Slowly, Adelaide began to lose her well-trained focus on the prince. She had been forcing herself to try maintaining eye contact, returning the gentle gestures with hesitance, and overall just felt rather rigid in his hands. She drifted back to reality just in time to hear the end of a question, though she realized soon enough that she hadn't caught what it had been about. Grinning up at him apologetically, she admitted slowly, "I apologize, my prince, but I have been rather out of sorts this evening. Would you mind repeating yourself?" Truly, she did not feel the need for him to. Adelaide knew she would listen no better the second time around - and she didn't - instead just nodding in agreement when it came time for her to answer. She couldn't maintain herself well enough right now to keep this polite act up. He was boring her, sadly enough.

Sighing wistfully as she man continued to prod at her with conversation, she found her eyes drifting about the room behind him. Other pairs around them danced with various multitudes of intimacy, some of which pressed so closely she dare say they were only a few steps from engaging in sexual ministrations there on the dance floor. The thought of how closely she'd danced with the Comte de Frontenac brushed past her mind at this thought, a light blush finding its way to dusting her cheeks. That had been a rather crude thought, for her. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she reminded herself of her partner in vain, her mind drifting but second later to how intriguing a dance partner she'd found Marcel de Frontenac. It was an all too timely thought that the conversation certainly hadn't been bland with him, either, as opposed to this. Her thoughts ceased as the man encircling her thoughts caught her sight, the two making eye contact as she was brought in from a twirl.

Her eyes widened a little to have thunk that he may have been watching her, Adelaide finding herself bent out of sorts at the prospect of his gaze tracing her movements. She felt her skin heat and tried to remind herself that he may not truly be interested in her. Yet... He would be paying more mind to the women he spoke with if he were not, right? His smile was the real winner here, coaxing one from her as well. It was the warmest smile the prince had ever been granted in her presence, albeit it was not at all pointed at him. She hadn't even paid mind to whether the prince had seen the direction of her gaze as the song ended and she found her eyes back upon the golden-haired man before her and the song ended.

As the prince withdrew from her to bow and she curtsied in turn, Adelaide was far too relieved to be rid of his intimate ministrations. They made her skin crawl, however she wished to acquire a taste for them. A slight pull in her mind drew her to here make an excuse, though it appeared it was not needed as another woman of the court cut in to ask for a dance with him. He turned to look at Adelaide hesitantly, who was quick to nod in consent before turning her back to make her escape. The whole walk off of the dance floor, she felt his eyes boring into her back, her stomach flipping in dismay as she navigated between the throng of others leaving and approaching the floor. "I can't manage that anymore tonight..." She spoke with a slight pout, head fuzzy as she tried to collect herself.

Once out of the prince's line of sight, and away from the massive throng of bodies, she took a breath of relief. The thought again, this time stronger, pushed her to go find the Comte. Giving in to the idea of at least finding him, she grabbed a champagne flute from the table and casually began to make a round about the ballroom. She smiled graciously at her fellow court members as they passed, but paid no mind to pause to speak to any. As soon as her gaze fell upon the man which she sought however, only a handful of yards between them, she was caught by two of the court guard which stepped in her path to begin conversation. Inwardly she heaved a sigh, but outwardly she was sure to put off a pleasant demeanor as she spoke with the two over small matters. Meanwhile, her gaze yet drifted towards the comte, curious to see if she could catch his gaze once more. If he were to remain busy the rest of the night, so be it, so long as she was able to catch his eye. If she were to do so, however, she would freeze a little before sheepishly grinning at him. If possible, she'd mouth a shy "hello" as the two men standing between them trailed along with conversation.

. _ . ______________ . _ .

Through the small talk, Dorian was cautious to occasionally look up to check on Aurelie's location. He had to be sure his little sparrow didn't go running off. He wasn't too worried over other men, for while he could imagine one picking her up to dance, but he was confident in his abilities to sweep her away from them if one approached. He had found himself to be rather successful in requesting her later presence, so he mused that doing similarly again would be of no consequence. A piece of very soft cake. Once the prince cut in to steal away Adelaide, he casually excused himself from the conversation, taking the cue to move on in. However, before he approached, he found her piling a plate with goodies. Amused in a way, he stopped himself, curiously watching this from a distance. Was she to leave, food in tow? He took mental note that it appeared she was enjoying the hors d'oeuvres, and made a small plate of them himself, still minding his distance.

He was sure to include delicacies she hadn't appeared to have chosen for her own plate, filling it before grabbing himself another glass of wine and allowing his gaze to trail over to where she had been-- had been was the correct term. His eyes narrowed a little, thoughts whirring as to where she may have gone. Aurelie would not had just left while her friend was dancing still, not after her little comment on loyalty earlier. So, following his instinct in a hunter-esque notion, he casually strolled down the hall in the path she had headed. Then, mischief dancing in his eyes, he hatched a little plan. By stepping carefully and following the sound of her footsteps, he took a different corridor in hopes of cutting her off at the window himself and Marcel had just been standing before. A door to the garden was just a few feet away, as if a welcome idea for them if it appealed to her.

As he heard her footsteps approaching the hall branch he stood in, he casually set his plate upon the window sill and relaxed himself. Taking in a deep breath, he readied himself with a pleasant expression to commence his act again. Leaning upon the window sill, he let his gaze wonder up to the stars as if in awe. Lips parted carefully, poised as if modeled, he only broke this awestruck position as she would turn the corner. Then, turning as if in surprise, he sent her a sheepish smile.

"Ah, my lady Aurelie." He spoke kindly, not treating her with a title she didn't own, but addressing her politely nonetheless. There was a touch of intimacy in his tone, regardless of the polite language. "I was about to come find you in hopes that you'd dine with me, on what snacks I was able to find. I was drawn in by the view of the sky from here... Perhaps..." He cleared his throat a little, voice wavering a little as if anxious. Behind this façade, the mischief in his eyes danced in pleasure. Dorian viewed this charade as a means by which to hunt, still. She was his prey, and he would coax her away into pleasure the likes of which she'd never seen. At least, that's how he viewed it as he looked her over pleasantly. "Perhaps you'd join me in the garden? We can share hors d'oeuvres..."

Sure enough, Lady Beaulieu’s eyes soon sought Marcel de Frontenac even while she was dancing with the Summer Prince. She returned his smile radiantly, in a manner so genuine and warm that the Comte found it almost appalling to his Winter sensibilities. Had he made such an enormous impact on the woman already that she could not focus on her attention on her potential fiancé? He felt…Strangely dirty. The sensation was akin to guilt, but guilt was not something that existed in the vampire’s lexis. He would not have recognized the emotion even if it had physically struck him over the head.

