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rainbowfic2023-07-16 09:12 pm
thisbluespirit) wrote in rainbowfic2023-07-16 09:12 pm
Vienna Orange #8; Nacre #3 [Starfall]
Name: Best Foot Forward
Story: Starfall
Colors: Vienna Orange #8 (I’ve done this many times before you, watched the pattern take form); Nacre #3 (Locked door)
Supplies and Styles: Paint-by-Numbers (Please, listen to me; I’m only trying to help) + Life Drawing
Word Count: 1709
Rating: G
Warnings: None.
Notes: 1337, Starfall Manor; Leaira Modelen, Marran Delver, Aimon Merner, Aliyna Dimue. (Takes place early in Governor Delver's visit to Starfall.)
Summary: Leaira isn’t dancing. Governor Delver has something to say about that.
There hadn’t been a large formal affair like this at Starfall Manor since Leaira had arrived. There had been plenty of informal occasions, like Irval’s farewell party, and the usual annual festivals, but Starfall was usually too remote for dignitaries to visit. The arrival of North Eastern’s District Governor warranted a certain amount of ceremony in its own right, but Northern’s own Governor Corcrall had insisted on being present at what was termed an official welcome reception, even though Governor Delver had been at Starfall for almost a couple of weeks already.
That might have been too long for Leaira, but she couldn’t be sorry for the chance to finally pull her finest dress of grey-blue out of its paper wrappings and wear it again. She straightened the skirt as she paused in the doorway, before crossing the great hall to find Aimon. She could see Arin already dancing with one of Governor Corcrall’s staff. Arin flirted happily with any nice-looking male who came into his vicinity, but this secretary was apparently an old acquaintance Arin had been excited to renew. Leaira wasn’t about to interrupt him.
Aimon was not dancing, of course. He was standing to one side, watching everyone else, and when Leaira asked him if he danced, he said, “Not very well.” Then he gestured outwards at the lively crowd. “Besides, I’ve never been able to get the hang of northern dances.”
Leaira hadn’t either, and bit back a sigh. Her feet itched to dance. It had been too long. Another chance like this might not come her way again any time soon. She lifted her head and looked upwards. The wooden-beamed hall was nothing like the pale-stoned, open structures of Lighthaven, but the music carried her back there to all the formal affairs her grandmother had hosted in her time as Lightkeeper.
Leaira ducked further out to the edges of the room, passing Aliyna, who was going one better than Aimon by not only standing to one side, but scowling at everyone. It would be a brave soul who would ask her to dance. Leaira wished again that she could; it would be worth it just to see Aliyna’s reaction. Maybe it would even finally cheer the young Pathwalker up.
“All this for one Governor,” said Aliyna in disgust. She had positioned herself by the food tables and, as she spoke, reached out for another savoury, examining it briefly before she ate it. “This isn’t bad, though,” she added indistinctly.
Leaira laughed. “It’s not really for the Governor – it’s our chance to show ourselves off to the outside world. Besides, don’t forget – we have two District Governors, no less!” She nodded over to where Governor Corcrall was standing not far away, deep in conversation with Tannis Kellen, the Head of Starfall Manor. The pair were old acquaintances.
Leaira left Aliyna haunting the food tables and moved on through the room, trying to spot Sy, one of the younger medics, who might at least be willing to talk to her, but in the midst of gazing across the room for any sight of him, she stopped short with a gasp, finding herself directly in the path of the cause of the festivities – Governor Delver himself.
Marran Delver halted in front of her and gave a brief, formal nod. “Imai Modelen. I was coming over to ask you to dance.”
Leaira raised her head, startled enough to stumble backwards over somebody else’s legs. Delver gripped her elbow, steadying her.
“I will take no for an answer.” he said, releasing her as soon as she’d fully righted herself. “It wasn’t meant to be that alarming a proposition.” He leant closer, conspiratorial. “I noticed you weren’t dancing. I thought perhaps I could help.”
Leaira inclined her head in return, recovering her composure. “Thank you, Governor, but I simply don’t know the northern formal style of dancing.”
“Yes, but I do,” he said, and gave her an unexpectedly full smile. “Is that your only objection, Imai Modelen?” He held out his hand. “I can teach you.” She hesitated, and he added, “Stop looking so worried! It’s a perfectly genuine – and innocent – offer.”
Leaira took his gloved hand in hers. “I’m afraid I never seem to understand you, Governor.”
“No,” the Governor agreed soberly. “Not yet. In time, I trust. For now, let’s concentrate on your dancing.”
