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Character Bios


Name: Marcel de Frontenac
Age: 347 (appears physically in his late 20s)
Race: Vampire
Court: Winter


Name: Aurelie Vallette
Age: 23
Race: Witch
Court: Summer

Name : Adelaide Beaulieu

Age : 237 (appears to be in mid-20's)

Race : fae

Court : Summer





Name : Dorian Arnoult

Age : 213 (appears to be in mid-20's)

Race : demon

Court : Winter

Comte Marcel de Frontenac was the Winter Court's indisputable embodiment of shameless hedonism. Regardless of what anyone said about him, Marcel always did what he did best--what he wanted. And that was precisely what the Winter Kingdom admired about him. He'd had nearly four hundred years of life with which to build up such a reputation. In fact, the Unseelie constantly gossiped about his antics. "Why, once while in mortal lands, he seduced the nun of so-and-so convent" one story said, and "he defeated the champion of someplace just so he could go back to bedding the champion's wife without interruption" said another.

Unfortunately, these days Marcel found it increasingly difficult to concoct schemes to surpass past escapades. This coming week in particular, the millennial anniversary of Le Mascarade de L'Automne, he would have to think of something nearly insurmountable by Unseelie standards. But what? Nights of tireless contemplation passed without resolution. Time was running out...Until it dawned on him one evening, while lounging in his grand mahogany chair with a gilded glass of blood wine: he would overthrow the Summer Court without an army, relying entirely on his own wit and guile.

The Summer Kingdom was composed of hordes of disgusting daydwellers, otherwise known as the Seelie. The Summer and Winter Kingdoms had existed side by side for millenia in a state of chaos. They squabbled with one another over everything-- from the Court alignment of common fae to the extent of each Kingdom's land. It had only been one thousand years ago that the two Courts pieced together a flimsy agreement to abstain from conflict. Every one hundred years, Le Mascarade de L'Automne was held night and day for the duration of a week, in order for the members of both Courts to fraternize with each other. To remind themselves that "they are all the same", even though the Seelie preferred the day and the Unseelie preferred the night.

While political tensions between the Kingdoms still existed, Le Mascarade had managed to keep the peace for one thousand years. On this, the millennial anniversary of its creation, Marcel de Frontenac would deliver the Summer Throne to the Winter King's hands. He knew just how to do so...But his plan required the assistance of the Winter Court's best trickster. And so, springing from his seat, the vampire accosted one of his servants. They were to send out a message for him straight away.

"Summon the demon, Dorian Arnoult," he said, "To dine with me here at my castle tomorrow night."

Comte Dorian Arnoult still lounged in a state of half-sleep amongst the lush cushions and silks of his expansive bed, bare hips swaddled in the rich golden sheets as he rested face down amongst the warm comfort. His red hair sprawled out around his head, a blood red halo against the lighter coloring of his bedding. Bare back exposed to the slight breeze flowing into the room, he stirred, moving just enough that one of the servants awaiting him nearby dared to clear his throat a little. Normally, one in his household would not dare such unless it was of a matter most important, but Dorian still met this sound with some annoyance.

He was not the type to rise when he wished to rest unless he had good reason, and as of late, he had run out of the little games he adored keeping up with so. Whether it be dabbling in manipulation of the masses, or just toying with whatever humans he deemed worthy of breaking, he always made an effort to try keeping himself busy. A trickster needs to keep his wit and creativity sharp if he is to continue what he does best, after all. Dorian's specialty was manipulation, and he could hardly deny it to be a past time of his to spend time coaxing humans into breaking their own spirit, or forming pacts with him in return for trivial tasks. A woman wished to appear more beautiful-- he gave her a simple glamour, and in return, she became his to do with as he pleased. Her body, her servitude, her soul was his, and not a word of complaint would ever leave her mouth. Some humans grew too weak in those circumstances, and would slowly break into mindless servants under his ministrations.

This was one reason that he hardly found any fun in that dabbling recently, lacking any real challenge in working with weaker spirits. He had begun to spend more time with politics in its stead, observing the tensions as they rose and playing upon the strained minds as far as his position allowed. As a member of the Winter Court, all of this behavior was encouraged, even congratulated. He was often called upon to assist others of the court, but it was not often that the tasks those of lower status requested of him held any real 'fun' for the demon. So, when he heard the servant speak up with a name of intrigue, he immediately decided that the matter was indeed worthy of his attention.