Still, it was strangely fulfilling to have the darling of the Summer Court swooning over him from afar. This served to inflate Marcel’s ego further, if it was even possible. The vampire had trouble suppressing a smirk over this notion, and turned his head away slightly until he could properly keep it at bay. He took care to ensure that none of the fae surrounding him noticed his expression change and quickly continued with his story, which regarded the time he’d had an affair with the queen of Russia.

After delivering the final punchline of his latest escapade for the group of Unseelie in his wake, dissolving them into riotous laughter, the vampire chanced another look at Adelaide Beaulieu. He was shocked to find her mere yards away, but retained by conversation with two members of the Summer Court guard. Since the faerie had managed to shake him yet again, Marcel scanned the crowd quickly to assess the prince’s whereabouts. He seemed to be politely dancing with another woman, although he did not look especially happy to be doing so. It was likely that the woman had requested a dance and this had been Lady Beaulieu’s next excuse to escape. She was fair game now, as far as the vampire was concerned.

Marcel caught her gaze for a second time, and she bashfully grinned back him while mouthing “hello”. What was…Making the woman shy and reticent now, when there were but few steps laying between them? He did not understand. Perhaps she was waiting for him to make the next move, to put in the effort to send the guards away and prove he truly wished to speak to her again as he’d said earlier that evening. Challenge accepted. The vampire smiled again, but this time was unable to wholly mask the mischief glittering in his icy blue eyes. She would likely write it off as friendly playfulness, of course, but he mentally admonished himself for slipping up.

Comte de Frontenac graciously excused himself from the company of his Unseelie companions, much to their dismay, and strode confidently in the direction of Adelaide Beaulieu. “Gentlemen,” he called to the guards. “I believe there is a scuffle happening on the east side of the room—near the refreshments table --that requires your attention. Le Mascarade is, after all, a peacekeeping celebration.” The two guards exchanged looks before trotting off to deal with the described trouble. Hopefully the vampire had not pushed his luck by lying in front of Adelaide, but he had a feeling that she would welcome the guards' absence.

