Fantasy RPG Forum - Standing Trials

“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.

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.

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.

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.