(1866-07-26) Who Knew Foxes Could Dance
Who Knew Foxes Could Dance
Summary: Angelique and Corvin happen upon a night of revelry, in a dockside tavern,
Date: 1866-07-26
Related: Any Esyld/Corvin encounters.
Angelique  Corvin  Esyld  Lorelei  

Dockside Tavern — Lonnaire
In set.
Juiliet 26th, 1866

Never let it be said that the Foxes don't know how to have fun. In times of relative peace, the rotation of guards is such that everyone can enjoy a night or two of relaxation. For some, that means time spent at home with their families. For others… well, let's just say perhaps a tavern ought to be named after them, by now. Tonight is by no means an exception. Down by the docks in Lonnaire a rough but busy little tavern is playing host to a moderate-sized group of the mercenaries; the ale is flowing freely and the intoxicating sound of lively music pours out onto the streets, along with those revelers already calling it a day, staggering homeward with linked arms and bawdy songs.

Stepping inside from the balmy summer eve, one would find the establishment bustling and full of good cheer - nobody tends to pick a fight when these sorts are about, even if they are off duty. Numerous tables are occupied with men of the Company; some playing cards, some arm-wrestling for a prize of the next ale.. and still more of them more partaking in the rare treat of entertainment. A few minstrels seem to have had the sense to pick this rathole as their venue for the evening and a jaunty mishmash of music has a number of patrons up and dancing. Perhaps most astonishing of all? Captain Draven is amongst them. Spinning through a reel with two of her fellows, the raven-haired woman seems in a rare mood, grinning as one whirls her dangerously fast, then careering on to the next, never missing a beat.

She'd thought about dancing. The music was lively enough, and the environment was perfect: she could be part of the crowd without being singled out for conversation while still chancing a smile. With a half-drunk mug of ale languishing in her hand, though, Lorelei Asheflour isn't dancing after all. The mug is knocked against her knee in time with the music, though, as she leans the majority of her weight back against a nearby table, ruining etiquette and manners with each and every inch of its surface her backside takes up (which is, admittedly, not all that much). Her expression is muted, as is her wont, though an outside observer can easily tell she's in the mood, what with her head bobbing gently to the beat and, if you're close enough to hear, her humming along with the tune.

The Lady is tall and dark. She moves through the crowd, seeing those she knows, ones she has fought beside,, relaxing and dancing. Tawny eyes widen at seeing Esyld relaxing so, then a knowing smile curves her red lips. She moves close to mercenary table, blending in, to a degree, In leathers, breeches, jerkin and hat, weapons at her side, she might be an especially elegant rogue or hire-sword herself. Black-clad as she is, her face, throat and pale decollate seeming float in the firelight, bisected by the ribbon at her throat, the heart-locket gleaming there. Angelique sips her ale, watching.

After a few minutes, another figure steps through the doorway of the tavern. He's not particularly distinctive save for the fact that many here would no doubt recognize him. His clothing is nondescript greys and browns, well-made but not something most nobles would be caught dead in. Still, he doesn't quite look like he's trying to avoid attention so much as simply be comfortable. He quirks a brow as he recognizes more than a few faces here, moving to a small table of his own, and ordering up an ale, content with watching the crowd with a bit of a bemused expression. Though it looks genuinely so, rather than sardonically so.

Finding her hands grasped by a tall and broad-shouldered Fox as everyone pairs off for the next - dangerously lively - piece of music, Esyld allows him to lead her into a swift step, laughing aloud as she's spun under his arm and caught again, just barely. In truth, the majority of them clearly aren't made for the sort of delicate dancing seen in the courts but it's undeniably good fun, regardless. Even if the tables closest are at risk of being toppled. A hasty glance is cast toward Lorelei as the Captain and her partner move swiftly by, the fractional widening of vibrant blue eyes most certainly conveying an amused air of 'oh no!' to accompany her smile.