“Ah, Lady Beaulieu,” he chuckled finally, taking a few more steps forward to close the space between them. He kept his eyes reverently fixed on her delicate features. “I was beginning to think that you hadn't liked me after all.”

~~~

Truly, Aurelie had been entirely confident in her ability to avoid the demon Arnoult until Adelaide sought her out with the desire to retire for the night. But the witch had been wrong, so absolutely and completely wrong. The trouble was that she had underestimated both the strength of Dorian Arnoult’s intent and his skill at hunting down prey (which was incredibly foolish given his very colorful reputation). Indeed, while rounding the last corner of the corridor leading to the palace garden with her plate of assorted edibles, Aurelie found the very man she had been avoiding—Comte Dorian Arnoult poised handsomely in front of a window flooded with moonlight.

The shimmer of the moon on his hair, skin, and noble finery was so horrifically appealing that the witch’s breath caught in her throat and she rapidly pivoted on her heel to flee the scene. Unfortunately, Dorian noticed Aurelie’s presence before she could cleanly escape. It would be rude to run after having been spotted, especially because she was so disgustingly attracted to him despite her reservations, and so the female sighed softly and turned back around. She was so nervous about the thoughts she had confided in Adelaide earlier that it was difficult to look Dorian directly in the eye. How could she possibly pull off a tryst with a beautiful man someday if she could not even look at one straight? It was pathetic. Aurelie had to try somehow, to be a tad more confident…Even if it killed her.

With enormous effort, she slowly shuffled closer to the window. He mentioned coming to find her with some food so that they could eat together, which in itself was very flattering. Rather than dancing, eating was more conducive to conversation, and so she was slightly more reassured over his desire to know her mind rather than her body (even if she did not exactly mind the prospect of that, either). If he had proposed they return to the ballroom to eat and chat, perhaps Aurelie would have more readily agreed. However, this was not the case. He mentioned, instead, going into the garden for a better view of the beautiful sky. What an awfully romantic notion!

…And it was utterly terrifying. They would be alone out there. So very alone. If they did cross paths with any other persons, they would assuredly be pairs seeking proper solitude for coupling. Oh, no. Coupling! Aurelie’s anxiety skyrocketed, and she quickly found herself on the verge of hyperventilation. Somehow she managed not to faint, awkward as it would have been if she had. But how was she to answer him?! The tiny Adelaide in the back of Aurelie’s mind said, ‘Elly, do what you think is right. Do what makes you happy!’ This was no help to her conundrum whatsoever. But…But she was trying to learn to be brave, was she not? Aurelie needed to take the plunge, though it was entirely insane. The man was more experienced, she was sure, with these sorts of endeavors. He was rich and handsome and charismatic. That was why he could ask these crazy things of women without batting an eye!

All she needed to do was get out one little word and he would do all the rest, correct? They would talk some more, and if they got along well enough, perhaps one thing would lead to another…And it would become more natural than it felt to her now, right? This is what Aurelie kept telling herself. The idea of consuming delicious hors d'oeuvres in the company of a beautiful man was enticing enough on its own. Besides, if Count Arnoult tried anything horrible and demonic in the end, she had enough confidence in her magic to stop him—she had studied devil’s traps extensively for the Summer Court.

Aurelie chewed her bottom lip fretfully, working up the nerve to finally gaze into the Comte’s face. “All right,” she said flatly, meeting his gaze with no degree of ease. “That sounds agreeable.” With that, the woman stepped past him in the direction of the garden door if only to be able to catch her breath again.

Adelaide was surprised to say the least to catch his eye contact a second time, a sheepish grin remaining on her face as she averted his gaze furthermore by looking up at the two gentleman she spoke with. Her earlier mindset of allowing herself to be sated by his visual attention alone was thrown out the window, the prospect of speaking to him again much too appealing for her to admit up to. This time, his reaction even seemed a bit different. Dare she say she saw mischief twinkling in his eye? She'd taught herself to be wary of seeing such things, but in this scenario, Adelaide found herself itching to know what thoughts had brought that look on.

It seemed that she found this out on her own rather quickly as he approached the guards, spouting the news of a scuffle that the lady didn't quite buy into for some reason. Instead of even allowing her gaze to trial after the two men or attempt to try to catch a glimpse of said scuffle, it focused in on Comte de Frontenac in understanding. He'd just excused them of her presence. It had been a lie without a shadow of a doubt, but her thoughts didn't spend much time on that concept. She had lied to escape the presence of others before, though perhaps not in such smooth a manner. "Good luck, gentleman." Adelaide spoke casually after the two guards, her own form of goodbye as her eyes lit with curiosity. It was now clear to her that the comte was indeed interested in her to some extent, to have done such a thing to the poor Summer guardsmen.

"Comte de Frontenac," she greeted him with another warm smile, nodding slightly in his direction as he approached. She had caught a couple of glimpses of him since she had parted from his side earlier, but standing before him again was an all too different task. It was one thing to see a handsome face from a distance, but to have its attention at a close range was something else. Not only this, but contrary to her time with the prince - whom was indeed handsome - she actually quite enjoyed her time before this man. "I trust you've had an eventful evening." She added, conversationally, knowing that she had indeed felt that way about the night so far.

As he chuckled, she felt what she thought of as a brush of cold against her neck, raising the baby hair that lingered there. It was an invigorating feeling to have approached him again, and have him respond in such a manner, yet his words took a moment to reach their full effect. He thought that I wasn't interested? Letting a small laugh of her own part her lips, Adelaide spoke to correct this. "Of course I--" Catching herself cautiously, her eyes searched his form for a moment before she allowed her gaze to dip. "I appreciated your company earlier. I do believe I told you I intended to find you again later." She finished, only then lifting her gaze with a sheepish grin. This bout of shyness was not caused by her words just now, however, she was not ashamed to admit up to them. It was what she had begun to say without a thought prior to her correction. Of course I like you.

. _ . ______________ . _ .


As the young woman immediately turned on her heel to leave, the voice inside his head celebrated a tiny victory. How she seemed to be so put off by someone that attracted her, he didn't know-- he only knew that she was both attracted and, apparently, disgusted by him. It was a reasonable enough balance for him to manage. Dorian just now wished to work on tipping the precious scales inside of her mind in his favor. He needed to convince her that he was worthy of spending time with, since she seemed so adamant on avoiding him. "I am glad you think so." He replied simply, sending a smile in her direction as she made the move to pass him and exit into the garden on her own. Quirking a curious brow, but saying nothing at first, he swept his plate up from the window sill and followed after her.

The gardens were expansive, and quite obviously to Dorian, up-kept by the Summer Court. Not a flower blooming in the evening like so would really be doing as such without their help, or at least their presence. There were quite a variety of such flowers present, growing in quaint rows, in various sizes of pots along the well-maintained trails, strung along the cross sections of a pagoda standing just ahead of them. It held a central location to the garden, and from where they stood, Dorian was able to catch the presence of at least one bench sitting beneath it. The gentle breeze sweeping by to sway the flowers in the night cast dotted shadows across is, but the moon overhead did enough to light its interior space well yet.

Gesturing to it with plate in hand, his free hand took the mind to gently caress her outer forearm. "Perhaps we should eat over there? The pagoda seems to be a beautiful spot." He suggested, eyes moving with ease from the sights of garden to study Aurelie's soft features, awaiting with patience a reaction to this. She was easily a better sight than the garden before them. Then, hesitantly, he looked back over the exterior to spot other sets of benches set along the hedges further back within the space. Gesturing his plate hand in their direction as well, he turned to look back at her. "Or, maybe, at one of those? They're well-placed, too." He added as a suggestion, hoping one may peak her particular fancy.

Feeling as if he should somehow bring up her earlier attempt to turn her back to him, he cleared his throat a little. "Aurelie, actually... Excuse me, Miss Vallette," He began, then corrected himself, though his words had indeed been chosen carefully. Using her first name was an intimate gesture he was not afraid of braving in this circumstance. "I couldn't help but notice that you seemed to be in a hurry to try leaving in the hallway just now." He explained, voice a tad softer, as if he had felt some personal injury at this. "I don't presume that spending time alone with a demon was something you had on your mind tonight. I just wanted to thank you for accepting my invitation. I have to admit, I wasn't sure you'd wish to speak to me again after our dance earlier." He spoke thoughtfully, concern washing over his features as he quietly allowed his gaze to study hers.

“It was eventful, yes,” the Comte replied with a pleasant chuckle. “I trust yours was as well? After our dance earlier, which I enjoyed very much, I had many interesting discussions with persons from both Courts.” He indicated a couple of the groups in the ballrooms he had spent time with. “While I am notorious in some ways, I am famous in others—the least of which, my storytelling.” He grasped the faerie’s left shoulder lightly, if only to engage in another chaste form of contact that was not dancing, and pointed to an area of chairs and benches on the far end of the chamber. “Rather than stand here idly, my lady, why don’t we sit and speak more comfortably with one another?”

The vampire did not wait for the woman to agree with his proposition. He confidently overstepped his bounds yet again and took her hand, guiding it to the crook of his elbow so that he might gallantly escort her to the seating other side of the ballroom. “It is true that you informed me of your intent to find me later in the night. But, my dear, I have ample practice in Court decency to understand that you may have been being polite to spare my feelings. Still, I am relieved to be proven wrong.” Adelaide’s sudden shyness was delightful to his twisted mind. She had unexpectedly shifted from a regular popular woman who extensively dealt with men to one who was unsure of how to act in the wake of a charismatic stranger. It was strangely…appealing. This surprisingly innocent behavior was not something he’d expected from Adelaide. Perhaps she was unused to the company of men who truly struck her fancy. Were Summer Courtsmen really so boring? Honestly, it was dumbfounding...

Upon arriving at a slew of chairs unoccupied by other fae, Marcel released Adelaide in order to offer her a chair. Once she sat down, he seated himself beside her and crossed his legs. His posture was perfectly regal, much unlike in Chateau de Frontenac during his meeting with Comte Arnoult. He brushed some wayward ebony locks away from his striking gaze to better view the faerie next to him. “So, my lady, please. Tell me more about yourself. What are your hobbies? Do you enjoy books, and if so, what are your favorites? We could discuss the current political climate of the Courts or the mortal realm, certainly, but I am sure you would like a reprise from that nonsense.”

Marcel’s eyes suddenly seemed to glitter with childlike excitement, although this, too, was calculated—and he leaned forward to touch her hand innocently. “Or, if you would prefer, I could tell you about some past adventure of mine, if you are curious. Please, I am an open book. Tales are better ‘straight from the horse’s mouth’, rather than through a chain of gossips. I would like to hope I am as entertaining in your opinion as others say I am, although it is more likely I am simply a rambling oldtimer.”

