St. Grumble’s Red Tie, Brunnhold
It was her decision, she'd made it so why not clocking well stick with it? Especially when she'd put Rina to so much effort.
But it'd be so easy not to wear it, go with the lovely white dress that she'd worn at her father's party in Ophus. Better to go with the flow, be a good girl and not cause a scandal.
But why shouldn't she have control over something? Why shouldn't she dress like a harlot if she wanted? It would be her choice, she still had her free will and damn her parents for thinking that they could make her conform to anything!
On and on and on, the same arguments going around and around so that she was left feeling torn. She'd gone to effort with her hair and her make-up, pushing Rina to get the dress itself ready for her. She'd even borrowed a lovely white fur stole from a girl that she knew and she could hardly show up in a white dress with that thrown over her shoulders now, could she? Expense, effort and time had gone into this endeavour and so it wasn't easy to back out of it. It wouldn't be right.
Worst of all, the eldest Madden couldn't imagine donning that white dress, the very one that she'd worn when Toibin had wanted all eyes upon her, wanted all potential suitors to consider her carefully. Innocence incarnate, good, obedient, perfect. Wouldn't her fiancé be delighted to see her kitted out like that again, the sacrificial virgin that he expected would be all his. So she couldn't be that. She couldn't give Caleb Darcy the satisfaction although she had a feeling that he'd enjoy the sight of her in the dress that she had selected. Satisfied and then protective, or jealous, perhaps because she was going to get attention and it wasn't likely that he'd want to share.
So she had to wear this red dress but that didn't mean that she was confident about it. No one knew about it other than Rina and her opinion was likely biased in her favour, the mixed-race fashionista inclined to be kind to Niamh and so she didn't entirely trust her. Although her own reflection did suggest some... favourable things indeed. Still, some external validation would be nice and there was one person she knew who would speak their mind and wouldn't try to spare her feelings.
Fionn.
Even knowing that her roommates had left, already having headed off to the Red Tie, she was apprehensive about stepping out of her room. It was something that she'd have to get used to if she was going to dinner like this but it was one thing to walk into a large room filled with people and another entirely to step into close quarters with girls who liked to tease and gossip and had seen more of her awkward moments than she would have liked. She listened, standing stock still on two inch heels until she was sure that she was in the clear before trotting off.
The galdor might not be as physically able as her brother but she had a particular set of physical skills that she doubted he'd be able to manage. She'd had careful lessons in lady-like behaviour, the sort of things that led to one walking around with grace and poise and made every movement mean something, no energy wasted or expended pointlessly. Niamh.. wasn't as good as many of the girls who'd had similar lessons, certainly didn't have the demeanour of her mother but she'd had time to grow accustomed to heels - a side effect of attending functions with her father where she was meant to fit a certain image. She'd learned how to hold herself, to allow herself to sway as her centre of gravity shifted and grew unsettled and it stood well for her now. Her steps were slow and careful so she wouldn't risk falling on her face but she could pull it off, hem of her dress tickling her ankles.
The redhead had to trot as quickly as she could though as she went looking for Fionn, wobbling and reeling almost drunkenly, slowing when she drew close to witnesses but if she kept at a pace that stopped or smacking her face into the ground then she'd make next year's St. Grumble's Red Tie instead of this year's.
The student headed for Keyes' office, the only certain place she knew that she could find her brother. Except that he wasn't there and neither was the professor, which made sense of course. The Red Tie was on and it was a compulsory event, the staff could hardly fail to attend when all the students had to go; they had to set a good example after all. Outside of the engraver's office, she didn't have a definite place that she knew she could find him. They'd met in other places but it had always been prearranged. On a night like tonight, she couldn't be sure that he hadn't been pulled away to do one job or another related to the festivities. Niamh could wander into the scrapyard but that would be awkward and she'd likely get in trouble.
Could she waylay some passives and ask them if they knew her younger brother? See if any of them knew where the boy might be?
There were servants around but not as many as she was used to seeing. Many would have been roped into carrying out tasks for the Red Tie as well as being consumed by their usual tasks. However, she realised for the first time that perhaps those who were unoccupied with work were enjoying festivities of their own. It made sense; they were probably monitored less on days like these and why wouldn't they want to celebrate as the galdori did, as all of Anaxas did?