"Comte Marcel de Frontenac requests that you dine with him tomorrow night." The man explained, hesitance in his voice.

Sighing softly at first, Dorian sat up slowly, eyes now alert as they narrowed in on the man in curiosity. "Was the matter explained?" he questioned, wondering what he was to be summoned for.

"I'm afraid not, sir. Do you reckon this is Court business?"

As a sly grin spread across his face, Dorian stood from his bed, one hand casually carrying the sheets that hung at his waist. "Everything is Court business, dear man." He spoke with a hint of amusement, running a hand up through his hair as he nodded definitively. "Report that I accept the invitation, and ready my means of transport. I wish to hear what it is Frontenac summons me for." He added thoughtfully a moment later before smiling to himself once more and slowly strolling from the room, humming a light tune.

The next night, fully clothed, he arrived at the designated time to find Comte Frontenac, curiosity gleaming in his eyes and mischief curled along his upper lip. This had to be the beginning of an interesting evening.

A servant donning a navy coat greeted Comte Dorian Armoult in the grand reception hall of Chateau de Frontenac. A member of the Seelie might describe the chamber as unnecessarily marvelous, with vaulted ceilings and rows of narrow stained glass windows framed on either side by sumptuous black velvet curtains. The walls were painted a similar dark shade as the curtains, but were punctuated here and there by columns dressed with gold embellishments. At the head of the hall, a great staircase spiraled up into the castle's main tower and contiguous smaller spires.

"This way, my lord," the servant said, sweeping into a respectful bow. He escorted the guest down an adjoining hallway on the left.

The passage, lined with seemingly ancient suits of armor and grotesque paintings, opened up into the main dining room of Chateau de Frontenac. Comte Marcel was lying in wait at one end of an exceptionally long mahogany table. Or, more precisely and as per usual, lounging in wait. He had his riding boots propped up on the surface of the table as he reclined lazily in a chair.

The servant in the navy coat bowed low again. "The Comte Doran Arnoult has arrived, your honour," he announced, and then hastily departed from the room.

"Ah. You are here, then," Marcel said, "Excellent timing. Do have a seat." He gestured to the chair directly at his right. "While there is plenty of space for you, I doubt you would fancy conversing from the other end of the room."

Perhaps in an effort to appear more civilised for his guest, Comte Marcel removed his feet from the table and straightened his back. He waited for Dorian to join him before alighting from his chair. "Brandy?" he asked, but did not wait for a response. He moved to a decanter by the wall and poured a generous glass of the liquor for Comte Arnoult, then returned to hand the man his drink and seat himself once more. "What would you like for my servants to prepare for you? I have an excellent chef, although oftentimes I do not have much use for him." He smirked, briefly flashing ivory fangs. "...As I prefer my main meals fresh from the vein." As if to emphasize the point, he snatched up a golden wine glass from the table and took a swig from it.

"I do believe this is the first time I have summoned you here, Comte Arnoult," he marveled. "Certainly I see you in Court, but I do not believe I have called you to my chateau for at least...Two centuries? Perhaps once when you were starting out. I hold gatherings here at times, as I am sure you know." He set down his cup. "But really, I am ashamed of my lack of communication. After all, your notoriety proceeds you." He tapped an index finger to his chin thoughtfully. "In fact, I believe you are the only one insidious enough to assist in my latest scheme..."

Dorian merely nodded at the servant that greeted him, his golden gaze instead drawn to the extravagance of the chateau he presently found himself walking into. He followed behind the man at a casual pace, his thumbs slipping themselves into the back pockets of his pants with ease as his eyes trailed along the stained glass, dark velvets, and gold embellishments. His eyes maintained a focus for picking up on the little details in the room - which he found a tad dark for his tastes, but not beyond his appreciation by any means - while his mind whirred around in thoughts of what the Comte had in mind for this evening. Marcel de Frontenac did have quite the reputation, after all.