~~~

When the demon’s hand briefly skimmed across Aurelie’s arm, an involuntary shudder ran down her spine and she shied away a couple of steps. It was an embarrassing reaction to say the least. She averted her eyes bashfully, blushed bright crimson, and quickly mumbled, “The-pagoda-will-do.” Truly, that was the first time Aurelie had been caressed in any way, shape, or form by a man. On top of that, in general she was wholly unused to touching other than hugs from Adelaide or her family or handshakes with members of the Summer Court. It occurred to her, before Arnoult even he spoke again, that her behavior might discourage him eventually. Rather than coming across as a girl who fancied him, her shyness and inability to speak plainly might be mistaken for aloofness and disinterest.

The witch was right, for soon after reflexively stepping away, the demon voiced his concerns. The manner in which he worded them managed to sink Aurelie’s stomach deep into a pit of guilt. Dorian’s reputation was awful, to be sure, but she was really attempting not to be “racist” and assume the worst of him solely based his Court. The easiest way to reassure Dorian was to admit her dramatic reactions were a product of her attraction to him, but that was impossible at Aurelie’s current high level of anxiety and low level of self-esteem. “I...I’m just nervous,” she managed after a long moment, which was a struggle to own up to even in itself. “I do not have much…Experience…It makes me awkward. I am sorry.” She flashed a sad smile and lowered her eyes in shame, swiftly adding, “It’s-not-your-fault.”

The woman coughed nervously. Awkward was actually an understatement at this point. She headed in the direction of the pagoda and was the first to sit down. She laid her plate down in her lap and stared at the food silently until Dorian came to join her. She tried to talk to him and found that it was strangely easier to speak in the dim light whilst she could not see his handsome face well or feel his gaze on hers. “I work all the time, so I don’t know how to act in these situations. My friend tells me I should get out more, and tries to take me places, but I always hover around her because I’m scared of meeting new people. I am also intimidated by those who hold a higher social rank than myself. I do want to talk to you, but it’s hard for me...I understand if you wish to pursue someone less trying.”

She hoped this explanation was adequate for the Comte, since she could not yet speak the truth. Whatever he said in response would also reveal his intentions. Was he interested in speaking with Aurelie Vallette, or did he just want to touch her? Regardless, the darkness surrounding them did help to ease her self-consciousness. It would certainly obscure her furious blushing and any other wild reaction she might have to his answer.

The chuckle her question elicited from the comte lead her to quirk an eyebrow, unsure of why it had escaped. Had it been because it was a silly, over-polite gesture, or did she catch a note of some devious tone in his voice? Those thoughts brushed themselves aside swiftly as he spoke further of his enjoyment of their dance and how he'd later entertained himself by... telling stories. The thought of him as a storyteller wasn't something she'd yet encountered. Adelaide did consider his words graceful enough to do so, but she still hadn't even considered that he may tell stories of possible misadventures he partook on. The notion made her stomach flip. Were they the stories of the woman he'd... plundered? A bit of a shiver ran along her spine at the sense of sincere wrong she saw in that, but she found herself coaxed in to speak with him nonetheless. Adelaide was focused in on forming her own opinion of him, so she wouldn't allow herself to worry over assumptions. "Eventful, indeed." She replied of her own night briefly, before agreeing to his suggestion. "Yes, getting out of the throng here would be lovely."

Smiling once more, Adelaide let herself float back to her sense of ease as he took her hand. There was something in his gestures- the touch of her shoulder, the action to take her hand so boldly- that soothed her in a way that was also quite invigorating. She felt rather light as they moved through the crowd, and as he spoke, she felt as if being genuine in his presence would not be such a bad idea, courtly manners aside. Letting out a small laugh, she touched her free hand briefly to her lips at the notion that he so freely outed her on the fact that she may have just been polite earlier. Why, it wasn't her duty to entertain this man, why would she bother with the niceties? Perhaps she hadn't been bold enough in stating her interest. Bold was something Adelaide had a hard time wrapping her fingers around, unless she gave herself a firm voice by force. "I assure you, my manners would not force me to seek the presence of someone I was not keen on seeing again." She spoke with light amusement, though in the back of her mind, the thought of the prince prodded at her. She was certainly not keen on seeing him later this evening, though that was her sense of duty speaking.

"Thank you, comte," Adelaide spoke briefly as she was offered the chair, seating herself in a casual manner of grace. Her back remained straight, her ankles carefully crossing as her slender legs leaned out to the side, the skirts of her dress falling beside them, but not covering more than her thigh any longer. She took no mind to this, having accepted the slits in the fabric that had been crafted for her long ago-- such was one of the Summer Court styles. Her elbow furthest from him perched itself casually upon the armrest at her side, though the hand he soon took the liberty of touching rested, lax, on the other.

As he began to speak of how to begin conversation, her eyes widened a tad, not having ever expected such from this man. To speak of hobbies, personal interests at Le Mascarade, why it seemed foreign to her. Of course, some men had taken an interest in such things, but this was not what she'd expected from Comte de Frontenac. Yet, she felt touched in a manner. His choice to actually strike up conversation spoke of good intentions, through her eyes. Again, a light chuckle parted her lips as she shook her head at his suggestion of politics, "Oh dear, no, surely we could think of other things." Adelaide was about to consider speaking of herself as requested, though the idea seemed rather awkward to her, when instead she was greeted by another choice. A story. Here was her chance to see what it was he had been speaking of to others of the Courts, to hear of what escapades he had embarked on. Still, the idea made her a bit uncomfortable. Was it lady-like to hear of him seducing other women, and further, did she really want to hear of it?

No, but she was curious to hear what this man had to say. He was alluring, to say the very least, and she wanted to give this storyteller a chance to prove her assumptions wrong. So, a childish touch of curiosity lighting her own eyes, she leaned forward a tad to mirror how he had done so. It was a gesture that she was intent on listening. "Please, do tell me of a past adventure of yours. I fear it would prove far more compelling that telling you about myself." She began, then pausing to smile warmly at the childish excitement he seemed to exhibit through his eyes. How could she resist that? Her tone took on a playful jest as she continued. "It would also please me to perhaps... understand the rumors better, from the 'old timer' himself."

. _ . ______________ . _ .

