[Memory] Better Company

[Linnea Madison]

uptown, vienda
hamis 18, 2715 ● early evening

There was something about birthday parties in Hamis. She couldn't quite put her finger on what, specifically, made them so unappealing; she could, however, point out many flaws in their existence, and the outside temperatures were only one of them. If it wasn't raining, then it was far too bright for her pale complexion, and dreadfully hot and humid. If the party had been, for some reason, set to take place outside, then Linnea likely would have made up some excuse to not attend - but here she was, standing in a room full of others just as displeased with their attendance, a drink in hand and a painfully neutral expression upon her face.

Linnea was a gentle soul; a kind and well-mannered woman that would never express such negativity as appeared in her thoughts, but some things were simply too much. A party for some fellow ambassador's new child was one such thing. Even without the fact of the child's birth being in the month of Hamis, there was the matter of Linnea's rather strong distaste for children - especially ones that couldn't communicate what they were making a fuss about. Still, it would be horribly inappropriate not to attend, and she was not about to make anyone think less of her or her position simply because she didn't want to get stuck holding someone's baby.

The Bastian ambassador had risen early in the morning, before the sun, spending a small part of said morning partaking in her assistant's wellness routine but the better half of it convincing herself to do so. Some mornings were more difficult than others - but the rest of the day was often worse; hours spent in preparation for the night's event left her well-dressed but partially defeated by the time she'd arrived at the event.

She'd dressed in a sleeveless, silk dress, deep burgundy in color and originating from a rather small shop in Florne, one that Linnea visited often during her visits back home. The hem ended a few inches above her ankles, not intended for a galdor of her height, and certainly not for one such galdor in heels. As it was, the dark shoes allowed her to see over the majority of the heads in the crowd, which she considered a bonus - at least if the birthday baby and proud parents were approaching, she'd know about it first.

Although she'd spent the better half of an hour taming her hair, the dark locks were windswept and pushed away from her face now, the woman having grown tired of the strands clinging to her skin during the humid ride over. Her assistant had made the claim that the messy hair was at least a fine enough look on her, and Linnea was reluctant to believe it fully, but she was also not about to spend more time fixing it.

Her fingers tapped idly against her glass, a tiny clink sounding as her silver ring was knocked against it now and then. It didn't go without Linnea's notice, but the Bastian chose to ignore the little sound in favor of looking out and watching those around her - so many conversations, so many subjects, so many issues better resolved over letter. She sipped at her wine, light eyes shifting to her right as someone approached - the hosts' quick stride over had escaped her notice, this time, and Linnea returned their smiles despite the internal urge to turn on her heels and walk away.

"Ambassador Madison, so good to see you - thank you for coming."

"Linnea, dear, meet Endrith - "

and that was how Linnea ended up with a child in one arm, the Bastian struggling to keep her glass level in the other, all the while maintaining a warm - but admittedly nervous - smile.

"He's lovely," she offered, glancing down quickly to this Endrith before back to his beaming parents, "you've been truly blessed by the Circle, with young Endrith. I believe my assistant should have left my gift with the others - if you will excuse me, I should check and make sure it's made its way there,"

and that, subsequently, was how she passed the baby back off to his mother, offering a courteous bow before taking her leave. As soon as she'd put some distance between herself and the evening's hosts, Linnea downed the rest of her wine, allowing the now-emptied glass to be taken away by a passing servant and hoping, desperately, that it would be replaced quickly.

"Dear Hurte," the galdor sighed, and although she offered smiles and nods to those she passed, she seemed somewhat content only when she made it to the wall and away from the main gatherings of fellow politicians and other attendees. She made to lean against the wall, her field a slightly tense collection of perceptive and static mona, frayed just at the edges but calming as she spent a few quiet moments to herself, eyes drifting from face to face but searching, truly, for the one that brought her her next drink.

[Niccolette Ibutatu]

Early Evening, Hamis 18, 2715
The Hessean Ambassador's Residence, Uptown, Vienda

Niccolette rose from the mirror in a swirl of Hessean rose-colored cloth, leaving a dark lipstick-stained cloth behind on the vanity table. “No, I have left my husband alone too long,” she said, firmly, grinning at Francoise Rochambeaux. “You would not believe the sort of trouble he gets into!”