When the servant stopped before him at the opening of the dining room, he waited for no invitation before casually stepping past the man, the movement smooth but slow. His eyes flickered briefly about the room before narrowing in on Marcel at the other end of the impressively proportioned table. At the words of welcome and the invitation to sit, he allowed a small smile to actually grace his features as he casually made way for the seat he had been offered. "Oh, but Comte, the room carries quite the echo." He spoke with a touch of amusement, but no true intent on arguing as he withdrew the chair at Marcel's right and seated himself. "Your chateau is only what I'd expect of you. Not unlike what I remember from quite some time ago." He commented, nodding a little as he allowed his back to rest against the chair, one of his elbows rising to perch in a relaxed manner on one of its arms.

As Dorian observed the comte straightening himself up, his upper lip curled with a touch of appreciation of the gestures he made to appear more stately. Dorian had half a mind to sit in a more courtly position himself, but he never was one to purposely make himself uncomfortable. "Brandy would be lovely. Thank you." He accepted the offer warmly, slender fingers gently encircling the glass that he was handed. Bringing it nearer to his face for a moment, he eyed the liquor thoughtfully before taking a sip. While his body did require food, Dorian also fed off of those that fell prey to his little tricks, typically tormented humans. This being said, he did not care much for what he actually ate when it came to material foods. Marcel's smirk and short flash of his fangs drew a smile to Dorian's face, followed by a soft chuckle. "I reckon the poor thing is itching to make something, then." He spoke with a hum, thoughtful but in no serious way, "Foie gras, if he has it on hand. If not, he may surprise me. I fed from a priest and his altar boys earlier, the pathetic lot became distressed enough to sate me well for quite some time." Amusement gleamed in his eyes as he explained this bit, the sly grin along his lips still in tact.

"That is about right, Comte. I do believe it has been at least two centuries..." He spoke slowly, remembering just bits and pieces of his last visit before shaking his head. It was of no matter now. The compliment from the other man drew him back into discussion, inwardly a tad touched, though he had to wonder why he was receiving this treatment. "Ah, time is a funny thing. I am flattered, but there is no need to apologize over communication when the Court grants us the time to dabble in what we will." He lifted his glass to drink from again, looking at the light through the glass as he paused before allowing his gaze to slide back over to Marcel. "Not that I am the only one with a sort of reputation. Oh, what was the last story I overheard? Ah yes, Comte Marcel, you took three nuns from Abbaye-aux-Bois? Quite a feat, I applaud it." He spoke with a chuckle, clearly amused at the idea. While Dorian's tendencies never quite breached hedonism, he knew well of the other man's reputation, and could take great pleasure in the idea of a convent being tainted in such a way. That sort of mischief was something he'd love to drum up himself, though more for the sake of soiling the holy grounds themselves.

Dorian's carefree attitude came to a settling point as the comte next spoke, his eyes focusing in on him as the reason for his dinner invitation began to come to light. Chin rested upon his knuckles, he listened curiously, features blank as his golden eyes dances with anticipation. "May I ask what I owe the pleasure to? Are you to lay one of our fellow courtesans? Enslave a Summer girl?" He inquired, already visibly excitable at what his proposition may be.

“So you remember Chateau de Frontenac?” Marcel said, though his tone remained unsurprised. “I am flattered. It is no small compliment--I hear your own residence is nothing to scoff at.” He glanced away and swatted his hand dismissively in the direction of the hallway. “I am afraid that I cannot take much credit for the décor, or anything else besides. I inherited the castle from my sire, and he, his sire. It has passed down our line almost as long as the Winter Court itself has existed.” With another smirk, the vampire’s eyes—a glacial blue--drifted back to the demon. He snapped his fingers. On cue, the servant in the navy coat reappeared, rushing to his master’s aid.

“Foie gras en jus,” he said, “Side of pickled pear. And fresh bread.” The servant bowed and hurried off to relay the order to the chef.

“A priest and his entire entourage, you say? An amusing tale for another time, I am certain. Perhaps as interesting as the three nuns of Abbaye-aux-Bois must have sounded to you. I assure you, however, stories regarding myself are quite exaggerated. In the case of the nuns, it did not take much coaxing on my part. Did you know that many mortals force their daughters into convents? Indeed, especially those who are most prone to sin…As if they would be safer there.” At this, Marcel laughed. It was a cruel, hollow sound.