As for those seated, several note the arrival of the darkly-attired Lady, some venturing to offer her a grin or a raised tankard in greeting.. but none are so bold as to approach her directly. Give it a few more ales and that will likely change, judging by a few lingering gazes. These are no knights, after all. Place a beautiful woman in their midst and they're going to look.

'Notice' is Lorelei's middle name. Well, not really, but it's second nature and has been for as long as she has memory. She's noticed the musicians' sweat beading, then dripping,off their brows; the sounds of mugs clinking together, empty and full and then sloshing all over in the latter case; her companion's glee and the change of the tune; and, naturally, the advent of two rather interesting people. Onyx eyes flit toward the door, then up and down the frame of one Angelique as she enters, her identity familiar and her features recognizable. No harm done, she convinces herself, and her shoulders ease up a bit of the tension they instinctively hold. She's back at tapping her mug on her knee after another sip of ale when the door opens again, though, and while Corvin receives an equally brief look from the archer, the one she now shoots toward Esyld is a bit more pointed, waiting to move on until its been noticed.

It may also come with an eyeroll. Impossible to tell in this din.

Unlike most Nobles, Angel is very much at home in such company. She catches Lorelei's eye, her nod in return is almost a tiny bow, made far less formal by her smile; that enigmatic, serene, and knowing smile. She even raises her pewter mug, bedewed from the cool drink within.
She too is observant, she notes the looks from the company, offering them the same smile. Then something catches her attention as well. Perhaps the interplay between Lorelei and Esyld, or something more primal. At any even she glances sidelong, noting the arrival of her Commander. "So we are all off-duty…" Over the music there is no way most could hear he, least of all Corvin. Perhaps he can read lips. She raise her mug, drinking deeply again. Cooling….

Corvin lifts his cup in return to Angelique, taking a healthy(?) gulp before lowering it again. He taps his foot in time to the music, but doesn't seem to be making any move to join in the dance. There's a touch of curiosity in his gaze as it travels between Esyld ni her dance, Angelique in her languishing, and Lorelei in her observations. He's fairly sure he's seen the latter before, trailing in Esyld's wake, but he's not overly familiar beyond that. Still, after another sip, he rises, bringing his cup along with him as he steps over to stand beside Angelique, silent for a couple of moments before speaking.

"Lively crowd this evening."

Having breathlessly extricated herself, waving off her partner with a parting grin and shake of head - perhaps a declination of the next dance - the blue-eyed Captain wanders back over toward her friend, albeit unhurriedly. She slows her pace to scoop up a tankard en route, taking a hearty few mouthfuls. Casually attired for this evening's shenanigans, in a simple black longshirt and her usual leather leggings, Esyld is tousled of hair and pink of cheek but quite plainly in a very fine mood. Oh, wait. Lorelei's making 'the eyes'. And not the good sort.

Arching a slender brow as she lowers her drink from her lips, the brunette conveys a silent 'What..?' with her gaze in kind, before casting it over the crowd at large. Noticing Angelique, she offers the Lady an inclination of her head in mute greeting - there's no point shouting over the noise, at this distance. But that wouldn't have warranted Lorelei's grouch. So.. ah. As her vivid eyes settle on Corvin, standing oh-so-quietly over there beside her, there's a nigh imperceptible hesitation. Then a nod in his direction, too, should their eyes happen to meet. Her attention flits back toward the slender archer, though, expression clearing with understanding as she makes her way through the heaving crowd toward her, drink in hand and a curve returning to play across her lips. "You.." she notes, archly, "..should be dancing. Exactly how many offers have you turned down? And yet you've not sat still the entire time." The teasing is good-natured - the pair are clearly familiar, given the way Esyld takes a perch unabashedly beside the other, elbow to elbow.

A fresh mug's lifted and thrust, albeit gently, in Esyld's direction as she wanders back toward the little nook where Lorelei's gone from sitting atop a table to standing in front of it. Her posture's stiff, even considering her weight's left to only one leg to bear while the other scuffs its booted foot along the floor. There's a sniffle, a brief rub of the back of her hand across her nose, and a shrug before Lore grins faintly, briefly.

