things could get. No, she would wait for Hannes's return and accompany him while he mingled, acting the part he wanted her to play. But for now, she needed to wait for him -he was taking his sweet time, the bastard!- and what better way to do it than play with the slave for a bit?

And Yana had the perfect thing in mind already. She wasn't sure what Faith's new master was like, nor what rules he'd added, had gotten rid of, or had modified, but she did know one thing for certain. Old habits die hard. A little bout of psychological games she'd play with the slave, believing that her former training was still deeply ingrained in her mind. It would take a long time before she'd be able to get rid of it all, even if she was set free. Faith was a slave born and bred after all. “So, slave,” she started her query, “you are owned by House...” She pretended to fail to recall the name, though she'd recognized the rose on Faith's shoulder all too well. It was part of the plan though, and Yana started snapping her fingers while mumbling things like “what's the name again?” or “It's on the tip of my tongue”, as if it was to aid her in remembering. She was curious to see just what that action evoked in the girl. Would she kneel automatically? Would she be confused at what to do? Depending on the slave's reaction she might or might not act surprised and perhaps a little shocked, of course not having expected such behavior.

[Faith Augustin]

The tray was not anywhere near empty. It was a shame, really, because if it was then Faith could have escaped from this strange consideration of her and her form, the almost examination of her from toe to head. But the tray wasn't empty and the woman was staring so she had no option but to stand and accept the stare as it was. She didn't like it, but then she didn't have to like it, it was what it was and that was that. Best to just keep herself to herself, answer the questions asked her and leave it at that.

The woman was.. Faith searched for the word and she came to the conclusion that the correct phrase was, frankly, 'a little odd'. She said that she must have been mistaken but Faith felt that there was an undertone of glee to her, somehow. How that might be, what that might be about she did not know but she couldnt help but feel it. However, Faith was well aware of her own feeling of vulnerability at the moment; the outfit was ridiculous, the place was full of people, more than she had ever seen in one place, and she felt very strongly that she just wanted to run home to Master. So, maybe it wasn't so much that the woman was entirely reasonable and it was her own insecurities that she was feeling. Or maybe she was right and there was a sense of over-familiarity about the woman. Maybe her tastes ran to women, Faith considered. That might be it. She was, after all, eminently at home here, in her natural habitat all beautiful people together.

But still, she couldn't shake the feeling that the woman had a sense of glee.

And then the woman looked at her and started asking about her ownership. Considering her, and the symbol of the Venora rose on her shoulder. The woman stood and considered it quite hard, tapping her chin and clicking her fingers, all in a rather strange display. Maybe the woman was trying to work her way in with a noble house, Faith considered, looking at her calmly with her silver grey eyes. "Forgive me" she said, politely "But I am unsure whether you wish me to tell you which house owns me. I am more than happy to if you wish it, ma'am of course" she explained. But the woman seemed to be almost delighting in the consideration of it. She must really like puzzles, Faith considered.

There wasn't even a flicker in Faith's eyes at the finger clicking. Not a twitch of a limb not a momentary start of movement. She had been trained to respond to one click or two clicks of Jamal's fingers, and only his. The woman snapped her fingers in quite a different way and, even had she not, Faith had been trained to respond in certain ways to Jamal and him only. Of course, Yana was very aware of verbal commands that Faith had to follow, but if she wanted to try those out she was going to have to work that into the conversation. Finger snapping certainly did nothing. As Yana clicked her fingers, one of the more inebriated party goers brushed close past Faith and the slave's face remained a calm and impassive mask but Yana saw the slight twitch in her right eye, the jump of a muscle in her cheek. Whatever he did, it provoked a reaction.

"Will you require anything else, ma'am?" she said, politely. After all, if the yellow dressed lady wasn't eating or drinking anything, Faith should really be serving others. Of course, if she wished, demanded or ordered Faith to stay, then she would most certainly. And also, if she said that she wanted the food on her tray. In fact, of course, Faith would do her best to meet the lady's needs to her utmost. Anything else would be unacceptable.

[Yanahalqah]

Off Topic

Oops, my bad. ^^; Yes, just a mark it is then.

The girl did not react in any way. Yana's void eyes were perfect for looking at people without them noticing, as there were no irises or pupils indicating the object under scrutiny. But for all their observational benefits, they couldn't see what wasn't there. Sadly, the snapping of the fingers had no effect at all, she saw that, but that was it. Perhaps she had done it wrong? But this was all she could do without being too suspicious; she couldn't snap her fingers and order for position one or two. She ceased her little charade, frowning ever so slightly. “It escapes me,” she spoke with a slight undertone of disappointment, though the emotion was not related to the sentence at all. “Yes, do jog my memory, if you please.” If Faith would kindly inform her of her place as a slave to House Venora, Yana would nod along, and mutter something along the lines of “House Venora, of course.”