He led her further along, until they were in a comparatively empty space at the far end of the room, and waited there with her for the current dance to end. When it did, he guided her into position. “Now, the trick is that the two styles aren’t actually as different as they might appear. The main thing to remember is that, at the points where you southerners would tend to press palms, we link hands. Of course, much of the rest depends on the individual dances, but start there, and you’ll find a lot of them much more familiar than you’d expect.” He took a step back to position himself, and her, correctly. “For the rest – keep an eye on everyone around you, and follow me.”
“It can’t be that simple!”
“Unlike so much else, yes,” he said, and as the musicians struck up the next piece, he gave a brief nod. “Good. You’ll recognise this, no doubt? The same tune you use for Harral’s Feast?”
Leaira nodded. “How did you – that is – I didn’t expect you to –”
“Shh,” said Governor Delver. “Concentrate on your steps. I don’t know,” he murmured aside as he moved forward to clasp her hand and turn with her. “She’s shocked that I can read, and now that I have an interest in music. And, yes, yes, that’s it. More or less. What do you imagine I do with myself when I’m not governing? Am I permitted no outside interests?”
Leaira shot him a dark look, but somehow ended up laughing at his mock-injured expression. His advice, she found, was true. It didn’t account for everything by any means, but bearing that in mind, and dancing safely at the edge of things with a partner who knew what he was doing, she could manage not to fall flat on her face.
When they came together along with the nearby couples to clasp hands, she looked up at him. “Thank you. But why? Why bother?”
He gave a fractional shake of his head. “Can we enjoy one dance in peace before you start insulting me again?” He drew her back in towards him, following the movement of the dance, and added, more warmly, “You aren’t made to be a bystander, Lightkeeper’s granddaughter.”
Leaira opened her mouth to respond, but Delver interrupted her with a muttered instruction to let go.
“Sorry,” she murmured, drawing back. Whatever Governor Delver’s motives were, she was grateful. Why hadn’t she asked someone before? She’d vaguely imagined she would be able to adapt without help – or just didn’t want to ask, curse the Modelen pride. And, look, how easy it ought to have been to turn the key and open this door, if she’d only tried. “Thank you,” she added, a little breathlessly, when the steps brought them closer again.
She caught Delver’s hand and wondered again about him. His first request had been deeply strange, but he’d behaved well enough since, despite Aimon’s dark hints. She didn’t really believe those – she knew that Marran Delver wasn’t popular in the capital and if he’d been guilty of the crimes Aimon seemed to suspect him of, the High Council’s people would have removed him in a heartbeat. But there was something not quite right in the way, even from the start, he’d kept using her name rather than her title. He didn’t make sense in some way she couldn’t pin point – he was a stranger and yet she felt she knew him from somewhere long ago or nowhere at all.
“Careful,” Governor Delver said, guiding her by the arm, manoeuvring her out of an embarrassing collision with Cam and Kilsin, dancing next to them. He grinned, and Leaira smiled. In the warm and crowded hall, his hair gleaming under the bright star-lamps that lined the walls, the strangeness between them lessened.
As the music came to a finish with one last flourish, he turned to her. “There. Very creditable, with only one real slip at the end.”
Leaira gave a mock-curtsey. “Is only the first lesson free – do you charge for more?”
“Are you asking me for another dance? Do I need to call Imai Wolmer over to take your temperature?”
Leaira lifted her chin. “I must have some more practice before I dance with someone I like.”
“Ah, yes. Very sensible.” Governor Delver said, straight-faced. “Well, I have a few more minutes – and I won’t refuse if you’re asking, Adeleaira.”
She remained by his side as their fellow dancers rustled about, getting into position, or leaving the floor in search of food or a new partner, while others came to join them. Barennin elbowed Leaira as he passed by with Diessa. Leaira acknowledged his hasty apology with a nod, but she remained watching the Governor. He’d used her name again.
“Why take this trouble?” she asked him. “Please – I want to know.”
“It’s no trouble,” he murmured. “You’re perfectly acceptable company in between insults.” Then, as she waited for more, the gleam in his eyes faded. “Ah, yes. If you must know, you remind me of someone.”
“Who?”
“Someone I failed to dance with once, a long time ago.” He gave a nod towards the musicians, beginning to strike up the music, and raised an eyebrow. “Ready?”
“And waiting, Governor.” Leaira held out her hand. “But I’m not sure that’s an answer.”
“I’m afraid it’s the only one I can give you as yet.”
Leaira lifted her head. “And when will you tell me more?”
“Only when you don’t need to ask,” he said, and pulled a humorous face. “Rotten, isn’t it? I’m sorry.”
He inclined his head towards the musicians as they struck the first note, giving her one last chance to back out, but she held his gaze and his hand and didn’t budge. Then he swung her on into the next dance, and she let the music carry her questions away.