While the sentiments in his speech spoke otherwise, Dorian was quite confident at this point in time that Aurelie was indeed showing interest in him. It was all too evident from her reaction to his caress of her shoulder, how her face flushed a deep red as she proceeded to step backwards. She may be avoiding his touch, but her blush was unmistakable. A smile of pleasure spread over his face as she agreed to his suggestion, though the feeling in it was directed more so towards her innocent reaction. Dorian found it rather adorable, in a sickeningly twisted way. What did surprise him, of her reactions, however, was how she owned up to her own anxiety. His eyes widened a tad, involuntarily, at her little display of... guilt, was it? His insides oozed sinisterly, facial expression back under his control as he allowed a gentle smile to cross his features. "I was not aware, my lady. There is no need to apologize, I am only sorry my presence is not yet comfortable for you." He replied sweetly, good intentions hoping to be relayed in the genuine manner with which his eyes traced her facial features. Dorian hoped this would also give her the relief of know that he intended to spend more time speaking with her, if allowed.

As she made her move to approach the pagoda, Dorian trailed casually at her side, if not a pace or so behind her. He was careful to maintain just a bit of distance, in the case of not wishing to overdo it and fluster her into hiding again. He needed to focus on making her more comfortable. He stepped underneath the cover of the flower-encased pagoda not seconds after she, but paused in the entryway to study her for a few quiet moments. Admire her. This was a calculated move, but there was something curious in how the few patches of her skin that were caught in the moonlight were illuminated from where he stood. As she stared down at her plate, yet made no move to begin eating, he was drawn to approach her. In a few smooth motions, he took the remaining steps forward to sit beside her, extending his long legs in a gently crossed fashion before him as he carefully sat his own plate on his lap. He did still keep some space between them, but the distance was perhaps closer than casual comfort would allow for. He refrained from touching her, but did not give her the chance to be mistaken of his attraction.

He turned to look at her, eyes yet glistening in what little light they were granted as he remained poised and intent on listening to what she had to say. A soft chuckle left him before he let out a soft, wistful sigh. "Were that it easier to speak to those that intimidate us." He spoke thoughtfully, at first, in some measure of understanding. Then, slowly, he spoke again. "If you would allow for it, I would like to continue pursuing you. I have enjoyed my time beside you thus far. I find you to be an intriguing young woman, Aurelie Vallette. Très jolie, as well, if you don't mind my saying. I now understand your anxiety, but if you would, I would prefer to remain by your side and perhaps allow you to get accustomed with speaking to me." He spoke in a casual manner, though at a slower pace as if unsure of how to vocalize his pure intent with her. He wished to dance with her, speak to her, perhaps hold her if allowed-- it all inwardly disgusted Dorian, though he kept his composure carefully as if a young man, enraptured by her presence.

"If you find my presence suits you, that is." He added a few moments later, in a hurried manner as if shy in a way himself. Maybe his display of just minimal difficult speaking could help level the playing field for her. Then thinking to perhaps move the subject along to something that appeared interesting to her, he gingerly took up a berry coated in a cream of sorts, and took a small bite of it. "Mmmh," he remarked softly, commenting after swallowing, "The hors d'oeuvres here truly are marvelous. Have you yet to try the berries with crème fraîche? They're excellent."

“That,” Marcel de Frontenac fired back suavely, “I highly doubt. I believe you have some fascinating stories to tell about yourself as well. And I would be more than happy to talk about you.” Still, he would not disappoint the faerie woman by insisting to hear her hobbies and interests immediately. He had plenty of time to learn of those things. Right now the vampire had to focus on reeling Adelaide farther into his “emotional chokehold”, so to speak. She was keenly aware of the raunchy rumors circulating through both kingdoms about him, and therefore it was his responsibility to downplay the negative bits and emphasize his sense of daring. Women simply went crazy over interesting, adventurous men, regardless of whether they belonged to the Winter or Summer kingdoms. “But if you insist on hearing a tale of my youth instead, then I would be happy to comply.”

The vampire leaned against the backrest of his chair and used his free hand to rub his chin thoughtfully. His other hand remained atop Lady Beaulieu’s lightly in order to keep her engaged, but as soon as he settled on the story he would divulge, he removed it lest she became shy from prolonged contact. There was time for that later as well, and he meant that in the most perverse way possible. “Do you want to hear the story of how I met my sire? I believe that might be the most enthralling one, for someone as intelligent as yourself. It takes place in lands far from ours—in the Far East, actually.” He gestured passively at the embroidered coat he donned. “The fae are much different than they are here, but my kind—vampires—are rather plentiful.”

He leaned towards her again, in confidence, and grinned playfully. He did not altogether mind showing his fangs, since his air of friendliness towards her was palpable (albeit feigned). “It happened a long time ago, when I was still young, and quite human. While it is impolite to ask a lady her age, men do not mind so much. I am about three-hundred-and-fifty currently, and I will tell you that at that time I was twenty-nine, the son of a merchant, and that I had gone on many expeditions with the Italians to India.” His icy blue eyes glittered with nostalgia, as if he was prone to occasionally reliving those days in his own mind. “I remember the first day I stepped off the ship in that mystical land. Even the air was exotic, filled with the aroma of spices and delicious fares I can no longer consume, but still remember the taste of as though it were yesterday. Perhaps I remember because it was a memorable time of my life, bittersweet in a way…”