"Not counting," she lies, easily and obviously. "You know I will when I'm ready." It's an affirmation she's sure she doesn't really have to make, but she does anyway, if only for herself before turning back to the table behind her and pulling up her own glass with her free hand. The baggy sleeves of her tunic slide over past her knuckles in the process, and when she rises to full height on both feet again, she shakes it almost like a dog in adjustment. Look ma, no hands.

Angel turns as Corvin stands, shifting slightly as if offering him space at the post she leans against, with her long legs crossed. Her smile quirks at this remark. "Indeed, it very much is, I had no idea Captain Draven could dance so…" She turns back in time to catch Esyld's inclination. Lioness eyes meet Ice Blue. Her smile warms, liking her. Then Corvin is noted, and the reaction is…differing. /Always complications, aren't there?/
"It almost makes me wish to try a few turns." She inclines her towards her Commander. Watching him sidelong as well, gauging his expression…..

"Almost, eh?" Corvin replies to Angelique with a soft chuckle, "I'd be rather amazed if you haven't fended off at least a half-dozen offers for a dance since you walked in." He grins sidelong to his fellow Wraith, "Or are you simply waiting for an interesting enough partner, then?" He catches Esyld's nod, and lifts his cup towards her with a by-all-indications genuinely polite little smile, taking another glup before setting the now-empty vessel aside. "Haven't been here in a while. I usually make the rounds of all such establishments every few months, at least if I'm about the City for any length of time." His work does take him far afield at times, after all.

"A few more of these and it won't be so much 'dancing' as 'finding someone to keep me upright in time with music'.." Despite the faux-concern, Esyld accepts the offered mug, flashing the tall archer a smile. "You up to the task, Asheflour?" The words give way to a low-throated chuckle, which is quickly enough stifled as she takes a sip of her fresh drink, setting the emptied tankard aside without really looking. Ahh, tipsy reflexes. And the question was clearly rhetoric. Esyld could drink any man here under the table. And then likely admonish him for being a lightweight.

While Lorelei might maintain her upright stance, the Captain seems quite content with her hips leant back against the table's edge. It's a good spot, this, for people-watching. And it's nice to see their comrades enjoying themselves. A brief pause in the playing allows for some applause and tossing of coins toward the minstrels, who look weary but delighted with such a crowd. After a quick taste of their own drinks, they take up the instruments once again, setting a gentler pace. Maybe to weed out the most.. clumsy from the floor. It works. A good number elect to find seats.. and some others steal off to darker corners. "What about Eoin?" Esyld enquires of her companion, idly following the broad-shouldered young man she'd been dancing with with her glacial eyes. A blink and you'll miss it glance is stolen sidelong back toward the two Wraiths nearby, before it shifts to the safer person directly beside her.

"Nope." Not Eoin, apparently. Lorelei stops that wagon before the horse is ever hitched, taking a measured sip from her mug that looks like it'd be more at home on a lady of some great house. Despite the sharp angles and ill-fitted clothes, it seems there are some feminine measures to this youth, no matter how badly she wishes it weren't true.

She nods dutifully at each observation Esyld makes, blinking a few tims as she watches the minstrels retake their place and, with what appears to be a second wind with the strength of a hurricane, she replaces her mug and takes first the wrist then the hand of the woman beside her. She doesn't even mutter a pardon as she forces her way against the stream, much like a determined salmon, to the dancefloor with Esyld in hand. There's a grin, then a bow, and Lorelei sets up, as the taller of the two, as the man just before the music begins.

Angel lowers her mug, laughing as she does. Slim she is, and strong, but in some places curvy. Her mirth does…/interesting/ things. "Oh I have had a few…looks. Let them As to fascinating partners? Ah, that would be telling then, would it not? One must maintain Some mystery." Her smile is very red, her teeth very white. Up close, she scents of jasmine today. Something light, delicate. For all her dark elegance. "Tybalt introduced me to this place and others. I find them fun, really." /Useful too/

Then the Captain and the Archer are on the dance floor, Angel's eyes, and smile widen….

