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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/SecondMovement|Second Movement]]
| + | #REDIRECT [[ADanceOfAngels]] |
| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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| − | == Dresses, Romances and Veils - A Dance of Innocence ==
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| − | An independent big city, Frostwallow has its own high class, those who direct the bussiness, the bossess of those you met on the August Opal, and several others. And the high end of criminals, of course. Being a trade city, it has better cuts and taste than most of the North, the pratical minimalism of Whitewall or Hanslanti, although not on the level of the beauty and style lovers of Windia or Whiteshield. But good enough.
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| − | From the scent-filled base industry of paints, woods, waxes, oil... to the high cuts, perfumed atmosphere of the upper-class fineries. And accessories. A knife for Anne could easily be found there, as well as more utilitarian, if good, clothes...
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| − | Anne looks around, loving the sights, trying not to point out anything she particularly likes so much, being that she doesn't want to force them into buying anything... they will buy the gift they will.
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| − | Alexander, close to Cael, looks around... "Hmmm, so what do we do first? I have to see about buying some clothes for myself as well..."
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "You go and see that dress for the girl", Vorpal says as she suddenly moves past the others, heading down the street. Her voice partially muffled by the heavy hood she wears, she makes a little wave of a gloved hand over her shoulder. "I need to check on the weaponsmith's."
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| − | <i>...and maybe with the bookshop, too, if there is one around here,</i> she adds, silently, her face turned away from the others.
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| − | As high-quality and carefully-chosen as her saddlebags-library is, it is also awfully limited. Perhaps this would be a good place to replenish her... supplies.
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| − | <b>Cael:</b> "We'll see you later then." Cael nods, "Take care."
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| − | Then he starts to guide Anne and Alex into one of the tailors, one that specialises in the younger generation, essence once more wrapped around him, subtly reaching out, calling for attention as he idly strolls in.
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| − | <b>Frostwallow:</b> It does not take long before seeing the sigil of Mars, the spear and shield, shining on crimson paint under the morning sun. Soon enough in the morning... and the stores mostly empty, with only those who wake up so early, so different of the base part, where bussiness need to be conducted as soon as sun rises. The smell of iron fills the air, coming from the constant hammering on the inside...
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| − | And the smell of mold comes from behind, from the bookstore <i>just accross the street,</i> the carefully-transcribed books with leathery covers there, calling, alluringly... and Vorpal stands there, between two sides of her life.
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| − | <b>Tailor:</b> And as Cael enters the tailor, glass panels allowing light to shine on many clear clothes, the host looks up from idle work, store empty aside from them... not many comissioning dresses so early in the morning, and he rises to greet Cael, "Welcome, good sir... shopping with your... " He adjusts his spetacles... same hair color, but otherwise, too different, him and the boy... "Well, hmmm... anything I can do for you?"
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> <i>Oh, damn.</i>
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| − | She halts, the dark folds of her cloak coming to a rest around her. Shifting her weight to one foot, she places one hand to her hip and lifts the other to tuck her hair better in place under her hood. Idly she glances between her choices, first left, then right, then back to the left again...
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| − | <i>I hate it when this happens.</i>
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| − | Eventually, she makes her decision.
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| − | Her cloak once again whisking around her legs, the black hilt of her heavy claymore jutting over her shoulder, the Ghost-Blooded turns and marches without hesitation... into the bookstore.
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| − | <b>Cael:</b> Cael smiles, apparently not noting the confusion "Good day to you."
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| − | "I would like to purchase some clothing for Anne here, both formal and day to day wear." He subtly gestures her forward before he makes a motion towards Alex "My companion can tell you himself what he wants."
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| − | <b>Tailor:</b> "Of course, of course!" He says, "Come here, little lady, let us take your measurements..." He chimes a little bell, calling another person, a lady, "Can you take the children's measurements, please?" He asks, turning to Anne and Cael, "Preferences for you, young lady? Or do you have her word, my lord?" He says, a wave for the female dresses on the store, for them to chose a cut they are fond of...
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| − | <b>Frostwallow:</b> As Vorpal enters the store, she sees the myriad of books... simple ones, utility, unlike the unique, fancy volumes on Cael's or the Lover's lybrary( Although much more reputable than the majority of the ones on the ones on the latter)... leather-bond to the best of their ability, titles carefully inscribed... the salesman barely looks up as she walks in, making her feel almost alone in the store...
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| − | <b>Cael:</b> "Oh, she may choose as she wishes." He says with a brief smile down to Anne, before standing back to let the lady measure her.
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| − | He starts to look over the dresses, the good and the bad, considering which of the cuts and fabrics he likes, slightly curious as to what Anne might pick.
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> Not bothering to catch the storekeeper's attention until she has something specific to say, the Ghost-Blooded begins to browse through the shelves. Even though her interest in the books seems to be casual, even non-chalant, she gravitates unerringly towards the more romantic side of the store's selection...