Comte de Frontenac stood abruptly, and in one swift motion swept back his dark coat. The garment billowed behind him as he glided to one of the windows of the dining room, where moonlight streamed in through colored panes of glass. He rested his hand on one side of the window. His shoulders heaved with a dramatic sigh. “Truthfully, my friend, you are not far off. After centuries of unabashed skirt-chasing, I, too, have become lonesome for companionship. I long to seek solace in the arms of a--” Suddenly, the vampire snorted. “Hahahahaha! No, no--I cannot say it.”

The vampire spun around and leaned against the wall with folded arms. He shook his head, eyes sparkling with mirth. “There is, in fact, a Summer woman involved, but I assert that she is solely a means to an end! Tell me, do you know of the faerie Adelaide Beaulieu?”

Just then, the servant returned to the dining room with Comte Arnoult’s dinner. “My lord,” he said, and placed the platter with cutlery carefully in front of Dorian.

Marcel waited for the servant to depart before continuing. “Allow me to explain," he said. "Adelaide Beaulieu is a favorite of the Summer King and Queen, and of high rank in the Summer Court. As I hear it, she has even earned the affections of the Prince. There is talk amongst the common fae of their imminent betrothal.” The vampire’s eyes shimmered with excitement. He passed a hand back through long, ebony hair. “Too long I have waited for an opportunity such as this…On the millennial anniversary of Le Mascarade de L’Automne, I feared I would be unable to live up to my own expectations. But you see, it’s simple—by usurping her, we can easily topple the entire Summer Court. There is just one problem, however.”

Comte Marcel de Frontenac returned to his seat beside the demon. He rested both elbows on the table and leaned towards Dorian Arnoult in confidence. “By herself, Adelaide is a trifle. But she has a very powerful ally, more friend than servant. A young witch, known not for her name, but for her power. She will undoubtedly alert the faerie to my ploy. I will need you to take care of her for me. If the witch falls, so will Lady Beaulieu.”

"Yes, I do remember the chateau... In bits and pieces, in the least." Dorian replied, tilting his head slightly to one side as he allowed his gaze to wander up and around the room. "Whether you accept the credit or not, I still do insist that it suits you, in a way. If it has remained the same, either you must not have wanted to change it or you have not had the heart to. I suspect the prior." He mused aloud, voice trailing as if thoughtful, before he began again. "What I mean to say is, I still do believe it suits you marvelously, and some part of you must feel similarly." A small shrug rolled off his shoulders gently and kept him from saying more, golden eyes lowering back to rest upon the other comte.

"A small entourage, that it was." He admitted with a short nod, not feeling as though his earlier dinner was truly such an item of intrigue, though he did quirk an eyebrow at Marcel's response and subsequent laugh. "Perhaps they are exaggerated, but there is truth to them. One wouldn't belong on the Winter Court if not for some ounce of mischief in their daily lives." A smile played along Dorian's lips as he relished that thought; yes, he was where he truly belonged there. The both of them were. "Besides, who would satisfy those poor religious souls if not for mischievous folk as us? God?" He spoke calmly, finishing with a deep chuckle before shaking his head. "Oh, their mothers just line them up for our fodder."

As Marcel stood, sweeping his cape behind him in a grand gesture and going to stand astride the window in what could have been a cinematic moment, Dorian's smile all but disappeared. However, that twinkle of amusement never dimmed. His smile only returned as the other snorted, the tiniest touch of relief soothing him after the idea gave him a mild scare. Dorian didn't suspect anything of the sort from the comte, so he wasn't quick to trust the exposition of his little joke, but one could never be too sure. He was certainly glad he wouldn't have to deal with that sort of behavior. Placing his hand on his heart as if he had been afraid, Dorian found himself laughing. Though lighthearted and musical in sound, there was a solid sort of sinister edge to it. "You nearly began to worry me, there, not to cause you insult. I would have never expected words of that sort from you." He admitted, genuinely entertained with dinner thus far. He had been right about this indeed being an interesting night, and they hadn't even breached the topic of importance quite yet.

