Tom
Calypso Kolgrim 
On the grand balcony of Maith mansion


Calypso was still laughing when she felt Bastian's large hand push against her back, cold palm pressed fully on her exposed skin. She blinked up at him, her laughter slowly dying in her throat. Amethyst eyes gazing down at her in a way she had not seen them do before. It wasn't new for her to find the nobleman subtly peeking at her. It was something she had expected, something that many had done and that she learned to ignore.

But now he was openly staring at her and Calypso found herself unprepared for how that made her feel.

She should step back. Take the matter into her hands and put space between them once again, giving room for their mind to recalibrate and slow down. But she didn't.
The hand on his shoulder moved closer to his neck, holding his stare as if it was a challenge of some sort, the first to look away condemned as looser, even though there was no sharpness in those eyes. Amusement curling her lips "Bastian," Murmured her low. No title, just his name "What are you thinking?"
Cedric
Bastien de Lysse
On the grand balcony of Maith mansion

As Calypso's hand slid up his shoulder, his own subconsciously trailed up her back a few inches as they both leaned ever so closer to one another. The music continued to play, and the other pairs on the floor continued to waltz. Bastien paid both no heed. The faint buzz the alcohol had been providing was dimmer now.

She murmured his name, his first name, no titles. For some reason, the air felt faintly charged and his fingertips prickled in an oddly delightful way, though he didn't know why. Perhaps it was how close they were? He wasn't quite sure, but he liked the odd thrilling feeling, nevermind the reason. It felt like what was happening was tiptoeing a certain line, that it was in some way dangerous.

"Mmm..." He hummed as he looked down at her, thinking of how to respond. Now that she had tilted her head up to gaze at him, he could see countless glittering constellations in her eyes. They were so dark and so clear: black pools harvesting the starlight and keeping it locked away to create small stars of their own.

A faint smile appeared on his lips, but he seemed slightly distracted, still looking at her. He decided to make a joke, a callback to what was said earlier. " 'Do you not make use of mirrors, my lady?' " He asked in a lowered voice of his own. The words were soft, and while still playful, the comment did not sound as teasing as he planned it to be.
Emma
Servant of Clan Maith
The Sixteen Rings, Tonate Proper


As the contestants assembled and chatted, a small, decrepit looking old man dressed in the colors of clan maith slowly climbed the steps up towards the balcony of the grand barge that overlooked the throng of armored warriors on the deck. 
The old man put his face behind his elbow and gave a few sickly coughs into the black cloth of his doublet, then turned his attention to the fighters below. He cleared his throat, and then spoke in a booming voice that was almost deafening to those closest to him. 
"WARRIORS! THE GRAND MELEE SHALL SOON BEGIN! TURN YOUR ATTENTION TO ME!" 

Two dozen heads swiftly turned towards the old man, as a pleased look crossed his wizened features. The barge was silent, save for the rhythmic slapping of the waves against the hull. 
"The rules are simple." He spoke far more softly now, almost a whisper compared to the shouting a few seconds prior. "One is removed from combat if they can no longer fight, or yield, and the last man standing shall be the victor."
He began to turn to leave, but then turned back to face the crowd with a nasty smile. 
"Oh, and do avoid killing each other." 

As the little old man walked down from the deck, the great horns sounded, and the melee had begun.
Alice
Katholou of Clan Drase
The Sixteen Rings, The Melee

Katholou stepped forward and inhaled the fresh water-filled air, calming his heart beat and fighting the stress that had gradually built inside of him. He looked back towards his entourage.

"Hey boss! Don't kill too many of them!"