The vampire smiled at Lady Beaulieu charmingly. “Anyway, this particular town was filled with all manner of curiosities—elephants, monkeys, parrots, tigers, colorful silk garments… And everyone, for the first time in my life, so dark in complexion. The women had beautiful, striking long hair, veils, and many piercings…If they belonged to another, it was marked right on their face…With a single. Red. Spot.” With that, Comte de Frontenac gently prodded the middle of the faerie’s mask, right between her brows above her nose. He laughed, and then continued. “I had never seen such beautiful women in my life, to be honest. Everything about them was foreign to me and I was completely enamored. But I was also a bashful mess around them in those days. Now, the lead merchant brought us to the palace of a raja…To celebrate trade with many merchants from different countries, this powerful man threw a lavish feast…And many people were present…My sire included. But before I continue, do you have any questions about India?”

~~~

Aurelie Vallette was visibly dumbfounded when the man announced that he intended to pursue her specifically. She blinked a few times in confusion, and words were once more lost to her despite the comfort of darkness. Even if there was some degree of hesitance in Comte Arnoult’s speech, as if he was unsure how she might react to his true intentions, he was still so…And even earlier while dancing…So astonishingly more forward than she was! Why did he even bother with a girl like her, who stammered and blushed and could barely get two sentences out without adopting a more formal manner?

“In-Intriguing?” she repeated, altogether bewildered. “But how could you think that about me, sir Comte? You do not know yet know anything about me! Oh, I mean…” She blushed again at her outburst and averted her blue yes. “I mean…Well, I haven’t said anything especially intriguing…As of yet. I would think myself more…Vexing…To you.” He had added “tres jolie” to his statement, so perhaps that was more of the deciding factor. Her appearance was, at least, a bit more appealing than her manner, though not to her friend Adelaide’s degree.

“Your presence…”Aurelie somehow choked out, “Does…Suit me…But I think your time might be…Better spent with someone more experienced.” She coughed and shoved one of the pieces of cheese on her plate in her mouth as an excuse not to talk for a few moments. The action of chewing the cheese calmed her down somewhat, and after swallowing she added, “I don’t understand why me, sir Comte. You are well-known in these lands. Generally, I would not have considered myself…Up to your usual standards.” ‘Furthermore’, her brain mused, ‘You are not the sort I would have normally wished to pursue me, either, and yet here we are.’

He changed the subject abruptly to the hors d’oeuvres, which was certainly a more welcome topic and one she was more disposed to talking freely about. She glanced over at the berries on his plate he had indicated, and nodded. “I agree, there is nothing sub-par about the food served at Le Mascarade. I’ve had a lot of it already, but I don’t think I’ve had the berries with crème fraiche as of yet.” The witch’s gaze dropped back to her own plate and she poked around at her odd assortment of items collected swiftly in an anxious frenzy in order to escape the very man seated beside her now. “I tried many types of cheeses, breads, and tarts...Some caviar…Grapes and other various types of fruit…Yet somehow I missed the berries.”

The girl suddenly snorted and shook her head. “Oh Hecate, listen to me. It sounds like I’ve eaten as much as a whale already. How attractive.” She fixed him with a serious look and held up two fingers. “But only two glasses of wine. That’s it, I swear! Come to think of it, I wasn’t sure that demons ate food like this normally. Forgive me, I suppose I am rather ignorant about Winter persons.”

Comte de Frontenac's swift denial of her comment drew Adelaide to momentarily stiffen where she sat. The clogs of her mind seemed to seize for a few moments, eyes caught in a hesitant sort of surprise upon him. While she was quite accustomed to being coaxed into speaking of herself from fellow courtiers, which she oft attempted to deny, none she had dismissed had been so quick as to disagree with her. Not only this, but his reply was so smooth that it nearly seemed he had been expecting it! As she was drawn out of her surprise, a slight flush drew to her cheeks as she allowed her gaze to dip to her lap, where her free hand moved to gently smooth out her dress. She felt the odd need to inspect her form further under his gaze, but she knew now was not the time to be self-conscious. There was a story to hear. As his hand lifted itself from her own, a bit of that earlier tension in her seemed to relieve itself. It was a surprise to Adelaide that his touch had had an impact like that on her-- why was she being shy now?

"Why, thank you... though I do insist." She replied casually enough after a few moments, coming back to herself as her muscles relaxed in the chair beneath her. Her gaze skimmed back over his, now seeming thoughtful as it appeared he was deciding on which story to recount. Curiosity glistened in her eyes as she now held them on him patiently, back to her senses and able to keep up with his gaze when necessary, even if she did seem to feel a weight in his striking gaze. At his suggestion of story choice, she found herself drawn in to the idea. If he found it the most enthralling, then it should certainly prove to be some glimpse into who this man really was. His compliment of her intelligence all but passed over her head as she tilted it slightly. "I would love to, I've never travelled into the East." She admitted with a small smile, gaze intent upon him as he began to set up his story.

The sight of his fangs drew her gaze to linger on them as he grinned, curiosity brushing her thoughts as she had a difficult time drawing her gaze back to his eyes from his mouth. That managed, however, she became rather immersed into attempting to imagine the setting he explained. The East: it seemed indeed like a far away tale to her already, with the exotic nature of the place he described, the people, the dots. If she were there, would she have one on Julien's behalf? The thought was pushed to the back of her mind as he playfully touched her mask, eliciting a surprised, musical laugh from her. "That's quite the statement." She commented playfully, at both his gesture to poke her and of the dots. It was quite a bit of interesting information to digest, with the many images already playing through her head, though the foremost ones she found were not of India. They were of being human. Odd as it may seem to think of, she had the strangest curiosity with the reminder that he once was human. Not that she hadn't met humans before- danced with and enthralled them, more like- but that the regal fae before her was human at one point was an intensely curious thought. Why, Aurelie was the closest person to human that she'd spoken with at length, so as he allowed for questions she nearly couldn't help herself.

"Not of India, though I do admit it seems to have been an entrancing place, especially at that time... I have another, if you don't mind my asking." She paused here, unsure of her words as she gathered them up to lie them down carefully. "Though I'll ask at another time, please, I am looking forward to hearing of the palace of the raja, and your sire." She continued with a bit of enthusiasm, adjusting herself a little in her seat with a youthful expression playing across her face. "I do rather enjoy far-off stories." Adelaide added a tad sheepishly as she realized this shown through, her endeavor to behave in a friendly fashion showing different sides of her than she would've anticipated.

. _ . ______________ . _ .

Dorian's eyes glistened with pleasure in the darkness as he gaged the young woman's reaction to his charming words. There was the innocence he had missed behind her mask. There was what would one day make his dinner. He chuckled in playful response to her words, his head shaking slowly in the darkness. "My dear, I'm afraid vexing isn't quite the proper term here. I assure you, you are all but vexing to me. Seemingly shy and not as accustomed to the manner of the court, but certainly not frustrating in any sense. I find that refreshing." He spoke with a smile, again slow as if searching for his words, though they were spoken firmly. Dorian was calculating in his hopes to set her mind at ease over his intentions, taking great care in putting forth this act. Within him, the flames of mischief roared high with the threat of her dismissal.