Hearing her name drew him to lift his chin from his knuckles, his eyes narrowing a little as if hesitant for a moment before Dorian nodded slowly. "Why yes, a Summer girl indeed," he spoke slowly, eyebrows knitted together slightly as he found himself a tad confused. Of course, the prospect of playing with a fae ranked so highly among the Summer Court was more than enough of an appealing idea- Hells, he loved it already- but what his plans involved were what intrigued him the most. As his food was sat before him, he only managed a short nod to the servant before slowly beginning to eat, not bothering to look his food over very well at all due entirely to curiosity. His gaze remained intent on Marcel as he explained, mind ticking like clockwork as he pieced together the other's plan.

It was only when the comte sat beside him once more that he took a short break from his meal, eyes focused in on the other as his part was laid out plainly. After all had been said, a grin slowly curled back onto his face. It was a twisted, but entirely genuine facial expression. "Then it's simple. I seduce the witch, manipulate her as we need... Lady Beaulieu crumbles, leaving the Summer Court rather... broken." He spoke casually, but remained in thought as he considered the task at hand. "I do not think a mere witch will take long to succumb to some ministrations..." Dorian then decided, his way of accepting the offer, then found himself leaning towards the other in a bit of anticipation. "I presume we start the first day of Le Mascarade?"

Marcel de Frontenac arched a brow at Comte Arnoult's strangely sentimental statement. Was that the true reason he had left the chateau mostly unchanged? He lifted his glass and swished its contents about absentmindedly. "Huh," he mused. "Perhaps you are right. It is possible I keep things the way they are for old time's sake. You might not have noticed, but I am a rather up in years. While my bedroom habits are...progressive, other preferences of mine are quite antiquated." He grinned, once again displaying his fangs.

The Comte downed the remainder of his glass in one go. He gazed into the empty vessel wistfully, eventually replacing it on the table. At the conclusion of his meeting with Dorian Arnoult, he would seek a...Refill.
"You are correct," Marcel continued after a moment. "Those of us in the Winter Court do not want for enjoyment. And, as you have so concisely stated--we might consider our actions towards 'religious' women as a form of charity. However, as entertaining as it might be to sully them, weak-willed mortals become tiresome after a while."

He chuckled softly. "You are not incorrect about my disposition, Comte Arnoult. I am not swayed to affection, or rather, feelings of any kind. I grant you the license to worry, should I ever fall prey to a member of the female persuasion."

Marcel watched the demon pick at his meal, not altogether paying attention to what was going into his mouth. He would have asked Dorian if the fare was to his liking, had he not known better. After all, the Comte Arnoult had not accepted Marcel's invitation at the promise of sustenance. He had attended this evening because he was interested in what the vampire had to say. Dorian was not naive by any means. His specialty was manipulation and deceit. As such, he well understood the intent behind Marcel's summons.

"Be wary of the witch," the vampire warned. "According to the rumors, she is particularly...Well-behaved." He shuddered at the very notion of someone that inherently good. "Moreover, she comes from a line almost as long as my own--white witches, every last one of them. She is well-versed in picking out evil from a crowd. You will need to approach her with caution...Wait until she lets her guard down before attempting anything too...Unseemly." He snorted again. "I will try an orthodox method myself. I know nothing about Lady Beaulieu's interests, thus I will have to converse with her in-depth. Not my favourite sort of dalliance, but I cannot afford to be picky in this case."

Marcel mulled over Dorian's final question. He nodded after some moments of contemplation. "Yes, I believe we should utilise all the time we have available to us. However, we must take care not to approach the girls while they are together. Our first course of action should be to separate them, and then monopolise their attentions."

After allowing himself to say what could be considered a somewhat brash observation aloud, Dorian was a tad surprised with the other's response. Most in the Winter Court would have dismissed the silly nonsense, but that the other owned up to it was something new. Marcel hadn't even tried to counter the idea or scold him for letting his mouth run. The latter was typically the response he was met with when putting words to his thoughts such as that, but Dorian was overall careless of what others thought. He fancied that his more bold statements, unfiltered, were more or less what the Winter Court at times needed; blunt attention to detail and the audacity to say when things that may make someone uncomfortable. Eyes glimmering as he took a sip of his drink, he dropped the subject, not wishing to offend his host now that his curiosity was now sated.