His second in command shouted with a laugh, soon followed by the others. The leader of Clan Drase smiled and turned towards the field of the melee once again, lowering his helmet onto his head

"You made a grave mistake my friend"

He shouted back causing the laughter to stop abruptly 

"You forgot to specify what 'too many' actually implies"

He laughed before stepping into the ring, staring down upon the other combatants. His objective was simply to find those who seemed weakest in order to get a few early eliminations in. After all, the objective of this whole facade was to show the prowess of the leader of Bradai's Shield and having a prolonged face off with some veteran of war would certainly not achieve that. He calmly looked over each and every combatant, analysing their stance, their weapons, their eyes, their symbols and, most importantly, their confidence, using his many decades of knowledge, both in battle and in court, to quickly decide those to avoid and those to force a fight with. Immediately he would notice the massive bulk of Carac The Butcher. He had heard of the massive man and his prowess as a warrior. Definitely not someone he wanted to mess with immediately but perhaps... As a final cherry on top... Eh that is to be decided.
He quickly snapped out of his thoughts. There were many others to examine and not nearly enough time. He quickly glossed over a few other warriors such as Fabian which he had never heard of but that, perhaps because of distance or perhaps because of equipment, he deemed not a good

Early target. Then he finally found him. The perfect weasel to crush under his foot early on. A man located just a few metres to his left who, if not for the armour covering the entirety of his body, would probably give off the impression of having passed through the wrong door. He looked around anxiously and, as the horns rang, he didn't even prepare a proper stance. Katholou chuckled. Taking him out would basically be a mercy. A quick hit to the head would be much preferable to what might have happened if he got caught in the middle of the battle to come. The Leader of the Bodyguards charged forward, his massive shield held high in front of him with the result that the poor target would turn its head around just in time to see the massive picture of a white peacock b-lining towards him

"No wait i yi- AGH!"

He managed to shout before a mass of metal crushed into him, sending him flying five metres back and onto the ground, right in front of another combatant.
Katholou stepped forward to pursue and was struck in the back by the dull swing of a

Sword coming from his exposed left. In his haste to reach the perfect target he had not realised that the other opponent located to his left had also ignored his primary opponent and had charged directly into him. He grunted as the pain sizzled through his spine. He was definitely out of shape. He turned around and in but a second analysed the man facing him: a young chap, probably in his twenties, who, fortunately, seemed to possess all of the theoretical knowledge and a decent amount of experience as well but lacked another key component of any warrior, creativity. In his haste to attack he had not considered a particular move that Katholou now had at his disposal, one that in an honourable fight or in a battle would probably never actually occur. And unfortunately for him The Melee was neither. Katholou quickly reacted by unstrapping his hand from his massive shield, making it clatter onto the ground under the flabbergasted eyes of his opponent. With the now free hand he proceeded to grab the hand holding the sword, preventing it's movements as he brought his smithing hammer down onto the helmet of the opponent, knocking him out cold on the spot.

"Ouch"

He simply said as he looked around for other enemies and grabbing his shield once again. Only then did he notice that the man he had previously knocked onto the ground was now desperately fighting for survival as a crowd of brutal fighters fought around and on top of him, ignoring his calls for help and preventing his escape. Katholou cursed. If no one intervened the man might have ended up

Suffering some severe injury or, worst, die. And that was a risk that Bradai's Chosen was not willing to take. He charged into the melee, swinging his hammer wildly in wide arcs and forcing the others to move apart like ice-bergs in front of a ship, allowing him to eventually grab the scared man by the collar of the chest-plate and drag him out of danger on the side of the arena. 

"Th-thank you m'lord"

The man was simply able to mutter before being interrupted by Katholou.

"Yeah yeah whatever now you have to do two things for me lad. Firstly stay the hell away from fights until your orchard finally grows some balls or you might actually end up dead. There won't always be someone to save yer ass"

He said bluntly, receiving a simple nod in exchange.

"And... Secondly?"

He asked. 

"Why of course i need you to go tell whoever you meet how great the leader of Bradai's Shield is. Or i'll find you and make sure you find the fate from which i delivered you. Multiplied by ten of course"

He added with a chuckle before turning around and heading into the fray once again, leaving a somehow both scared and relieved man behind to ponder on his life choices.
Ora
Arin Cragton 
Southern Isles

Arin nodded, dropping the coin onto the table. It landed, rolling along its edge in a sharp circle before finally coming to a slow stop. He looked down at Vik, before closing his eyes as the smaller figure took his hands. He inhaled deeply, before picturing the face of the man who had laughed as Arin lay struggling in the trash bin. 

*He was larger, barely containing his mass in the leather armor that was hanging by bare threads. It was beaten, worn, as if several owners before had owned it. Arin watched as the man turned away, slapping the other man on the back as he laughed loudly. 