"I may not know much of you, but I wish for the chance to. I do know you are a loyal friend, observant, quite blunt at times..." He chuckled a little again here, at the foolishness of his words, "I also find you quite beautiful. That is more than I need to deem spending time with you of interest to me." Dorian sent her a warm smile at this, unsure of her sight of it, though he mused that the thought to do so may yet pay off. He was fully committed to this pursuit of her-- like moth to flame, predator to prey. His thoughts entertained this sinister imagery, itching to feed off of the young lady, but not a touch of this would influence his expression.

"Ah, but I think now you are making assumptions. I find my time here with you is easily the best spent time I have managed in a long while." He spoke with emphasis, genuine though not wishing to overexert an interest in her. He wanted it to be clear that he wanted her, but not enough so to appear overeager. Just enough to show the determination to bear her questioning. "Likewise, I could ask why you choose entertain me when you could easily be dancing with one of the guard, or your other courtiers." He added thoughtfully after a few moments, though his tone suggested that he was just grateful that she had chosen this path. Dorian didn't truly consider even the captain of the Summer guard as capable enough with women to manage the fear he now found in Aurelie.

"Oh, it truly is an extravagant spread." He agreed with ease, nodding. A playful turn overtook his tone as he eyed the berries of his plate, words slow as they left him. "Would you like to try one?" Dorian's tone was velvet, smooth as he waited for no response before carefully picking up a berry between two slender fingers and dipping it in the dollop of crème fraîche he had scooped onto his plate. Then, one hand beneath the other to prevent any from dripping onto her dress, he awaited her allowance. "May I? If you say 'ahh', I'm fairly certain I can guide it to you in this darkness." Dorian cooed, though his words remained a tad broken to display some sense of shyness in his actions as well. Whatever it took to level the playing field while he worked to charm her.

Her sudden grasp on words as she cursed herself lightly drew a small laugh from him. "I have been to quite a number of these events, and I never do get enough of the food. There's nothing wrong in enjoying it." He spoke a tad playfully yet, though he did find some honesty in his words. The demon had delighted in quite a few meals at Le Mascarade over the years, though he had prepared such from the Summer girls, himself. "The ambrosia is also delightful, I would certainly suggest that in the stead of wine, the next time you so choose." He added, conversationally. A smile spread along his face as she apologized, leading him to shake his head. "There is no need to do so, I do assume there may be a plethora of things between the Courts that not all are aware of. If there are any you wish to find answers in, you need only ask." He made out an invitation here, his speech then carrying on to explain. "Demons, as myself, do partake in food as this to keep up good physique. It is not exactly required, at least not very often." What he neglected to mention there was that he otherwise fed off of emotions or contracts, both of which typically nasty affairs for his victims.

“By all means,” Marcel de Frontenac said, “Ask away.” Even as he granted the woman permission to ask him her question, Lady Beaulieu stated that she would wait until he completed his tale. Marcel supposed this was fine, as Adelaide was likely to have a slew of questions after he finished regardless. “Very well then,” he said with a debonair smile, “But make sure to keep your question in mind. You are likely to forget it shortly otherwise.” The vampire cleared his throat and continued, weaving an intricate scene with his words.

“Chateaus and palaces in our part world are grand—this fact is indisputable. But the mahala belonging to Maharaja Amrit Singh was a wonder to behold, if you were ever given the opportunity to visit. Alas, only those invited could hope to reach it—Singh’s lands were surrounded by dense jungle impenetrable to all but his most trusted allies.”

The vampire cast his icy gaze towards the vaulted ceiling of the ballroom, though it was evident from his distant look that he was drawing upon a memory of the structure rather than seeing the splendor before him. “The center building was an enormous dome lined with brightly lit windows, and bounded by smaller domed towers and spires reaching toward the starry heavens. The mahala grounds contained multiple long, rectangular reflection pools filled with water lilies and lotuses, as well as all manner of wildlife enclosures. Amrit Singh was a collector of outlandish beasts, and so it was possible to wander through his extensive gardens and view many strange creatures unknown to the West.” Marcel’s eyes glittered with nostalgia.

“The interior of the mahala was even more impressive. I had never seen such fascinating tile work in all my life, hand-painted with elaborate, symmetrical designs and painstakingly placed in exquisite, mosaicked patterns over unfathomable years of hard labor. Oh, and the colors…Golds, vivid blues, reds…. Painted glass, much like what we have here, but cut into smaller geometric pieces that formed larger, more mathematical shapes. The main dome itself had more tile than anywhere else in the palace, so complexly laid upon the ceiling that it seemed more the work of gods than of man.” Marcel’s blue eyes flickered towards Adelaide and he laughed charmingly. “And that was the first fantastic thing I saw, my dear, upon entering that marvelous place…But many others were soon to follow.”

“Signore Lacroix, do not just stand there gawking,” said Guiseppe Moretti, head merchant of the ship La Donna Fiamma. “We do not want to keep the raja waiting. There is time to stare later—for now, we eat!”

A human version of Marcel glanced towards the man, grinning sheepishly. He appeared the same, physically, but without the pallor or agelessness that he possessed now. He was simply a naïve youth in those days…Both oblivious to his gift of looks and lacking any sort of real charm besides.

The feast was held in a dining chamber partially open to outside, at a low carved table lined with cushions. Many men in colorful embroidered silks sat on the floor atop these cushions, intermingling with foreign merchants and emissaries, while beautiful Hindu women attended to their drinks and plates. Marcel tried many stewed meats and vegetables in curries and spicy sauces, most of which were truly delicious but too exotic for the young man’s unrefined palate to handle. The Maharaja Amrit Singh, a handsome specimen in a turban, sat at the head of the table and spoke at length with an elder diplomat seated comfortably at his left.

Marcel’s attention was repeatedly drawn to a figure kneeling a couple of meters behind the raja--a woman whose face was obscured by a vivid indigo veil embroidered with striking gold threads.

At some point, the spices in the food ceased to agree with Marcel’s disposition and he became increasingly more anxious. Perhaps it was not the food at all, but simply nerves from conversing with so many wealthy, important persons at once. He excused himself to take a brief walk around the grounds hoping that it would soothe the churning of his stomach. All these months at sea had not bothered his temperament—why was he troubled now? As he put distance between himself and the feast, sure enough, his restlessness subsided.

He came to an animal enclosure filled with many tall trees and dark, emerald vegetation. He squinted, attempting to identify the dark creature lounging on a branch a fair distance above him. Its fur coat was darker than the shadows surrounding Marcel on all sides—black as a void. Smooth and shiny like coal. Its globular yellow eyes shone like candle flames even in the faint moonlight. Perhaps it was one of those big cats he had heard of that roamed the jungles of India. Was it called again…? Oh, of course. A panther.