"Tiresome is a mere understatement." He spoke in agreement, a slight frown replacing his coy smile. "Toying with mortals can become dreadfully boring..." Sighing softly, he twirled his fork in the air mindlessly for a moment before continuing to pick at the meal before him. It was delicious, truly, but Dorian was not paying any mind to it. He never paid much attention to food, for it didn't matter to him was his body sustained itself on. It was the painful emotion of others that he truly cared about feeding off of, as such was his nature as a demon. Still, he knew that as a guest in the chateau there were some simple things he could do to come across a bit more amicable, so he spoke up upon finishing his plate. "Your chef is certainly worthy of praise. While I may not rely on food of the sort very often, I can appreciate well done cooking." He was not lying, he did appreciate skills when excellent ones were shown to him, so it did please him to see an excellent chef's work. It was only his role as a guest that drew his mind to thinking about the food itself. More over, it was meant as something of a compliment to Marcel's hospitality. Dorian found it necessary after he had been greeted with such an intriguing offer.

"Mmh, I had a feeling there was more to your request for me in particular. A pure one, eh?" He spoke thoughtfully after a few moments, one of his fingers rising to rest on his temple thoughtfully. Then, slowly, his sly grin returned. "I have a method to approaching such subjects, but if I am to romance her away, I will need to alter my usual strategy a bit. So yes, I presume you are correct and agree. I will have to be careful with this one. Nevertheless, I think that will be quite fun to work with... Are you at all concerned over the Summer prince's affections for Lady Beaulieu? I am not at all concerned that you would not succeed in your work with her, but if she has affections for the prince or he pays attention to your presence, we may need to carry extra amounts of caution." Then, slowly, he added, "Separating them as you suggest would surely be for the best. We should probably also take care not to be seen together often in their presence."

As the other spoke, Dorian drew a rather amusing visual to mind: Marcel arm in arm with Lady Beaulieu, strolling through a garden in the sunlight. "Oh dear, that's too much..." He chuckled darkly, shaking his head, "Though I presume I will have to bare quite the amount of discussion myself. The two of us, taking the care needed to seduce Summer girls. La vie est drôle (life is funny)." While the idea of needing to take such care with a girl was ridiculous to him, it presented a challenge, which was something he had been missing for quite a while. Actually succeeding in seducing the witch and watching the Lady fall would be a hard worked for and well-worthy treat.

Marcel de Frontenac smirked and paid his guest a brusque nod. "I am pleased you are satisfied with your meal, and will relay your compliments to the chef." Even though a chef was not much use to a vampire, the Chateau de Frontenac maintained servants of quality. If such an occasion were to arise, that he would need to entertain those who required more "solid" nourishment, he would be more than prepared to receive them. Particularly if a Summer faerie of Lady Beaulieu's standing were to ever traverse the castle's halls.

"I will leave the witch to you, then," Marcel said. "I have every faith that you will prevail. While it may involve unusual tactics by our standards, I am certain it will not be too difficult for you." He, too, chuckled at the notion of two of them behaving with propriety. Masquerading as "gentlemen" for Le Mascerade! Now there was a thought! The vampire was not one to ask women on romantic outings, nor gallantly request that they "take a turn about the garden"with him...And he was not about to start doing so now. While he could brave sunlight if necessary, it did require a wide-brimmed top hat, dark shades for his eyes, gloves, and additional garments that covered the majority of his pallid exterior.

"In regards to the Summer Prince," the Comte de Frontenac continued, "I am not particularly threatened by his relationship with Lady Beaulieu. That is because it is somewhat my...style." He laughed once more. "To snatch women out from under their suitor's noses, you see. I view it as an additional challenge. As we've discussed before, weak-willed humans grow tiresome quickly, and so sometimes I award myself 'points' for added obstacles to my conquests. Silly, I know. But it is entertainment." He drummed gloved fingers absentmindedly on the surface of the table. "My sources inform me that the Prince is dashing, but dull. I am not worried. Besides, if he deigns to challenge me for her hand, well--he is but a sapling. I, on the other hand..." The vampire's tone grew ominous. Malignance flashed briefly within his icy stare. "...Am not."