Francoise laughed; the maid holding the curling iron let out a gasp, and all three held still for a moment, before, carefully, she slid it away from the Anaxi’s head. “It’s fine, miss,” the maid promised, wide-eyed.


Francoise grinned. “It’s my fault, Rosie,” she said, sympathetic. “I should know better than to laugh at Uzoji. And besides, Nicco, I’m sure he’s behaving himself.”

“Oh, no,” Niccolette groaned. “I shall find him and Enofe cooing over that chubby little monster! Probably bouncing him about, or whatever it is one does with children.”

“Oh, but he is precious! Those fat little legs,” Francoise sighed, longingly, and turned back to her reflection in the mirror, pressing her lips together in a pout. “Should I have gone with a darker shade?” She asked, a faint frown line appearing in the center of her brow. “It makes you look – oh, I don’t know, Niccolette. Dangerous.”

Niccolette grinned, broadly, and leaned in to check the line of the kohl around her eyes. “No, Franci, you are simply perfect as you are. I shall not hear another word.”

“Everything is all right?” Francoise asked, gaze sliding sideways in the mirror. Her hands lowered from her make-up brushes, resting on the table.


“Yes,” Niccolette smiled at her, and reached out and taking one hand, squeezing it lightly. “Wonderful. I promise. If only Dravant would leave me alone!” Niccolette let out a mock groan. “I suppose he knows the ambassador himself - those Hesseans - but I should swear he followed us from the soiree this afternoon.”

“He’s a loathsome little worm,” Francoise giggled. “I heard – ”

The door to the women’s powder room swung open, and Francoise stopped, making a little face in the mirror.

“Darling, I shall find you later,” Niccolette promised, brushing an air kiss along Francoise’s cheek, then skipping out of the way as the maid returned with the curling iron. She lifted her glass of red wine from the edge of the table, and made her way back out of the room, down the narrow hallway towards the main part of the gathering.

“Come on, Nicco,” Dravant said. He seemed to appear from nowhere, as if he’d been lingering against the wall outside of the corridor; abruptly, it was just the two of them in the narrow space.

Niccolette watched him, one eyebrow gently lifting.

The Hessean pushed a little closer, his eyes roaming over her. “I’ve seen how you’ve been looking at me,” he said, licking his lips. “I’ve been waiting for a chance to see you away from your husband all day.”

Niccolette groaned. “As if I want you to leave?” She asked, lips pressing together.

“There’s no need to pretend,” Dravant grinned, his hand reaching for her. “He’s out there – busy in the crowd – he doesn’t need to know – ”

Niccolette’s field pulsed – sharp and bright in the narrow space, washing out to the fullest extent of its range, enough to spill into the room beyond. She bore down on him, on the sharp heat of the static mona in his field, and Dravan flinched and drew back, wide-eyed.

“The only pretense was that I ever found your company remotely tolerable,” Niccolette said, and she did not bother to keep her voice quiet. “Stay away from me.” Her gaze flickered over him, and her wrist jerked, sharply, red wine spilling out to splatter against the man’s shirtfront. “In fact – perhaps it is better if you stay away from everyone.” She raised her eyebrows at him, as if daring him to remain between her and the rest of the party.

Dravant’s jaw clenched, hard – but he stepped aside, dripping with wine.

Niccolette strode past, and did not so much as look to the side at the whispered ‘bitch’ that came from the man. She glanced around at the edge of the hallway, and her gaze settled on a woman with long dark hair, standing just outside the passage; Niccolette supposed she must have heard everything that had passed. She could feel Dravant still standing, just at the edge of her range.

Niccolette smiled at the other woman, slow and easy, dark red lips curling up. “A waste of good wine,” she glanced down at the empty glass in her hand, and pulsed her field again, forcefully.

Dravant left – strode away down the hall, and Niccolette smiled a little wider. She pushed her hair back out of her face, and sighed. A moment, she thought, to collect herself – to slow the sweet song of victory thrumming in her veins – and then she would find her way back into the party. This was not the right sort of attitude for Vienda, no matter how much it had come to feel like home.

[Linnea Madison]

uptown, vienda
hamis 18, 2715 ● early evening

If she'd had just a few more drinks - what was a few more when she'd already had plenty, after all - then perhaps the ambassador could've ignored the noises all around her, or at least could have tuned the sharpest of them out, but she supposed the gods intended for her ears to remain open and her mind aware. The loud conversations and jovial laughs from the main open room were at least a bit muted from where she stood, tucked away against the wall, but there were sounds from the hall that she couldn't just ignore. Admittedly, Linnea was not the most curious of women, as she found that looking into matters too deeply often brought troubling news, but her eyes did slide over so that she might watch the commotion in the darkened hall.