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| − | <b>Anne:</b> If happyness could kill, Anne would be laying cold on the floor.
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| − | She looks over the samples, drinking on their sight, touching them tentatively... wondering... the lady taking her measurements as Alex talks about which he wants with the tailor, a natural at it. Anne, on the other hand... begins to test them.
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| − | An hour goes by, as she tries on each and every dress she can, a most ecstastic smile on her face. Alex takes some nice clear ones, dressing himself on their most practical sorts, clothes for a faerie hunter, and walks out, telling Cael to handle the wait...
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| − | But, when she looks... wonderful. The dress is heavy, befitting a lady of the north, full of soft fur, deep blue with a black fur, having chosen one of dark red and black as well, and one of clear ice-blue... for heavy dresses, fitting of the north. Others, lighter ones, in clearer blue, ice and sky.... and her utility clothes, one a feminine version of Cael's own wear, in dark blue and black, so as to not show dirty easily.
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| − | She asks how she looks on each in turn, spinning, and finally choosing the dark-blue heavy one to stay on, due to the cold of this morning... "So... did you like my choices? I didn't make a fool of myself, did I?" She asks...
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| − | ... eyes shining...
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| − | ... lips curled in constant smile...
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| − | ... happy as she has never been before.
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| − | <b>Cael:</b> Cael had settled himself into one of the chairs in the shop as she started to sample the fabrics, watching with a bemused interest as she tries them all on.
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| − | <i>Yes, I made the right choice.</i>
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| − | As she stands before him to show them off, he makes sure to show he is paying attention, giving her his honest opinion.
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| − | <i>..that she has excellent taste. Suprising almost.</i>
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| − | "I did, yes. They suit you perfectly, I think."
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| − | He flows to his feet, walking easily over to the counter, "And now to settle up..." and then he starts to barter with the tailor, for the clothing and the fitting...
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| − | <b>Alexander:</b> His white jacket fluttering as he comes in, White Jade Breastplate below it, the wings twitching slightly Alexander comes back, just as Cael finishes his payment for Anne, showing his surprise in a flourish, "You have the taste of a princess, Anne. Nice choices!" He says, picking something, and handling to her... a knife, handle in golden and blue, a single sapphire over its handle, "Cael said he wanted to get you some self-defense, I went away and..."<i>Burned quite a bit of Jade on it.</i> He smiles. Was surprised he did not find Vorpal there when he bought the weaponsmith's best knife, there more as a showcase than as something to be bought. How many weaponsmiths were there on the city for her to be in...?
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| − | <b>Anne:</b> "You... think? Seriously?!?" She almost jumps! Cael liked her taste! He finds her pretty! He... he... she watches him paying with dreamy eyes, imagining herself in a ball on a story, dancing with him under the moonlight in one of her lighter dresses... oh...
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| − | Lost in her reverie, she barely notices Alexander, then looks at the knife... eyes lost in the great sapphire on the handle. "... Thank you, your grace..."
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| − | Too much. Too much... <i>too</i> good!
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| − | <b>Cael:</b> "Of course, Anne. You look wonderful."
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| − | Cael raises an eyebrow at the dagger, as he picks up the carefully wrapped packages that contain Anne's dresses.
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| − | "That is a fine gift, Alex, thank you." He smiles at the lad as he guides them both out of the shop and onto the street, heading now for a stationers, to purchase paper and inks and brushes and the like...
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| − | <b>Alexander:</b> "Thank you. I just thought I should help a little bit as well."
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| − | He says, wondering if he shouldn't use the collar he had found on the Perfected Palace of Eventide more...
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| − | <b>Anne:</b> Anne, on the other hand, latches to Cael's arm, feeling like a princess in her new, classy attire, walking around in the dress as a high-class lady going shopping... even if she still lacks the walk, or the poise, by far. Yet she smiles, together with him as they shop....
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| − | <b>Sunderer of Veils:</b> A hand comes lightly over Vorpal's shoulder, a familiar voice speaking, the voice of a Moonshadow she knew so well... enough. He was unearthly pale and stately in bearing, dressed in dark slacks and a high-necked buttoned coat that clung closely to his lithe, taut-muscled form. His hair was silverly, locks falling over his face, hat barely disguising the circle within a circle always on his forehead. The touch was light, and the voice was velvet. "How was the shopping, pale flower of ice? Bought anything... interesting?"
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> Vorpal's eyes widen for a moment at recognition, but she masters herself within the next heartbeat. Not bothering to turn around to face the other Abyssal, she smiles thinly in the shadows of her hood. "Mmm-hm", she responds, softly. "A very nice new knife to supplement my arsenal. It still needs to be blooded, though - would you like the honors, Sunderer?"