Marcel's hostility dissipated as quickly as it had appeared. He stood againwith an air of finality, and offered Dorian Arnoult his hand. "Now that we are at an understanding, Comte Arnoult, I will bid you adieu for now. When Le Mascarade begins, in two days’ time, seek a girl with russet curls and a disturbingly 'sunny' disposition. I hear her mien is rather appalling to Unseelie. She should be in the company of a radiant fae woman with shorter hair--the Lady Beaulieu."

~~~

"Addie, don't you think this is too much?" Aurelie asked. She turned her head to one side, and then the other, while inspecting herself in a hand-glass. "It's too much, isn't it?"

She was referring to plethora of red poppies stuck into two braids woven on either side of her copper hair. The braids were clasped at the back with a hairpiece made of green quetzal feathers. She wore a masque decorated in gold and matching emerald and crimson hues over her eyes, and donned a trailing red gown ((just pretend the feathers are green on the picture XD)) with gold floral applique and embroidered green feathers.
“I mean… I know you are used to dresses like these. You wear them all the time. But this is my first time wearing something so fancy! Do I have to? If I was taller, maybe it would look better. But I’m not!”

She pouted her lips childishly, turning to face her faerie companion with an exasperated expression. “If by some miracle I get asked to dance out there, I will definitely trip over this skirt.” She sighed deeply and shook her head.

“Oh, well. Whatever. It’s fine. Let’s just go out there so you can be the jaw-dropper, like you always are. I will be your emotional support in the background, cramming h’ordeuvres into my mouth.”

Adelaide's light grey eyes were fixated on the mask she held between her pale, slender fingers. It was an expertly crafted mask of gold with accented curls that seemed to suit her all too well. It even matched the accessories she had picked for the event, and suited the dark blue-grey of her gown. The prince had truly outdone himself in gifting this to her before Le Mascarade. Still, as she stared down at it, she felt quite... numb. Closing her eyes and sighing softly after a few moments, she slipped the golden mask onto her face before turning to look at her friend.

"Elly, you look beautiful. I think they're just right." She urged, genuine as she sent her friend a small smile. "Here." Leaning forwards, one of her hands gently rose to the other's hair, tucking a stray piece away and gently adjusting the place of one of her many poppies. The flowers seemed to bloom anew in the wake of her touch, brightening and opening to be just a bit brighter. Then standing back to look at her, Adelaide nodded, pleased. "This is your first time at Le Mascarade, you can not say for sure that you know you will trip, and there are plenty of young men to dance with! I would be surprised if one didn't snatch you up within the first few minutes. Really." She spoke honestly, encouraging of her friend. Adelaide was all too used to these sort of events, this lifestyle. It was natural for her to wear elaborate dresses, spend days - and some nights - dancing among the crowd of fae, making conversation with strangers. Adelaide wanted her friend to experience these things too, which was why she urged her to come along, but she was not quite sure of how to encourage her since she herself had never had the same concerns. The best she could do was to try and just get her friend out into the crowd.

Playfully rolling her eyes at her friend's comment, she laughed a little and shook her head. That simply wasn't the way Adelaide operated; she may get quite the amount of attention some days, but she was quick to try shifting the attention of others elsewhere. She was flattered by Aurelie's words in a way, but was too humble to stand by them. "Oh, no you won't! You will be dancing with the rest of us, just wait and see. Come on, now." She spoke gently, taking her friend's hand and coaxing her along past the curtain and into the light of the grand ballroom ahead. Adelaide's eyes lit up instantly with the beauty of it, but immediately after stepping inside, she still turned to look at her friend to see her reaction.

The expansive ballroom before them was majestic in itself, with high ceilings stretching up to curved windows that showed the stars above, beautiful paintings hanging along the walls, decor in the form of flowers and shimmering lights making no waste of space, and a shining marbled floor. The room was filled to the brim with masked fae, most of which swaying elegantly with partners along to the entrancingly beautiful tune that sung through the air. Refreshments were in abundance both on tables alongside the walls of the room, and from servers walking around in plain black masks and tuxedos. Light chatter accompanied the music, fae from every court and species intermingling in the elegant setting. Adelaide found herself drawn further into the room by the music, her smile brightening as she stopped briefly by a table holding glasses of various wines, ambrosia, and other delicacies. Taking a glass gently into her hand, she swirled it around its glass curiously for a moment before seeming to understand what it was, then turned back to Aurelie.