"Well, I suppose that I can't call you to task for being coy. We're not exactly on duty, are we?" Corvin notes with some amusement, before offering a hand towards Angelique with a slight bow, "I do at times prefer a more direct approach, however. Shall we dance, Milady?" Then his attention is briefly absorbed by Esyld and Lorelei taking to the dance floor. He almost looks as though a quip is coming to mind, but it doesn't escape him, at least for the moment, as his eyes turn back to Angelique.

There's a soft sound of protest from the Captain, though mostly because she'd been in the middle of a mouthful of ale. In fact, having abruptly thrust the tankard into the chest of a young, wiry mercenary in passing, she's still swallowing as she's hauled toward the makeshift dancefloor once again, the back of her newly freed hand pressed momentarily to her lips as if it will keep her from choking on her laughter. And ale, obviously.

The former is still lurking in the tone of her voice when she speaks, though; eyeing Lorelei in feigned uncertainty as she bows. "Oh dear. This is it. This is how I'm going to die." An overly dramatic look is cast, aghast, ceilingwards.. then she just plays along. There's a ripple of hilarity from the Foxes seated nearby, as well as a few whistles and 'encouraging remarks' when she lightly takes the hem of her longshirt in the fingertips of each hand and curtseys, low and graceful, before her partner. Contrary to popular outside opinion, Draven is not always gloom and duty-bound. And this is a night for revelry. Why not?

She tears her eyes from the pair of Foxes on the Dance floor, turning her gaze back to her fellow Wraith. She does a courtesy, a movement elegant and spare, smiling as she does. "No Master Corvin, on Duty we are not." Angelique takes his hand in her gloved one, slim fingers under butter soft leather. She meets his gaze, her smile touching her eyes, pale gold in the firelight. "Certainly, I should be honored…" Her voice, soft, dark velvet in the smoke-filled air….

Why not indeed? There's grace and rythm in Lore's steps, nothing spectacular and nothing especially flourishing, but she's observed enough to make it clear she definitely knows what she's doing. The Captain's remark about dying is met with a barely detectable flush of porcelain-pale cheeks and restraint of laughter manifest in a quick little press of top teeth into her bottom lip, but no words. Why talk? The music and steps are enough to concentrate on. And cat calls and wolf whistles to ignore.

It's not precise just when Lorelei notices the Wraiths have joined them on the floor, but when she does, her hands squeeze where they're making contact with her partner, briefly.

Corvin leads Angelique to the dance floor, where it soon becomes reasonably apparent that somewher ein the midst of learning how to kill people in a vast multitude of different ways, someone also taught him how to dance. And relatively gracefully at that…perhaps not with the polish of nobles taught such things nearly as soon as they can walk, but passable enough he wouldn't get kicked out of Court. "I assure you, Milady, the honor is all mine." Corvin notes with a touch of wry humor. So far, they stay well clear of the Black Foxes, though there is, after all, only so much real estate on the dance floor.

Keeping up with her taller partner is no mean feat but Esyld manages really rather well, even parting to raise one of Lorelei's hands overhead in her own and spinning a few times under it before returning to her. There's a certain candour to her type of movement, inherent in everything she does.. and it lends itself well to dancing, it would seem. It's something of a contest over who's really leading, though. The Captain one moment, the archer the next. Either way, they're making the most of the cleared floorspace available, weaving in and out and roundabout the others there; not even time for an apology before they're gone again.

Was she already aware of the Wraiths joining in? Maybe. They're only on the fringes of the night's entertainment and apparently by their own choosing. Still, whether in response to the gentle press or simply by mere happenstance, Esyld notes the pair with a glance; a flicker of some indecipherable expression briefly passing across her features before being dismissed with a chuckle and a nod up at her friend-turned-dancing-partner. She and Lorelei might not be the pinnacle of elegance - or subtlety - but that is, in itself, apparently quite amusing to the bright-eyed cavalier.

