A Whole New Wooooorld~
Who: Natalia and her ~*~mysterious~*~ Prince Charming
When: Evening of the 22nd
Where: The Arlovskaya household
What: While Alfred lurks about a dance, he stumbles across Ivan's fiancee and may or may not be ruining their engagement from both sides.
Sneaking into galas ranked in Alfred’s top five things to do when he had nothing else to do and had been banned from the hanger for a night.
He often wondered what life would’ve been liked if he’d somehow rekindled his parents’ small enterprise and made himself into a noble. Would he like all the fancy balls? The arranged marriages? Would he have met Ivan? All of these thoughts whirled around his head as he snuck through the kitchens of one of the numerous noble’s houses, saying hello to a few people and trying to look as indiscreet as he could.
While in his military uniform.
Which made him about as inconspicuous as enemy bird on a clear day.
Oh well, he’d get a few minutes in and that would be enough before someone (namely the guards) realised that he was of a much too low rank to even be within fifty yards of the place.
By the time he managed out of the kitchen, he found himself at the end of a long hallway. From the double doors on the other side, he could hear the graceful and sweet sounds of violins and the steady beat of a waltz (or something, maybe foxtrot? Something Old World-ish). Brushing off his jacket, he hurried forward, peeking in through the silver that was little a golden light into the dark room and slowly pushed the doors open.
The numerous floating chandeliers was bathing the ballroom is warm light, their tiny mechanical clicks and whirls covered by the small orchestra and the chatter of nobles, the clink of glasses and the swishing of skirts as the men moves their partners across the dance floor.
Yeah. He could get used to this.
Humming along to the music vaguely and trying to spot the nearest attendant with drinks before his eyes skittered to a halt on a pale blond woman.
She seemed familiar- but from where-
He wasn’t given much time to think as he heard some disgruntled and accusatory words being
mumbled behind him, the displeased tones easy to hear over the light conversations. Turning, he noticed that few guards were already pointing him out, starting to push through the crowd and make a b-line right for him.
And they did not look too happy.
Before he could really think of a plan, Alfred’s arm shot out and grabbed the pale woman, pulling her towards the dancers, hand sliding against the small of her back and the other wrapped around her other hand before she could protest.
Only once on the dance floor did he look down at her and offer a beaming smile in a hope to calm her nerves, which must(!) be on end after being swept away like this.
“Hello, I’m Alfred. Alfred F. Jones, and you just saved my skin.”
When: Evening of the 22nd
Where: The Arlovskaya household
What: While Alfred lurks about a dance, he stumbles across Ivan's fiancee and may or may not be ruining their engagement from both sides.
Sneaking into galas ranked in Alfred’s top five things to do when he had nothing else to do and had been banned from the hanger for a night.
He often wondered what life would’ve been liked if he’d somehow rekindled his parents’ small enterprise and made himself into a noble. Would he like all the fancy balls? The arranged marriages? Would he have met Ivan? All of these thoughts whirled around his head as he snuck through the kitchens of one of the numerous noble’s houses, saying hello to a few people and trying to look as indiscreet as he could.
While in his military uniform.
Which made him about as inconspicuous as enemy bird on a clear day.
Oh well, he’d get a few minutes in and that would be enough before someone (namely the guards) realised that he was of a much too low rank to even be within fifty yards of the place.
By the time he managed out of the kitchen, he found himself at the end of a long hallway. From the double doors on the other side, he could hear the graceful and sweet sounds of violins and the steady beat of a waltz (or something, maybe foxtrot? Something Old World-ish). Brushing off his jacket, he hurried forward, peeking in through the silver that was little a golden light into the dark room and slowly pushed the doors open.
The numerous floating chandeliers was bathing the ballroom is warm light, their tiny mechanical clicks and whirls covered by the small orchestra and the chatter of nobles, the clink of glasses and the swishing of skirts as the men moves their partners across the dance floor.
Yeah. He could get used to this.
Humming along to the music vaguely and trying to spot the nearest attendant with drinks before his eyes skittered to a halt on a pale blond woman.
She seemed familiar- but from where-
He wasn’t given much time to think as he heard some disgruntled and accusatory words being
mumbled behind him, the displeased tones easy to hear over the light conversations. Turning, he noticed that few guards were already pointing him out, starting to push through the crowd and make a b-line right for him.
And they did not look too happy.
Before he could really think of a plan, Alfred’s arm shot out and grabbed the pale woman, pulling her towards the dancers, hand sliding against the small of her back and the other wrapped around her other hand before she could protest.
Only once on the dance floor did he look down at her and offer a beaming smile in a hope to calm her nerves, which must(!) be on end after being swept away like this.
“Hello, I’m Alfred. Alfred F. Jones, and you just saved my skin.”