Two figures - a woman and a man, clearly familiar but not so much that the encounter seemed friendly. She did her best not to eavesdrop, reminding herself of the dangers, of all the things and secret conversations that occurred during such events, but found herself unable to turn her gaze as the woman in the hall pulled her wrist from the man's grip, splashing the remnants of her drink onto his front. Repressing a laugh, Linnea tilted her head a bit, not bothering to glance away once the woman left the man's company and came closer to her.

A smile curved painted red lips, a shade resembling the silks of her dress, and the ambassador bowed her head in greeting.

"Yes," Linnea glanced to her own empty glass briefly, "I'm almost of the mind to find the kitchens and fill my glass myself; I feel as if I'm going to need it."

For a moment the Bastian's smile shifted into an almost embarrassed image, light eyes drawing upward from her glass back to her new companion at the wall. It was rare for the woman to admit such things, but she supposed that seeing someone else so open about their feelings was... refreshing. "My apologies, it's been quite the day; I've nothing against our hosts."

If it had been Linnea in the hall with that man, she would have went about it in a far more demure fashion, despite whatever feelings she might've had about the matter. Her eyes caught his form as he skulked from the passage, passing them by and disappearing back into the crowds.

"I'm not sure that we've met - or if we have, I'm afraid to say that I've forgotten your name," she turned, slightly, to look at the other woman again, and offered a proper bow this time around (though made sure not to drop her glass), "Linnea Madison. And you are...?"

[Niccolette Ibutatu]

Early Evening, Hamis 18, 2715
The Hessean Ambassador's Residence, Uptown, Vienda

Niccolette grinned, brighter and wider, at the other woman’s light indiscretion; hardly worse than her own, in speaking to her without an introduction. She looked embarrassed, then, the other Bastian, and Niccolette just shrugged.

“Please,” Niccolette said, her Bastian accent as heavy as if she had left Florne the day before, and not more than thirteen years ago. “Do not apologize for saying something interesting,” she waved one hand, a delicate golden bracelet glittering on her wrist; the sapphires set into it were not a conventional choice to pair with the deep pink of the dress, but they complimented one another well, as if to spite fashion.

Niccolette caught the eye of one of the humans serving drinks, and raised her chin in his general direction. He came towards them, passing Dravant, who looked as if he was doing his best to hold his jacket over the wine stain on his front. Niccolette wondered, amused, how long he would try to last, or whether he would yield and head home.

“Niccolette Ibutatu,” Niccolette bowed, lightly. She set her empty glass on the human’s tray, and took another glass of red wine for herself with a pleased sigh. She pressed her lips together, one last time, and then tried a slight sip; to her delight, the new lip color held just as well as it had earlier, and barely left a smear on the rim of the delicate glass.

With someone else, Niccolette might have thought the remark a gentle nudge at her own lack of manners. Naturally, she had only met Linnea a moment ago, but she already had the feeling it was not so. If she was playing a game, it was one very subtle and delicate; even if she herself was the mark, Niccolette could admire such a player.

“I do not think we have met,” Niccolette grinned at her countrywoman. “It is a pleasure, of course,” Her eyes wandered back to the crowd.

Niccolette grimaced, faintly. Yes, she thought with a sigh, there were Uzoji and Enofe, crowing over the chubby little baby. She suppressed a shudder when Uzoji scooped him up and bounced him with unsurprising competence; the many and varied talents of her husband had long since ceased to surprise her. He turned, as if looking for her, and Enofe was looking too, with a bit too much enthusiasm on his face. Niccolette hastily redirected her attention back to Linnea, turning slightly away from the crush.

“I think children are like good, classic gowns,” Niccolette pronounced, although a little sparkle in her eyes might have given her away for teasing, and her voice was quiet enough that no one but Linnea would hear her. “They should be taken out once a year and aired thoroughly, then tucked back away in the closet.” She raised both eyebrows lightly.

