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[formidable]

Private AU/PSL RP, set anywhere from 1879 alternate history France to 21st century North America. A tale of two brothers and the witch and her golem who gets entangled in their lives. Urban fantasy, steampunk, magic, guns, and coffee collide. ➤ PART I ➢ "La Caravane".

Comments

[effet]

Y...yeah! This is our chance, Iona...!

[ She has a point!! So he takes her hand and leads her a few yards away, towards the dance floor.

If Iona looks over her shoulder, she'll see Claude, shacked up in the corner with a tray full of champagne, looking so, so, so amused. ]

May I? ...have this dance, I mean?!

[ so suave. ]

[infusion]

[Oren's just gonna take it easy on you tonight Gus... But never again. Maybe.

YIKES CLAUDE. Iona makes a mental note to herself to hassle him into going back to the Midnight Grind with her and Gus after all this is done.

In response to Gus's invitation, Iona lets go of his arm so that she can curtsy.]

If you insist. How could I refuse?

[effet]

[ Alright. Alright, you got this, Aubert. She curtsies, and that prompts a long inhale, a second to brace himself before he bows with practiced ease and takes her hand to get into position.

Surprisingly, he's fairly good at this. ]

I can't insist— even if you refuse, you've made me the happiest man in this party regardless.

[ He says, and looks proud of himself for landing that line, which promptly ruins the effect. But that's Gus, and he winks at her as the song starts up, a mid-tempo waltz that he sweeps her into with warm hands and a careful hand on her waist. ]

[infusion]

[And so she loses herself in the dance, a magic without actual magic, but the kind that lets Iona feel elated as she enjoys the present moment.

(Iona remembers something again, talking with her mother about being witches; why witches? She'd prefer to be a princess or a queen. Witches sound ugly, scary, and lonely.

Her mother smiles gently, saying yes, they could be those things, but they could always be so much more...)

Although her surface emotions flow easily, these deeper thoughts don't show themselves. She lets Gus twirl her around making her dress glow in the low lights of the room.]

I should have known that you really know your stuff! I'm having fun Gus, I really am.

[effet]

[ He's done this before a thousand times, but somehow, it feels newer now that he's dancing with someone who he's shared a heap of secrets with; it's cozy, comfortable. Playfully, he bends he backwards for a second, keeps her there before twirling her around just a little too much to be polite. He's having fun. ]

Yeah?

[ His expression brightens like a lightbulb, attempted suave wiped out for the moment. ]

You deserve a little fun, you know? You're always working really hard.

[infusion]

Right back at you. Thanks for inviting me out again.

[As the waltz nears its end, she slows down, just in time to see Oren lead one lucky lady out to the dance floor. She's sticks next to Gus though, sighing with contentment.]

I told you before haven't I? I like making my own fun, but getting surprised like this is a real treasure.

[effet]

I hope you'll let me continue surprising you, then! I'm good at that.

[ And he takes that hand he's holding to his lips, kisses it while Oren is busy... score. ]

Maybe surprise you with champagne?

[infusion]

[Oooooh, champagne.]

Sure! It's been a while since I've had a nice glass of that.

[Mental note, must take the brothers out for actual drinking... (although she stops herself from making that suggestion since... Well. Oren would lecture her and she remembers Claude telling her not to be a bad influence. Yeah. What she wouldn't give to see their faces if they tried tequila...)]

Champagne sounds like a perfect refresher after a dance.

[effet]

[ The brothers would be a mess at a modern bar, and maybe Claude might actually get drunk, for once. Terrifying.

Gus is more than eager to please, so he perks up and moves her away from the dance floor, towards the tray of champagne that...Claude is nursing, god help him. ]

Champagne is the one thing we never consider a waste of money. Drink as much as you want!

Turn your back to Oren so he doesn't see what we're doing.

[infusion]

[OREN KNOWS GODDAMN WELL THAT THERE IS GOING TO BE DRINKING, but he's gonna play good cop and let the kids have their fun. For a few more minutes.

Iona helps herself to a glass although she looks a little worried for Claude.]

Are you gonna be okay?

[pragnanz]

Fine.

[ The answer is maybe a little too immediate, as Claude reaches for another champagne flute.

This is likely his...what, fourth?? It's only been about 10 minutes, god save him. ]

The alcohol is making me unapproachable, mercifully.

[infusion]

[Iona takes a sip; it's tasty! But Claude, please, you're making this hard.]

You might wanna slow down though? Just a thought.

[pragnanz]

As a doctor, I know precisely how much I need to drink to give myself liver failure, thank you. Do tell them not to hold a funeral for me, as I can't abide by crying.

[ Oh no, he's even more of an asshole tonight. ]

[infusion]

Nah, I was just looking forward having to carry your drunk ass bridal style if you became too far gone, that's all.

[And that's said in English, so no one nearby can be aghast at her unladylike language. Still because of ~*magic*~ Claude should understand quite well!]

[pragnanz]

Bridal style. You've not even given me a ring, I think you're moving far too fast for my taste.

[ Claude?! Stop this. ]

[infusion]

True. We haven't even danced yet.

[She'll fight you Claude, she'll goddamn fight you.]

[pragnanz]

Do you dare, mademoiselle? I'm without my gloves tonight, whatever will you do if you catch an incurable disease by touching my hand?

A risk a wise woman surely wouldn't take.

[ Fight him, Iona?! ]

[infusion]

School children in the States call that "cooties."

I really hope we aren't being school children right now.

[pragnanz]

We call it "potential plague epidemics".

[ He reaches out, puts his metaphorically cooties-ridden hand on Iona's face!! Gasp. ]

Ah, it's too late for you now.

[infusion]

[Iona mocks a gag into her champagne glass and takes his hand on her face by the wrist (this is her right arm, mind you) and waves it back and forth.]

Are you SURE the champagne isn't getting to you?

[pragnanz]

[ He lets her, his hand limp in her grip as it waves side to side. ]

Not sure. I don't feel reckless enough to be drunk— all I've done is doomed you, and I don't think that that qualifies.

[infusion]

I hate to break it to you, but you are hardly the worst thing that's happened to me.

Sucks, I know.

[She releases his hand, to brush her hair behind her ear. And in front of them, Oren is already on his second dance partner who is very much enamored with him.]

See! Told you he'd be distracting.

[pragnanz]

I'll try my best to remedy that.

[ And, well. He turns to see what she's looking at, and scoffs a little when he sees Oren charming half the women in the room; he can't say that he's surprised. ]

Ah, yes. Our Belle of the Ball. Does he always take it upon himself to buy the ire of every non-female member of a party?

[infusion]

He doesn't try. He just... Is.

That said, I told him to be interactive so that he doesn't spook everyone by just lingering in the background.

[pragnanz]

Perhaps he's being too interactive.



Look at poor Auguste, he's shrunk into the background.

[ And he has...he's in the corner, sipping champagne like a Big Baby. ]