There was no guarantee that she’d find someone who knew where Fionn was but she had to try. So she started waylaying passives to ask them if they knew her brother and if they knew where he might be. A drizzle began to fall as she started her investigations but she was well covered, a long coat wrapped around her that fell to mid-calf. Her legs were bare though and given that front hem of her dress was a little higher than the bottom of the coat, there was plenty of area to chill. She persevered, trying not to feel self-conscious as many servants dropped their eyes to her feet in an effort to avoid looking at her face and then had their gazes skip higher so they wouldn’t be staring at slim, freckled legs. Although there was something exhilarating about it as her appearance produced a clear response. If the passives were reacting with shock or embarrassment or something else, she didn’t know, their nexi not giving insight into their emotions the way that a field would. She didn’t think that the anti-mona - Fionn’s word for what existed in nexi - could convey emotions but maybe that was something that you had to learn to notice in the same way that you had to make yourself aware of a nexus.
The redhead encountered a number of nexi, some carrying a little familiarity for her, perhaps having met a servant before although their faces were unknown to her. In spite of her fervent little search, no nexus she came across or touched with the edge of her senses was the one that belonged to her brother. Furthermore, his peers either remained blank at his name or tensed a little if they knew him but none knew his probable location. She couldn’t have spent more than ten minutes at it but in that time, the drizzle grew heavier and she had to abandon her efforts, covering her head with the borrowed stole - which would likely end up smelling awful if it was real fur - so that her bare neck and styled hair wouldn’t end up saturated.
With no hope of finding Fionn and no chance of returning to her room in time to change, the final year student hurried off to the Red Tie, nervous and damp.
The place was full of the buzz of many voices when she arrived, the young woman’s cheeks flushed from a mixture of embarrassment and warmth as she left the cold rain behind. She gave her name to the man taking attendance, smiling and offering apologies and awkward humour to explain her tardiness. She wasn’t likely to be the latest to arrive but she was definitely pushing things. Many people had taken seats, friends and acquaintances sitting together as they waited for the meal, some teenagers showing signs of frustration and boredom as they anticipated the end of this affair so they could attend their own puerile pursuits.
Hazel eyes skimmed the space anxiously, recognisable faces difficult to pick out when faced with such overwhelming numbers. There was a face that she was seeking and sure enough, she found him standing, apparently too wrapped up in conversation to have noticed free seats were diminishing. He’d end up sitting with the staff of course although he was the type of man who would end up sitting beside anyone who he could converse with, regardless of their age or occupation.
Harper Moore.
Her heart fluttered in her throat, eager to fly to him and yet nervous at the same time. She couldn’t just walk up to him though, not when people were watching, curious and critical eyes certain to follow her across the room, sure to gain far too much attention in the almost infinite space between them.
And she wasn’t entirely wrong about the eyes. There were those who looked to the doors to see those who entered, some curious to see what others had chosen to wear or who they arrived with, while others were just waiting for the number of entrants to ebb so that they had a good indication when this would start. So of course, gazes fell on her before sliding off again. There were some disinterested eyes, some who came back for a second glance and some who - realising that the passive-loving wallflower had stepped into their midst looking like that - nudged neighbours so they could point out the familiar face. It wasn’t like it was a huge stir but the fact that even one pointing finger caught her eye was too much for her.
Her coat had been discarded once she came in, the unpleasantly wet stole left behind in the cloakroom as well. As such, she was on full display to others for the first time this evening and honestly, she hadn’t even felt this exposed at her father’s party in Ophus, not even in hindsight when she realised why she’d been dressed up the way that she had. The young woman had wanted to be daring, had wanted to show that she wasn’t the quiet little creature that others took her to be and so she had done this to herself as she was left hovering indecisively in plain view where everyone had the opportunity to look her up and down.
She’d put her hair up for a change, not tied in a low ponytail as was her wont when she was working but in a bun on top of her head, strands artfully teased out so that it looked less severe, wavy locks framing her face while her neck was left bare. The dress she wore was red, with an orange tinge to it, an autumnal hue that complemented her red hair and Anaxi skin. While it fit with Anaxi colouring, it didn’t fit with Anaxi galdori fashions - no high-collar, no puffy sleeves, no pencil-thin skirt.
The corset-style bodice was tight fitting, cinching in at the waist and providing a little lift to her chest. There was no show of cleavage, the bodice covering her chest up to the first swell, a cupid’s bow shaping the top of the bodice. From there, sheer, red-tinged gauze covered her up to the top of her sternum where it formed a wide, round neck that left her collarbones exposed. The gauze covered the tops of her shoulders that would have been otherwise bare, the dress possessing sleeves that were off the shoulder and covered her upper arms, loose and cut to triangular points, the asymmetry of it meaning that there was more material on the outside than the inside.