Suddenly the scent of jasmines wafted around Marcel. The fragrance overpowered the aroma of all the other night-blooming flowers in the garden. The anxiety he had experienced at the feast came rushing back to his chest in torrents, along with an inexplicable urge to flee. He spun around to comply with this instinct, but the very same woman who had been seated behind Maharaja Singh earlier stood in his path. This time, the indigo veil did not obscure his view of her face. He stared deeply into her glowing yellow eyes—eyes like the panther’s—and all reason crumbled away.

She was a living portrait. Hell, she was a goddess on Earth…Flawless sienna skin, shimmering black hair that tumbled well past her waist, and an exquisite indigo and gold gown that mirrored the night sky scattered with so many stars. She stretched her arms out to him and immediately he was kissing her.

Without saying a word, she’d ensnared him. The fragrance of jasmine intoxicated his senses and made him weak. He was incapable of resisting. She had him pinned beneath her on the grassy ground and his heart was racing with excitement—or fear—it was difficult to say. However, whatever delight he experienced from her ministrations abruptly vanished.

After she pulled away from their final kiss, she grinned demonically, exposing elongated, sharp canines. He tried to yell for help, but he had no voice. He could not push her off. She was abnormally strong and restrained him as easily as one might a toddler. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he struggled to free himself. He did not want to die, not like this! Would he ever see his father again?

She bit into his jugular and drank deeply from the vein. She alighted from him only as his consciousness began to fade, wiping his blood sensually from her lips with the back of her hand. She laughed callously. “Jalda hī āpa apanē krūra pūrvajōṁ dēkhēṅgē,” she said, in a voice like silver, and slipped away into the darkness.

Marcel Lacroix was unable to move. He had no energy left. He was unable to feel his limbs anymore. Even the throbbing pain in his neck had ceased. He stared unblinking up at the starry sky as his vision began to cloud over. Was this how his life would come to an end?

The soft tread of feet on grass returned, but this time it was not the demon woman who knelt at his side.

“You poor fool,” a man scoffed. “You would have been done for. Luckily for you, I saw some potential.”

A strong, metallic smell filled Marcel’s nostrils. The stranger was holding his wrist in front of Marcel’s mouth. It oozed with an inky fluid. It was not human blood…More like the ichor of the gods of old.

“Drink my vitae if you wish to live,” the man said, and pressed his wrist against Marcel’s lips. The more Marcel ingested the substance, the more he felt his strength returning. Soon he was sitting upright, grasping the man’s arm while sucking greedily. The man had to forcefully wrench his arm away before Marcel would stop. As if on cue, the convulsions began.

The blond man shook his head and chuckled. He dragged the writhing Marcel across the ground towards the edge of the mahala grounds. Within the depths of the jungle, the man located a cavern that would shield them from the harsh Indian sun. For many long hours, Marcel twisted in silent torment. When the pain finally subsided, he emerged a changed man. Rather, he was not a man at all, but a vampire. Thus marked the end of his human life, and his introduction to the world of the Unseelie.

“This man was named Lucien de Frontenac. He told me that I had been targeted by an ancient rakshasi, or Hindu vampire, named Nakti. She was an advisor and consort to the Maharaja, but apparently I resembled the man who turned her two millennia ago…She had some unfulfilled vendetta and tried to murder me to make herself feel better,” Marcel concluded, smiling sadly. “Anyway, I had to leave my human life behind. I took my sire’s surname ‘de Frontenac’ and went back with him to the Winter lands. Lucien trained me until I learned to sustain myself, and promptly vanished a couple of centuries ago. I am not particularly concerned over his whereabouts—he was always a bit of a nomad. Even more so than myself.”

As the delicate detailing of his story's setting continued, Adelaide was quickly swept up into it, lost in the careful words the regal man before her unleashed. It was quite an entrancing experience for her, to say the least of it. She felt as if washed away into his memories, and nearly so free as to swim around for more, if prompted to do so. The cardinal words of her race and many years of teaching were lost to her; do not lie, do not pry, and do not, under any circumstances, break your vows. 'Don't pry' often lead to something of a superficial understanding of other people in court, and a distinct lack of personal stories that she had heard throughout her years. Among her few close friends these were shared with enthusiasm, of course, but Adelaide had never exchanged those with such an emotional impact such as his. It wasn't encouraged among her kind, and as they nearly dominated the Summer Court, it was not encouraged by many of the Summer at all. Only one encounter seemed to prompt her memory at this, and it was only after he finished speaking that the pieces bubbled up.

She was but a tot, head full of bouncy blond curls and dressed in delicate lace as she perched before the seated form of a noble, elder gentleman. His voice was soft and kind, and he owned a pair of all too familiar calm grey eyes. She felt quite at peace with his expressions and vivid explanations as his hands moved about in animated gestures. Light drifting in through the open balcony just to the side of them blew i a gentle breeze, prompting her younger self to close here eyes... Then the shimmer of a memory was gone.

Adelaide's once-focused gaze had dipped with her thoughts, but once her nostalgia simmered down, she was again left with her earlier thoughts on the rarity of conversations such at these. As she viewed the brief memory she had just recalled, Adelaide allowed a small, sad smile to grace her features as her gaze dared return to his piercing eyes. "Thank you, it's been some time since I'd heard of such a personal encounter." She spoke first, thoughtful as she paused. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear carefully, she then allowed herself to collect her thoughts on it and gather up the questions that loomed on the story she'd become all but lost in. Before her teachings had the time to set back into her, she allowed herself to simply ask as she wished. He had encouraged her to do so at the very beginning, in any case. Briefly, the thought brushed her mind that this was her way of getting to know him, but she quickly stifled it as to keep her composure. Adelaide would not revert to be shy again now, of all times.

"If I may... Did you ever cross paths with Nakti again? Or, your father?" She asked, curiosity in her eyes, but hesitance in her tone revealing sympathy. Her earlier question prodded at the back of her mind, but she found her will to ask it diminished. Instead, Adelaide focused in on all of the events he described and tried to imagine the same happening to her. It was the mix of wonder and horror she experienced that lead her to shiver a little before speaking up again. "As you are now, are you content with it all?"

It was her last question carrying the most weight here, her eyes trained upon him with the enthusiastic mix of emotions she had just experienced driving her focus. She had convinced herself prior to hearing his story that this may be a once-in-a-lifetime experience to sit and speak with someone she found so appealing, so Adelaide was not letting this time go to waste. Even so, after a few moments, her manners came back and scolded her harshly. "I apologize for prying, I only--well, it was a wonderfully told story." She chimed in a tad sheepishly, a little color rising to her cheeks though she said no more. I only want to understand more about you.