But what did provoke a reaction -albeit a minute one- was an older, intoxicated man brushing past the slave, probably either groping or slapping her rear in passing. Yana managed a hint of a pitying smile. “Not used to this?” she asked, taking another pastry from the platter the slave held, the Yludih's slender periwinkle fingers treating the food delicately. The other two slaves seemed far more comfortable in their outfits and their role at this party, though it wasn't like they enjoyed themselves. Sure, they did giggle playfully when they received some attention from the party-goers -mostly the males- but it did sound a little forced, Yana found. Though the drunk men either didn't care or didn't notice. Faith on the other hand did no such things. Instead, if one took notice, she very clearly appeared to dislike it, although she did manage to keep her face relatively under control.

An arm wrapped itself around her waist then, and Yana gave a reaction that was just about the same as Faith's from before. Hannes had appeared in her blind spot, it seemed, somehow having managed to carry two flutes of golden beverage in one hand. “Your drink, m'dear,”, he muttered in her ear, making Yana want to flinch away, but she held herself under control.
“Do not call me that,” she spoke, a tinge of ice in her voice, but she did accept the drink he'd brought. Hannes retracted his arm slowly, shrugging slightly. The squire did not move away however, remaining too close for comfort. His cheeks were slightly flushed, and his pupils round and big. “How much did you drink in this short while?” Yana demanded to know, noting the faint scent of alcohol in his breath. It would explain the unusual boldness, heck, she didn't even need it. She had experienced him like this a couple times before.

“Maybe three of those? Or four perhaps? Certainly no more than five.” He noticed the Yludih's expression then, and cast his gaze downwards with a sigh. “I'm not that drunk. I'm fine, honest.” Surely he wasn't, Hannes was a lightweight when it came to alcohol, and he didn't seem to develop any tolerance no matter how much he went to parties. “Uncle can be really convincing to chuck them down...” he tried, but Yana shook her head. Hopeless man. She should have seen this coming. Perhaps she had. Maybe this was in her favor? A more social and open Hannes to lead the way and introduce her to the nobles. For the moment though, the squire was stuffing his face with the pastries in front of him. When the music suddenly changed however, he snapped out of it, swallowed the last bites and made some sort of noise that meant he remembered something. “Ah, that's right!” he exclaimed, “Uncle was looking for you,” he stated, taking a bite from the last pastry. “Seems like he wants to dance with you.”

“With me?”
Hannes nodded.
“Why?”
The musicians had started a new song, an upbeat, fast-paced piece of music. Many of the party-goers changed their dance to something that matched the music. Yana wasn't even sure what the whirlwind of spins and fast footwork should be called. It was bad news; she couldn't dance.
“I dunno.” Hannes shrugged. “He always does when I bring a girl to a party he's attending.” His eyes darted from her to something behind her. “There he is.” And indeed, Bernard had approached, managing to avoid the dancing couples on his way to the periwinkle woman in the yellow dress. He asked her to dance, and she couldn't really refuse, so soon enough Yana was dragged onto the dancefloor by the host of the birthday party himself.

Hannes stared at them for a trill or so, and then his eyes focused on the slave in the skimpy outfit. “She's a little eccentric, and cold at times,” he spoke, actually having kept an eye on the two while he was semi-forced to drink with his uncle, “but she's not a bad person.” Apparently he was worried about what Saeri could have said to the slave. He took another glance at Faith, finding her not unpleasant on the eyes, and wondered if she could be of use to try and get the Eídisi jealous. “Do you wanna dance?” he asked on a whim, blurting it out before he'd really thought it through. He didn't really believe she'd accept though.

[Faith Augustin]

The woman looked at her pityingly, not something that was new to Faith, and asked if she was used to this. Faith looked at her and responded, rather meekly "My apologies, ma'am. I should... That should not be obvious. My sincere apologies" she said, earnestly. If this woman could see that she was uncomfortable, then she was failing in her duty and Faith was determined that she should not be doing that. She hated these people putting their hands on her, but they should not know that, here she had a job to do and she had to make sure that she did it the best she could.

But then the woman's partner (husband? Faith didn't think so although the woman seemed to be irritated enough to have known him a long time or a short one) came along and slipped an arm around her waist. They had a conversation and then the woman moved away, leaving Faith with the woman's partner.

Bernard, it seemed, was a jovial fellow who was deft on his feet. Spinning around with Yana, he chatted with her jovially "So tell me then. Tell me what it is that you are intending with my nephew? he asked, with an apparently calm and sober expression. "Are you interested in him in the way that he is with you? Or is there something else going on here,that I need to know about?" he asked, with a chuckle. There was no doubting it, the man could dance and, unlike his nephew, he could handle his alcohol. And just possibly, he was much more aware of politics and the possible reasons for Yana associating with Hannes.

Meanwhile, Hannes was speaking to Faith, telling him about the woman who had just left them. Quite why he might do that, she really didn't know, but he was speaking to her and she nodded "I am sure she is not, sir." she said, of Saeri not being a bad person. But then he looked at her, examining her form in the skimpy outfit and she did her best to not show any kind of distaste. Did she want to dance? It had to be said, Faith looked utterly amazed when he asked that. "I... I do not know, sir, if I am allowed to do so. I.. I have been ordered to distribute the pastries, sir, I.. I have never worked a party like this and I do not know what I am permitted to do" she admitted and she looked at him earnestly, fairly certain that she was about to be punished for that. "My apologies sir, I do not know what to do". It was not something she liked to admit, but Faith was completely out of her depth here.