Arin's gaze kept on the pair as they began to walk away, before realizing he was following them. They began to follow a meandering path through the stalls, speaking of matters Arin couldn't quite understand. It was as if their words were muffled, or his ears were covered. 

The mumbling kept going, distracting Arin as he tried to focus on the man he was following. His vision flickered, almost vanishing as Arin began to fail. He quickly clenched his jaw, focusing as hard as he could before the pair slowly came into focus. He watched as the pair split off, one going into one home and the other entering the one adjacent to it. Arin noticed time moving, but kept focusing as he watched the man stretch and wake up, before struggling to tighten the belt that held his trousers at his waist. Arin watched as he exited his home, a loud belch leaving his putrid body.*

"They are guarding the entrance to the market as we speak." Arin said, opening his eyes as the vision came to an end. His hair was now hanging past his ears, and his body ached as he stood up. He tied his hair back with a small string, and looked at Vik. 

"Thank you." He said, taking the last sip of his ale.
Tom
Calypso Kolgrim 
On The grand balcony of Maith Mansion 

Her tongue clicked quietly as she rolled her eyes while Bastian turned her words against her, but her luminous smile never left her lips and for some odd reason Calypso found it genuinely hard to turn those corners upside down.

Not that she had never enjoyed the nobleman's company on their previous meetings. He had proven of being capable of... Decent conversations, when on a good day. But right now. This night it was like back at the market. Genuine. Simple. And very dangerous. 

"I wouldn't know what to make of mirrors, your eyes show all that I need to know. Just as well as my reflection." Chuckled Calypso under her breath, and found herself saying the truth. Bastian seemed to have completely forgotten who he was and where they were as he held her close. She wasn't completely innocent, to be honest, maybe she had even encouraged this behavior, and gods she could already hear the comments the other guests would make. But most troublesome of all was the way Bastian's gaze held nothing but tenderness and genuine fondness that sent a blush to her cheeks.

Calypso decided to ignore it. Ignore everything, ignore the way his hand pushed warmly on her back, the way his eyes held her gently, how his speech seemed to have turned from a fun teasing banter to a deep melody that made her cheek burn without her permission. She decided to ignore all of it for her own sake and instead turn her eyes around the room like an animal in a cage searching desperately for an escape.

"And I could stand here and list all that I see in them... Because honestly my lord, alcohol might have fogged up your mind but it makes everything in your way too apparent," Warned her, hoping her words would not come as riddles to his ears as Calypso slowly and gently pushed between them when finally her eyes caught on something.

It was not an escape in the physical sense but a clear way for Calypso to get out of this predicament: Fleur. Her gentle figure moving through the crowd, a confused and hurt look on her face. Why was she not at her father's side as she had asked? Why did she had not waited for Calypso's return?

The temmerre lady shot a glance back at the high tables where the head of the house was supposed to be and finally her lips gave up on holding the smile. Seeing the Doumage man talk to Cyprien was like watching a pig grunting at a goat. She was sure something had come out of the swine mouth and had given Fleur a good enough reason to flee the scene. 

Cyprien himself looked about ready to deck the boy in the face.

"But I fear that my service is required elsewhere." Stated Calypso firmly, finally stepping back and freeing herself from the embrace, and if she had felt any regret in doing so... Well that's between her and her heart.

Quickly, Calypso performed a small rushed curtsy and disappeared into the crowd, soon reaching Fleur "My Lady, what happened?" Asked gently taking Fleur's hand in hers. "Why aren't you by your father's side? You seemed pretty convinced about your request earlier." Pressed onward.
Marguerite
Catarina Tanner
The Ball, Maith Mansion

Catarina sat back, her hands slithering deftly away from Alva's and occupying themselves once more with food and drink. 

"You're not interrupting anything at all!" She replied warmly. "He is busy, currently, so I am free to revel. I'm really just a decoration, to humanize him. Spending my evening chatting with guests, gorging myself on food and drink, and dancing from arm to arm, man to man. I can't complain."

She smiled at Alva, continuing with, "I'm a guest of Captain Valkrin Farensun, works for Maith now. I'd imagine that you've heard of him, or at least seen him around."