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| − | <b>Sunderer of Veils:</b> A light step back. Still smiling. Was he always smiling? Polite, but always seeming to... know more than you. "I am afraid I will have to pass, oh Black Queen. I am a man of frail constituition, as you know... not like you icy, rough soldiers."
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| − | "Even if, I will say, you have more class than most, my lady. A true flower amongst barbarians. And seems like you have destroyed one such barbarian already?"
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "Always the one with the honeyed tongue, eh?" Vorpal says, a faint whiff of geniality in her voice as she lifts her hands to her hips. Then, however, she lets the warmth melt away from her lips, revealing the thick layer of ice underneath, the very same ice that the Sunderer had just flattered so.
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| − | "State your business", she says dryly, making a point of contrasting her simple bluntness with the Moonshadow's wordy beating around the bush. "I'm busy."
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| − | <b>Cael:</b> Cael leads the pair down the street, away from the tailors, his arm gently guiding Anne, subtly adapting his pace to ensure she walks as elegantly as she can. Their progress is slow but interesting, stopping to examine exotic animals and delicate jewellery in the windows of the shops they pass, before he leads them into a stationer's shop, the walls filled with racks of paper of all sorts, brushes, charcoals, inks and quills. He gestures for the prince to distract Anne, letting him lead her to the writting desk, covered in a finely calligraphed page, Anne delighting at the details.
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| − | Walking around the shop he selects a finely carved brush box, inlaid with many colours of wood, forming an image of a lily covered lake. A few horse hair brushes too, and then a select of inks. Finally he picks up several sheets of paper, both white and then a spread of colours, picking the bright shades.
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| − | <B>Sunderer of Veils:</b> "My bussiness? Do I really need to state so just to speak with a colleague? Another child of my red home?" He says, tipping his hat, Vorpal's ice barely affecting him. "I was just passing here, you see, and saw the airship... and my birds had told me you might be around, oh lady of ice. Pehaps you would be interested in the invitation to a party?"
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> Vorpal keeps her face a carefully maintained mask of cold indifference. Sometimes she wonders why she even bothers - of all the deathknights in the Lover's service, the Moonshadows are the most likely to have discovered the little secrets she holds so close to her heart.
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| − | But then again, it has never been her style to give in without a fight.
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| − | She does not believe for a moment that another of her mistress' Deathknights - and a Moonshadow to boot - had sought her out just for the sake of saying "hello". Therefore does she tilt her head slightly in an indifferent manner, deciding to play along with him... for a while, and with caution. "And what kind of party is that?"
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| − | <b>Sunderer of Veils:</b> "One in our lovely red home. Mistress told me last time I spoke to her. She loves what all of you are doing, the gathering. So many around you. So many for the party. When all this is done, Mistress will throw a grand one in Red Ice. And you are one of the stars, lady of ice." He says, coming closer to her, smile never leaving his face. "For you and your companions. For the triumph of whispers over prayers, for the dimming of light and innocence. I suppose you are already invited to it, but it does not hurt to ask, does it, my lady?"
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| − | <B>Vorpal:</b> The flame grows cold within Vorpal.
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| − | A sudden chill runs down her spine at his words. Her body tenses slightly as the Moonshadow comes closer, unconsciously readying itself to defend against any attack. The icy mask on her face no longer needs to be maintained. "Do try not to hold your breath, oh melter of hearts", she responds, her red-hot eyes locking with those of the Sunderer. "The Mistress' orders here need to be fulfilled to my satisfaction before I shall return with the boy. It might take a moment or two, thanks to a bumbling fool or two I have the privilege of calling my allies."
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| − | Suddenly she relaxes, however, her entire body assuming a much more casual manner, the tone of her voice lighter: "Now are you going to kiss me or just breath heavily against my face?"
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| − | The smile returns to her lips and she lowers her chin slightly, the dangerous smouldering in her eyes making it clear that the penalty for choosing the wrong course of action will be severe indeed.
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| − | <b>Sunderer of Veils:</b> "Kiss lips that could freeze the sun? Tempting as your offer is, I do not think I will take it. I prefer my darkness warmer." He says, one step back, tipping his hat. "Now, if you will forgive me, I have bussiness to attend to. I just wanted to see if there was anything I could do for my beautiful comrade. As you seem to be just fine..." He says, a flourish, taking her hand and kissing... "I will be on my way. See you on Red Ice, for the party, then?"
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| − | <b>Vorpal:</b> "Until then", the Pale Angel says coolly, allowing the Moonshadow to touch the back of her glove with his lips. She does not let him linger, however, pulling her hand free with an aloof gesture. The broad sweep of her dark cloak brushing at the Sunderer's legs, she turns her back to him. "Please try to survive that long", she says without looking at him. "These are very dangerous times."
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| − | Then she marches down the street, her back straight, purpose in her stride.
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| − | ----
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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/SecondMovement|Second Movement]]
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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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