Irial ♥ 5

[gentle_cruelty]

♥ Who: Irial gentle_cruelty & anyone passing by
♥ Where: around Festival bonfire
♥ Style: Your preference
♥ Status: Open like faery wings

There were two things faeries of each court seemed to enjoy, and that was excellent wine and dancing. Of course, the style of dance differed between Courts. Summer Court fae preferred a happy dance in a meadow beneath the sun, or

Comments

[badtouchness]

France, at first, had been much more solitary than would fit his usual self. This world had put him on edge, and he had been suspicious of just about everything. And, well, he hadn't quite believed it in full, but he had gotten antsy. He needed to be out, to do something, to pick up young ladies, young men, to drink wine and be satisfied with the knowledge that he was better.

And so, he found himself decked out in a very fashionable coat, frills almost everywhere. His leggings were silk, his shoes were polished, his hair was pulled back into a ponytail held by a ribbon, and, in his time period at least, he would be the epitome of fashion.

He was taking a liking to this celebration so far. He was in the middle of the dancers, changing partners frequently, and drinking wine even more frequently. And with each cup, his guard fell down, and his frivolity increased.

[gentle_cruelty]

Irial caught sight of the man and smiled, already anticipating his displeasure when he realized he was keeping company with the faery-intruder. He was less than pleased by their original encounter, and realistically, Irial did not expect the addition of wine instead of coffee, and dancing rather than an uncomfortable stare-down to entirely improve his perception of the faery. And that was just as well. There was plenty to satisfy Irial if he was angry or distrusting.

Passing between swaying and spinning bodies, Irial moved into space as it was vacated by the last partner, dancing next to the overly dressed man, enjoying the fact that he both had the advantage in height and the element of surprise.

The fire dancing across his shadowy eyes, Irial raised a single brow, no words offered in greeting.

[badtouchness]

France turned away from his last partner and found himself meeting eyes with a somewhat familiar face. He knew he had seen this man before, and there was a very distinct feeling that this man was not the most polite. But, then again, there was also the very distinct feeling of a swarm of dancing bodies and alcohol, so that more or less cancelled them out.

Figuring that remembering just where he had seen this man before was too much of an effort, he simply smiled curiously and held out a hand.

"Pardon me, but have we met before?"

[gentle_cruelty]

Irial's grin was wicked, enjoying the fact that the man seemed intoxicated. Maybe his mood would improve after all, both from the effect of the wine and selective memory.

He could not speak the lie and deny having met, when they had even exchanged names. And so Irial offered an one-shouldered shrug, taking the extended hand, sliding his palm across the offered one.

"Will you dance?"

[badtouchness]

If France were sober, he'd have pointed out that it was extremely rude to ignore his question. But since France was not sober, he didn't exactly remember what he was asking anyways. Plus, he knew this man, correct? So he shouldn't have much to worry about. The man was attractive, after all.

"Ah, but of course." He did a bow, still finished, not wobbly at all considering the alcohol in his system. He placed a small kiss on the hand in his own. France was good at keeping his composure, despite certain drinks. After all, he had plenty of practice. It didn't do to fall over while courting someone.

[gentle_cruelty]

The skin beneath the man's mouth tingled in recognition and pleasure, and the dark faery thrilled to the attention. Emotion was only half of his need; physical contact was equally as desirable, and so after France had finished with his formal overtures, Irial linked his fingers with him and directed him towards the dance floor, intent on movement and warmth and proximity, seeing no point in standing around going through the conventional motions.

Retaining his hold of the other man's hand, Irial led him around the rest of the group, drawing him close as their moving shadows reflected off the bonfire.