Corsairs and Corsets RPG

[maikafanawen]

Emilia bent her dark brown head over so that Dryea might whisper what she had to say. Lady Morthaniawen smiled.

“Be careful though. We don’t want the finger pointed towards any of us should our accusations be incorrect.” Emilia nodded, her eyes gleaming with the enjoyment knowledge of gossip brought her. Hurrying on to finish everything she had planned for the ball, she left Dryea to the final course. Music began to play again and dancing was resumed in the hall adjoining the dinning room.

“Excuse me, Lady Morthaniawen.” Dryea turned to see a tall man with tousled brown hair and soft gray eyes in a fine suit of the nobility. Flashing his pearly white teeth and extending his arm he proposed, “I am sorry to catch you at the very end of your meal, but would you care to dance?” The lady’s heart was pounding deep within her chest muffled by her corset.

“Not at all Rhir. Why don’t you join me for a glass of wine instead while my food digests,” she said calmly, standing with her chalice. The man agreed quickly and took Dryea’s arm, as they walked towards the main hall where people were still grouped in conversation.

“They’ve over done themselves this time. We have enough roasts and fruits to last us another month or so.” Lord Isindil raised his goblet to his mouth and watched the guests lazily, wishing to hear Dryea speak. Lady Morthaniawen’s heart was beating so rapidly that she feared opening her mouth to answer would cause her heart to jump right out and into her chalice. “All this in favor of one woman,” he continued. “She is from Dol Amroth. Perhaps you have met!” Dryea shook her head slowly.

“No, I do not recognize her, nor her accent.” There, she had imperceptibly told Rhircyn what she had just passed on to both Elena and Emilia. That should get the job of rumor mongering done. “It has been long since I visited there. Once all the hubbub dies down I should very much like to speak with her about it, what she knows anyhow.” They placed their empty glasses on a nearby table.

“Ready to dance then?” Dryea looked fleetingly into his beautiful gray eyes before allowing him to lead her to the ball room. Inside she prayed her mother did not see.

It was common for Dryea to be flooded with young men at these balls for quick dances but it was no secret that Rhir was her preference. Ruiel hated him. She could not risk her daughter obtaining a weakness. Should anyone suspect them of being anything less than Dol Amroth citizens representing their coastal town here at the Citadel, they would do well to see that Rhir was used against Dryea to glean the proof they needed. Time and time again Ruiel would see to it that some excuse was mustered to remove her daughter from his company, to no avail.

Dryea was gracefully swept around the dance floor following as Rhir moved in perfect rhythm to the dance. Her mother and sister were finished with their meals and were liable to enter the dance hall at any moment...

“Ah! Lord Isindil, Lady Morthaniawen.” Garthlo nodded as he approached the couple, blocking their path into the dance. Rhircyn dropped his eyes politely and raised them again, though not looking directly at the man before him. A velvet cap had been strategically placed atop his plastered blond hair so that it dipped low over the right side of his forehead. “Excuse me for being so forward but I couldn’t help but notice how lovely you looked this evening my lady,” he took her hand and bowing low over it, kissed her gloved fingertips before rising again. “Might I have this dance?” Yes, thought Dryea. Perfect. When mother enters she will see me dancing with someone other than Rhir and not be cross. She made to answer but was cut off.

“I’m sorry Garthlo, but you’ll have to wait. Now that you have interrupted this dance I ask that you allow me two dances before turning her over to you.” Then he rushed her away again to resume the dance.

[ July 05, 2003: Message edited by: maikafanawen ]