“Naturally,” Niccolette continued, thoughtfully, a distinct curl of wickedness in her voice, “one does not wish any harm to come to them – they are quite expensive, after all, and the product of a good deal of work. Unlike a gown, I suppose, they might not go out of fashion, although one never can quite tell how they will age.” She smiled, and took another sip of her wine.

[Linnea Madison]

uptown, vienda
hamis 18, 2715 ● early evening

Hearing another proper Bastian speak was always a small comfort of Linnea's, much preferring to hear the accented tones of her home than the rigidity of one's voice native to Anaxas, and felt some small measure of discomfort ebb from her skin, eyes watching the other woman with a note of amusement. She could only nod, slightly, to indicate her consideration - she couldn't allow herself any further comments of the sort, but appreciated her new companion's willingness to overlook the first.

As the servant was beckoned forth and approached, Linnea followed in the other woman's footsteps, setting her empty glass with the other and grabbing for another. At the name, gray eyes darted back to Niccolette, narrowed slightly, as she attempted to recall where she'd heard it before - she most certainly had, but where? They'd not met in person, so it had likely crossed her through official business; the surname was not Bastian, either - Ah!

She'd seen it a handful of years ago, on a few different occasions. If she was remembering correctly, the woman's family had been displeased with her marriage; Linnea had been informed of the matter and made to personally send a letter to the Villamarzanas in some attempt to assuage them.

"The pleasure is all mine, Miss Ibutatu," she returned, raising her own glass to her lips to down the first sip, drawing two pale hands to loosely hold the base of it afterward. Upon noticing the other Bastian's subtle grimace, Linnea's eyes moved to follow her gaze, searching the crowd for but a moment before settling on two figures holding the young Endrith. She glanced over as Niccolette began to speak, an eyebrow slightly raised, lips curved slightly at the edges as if the ambassador was trying not to smile too wide.

Despite her attempts, Linnea found the fine, albeit off-kilter line of her mouth breaking into a bigger smile, the dark-haired galdor following the other woman's analogy without disagreement or other protest. She even found it in herself to laugh, quietly, as Niccolette finished with the all too-true question of a child's appearance once they'd matured, a soft and melodic sound that rested unfamiliar in her throat.

"I cannot say that I disagree with you, there," admitted the ambassador, watching as one of the men with Endrith bounced him about, "I'm afraid I'm rather hopeless with children, myself. I'm never quite sure what one's supposed to do with them - and there are only so many times I can handle being asked when my husband and I will be having them ourselves."

If she hadn't been so practiced in her speech, her distaste would've been clearer when speaking of such things, and of her husband, but she had fortunately become well-adjusted to speaking of and dealing with things she strongly disliked. After another sip of wine (or two), Linnea continued,

"I suppose I can understand the importance of attending these birthday parties - and I would rather not offend the new parents by not doing so, of course. I am, however, avoiding having to hold the young Endrith again," she added with a sheepish smile, "have you met the child yourself yet, Miss Ibutatu? I would be surprised if our hosts have not passed him off to you yet as well."

[Niccolette Ibutatu]

Early Evening, Hamis 18, 2715
The Hessean Ambassador's Residence, Uptown, Vienda

Niccolette felt a faint but distinct pleasure at the other woman’s failure to hide her growing smile; she took it as a personal point of pride, and her own grin widened just a little more, quite unrepentantly. It only widened when Linnea agreed with her aloud, and Niccolette glanced back to see her husband still gazing rather enthusiastically at the little child. Enofe was reaching for him – they were, Niccolette noted irritably, both laughing.

“I quite understand,” Niccolette said, turning back to Linnea with a sigh.

Enofe was taking the child from Uzoji now. Niccolette supposed he must miss his own little ones, back in Thul Ka; she knew he was rather a devoted sort of father, an odd Mugrobi custom that Niccolette had not quite yet grasped. Uzoji’s father had died when he was quite young, naturally, but she had been surprised to learn that he had felt close to the man, and even more surprised to learn how much he respected and admired his mother – that he went to her, in fact, quite freely for guidance.

For a moment, Niccolette felt – oddly – she could not have put her finger on it. It was an unpleasant feeling, whatever it was, and she shook it away, and combed her hair back off her face and over her shoulder.

