*The Verge of War* A Medieval Rp

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"John" Cliffton lied, not wanting to spoil the moment by revealing his identity. For all he knew, he didn't get along with this young lady at all. He wasn't very good at identifying people by their voices.
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"I couldn't help but notice you sitting here all alone" Jephry put on his most noble act "And wondering if you might perhaps like to dance?"
 
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MadamPoofyBrow said:
"John" Cliffton lied, not wanting to spoil the moment by revealing his identity. For all he knew, he didn't get along with this young lady at all. He wasn't very good at identifying people by their voices.
---
"I couldn't help but notice you sitting here all alone" Jephry put on his most noble act "And wondering if you might perhaps like to dance?"
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A quiet chuckle escaped Jane. The tone suggested that 'John' was more than likely lying, probably not wanting to reveal that he was actually just some peasant who had snuck in disguised a nobleman. But, peasant or no, Jane didn't particularly care. As long as he was a decent dancer, meaning better than the man she had just danced with, all would be fine. "Well, it is indeed a pleasure to dance with you, sir. Or perhaps you are a 'lord'?" Jane grinned.
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Mariah cast a dark look at her husband, several chairs down and probably pigging out on the oddly exceptional food. She then looked Jephry over, debating about how to answer him and trying to identify anything about him, wether he was some hoodlum friend of the Alnwick family or a distinct lord she was acquainted with. Nothing suggested hoodlum, but nothing suggested wealthy and clever. No, she would not dance with him. Too risky. "I am not very fond of dancing," she stated with a smirk. She then looked about. "Perhaps that young woman over there is in search of a partner," she suggested. The young woman in reference was just then being led away to dance by an elegantly dressed man. Mariah's mouth formed an O.
 
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Herja continued riding the spirited horse, and the horse continued trotting and occasionally crowhopping, tossing her head with an occasional buck, to continue testing Herja's seat. Herja was a competent horsewoman, sticking it out with a grin. The further they went, the more impressed Herja was with this horse. The mare still refused to listen to Herja, but her flanks were becoming flecked with foam, and Herja was herself beginning to tire. The horse certainly had a destination in mind, and was stubbornly making a beeline for her nice warm stall, where warm mash and a rubdown awaited after every outing. India knew her groom would be waiting to serve her like the regal horse she was.
 
When Alfric lifted his head the distant lights of the castle glowed just a few miles away. Usually it would have been completely hidden, but it was lit up like a Christmas tree on account of the ball.
"We're about there." He wheezed to Azor, pulling his hood back over his face.
 
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Several minuets later they arrived at the castle gate "This is your stop" Azor told him. Azor waited till Alfric climbed off his horse then handed him a black face mask with silver detail "take this, it might be a bit big buts it's all we have"
 
Alfric huddled himself in his robe and took the mask from Azor, his arms shaking.
He turned it over in his hands, it was a fine mask, perhaps not as grand as the one he had lost, but it would do. Pulling down his hood, he placed the mask on his face and adjusted it, tightening the strap so that it fit snugly. "Thanks." He murmured, glancing back at the castle gates. "Are you coming in too?"
 

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