[Yanahalqah]

On the dancefloor, Bernard was the better dancer of the two of them, and he took the lead, twirling Yana round and round when the song demanded it, while letting her follow his movements if not. The Yludih gave it her best shot, spying on the other females on the dancefloor, mimicking them. With Bernard guiding her she didn't fail pathetically, but without him there was no doubt that would have happened. But dance was not the reason Bernard had dragged her here, it seemed, as he started asking some questions laced with suspicion disguised as playful accusations. His eyes, despite the reddish tint of his cheeks, were focused and alert, not clouded at all. He was completely serious, Yana realized, and probably more clever than he appeared.

Best to drop the act she'd put on at Hannes's request then, she thought, letting her face fall back into its standard expression. It was one of indifference and neutrality, almost apathetic, the false expressions of emotion washed away. “I heard you-” meaning the human race “- often find our lack of display of emotion disturbing,” she explained briefly, with a voice that betrayed she couldn't care less. “My intentions with your nephew are none,” she spoke, in a neutral, almost monotonous voice. “As are my interests in him.” A twirl and she kept silent for a bit, waiting until they were closer together before speaking again. “I suspect he is determined to catch that what he cannot get. Neither his looks, heritage nor flattery have succeeded in evoking any feelings in me, which seem to have been enough to win over other girls he fancied.”

For a moment or two, Yana let her eye rest on his face, trying to assess his emotions from the expression on his face before she continued. “My invitation to your party was merely a ploy to impress me, I suspect. One that has failed as well.” Another pause as she made another pirouette. “But he is not unpleasant to be around.” It came almost as an afterthought, a small confession that she herself had marveled at before. She wouldn't call him a friend, they were not close at all, but Hannes was amusing in his own way, a bit like jester of sorts. However his advances were annoying and rejecting him time and time again was tiresome, yet his foolhardiness was worthy of applause. Determination he had aplenty. “As for why I am here; I am planning to do what is custom to do at these social events. Lay contacts. Make connections. I do not wish to remain a squire for the entire length of my career. Even I have ambitions. Besides, suppose I do make it to the top of the ladder, it would be beneficial for both, no?” The knight captain surely did understand that much, but the question was how he would react. Perhaps he'd throw her out, seeing her as a threat to his own ambitions. Or perhaps he'd laugh it off and let her stay. Either way, it would not be a loss for her. Each option held an advantageous part.

Meanwhile, Hannes had raised an eyebrow at the slave girl's confusion and insecure answer. He flashed her a reassuring brilliantly white smile, the two rows of perfect pearl teeth on display. “The pastries are all gone,” he remarked, having eaten all of them that Faith had been carrying during her run in with Yana. “so it seems to me you did your job perfectly.” He took a sip of his flute of champagne, relishing the tickle of bubbles on his tongue. “Don't worry about it. If anyone asks, I forced you to hang out with me,” he winked playfully, “I do have a bit of a reputation.” Hannes was perhaps only two or three years older than Faith, but as opposed to her, he hadn't been locked up in isolation for arcs. Hannes had been -and still was, though considerably less so ever since a certain incident- wild and outgoing. His reputation in the upper circles -and among the gossipers- perhaps even rivaled that of certain Burhan individuals.

He extended his hand to her, leaving the choice up to her. She could take it and he'd lead her to the dancefloor, where he'd display prowess in dance that were just as good as his uncle's. Or she could refuse, but Hannes was in no way done with her. There were more ways to make a woman jealous after all.

[Faith Augustin]

As they twirled and swirled across the dance floor, Yana was able to watch the others, dancing together, talking and socialising. Like it was entirely normal to be so dressed up, living this life. He asked her what it was that she intended with his nephew and she answered. As she did, Bernard's eyebrows raised, but he kept quiet and said nothing as he listened. The uncle looked at her and then a deep, jovial laugh escaped him and he shook his head. "Nice words, but I don't believe you, girl" he said with a friendly smile and a pat on her arm. "Don't get me wrong, I believe you believe it but... "[/i] he chuckled as he looked at her. "Not used to having feelings, even small ones, are you? You like him and it confuses you. Maybe just take it slowly" he said, apparently quite seriously.

"And as for making connections, mi'lady's logic is flawed" he explained "Those here who would be useful as contacts, well, the last thing they want is to be bothered" it seemed like he was amused by her, it had to be said. He looked at her and watched, wondering what it was that she would say or do in response to what he said. His view of the world was clear and it seemed that he was quite content to just find out what Yana would do next.

In the meantime, Faith looked at Hannes and she sighed. "I don't... I am sorry, sir, please, I do not believe that I am allowed to dance. I must... The tray is empty, so I must... That is I must make sure that I have a full tray to distribute. Please, sir, excuse me?" she said, desperately looking around to escape, trying to get away so that she could go and get a new tray, which she could fill with pastries and then she could distribute the pastries somewhere else. "Please may I be excused, sir?" she asked, politely.