“I have not,” Niccolette said, crisply, in response to Linnea’s question about whether she had yet been asked to hold the infant. “I have, in fact, endeavored to avoid the young Mr. Endrith to the fullest possible extent. I am evidently quite hopeless with my nieces and nephews and I have little desire to better myself,” she glanced over again, and then back at Linnea, and shrugged faintly, and took another sip of wine, swallowing the faintly bitter liquid.

It was not, precisely, that Niccolette did not wish to have children with Uzoji. She did, naturally. They had agreed among themselves it was not yet the time; there were plenty of years left to them both, and Niccolette saw no reason to rush. And besides that, during her residency she had seen several deliveries; the Bastian was not generally squeamish, but the entire process struck her as horrifying. She thought it was perhaps the only reasonable argument for why women should not become doctors and surgeons if they so wished; having seen it from the outside made one considerably less likely to wish to go through with it. She could not, in truth, imagine her mother having suffered so; Niccolette was vaguely surprised to have been born at all.

Niccolette did not look back at the party again, but she did grin, now, again, at Linnea. “One is hard-pressed to avoid the topic of procreation at these events,” she said, wandering back to the other woman’s earlier point. Enofe had been insufferable on the topic all afternoon. “It seems to me quite absurd that it is utterly taboo for a woman to discuss anything related to physical intimacy, except, naturally, when it refers to the occupancy of her womb – at which point, one is made to feel it is a sort of public property!”

[Linnea Madison]

uptown, vienda
hamis 18, 2715 ● early evening

She quite liked this Niccolette, she decided, despite whatever difficulties her family had given her years ago, but she supposed it wouldn't have been fair to place that on the woman's shoulders anyhow - Linnea knew, as well as any, how troublesome family could be, and wouldn't have expected any less from her own parents if she'd married someone they disapproved of. She did wonder at the situation, but was not exactly prone to asking personal questions in social settings, especially just after meeting someone, and so kept any inquiries to herself for the time being. And again, the ambassador was surprised by her fellow Bastian's honesty, freely admitting what Linnea had only let herself vaguely express, and she found herself nodding in agreement.

"Yes, I'm the same with my nephew - he's older than Endrith by a few years, but I'm simply at a loss when it comes to speaking with him. He seems to enjoy miraan, and carriages, and an assortment of other things, but it's always best when the children are off playing on their own, I think." She'd not seen Farah's son in a year or so, now, but had never excelled in her interactions with the boy, much to her family's disappointment. Linnea might've been the youngest of the three sisters, but she was the heiress, and was expected to have children of her own sooner rather than later. It disappointed them so to see her struggle with even her own nephew, but it just wasn't who she was - she hadn't wanted the marriage her family desired for her, and she most certainly didn't want any children that were expected to come from it.

The dark-haired woman found herself mirroring Niccolette's grin, even before anything tumbled out of her mouth; maybe it was because of the numerous drinks she'd already downed, and the addition of the one in her hand, but it felt good to just talk to someone. It didn't make her uncomfortable, speaking with Niccolette, even in the less-than-ideal setting they found themselves in, and she felt herself relax, ever-so-slightly, as the other woman continued on.

"Is it not almost unbearable?" exclaimed Linnea, though the grin remained in place quite easily on her face, "forgive me for speaking so candidly, Miss Ibutatu, but I simply cannot stand it sometimes - so many people feel entitled to tell me what I'm to do with my life, and my own body, and feel that it's my duty to please them. I feel that, if I spoke my mind, they would call me mad for not wanting to go along with their plan."

The sheepishness returned, although the ambassador didn't appear as bothered as before, her cheeks tinted a rosy pink as if embarrassed to speak so plainly with the other woman. She paused for a moment, raising one hand to push back through her hair, glancing back toward the main crowds.

"It's stifling," she continued, then, eyes returning to her companion, "but I do hope that the rest of the evening isn't so. And if it is, then we always have wine," the galdor smiled, again, a toothy smile that did well to brighten her face, and she cast her gaze back out.

"You're married as well, correct? I recall seeing your name before, I believe it was something for your marriage registration - is your husband here with you?"

[Niccolette Ibutatu]

Early Evening, Hamis 18, 2715
The Hessean Ambassador's Residence, Uptown, Vienda

Niccolette made a little face. “I do not quite see how one can be expected to speak with children of such an age,” she agreed. “I suppose they do… talk,” she waved one hand, vaguely, as if to indicate the dubiousness of such an assertion, “but it is not really conversation, is it? And instruction is better left to their tutors, of course.”

