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31_days2005-10-28 05:50 pm
mythicbeast.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2005-10-28 05:50 pm
[oct28] [original] Pleased to Make Your Acquaintance
Title: Pleased to Make Your Acquaintance
Date/Theme: October 28th / Miss Machine
Series: Original
Character/Pairing: Gale, Palomir
Rating: PG
A/N: Pseudo-Victorian. I say psuedo because it's not historically accurate in any sense, and the only thing that's Victorian about it is the presence of corsets and the primness in general. I'm not even sure if panniers are from the same era. D:
Lady Vaniel's ball was going quite well, really, although, Gale reflected, there was a sad dearth of activities to engage in beyond dancing and eating. Wistfully, she eyed the young men slipping into the study for a game of cards and sighed, breath forced into shallowness by the constricting, unfamiliar corset. At least she didn't have panniers on, or she'd have felt distinctly like a donkey.
Serawen fluttered her fan furiously as she plowed towards Gale through the crowd, dragging a visibly stiff-backed man behind her. Palomir's face remained expressionless, but even without his muttered 'Sera, please' Gale received the impression that he was trying to sidle away very, very quickly.
Serawen didn't seem to notice, or more likely, she was simply very good at ignoring her dour brother's protests. "Palomir, this is Gale Mardrake, the wonderful young lady I had the good fortune to make an acquaintance of last spring!" she said grandly, waving her hand. "Gale, this is my older brother, Palomir."
Palomir's expression, stony and sharp, would have frozen beer, and Gale faltered. The last time she'd seen that face, it had been situated at the other end of a gun barrel, gruffly demanding her business (in all fairness, he had a right to be petty, as she would have reacted much the same to finding a young, petticoat-festooned young woman trudging around the badlands of his family's estate after getting lost in the woods).
Gale smiled wanly back, feeling her breath grow faint and her stomach plummet in dismay. "We've, ah, met."
That had not been the right thing to say. Palomir went from freezing to downright subzero, and Serawen's eyes acquired a sly, catlike glimmer that Gale was rather familiar with. It spoke of mischief, and fun, and a lot of entertainment -- and, knowing Sera, it would be mostly at her expense.
"That so?" Sera needn't, Gale thought, mentally groaning, have sounded so gleeful. "If that's the case, then you should get along fine."
Before Gale could protest, her hand was being grabbed and stuffed into the crook of Palomir's arm, and Serawen spirited off to the wines table, tittering out a halloo to Erias as she went. The blonde elf waved back, craning his head around and arching a pale eyebrow at the sight of his older cousin being forced to socialize. Gale recognized him, too - specifically, as Palomir's companion on that ill-fated woodland jaunt.
Her head began to pound.
Palomir's response was to scowl. Gale, expecting his animosity, began to peel herself away, but almost instantly, the music for a waltz began to play, and Gale found him sliding an arm around her waist as his other hand shifted to seize hers.
"It would seem, Miss Mardrake," he said, suddenly the paragon of gentleman civility -- and was that amusement? "That we are fated to forever run into each other wherever we go." He paused, shifting to accomodate her short stature, and went on wryly. "Perhaps, at least, we may learn to collide with grace. Shall we dance?"
But it seemed like he hadn't completely lost all of his mean spirit, because before she could protest any further (or even respond), he'd swept her off her feet and onto the dance floor.
Date/Theme: October 28th / Miss Machine
Series: Original
Character/Pairing: Gale, Palomir
Rating: PG
A/N: Pseudo-Victorian. I say psuedo because it's not historically accurate in any sense, and the only thing that's Victorian about it is the presence of corsets and the primness in general. I'm not even sure if panniers are from the same era. D:
Lady Vaniel's ball was going quite well, really, although, Gale reflected, there was a sad dearth of activities to engage in beyond dancing and eating. Wistfully, she eyed the young men slipping into the study for a game of cards and sighed, breath forced into shallowness by the constricting, unfamiliar corset. At least she didn't have panniers on, or she'd have felt distinctly like a donkey.
Serawen fluttered her fan furiously as she plowed towards Gale through the crowd, dragging a visibly stiff-backed man behind her. Palomir's face remained expressionless, but even without his muttered 'Sera, please' Gale received the impression that he was trying to sidle away very, very quickly.
Serawen didn't seem to notice, or more likely, she was simply very good at ignoring her dour brother's protests. "Palomir, this is Gale Mardrake, the wonderful young lady I had the good fortune to make an acquaintance of last spring!" she said grandly, waving her hand. "Gale, this is my older brother, Palomir."
Palomir's expression, stony and sharp, would have frozen beer, and Gale faltered. The last time she'd seen that face, it had been situated at the other end of a gun barrel, gruffly demanding her business (in all fairness, he had a right to be petty, as she would have reacted much the same to finding a young, petticoat-festooned young woman trudging around the badlands of his family's estate after getting lost in the woods).
Gale smiled wanly back, feeling her breath grow faint and her stomach plummet in dismay. "We've, ah, met."
That had not been the right thing to say. Palomir went from freezing to downright subzero, and Serawen's eyes acquired a sly, catlike glimmer that Gale was rather familiar with. It spoke of mischief, and fun, and a lot of entertainment -- and, knowing Sera, it would be mostly at her expense.
"That so?" Sera needn't, Gale thought, mentally groaning, have sounded so gleeful. "If that's the case, then you should get along fine."
Before Gale could protest, her hand was being grabbed and stuffed into the crook of Palomir's arm, and Serawen spirited off to the wines table, tittering out a halloo to Erias as she went. The blonde elf waved back, craning his head around and arching a pale eyebrow at the sight of his older cousin being forced to socialize. Gale recognized him, too - specifically, as Palomir's companion on that ill-fated woodland jaunt.
Her head began to pound.
Palomir's response was to scowl. Gale, expecting his animosity, began to peel herself away, but almost instantly, the music for a waltz began to play, and Gale found him sliding an arm around her waist as his other hand shifted to seize hers.
"It would seem, Miss Mardrake," he said, suddenly the paragon of gentleman civility -- and was that amusement? "That we are fated to forever run into each other wherever we go." He paused, shifting to accomodate her short stature, and went on wryly. "Perhaps, at least, we may learn to collide with grace. Shall we dance?"
But it seemed like he hadn't completely lost all of his mean spirit, because before she could protest any further (or even respond), he'd swept her off her feet and onto the dance floor.