Still silence from the archer as she whirls and twirls with the Captain, though there are plenty of smiles to go around the further into the dance they go. Even accidentally kicking a chair leg out from under a too-close-to-the-floor Fox doesn't get her out of step, though she does shoot him an apologetic look before spinning Esyld one final time before the end of the tune. The minstrels cheer among the smattering of the audience's applause for those who managed to stay on the floor, turning for a moment or three to discuss among themselves which tune'll be next.

Chest heaving, Lorelei lets go of her partner before running a hand up over her glistening forehead and back through her nearly-black hair. "Ale? No reason to keep standing," she offers in jest, one foot already moving in the direction of the keg.

Angelique follows Corvin onto the floor. Once there, she follows his lead effortlessly, moving with a fluid, grace, almost seeming to anticipate his lead, moving with him like a shadow. A Noble yes, with all that means for the Finer Things. But she has an…instinct for it. And her style here is not completely that of Courtly dancing. There is an edge to it…..She spins under Corvin's raised hand, briefly meeting the eyes of the two Foxes, blinking slowly in greeting.

The dance concludes, and Corvin moves back to the edge of the dance floor after Angelique makes her "greeting." He holds up a hand, ordering two more drinks, a pair of ale mugs appearing quickly, one of which is offered to Angelique. "Somehow I'm not surprised you dance quite well, Milady." He notes, then lifts his mug in the general direction of the Foxes once more. He looks like he might be about to head in that direction, when another fellow moves up behind him, murmuring something in his ear. The levity doesn't completely leave Corvin's face, but clearly there's a tinge to it that speaks of "business" so he gives a bit of a sheepish expression and shrugs a shoulder to Angelique, "Looks as though duty calls for me milady." He cocks his head towards Esyld and Lorelei, "Give my regards to the Foxes. And I'll speak with you again soon, no doubt." He inclines his head towards Esyld and Lorelei, and heads towards the door…though only after guzzling down the rest of his ale and paying out his tab.

Esyld's not the sort for apologetic looks - she laughs aloud as the unfortunate Fox is sent sprawling. Fortunately, he's fine.. and the others at his table are guffawing just as badly as they help him back to his feet. She's still grinning as the song ends, and the dance too, with that final flourish. "Point well made." she concedes to Lorelei, as the crowd applaud the players for their exertions, "..and oh dear lord, yes." to the surely unnecessary question of ale. Smoothing the tails of her shirt across her thighs with a sweep of both palms, the Captain absent-mindedly lets her gaze wander over her surroundings a moment, before adding something further, raising her voice just a touch toward her friend seeing as she's obviously got her heart set on those drinks. Now. Drinks right now. "..I'll uhh.. be right back."

Those long legs carry her with ease through the crowded tavern, rangy strides unhindered as a path clears naturally for her. There's a sudden brisk and purposeful air about her that seems to demand it, without causing any concern. A few of the Foxes between she and the door she's heading for are graced with a grin in passing, or a nod and a few words here and there in response to quips and banter. She's at ease among them, as one would expect.. and they, in turn, treat the Captain with both friendly affection and respect. Hard-won, no doubt. Anyway, it's only a moment or two more before the raven-haired mercenary slips through the doorway and out of sight, for now.

She's always first, and it's with such a look that Lorelei scrunches her nose, deposits a few coins on the keg beside the barkeep and picks up the two mugs she's fetched, one in each hand. There's less command as she attempts to follow the trail Esyld's left, but she cuts through the crowd easily enough. Someone near the door attempts to stop her — something about the mugs not leaving the tavern — but as she turns to face him, Lorelei's elbow grazes her hip and pulls back her tunic enough to show off a dagger. The objector is silent and, with matching quiet, the archer exits in pursuit of the master, ale in hand.

"My thanks, Corvin, you dance very well indeed." Angel's tone and gaze speak volume that her words do not. Her glance cuts to the Foxes and the fall, then back to her Commander as he is summoned away. "I shall do, do let me know if I am…needed." She does a courtesy, an elegant gesture, oddly at ease with her roguish look…

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