Linnea grinned, and she looked quite relaxed, but Niccolette knew – had guessed, in truth, already – that her words had struck something of a chord. She waved her hand dismissively through Linnea’s apology, and nodded as the other woman spoke. “Yes,” Niccolette said, softly, thinking of the anxious few months before she had married Uzoji – three and a half years ago, now. “I think they might. I am glad you do now, just for what I have said here,” Niccolette grinned again.

Niccolette laughed at Linnea’s comment and her grin, and took another sip of her wine. She raised her eyes lightly at the other woman’s comment. “Oh, yes, of course,” Niccolette waved a vague hand towards the crowd, and shrugged, and did not look; it was something of a struggle, but she felt that if Enofe saw the faintest gleam of her eyes, he would be upon her with Endrith before she could so much as blink.

“My marriage registration?” Niccolette asked, tilting her head slightly to the side. Naturally, following their marriage in Vienda in 2711, she and Uzoji had needed to file the appropriate paperwork with the Bastian and Mugrobi embassies; it had been a tedious mess of paperwork and legal fees, but they had worked it all out before they had gone to Thul Ka. “Are you with the embassy?” She asked the other Bastian, curious now.

Niccolette still had not turned back, but she felt a prickling awareness at the back of her neck, and took another sip of her wine. Slowly, she glanced sideways.

Enofe was still, Niccolette was relieved to see, busy with the infant, holding the boy in his arms and discussing something with his father with a rather serious face. Probably some sort of advice, Niccolette thought. Uzoji, however –

Uzoji had closed almost the entire distance to her already. He was smiling at her, and Niccolette scowled back at him, even though she couldn’t but admire the light pink-gray suit he wore, a wonderfully Mugrobi sort of color, but cut very much in the Anaxi style. It was, Niccolette thought, so like him to find the balance between the two.

“Mrs. Ibutatu,” Uzoji was bowing to her, already, and Niccolette pursed her lips, faintly, crossing her arms over her chest, tapping one finger against her wine glass. From the smile on his face, Niccolette could see she hadn't been the only one who - perhaps - had had a drink more than was wise.

“Your beauty,” Uzoji said, straightening up and grinning quite widely, “outshines the chandeliers. I worry they will go dim from the shame, and the entire party will be lit only by your light.”

Niccolette sighed, dramatically, but her lips were quirking – slowly, faintly – in a smile.

Uzoji was grinning all the wider, and he went on, mercilessly. “Your laugh sparkles like champagne; it is richer than any wine. It called to me across the room, and drew me to your side.”

“Hmmm,” Niccolette said, casually, but she was smiling now; her arms had uncrossed.

Uzoji bowed again, “You are the star which hangs in the night sky, unmoving – a man can set his course by you, and never be lost.”

“That,” Niccolette said, sharply, pointing at him, “is a quote! You cannot fool me, Uzoji Ibutatu. That is from Ansari pez Nasoor,” She turned to Linnea, and grimaced, although she couldn’t quite manage not to still smile. “Please forgive my husband’s terrible taste in poetry,” she said. “And his manners! Uzoji, this is Linnea Madison.”

Uzoji bowed to Linnea as well. “Ambassador,” he said, smiling. “Your reputation for beauty and grace proceeds you; I can only hope that the rumors of your grace are as well-founded as those of your beauty. Please forgive my manners; I was overcome by the sight of my wife. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

[Linnea Madison]

uptown, vienda
hamis 18, 2715 ● early evening

Linnea tried to catch herself, now, tried to suppress the smiles just a bit, dim the enthusiasm a little, but struggled to do so entirely. She succeeded only in containing any further laughter or subsequent outbursts, and she supposed that was enough for the time being, light eyes following the motion of Niccolette's hand as her wrist flicked vaguely in the direction of Endrith and the men cooing over him. So she hadn't been mistaken, then, in her brief recollections of the woman's name.

As Niccolette questioned her mention of her marriage registration, Linnea looked back to her, wondering if it had been a misstep to bring it up - but no, she decided, it seemed that the other simply didn't recognize her name in return, and that was better to the ambassador than messing up the only good interaction she'd been a part of that evening. It had been a long time since she'd spoken to anyone that she'd not met or that hadn't already heard of her, and she wondered, too, if that was part of why Niccolette felt comfortable being so honest about her opinions, but suspected it wasn't so.