The skirt flowed out, giving the impression of accommodating wide hips before tapering subtly inwards so the rest fell reasonably straight, appearing to hang appealing from curves. The skirt was longer at the back, the hem kissing the backs of her ankles while at the front it came to mid-calf. On one side, a slit had been added but instead of showing more leg when the material moved, there was a panel of a different red hue, embroidered with floral designs in a colour that was close to that of the background so that the patterns were subtle; the thread seemed to have a slight glint to it. Similar designs had been embroidered over one shoulder, minimal on the delicate looking gauze.
If her father knew that his money had been used for this…
The eldest Madden walked forward slowly, holding her field close and still as she tried to seem calm and unhurried, pulse skipping in her throat as she looked around the room. In truth, she was still deciding what to do. It was while she was doing so that she spotted her brother, Oísin gawking in her direction, mouth hanging slightly open. She would have loved to have that expression preserved although a dozen specs wouldn’t do it justice. Meanwhile, a young man rose slowly beside Oísin, hands resting on the table as if to steady himself: Caleb Darcy.
The quick dance of her heart continued but now it felt like it was close to cutting off her air supply, her stomach beginning to roil at the sight of him. Her fiancé. She’d done an excellent job of avoiding him in recent days. Before she had a chance to look away, she saw him beckon her. What did he think that he could tell her to come and she would? She wasn’t his fucking pet.
Niamh turned her head away, too quick for it to be viewed as anything other than intentional, a pulse of annoyance in her field earning her some startled looks from some excitable mites who scampered away as she approached. Moving a bit faster now, she intended to put some distance between herself and Darcy, find a seat far from her brother and his friends but he came up behind her, his field infringing rudely on her senses before his voice did.
”Niamh! Hey, Niamh, wait!”
The touch of his hand on her shoulder had her turning out of his grasp, stepping back as she did so. She stopped, facing him, arms crossed over her chest as she tried to calm the ripples in her field. He must have sensed the tension in the mona around her but he chose to ignore it, an easy smile spreading across his features.
”I thought you saw me but- Never mind. You look… good, Niamh. Really good. I appreciate it.”
Her lips twitched, the girl fighting the urge to let them curl in disgust as he leaned a little away from her, glancing up and down with a self-satisfied smile on his face. Circle preserve her, did he have no shame?
”Appreciate it?” she bit out, voice tight. ”I didn’t wear it for you.”
The smile diminished a little before he bolstered his good humour again, the barest tremor in his field.
”I appreciate you going to pains to ah… present yourself well,” he added as if she hadn’t said anything, eyes moving over her face and frowning slightly as he skimmed over the sight of her oil-sheened lips and the touch of brown powder she’d used on her eyelids. She could take some pleasure in the fact that he had to look up at her; she had a few inches on him in these heels.
”What I do or don’t do is no concern of yours,” Niamh retorted hotly.
”Well, of course it does, you’re my wife-”
”We aren’t married, I’m not your wife.”
”You’re going to be my wife,” he corrected himself, the smile barely hanging in there now; they’d garnered a bit of an audience in those nearest them, interest stirring in nearby fields. She was embarrassing him.
”I didn’t agree to anything and I don’t intend to. I was told that we’re engaged but that doesn’t mean anything. Now if you’ll excuse me,” Niamh remarked forcefully, not giving him a chance to say more as she watched his face slacken in shock. She turned away, now determined to do anything to spite him. Damn him, she would go talk to Harper, let everybody fucking talk!
”Actually-”
”I wasn’t asking for permission!” she shot back coolly, throwing a sharp look back over her shoulder that actually made him cringe back. She didn’t stop moving and the act of turning like that while in heels did not do happy things to her balance but she didn’t fall over. There was a moment of misstep and wobble but it was small, not likely to have been noticed and it was entirely worth it because even though his expression was trapped in a rigid smile, Caleb’s field pulsed violently, his anger clear and she was glad to have made his facade drop in front of others.
It wasn’t the first time that she’d seen what truly lay beneath, the young man not getting his own way then as well as now. He was a factory-rich brat, spoiled rotten since the day he’d been born and he’d always gotten what he wanted. He didn’t like the word ‘no’ because he wasn’t used to hearing it.
Before he had a chance to do anything more, she made a beeline for Harper, the tension from her last encounter bleeding out of her demeanour. She aimed for neutrality but found a genuine smile coming to her lips instead, a little twitchy with nerves around the edges but still a real smile. Just being in the presence of his field was comforting, even if it did set nerves in her body singing, the giddiness from earlier returning.
”Good evening! I’m glad that the dinner hasn’t started yet. I was terrified that I’d arrive too late and everyone would be very disapproving,” she remarked with a light laugh, a trace of a giggle creeping in. "I hope that I’m not intruding… Harper?”
Hazel eyes fell on him questioningly, the young woman not quite able to fully meet his gaze as warmth spread across her face.