Story: Starfall
Colors: Vienna Orange #8 (I’ve done this many times before you, watched the pattern take form); Nacre #3 (Locked door)
Supplies and Styles: Paint-by-Numbers (Please, listen to me; I’m only trying to help) + Life Drawing
Word Count: 1709
Rating: G
Warnings: None.
Notes: 1337, Starfall Manor; Leaira Modelen, Marran Delver, Aimon Merner, Aliyna Dimue. (Takes place early in Governor Delver's visit to Starfall.)
Summary: Leaira isn’t dancing. Governor Delver has something to say about that.
There hadn’t been a large formal affair like this at Starfall Manor since Leaira had arrived. There had been plenty of informal occasions, like Irval’s farewell party, and the usual annual festivals, but Starfall was usually too remote for dignitaries to visit. The arrival of North Eastern’s District Governor warranted a certain amount of ceremony in its own right, but Northern’s own Governor Corcrall had insisted on being present at what was termed an official welcome reception, even though Governor Delver had been at Starfall for almost a couple of weeks already.
That might have been too long for Leaira, but she couldn’t be sorry for the chance to finally pull her finest dress of grey-blue out of its paper wrappings and wear it again. She straightened the skirt as she paused in the doorway, before crossing the great hall to find Aimon. She could see Arin already dancing with one of Governor Corcrall’s staff. Arin flirted happily with any nice-looking male who came into his vicinity, but this secretary was apparently an old acquaintance Arin had been excited to renew. Leaira wasn’t about to interrupt him.
Aimon was not dancing, of course. He was standing to one side, watching everyone else, and when Leaira asked him if he danced, he said, “Not very well.” Then he gestured outwards at the lively crowd. “Besides, I’ve never been able to get the hang of northern dances.”
Leaira hadn’t either, and bit back a sigh. Her feet itched to dance. It had been too long. Another chance like this might not come her way again any time soon. She lifted her head and looked upwards. The wooden-beamed hall was nothing like the pale-stoned, open structures of Lighthaven, but the music carried her back there to all the formal affairs her grandmother had hosted in her time as Lightkeeper.
Leaira ducked further out to the edges of the room, passing Aliyna, who was going one better than Aimon by not only standing to one side, but scowling at everyone. It would be a brave soul who would ask her to dance. Leaira wished again that she could; it would be worth it just to see Aliyna’s reaction. Maybe it would even finally cheer the young Pathwalker up.
“All this for one Governor,” said Aliyna in disgust. She had positioned herself by the food tables and, as she spoke, reached out for another savoury, examining it briefly before she ate it. “This isn’t bad, though,” she added indistinctly.
Leaira laughed. “It’s not really for the Governor – it’s our chance to show ourselves off to the outside world. Besides, don’t forget – we have two District Governors, no less!” She nodded over to where Governor Corcrall was standing not far away, deep in conversation with Tannis Kellen, the Head of Starfall Manor. The pair were old acquaintances.
Leaira left Aliyna haunting the food tables and moved on through the room, trying to spot Sy, one of the younger medics, who might at least be willing to talk to her, but in the midst of gazing across the room for any sight of him, she stopped short with a gasp, finding herself directly in the path of the cause of the festivities – Governor Delver himself.
Marran Delver halted in front of her and gave a brief, formal nod. “Imai Modelen. I was coming over to ask you to dance.”
Leaira raised her head, startled enough to stumble backwards over somebody else’s legs. Delver gripped her elbow, steadying her.
“I will take no for an answer.” he said, releasing her as soon as she’d fully righted herself. “It wasn’t meant to be that alarming a proposition.” He leant closer, conspiratorial. “I noticed you weren’t dancing. I thought perhaps I could help.”
Leaira inclined her head in return, recovering her composure. “Thank you, Governor, but I simply don’t know the northern formal style of dancing.”
“Yes, but I do,” he said, and gave her an unexpectedly full smile. “Is that your only objection, Imai Modelen?” He held out his hand. “I can teach you.” She hesitated, and he added, “Stop looking so worried! It’s a perfectly genuine – and innocent – offer.”
Leaira took his gloved hand in hers. “I’m afraid I never seem to understand you, Governor.”
“No,” the Governor agreed soberly. “Not yet. In time, I trust. For now, let’s concentrate on your dancing.”
He led her further along, until they were in a comparatively empty space at the far end of the room, and waited there with her for the current dance to end. When it did, he guided her into position. “Now, the trick is that the two styles aren’t actually as different as they might appear. The main thing to remember is that, at the points where you southerners would tend to press palms, we link hands. Of course, much of the rest depends on the individual dances, but start there, and you’ll find a lot of them much more familiar than you’d expect.” He took a step back to position himself, and her, correctly. “For the rest – keep an eye on everyone around you, and follow me.”
“It can’t be that simple!”