She was somewhat aware of another person approaching, but also found it difficult to differentiate between the mess of fields and bodies in the large open room, and tried for the moment to keep her focus on the woman beside her.

"Oh, yes - that's my mistake, I -"

Perhaps she would've been right to remove her gaze from Niccolette a few moments ago, before anyone else had come close enough to disturb them, but now she was distracted entirely by the man that approached and was clearly already enamored with her wall-dwelling companion. This must've been that husband, she figured, her smile genuine as she observed the man's exaggerated bows and attempts at poetry.

That was what love looked like. Linnea could let herself wonder if she'd ever attain the same thing, if she'd grow closer with her own husband and find the Savatier falling head-over-heels for her, and she might've felt some sort of sadness burrowing deep within her chest if she did - but she didn't, for it was a useless thing to question. It was unattainable.

Yes, she reiterated, mentally, glancing quickly back to Niccolette to catch her reaction. Unattainable.

She refocused her thoughts as the woman turned to her, again, her face betraying her amusement even as she tried to appear unamused with her husband. Linnea could only shake her head and assure, "oh, there's nothing to forgive. If anything, I think I've been introduced to an excellent new poet," she joked lightly, and bowed deeply in return to Uzoji.

"You are far too kind, Mister Ibutatu, and please - Linnea is perfectly fine," as she straightened up, she looked back to Niccolette, "your wife has made lovely company; I can see why you're so taken with her. I see that you've already met Endrith, Mister Ibutatu - how do the two of you know our hosts, if you don't mind my asking?"

[Niccolette Ibutatu]

Early Evening, Hamis 18, 2715
The Hessean Ambassador's Residence, Uptown, Vienda

Niccolette’s eyebrows flicked up at the title ambassador, and she was already grinning when Linnea looked back at her. “I suppose the embassy is with you, then,” she said, giggled, and took another sip of wine.

Uzoji was smiling, his gaze drifting slowly back to Niccolette, as if he couldn’t quite help it. He gave his head a little shake, and cleared his throat, and turned back to Linnea with a smile.

“In Vienda, is there ever only one way?” Uzoji grinned.

”We knew Kayadi at Brunnhold,” Niccolette said, smiling, gaze flickering to the Ambassador’s younger sister, dressed in an impressively ornate Hessean gown and looking as if she was trying very hard to smile at the older Anaxi man patting her arm. “I saw her - two nights ago? And she mentioned little, ah, Endrith.”

“It worked out well,” Uzoji said with a grin. “We’re in Vienda on the excuse of seeing my brother, Enofe pez Okorie,” he smiled in the direction of the Mugrobi man only now somewhat reluctantly relinquishing Endrith. “He’s with the Mugrobi delegation. I believe he knows An’thamor through some Symvouli committee.”

Niccolette sighed, audibly. “We should not have come.” She grumbled into her wine.

“Beloved,” Uzoji said, gently.

Niccolette made a little face at Linnea, lifting her gaze to the other Bastian without fully raising her head. “Enofe is quite the devoted father of his two,” Niccolette said with a little smile, and she sighed.

Uzoji was smiling at her. There was space between them, as was proper for a public event, but at such a close distance Linnea couldn’t help feeling the way Uzoji’s field reached out, the mona in them enveloping Niccolette’s. The Bastian resisted, for a moment, then yielded with a little sigh. There was a faint flicker of goldshift to the air around them, glimmering like champagne, subtle and almost invisible in the air, but unmistakably warm.

“I saw Dravant left in a hurry,” Uzoji said, softly, looking at Niccolette.

Niccolette shrugged. “I lost my temper,” she pushed her hair back off her face again, and turned to smile and wave her fingers at Francoise as the Anaxi made her way from the woman’s retiring room, hair set in long neat ringlets once more. Francoise smiled back at the three of them, and plunged into the crowd.

“I am afraid Linnea must have heard the entire thing,” Niccolette said, and grinned unrepentantly. There was a little pulse of something like victory in her field, smug and warm, that made it clear just how slight that fear was - if ever it had existed.

Uzoji grinned then, boyishly, proudly. “I am quite taken with her,” he told Linnea, smiling, just as unrepentant as his wife. “Niccolette tells me I shall have to be careful in Florne - that the entire city would scorn me for my obvious and unfashionable devotion.”