*The Verge of War* A Medieval Rp

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silkiecuddles said:
( NOOOOOOOOO
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)

Jane's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, wow, thank you," she stammered, pleasantly surprised and pleased with where this seemed to be going. "Yes, I should be delighted to," she smiled.

Edmhnd, seeing that the room was full and the guest list nearly completely checked off, signaled to the musicians. They immediately began a waltz while the herald announced the dancing was beginning.
Edmund went over to the queen, merely out of courtesy, and asked for the honor of the first dance. Mariah agreed, seeing that Audric wasn't going to ask anytime soon.
Edmund led her to the center of the room and bowed deeply.

Richard led Linnet, who had agreed to the first dance, nearby. He spun her once then bowed as she curtsied. Linnet wasn't particularly pleased with her partner but it would be rude to refuse him.

(Gwen?)
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Edwin entered the room but stopped in the doorway and looked at Katrina."Has she waken?" He asked.
"Ye may come in. 'Tis your room after all," she grinned. "She int quite conscious yet, but I think she can 'ear me somewhat. Maybe ye can rouse her."
Edwin cautiously crossed the floor to the bedside. He took Alena's hand gently in his. "Can you hear me?" He asked
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Peter took and hand and lead her to the floor. "Do you enjoy...er.. Dancing?" He asked awkwardly.


Gwen waited patiently for a nobelman to ask for a dance.

Alena roused blurrily. "Edwin?"
 
CrazyChickLady7 said:
Peter took and hand and lead her to the floor. "Do you enjoy...er.. Dancing?" He asked awkwardly.

Gwen waited patiently for a nobelman to ask for a dance.

Alena roused blurrily. "Edwin?"
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"Very much so," Jane replied. "Judging by your face, I take it you don't?" She questioned, smiling broadly.

Mariah neither smiled nor curtsied in return. She waited till he finished his extravagant bow before setting her hand lightly on Edmund's open hand.
Richard and Linnet began dancing.
The music grew louder as the floor obtained more dancing couples.

silkiecuddles said:
( oh oh :weee I completely forgot about my man Redd XD)
Redd removed his short cloak, handing it to a servant. He hadn't been invited to the ball, which more than a little irked him, but he had come anyway. No one would recognize him in his mask anyway, unless they recognized him by his voice, which wasn't very likely. He slipped past the herald, who was busy going over the list with a servant, and headed for the table of refreshments. He had ridden fast and hard in order to arrive on time.

Fawn noted who watched who, who danced with who, and who talked to who. She felt the young prince's eyes on her, which made her very uncomfortable by there was nothing she could do about that now. She noted Richard dancing with the lady Linnet. Only one seemed pleased with the arrangement. She continued scanning the room until her eyes alighted on a man in a dark outfit. His mask covered nearly his entire face, preventing her from identifying him at all.
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Redd stepped up in front of Gwen, bowed low, then held out a gloved hand. "May I have the honor of the first dance?" He asked. Being masked was quite an advantage for him here. She wouldn't know who he was or of what rank, thus it would be utterly rude to refuse. Of course he wasn't exactly positive who he was asking either, but guessing by her expensive jeweled gown and flaming red hair, she was the princess.

Fawn quickly grew bored from her corner. She stood and slowly made her way towards the refreshments. The room felt hot and stuffy with all the people, so a glass of cool spiced wine seemed perfect right now.

(Need more men here XD Crazychick?)
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Edwin breathed a sigh of relief when she spoke. "I'm here," he replied softly. He sat down on the edge of the bed.
Katrina put the cork back in the bottle of salts and retreated out of the room to give them a moment. She headed for the kitchen to fetch fresh water. At the end of the staircase, she realized that the young man who had been with her earlier was gone. He must of snuck out while she was with the prince. As she passed a familiar servant, she stopped him and asked, "Tom, 'ave ye seen the young man by the name of Alfric recently?" She asked.
He shook his head. "Afraid I haven't. Why d'ye ask?"
Katrina hesitated. "Um just wondering."
Tom didn't look convinced.
"I was s'posed to tell 'im his horse is ready. For the ball," she quickly added. Before he could say anything else, she hurried off.
 
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Alfric clung firmly to Indias mane as she strolled casually down the narrow pebble pathway twisting through the trees. It hadn't occurred to him that such a path was not wide enough, nor safe enough for a carriage to travel down. He focused his attention instead on the sounds, the smells, the rythmic up-and-down motion of Indias body gently rocking him back and forth. His mask impaired his vision and he was practically blind to what was going on to the sides of him. But on the back of such a strong, powerful creature he felt unusually confident and capable. Perhaps the words of the guard had stuck with him more than they ought to. Here he was no longer a knight, but a king. Wild, free, powerful, like a stallion. A grin slowly spread across his face as he twisted the long white strands of hair from Indias mane between his fingers. Unbeknown to him, the path he was on did not lead to Alnwick castle, but instead led towards the coast, where India was frequently taken; to patrol, to run along the miles of undisturbed sand, to toss and turn, and splash around in the cool salty water of the eastern sea. This was a privilege bestowed upon her by the king of Edinburgh, who did not have her broken, her mane and tail cut back like the rest of her kind. She had never worn a saddle in her life, nor a halter. No restraint was put upon her, she found her way back, as she had found her way there. A rare beast indeed. Of course, this was not something Alfric could appreciate fully. To him she was a horse, nothing more, nothing less.
The sky was darkening still, casting a long shadow of horse and boy, the silhouette trotting proudly beside them through the knotted tangles of tree roots and half rotted leaves. Somewhere in the distance the lonely howl of a wolf echoed, and a few moments later another replied, closer this time. Alfric followed the sounds in his head but did not pay them much attention, he was preoccupied with other thoughts, which shouted and cried for his attention. He indulged them, and they painted wonderous, brilliant pictures for him; of a king, young and strong, his hand wrapped around the handle of a silver blade, a crown of jewel encrusted gold sitting proudly atop his head. His hair was long and golden, falling in loose curles across his handsome face, and tangling with his rough beard. Alfric smiled again, and India led him slowly further and further away from his intended destination, with a dreamy, hazy drumming of hooves.
 
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