“Unlike so much else, yes,” he said, and as the musicians struck up the next piece, he gave a brief nod. “Good. You’ll recognise this, no doubt? The same tune you use for Harral’s Feast?”
Leaira nodded. “How did you – that is – I didn’t expect you to –”
“Shh,” said Governor Delver. “Concentrate on your steps. I don’t know,” he murmured aside as he moved forward to clasp her hand and turn with her. “She’s shocked that I can read, and now that I have an interest in music. And, yes, yes, that’s it. More or less. What do you imagine I do with myself when I’m not governing? Am I permitted no outside interests?”
Leaira shot him a dark look, but somehow ended up laughing at his mock-injured expression. His advice, she found, was true. It didn’t account for everything by any means, but bearing that in mind, and dancing safely at the edge of things with a partner who knew what he was doing, she could manage not to fall flat on her face.
When they came together along with the nearby couples to clasp hands, she looked up at him. “Thank you. But why? Why bother?”
He gave a fractional shake of his head. “Can we enjoy one dance in peace before you start insulting me again?” He drew her back in towards him, following the movement of the dance, and added, more warmly, “You aren’t made to be a bystander, Lightkeeper’s granddaughter.”
Leaira opened her mouth to respond, but Delver interrupted her with a muttered instruction to let go.
“Sorry,” she murmured, drawing back. Whatever Governor Delver’s motives were, she was grateful. Why hadn’t she asked someone before? She’d vaguely imagined she would be able to adapt without help – or just didn’t want to ask, curse the Modelen pride. And, look, how easy it ought to have been to turn the key and open this door, if she’d only tried. “Thank you,” she added, a little breathlessly, when the steps brought them closer again.
She caught Delver’s hand and wondered again about him. His first request had been deeply strange, but he’d behaved well enough since, despite Aimon’s dark hints. She didn’t really believe those – she knew that Marran Delver wasn’t popular in the capital and if he’d been guilty of the crimes Aimon seemed to suspect him of, the High Council’s people would have removed him in a heartbeat. But there was something not quite right in the way, even from the start, he’d kept using her name rather than her title. He didn’t make sense in some way she couldn’t pin point – he was a stranger and yet she felt she knew him from somewhere long ago or nowhere at all.
“Careful,” Governor Delver said, guiding her by the arm, manoeuvring her out of an embarrassing collision with Cam and Kilsin, dancing next to them. He grinned, and Leaira smiled. In the warm and crowded hall, his hair gleaming under the bright star-lamps that lined the walls, the strangeness between them lessened.
As the music came to a finish with one last flourish, he turned to her. “There. Very creditable, with only one real slip at the end.”
Leaira gave a mock-curtsey. “Is only the first lesson free – do you charge for more?”
“Are you asking me for another dance? Do I need to call Imai Wolmer over to take your temperature?”
Leaira lifted her chin. “I must have some more practice before I dance with someone I like.”
“Ah, yes. Very sensible.” Governor Delver said, straight-faced. “Well, I have a few more minutes – and I won’t refuse if you’re asking, Adeleaira.”
She remained by his side as their fellow dancers rustled about, getting into position, or leaving the floor in search of food or a new partner, while others came to join them. Barennin elbowed Leaira as he passed by with Diessa. Leaira acknowledged his hasty apology with a nod, but she remained watching the Governor. He’d used her name again.
“Why take this trouble?” she asked him. “Please – I want to know.”
“It’s no trouble,” he murmured. “You’re perfectly acceptable company in between insults.” Then, as she waited for more, the gleam in his eyes faded. “Ah, yes. If you must know, you remind me of someone.”
“Who?”
“Someone I failed to dance with once, a long time ago.” He gave a nod towards the musicians, beginning to strike up the music, and raised an eyebrow. “Ready?”
“And waiting, Governor.” Leaira held out her hand. “But I’m not sure that’s an answer.”
“I’m afraid it’s the only one I can give you as yet.”
Leaira lifted her head. “And when will you tell me more?”
“Only when you don’t need to ask,” he said, and pulled a humorous face. “Rotten, isn’t it? I’m sorry.”
He inclined his head towards the musicians as they struck the first note, giving her one last chance to back out, but she held his gaze and his hand and didn’t budge. Then he swung her on into the next dance, and she let the music carry her questions away.
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It would be a brave soul who would ask her to dance. Leaira wished again that she could; it would be worth it just to see Aliyna’s reaction. Maybe it would even finally cheer the young Pathwalker up.
This made me grin.
This makes me really want to know more about these characters' pasts.
Very well written!
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This makes me really want to know more about these characters' pasts.
Thank you! That's good to hear; I'm not so many pieces away now from being able to post the one where we find out what Governor Delver's weirdness with Leaira is about, and it's always nice to know someone might care.
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Hee! She should definitely ask Aliyna next time!
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