She opened her mouth to speak, but then found herself slowly closing it as her words were replaced by a sly grin.

. _ . ______________ . _ .

Dorian, clothed in a handsomely fitted suit and a mask that highlighted his golden eyes and blood-red hair, had not taken long to seek out the russet-curled head of the young woman that was accompanying the Lady that was unmistakably Adelaide Beaulieu. Once the women entered, quite a few eyes were drawn in their direction, and his already-searching gaze was soon to follow. Tonight he was on his best behavior, which truly didn't say much, but it was enough that he could ensure that he came off as friendly and well-mannered as he could for the circumstances. He had been resting casually alongside the wall, as if waiting to dance, long legs crossed casually before him as he sipped a deep red wine slowly. When his eyes followed that of the small, mingling crowd's, he slid himself gracefully off of the wall and was quick to rid himself of his glass, slipping it up onto a waiter's tray as he passed by with dirty dishes.

He strode at a slow pace, allowing his gaze to wander in different directions as if searching, before stopping just a few steps short of the smaller red-haired woman. She appeared to be as dolled up as many of the other court girls, bright red flowers threaded through her hair and a radiant gown to suit such a fashion statement. It was beautiful, truly, but it had more of an adverse reaction to him. Her appearance was quite sunny-- she was bright, heavily flowered, and accompanying one of the Summer Court that nearly made him gag. He may not know much of this girl, his target, but he knew of Adelaide and her endearing words that drew such adoration from the common folk. That she accompanied her was enough to make him want to curl back in distaste. Yet, there was an innocence about his target and her small form that drew him in. Innocence that he could prey upon.

Outwardly, however, he kept his composure like that of a true gentleman. Stepping forward, cleared mind, Dorian would clear his throat to grab her attention, voice deep but lacking its typically allowed roughness. "Excuse me." He spoke gently, words light enough to be musical as he bowed generously in her direction. His golden eyes danced in the light with a hidden source of mischief as they fixated on her, and he managed a handsome smile in her direction. "I do believe the maestro is about to start a new piece. May I?" He offered her one of his white-gloved hands, as if it were one of the most casual gestures in the world to him.

. _ . ______________ . _ .

Adelaide had cut herself off from speaking just as this mysterious, yet apparently handsome young man stopped by to offer her friend his hand. Smiling deviously, Adelaide was quick to flash her friend a smile and turn her back to them, as if urging her onwards. This was a normal enough occurrence in her mind that it was more than welcome. She wanted her friend to enjoy her time here, and what a better way than dancing? Adelaide had been sure that Aurelie would have no hard time finding a partner to dance with. As if to further her point that she should accept this offer, Adelaide glanced over her shoulder before slowly slinking away from the two, and further back into the mingling crowd. Sipping her ambrosia delicately, she grinned to herself, happy and hopeful as she hummed a little along to the end of the current song.

Aurelie blushed lightly as her friend adjusted the flowers in her hair. It was easy for her to say those things. She was so magnificent! Adelaide resembled a scintillating celestial being in her midnight-blue gown and golden accent pieces. Simply a touch from her fingers could invigorate vegetation and restore the energy of animals. Sometimes Aurelie wondered how she had managed to befriend someone as remarkable as Lady Beaulieu. Even with all her beauty and popularity, the faerie remained modest and kindhearted even to those whose stations lay far below hers. She was bright and friendly; youthful in spirit despite her many years of service in the Summer Court.

Aurelie was only a young, inexperienced witch. While witches could live for hundreds of years with the right sort of potions on hand, they were still considered closer to mortal than any of the other Court species--a fact that Aurelie was especially self-conscious of. She did not enjoy feeling inferior to others. Magic was the only true skill she had, a skill that granted her value in the Court and an undisputed place at Adelaide’s side. She did not care so much about having power amongst the Seelie, but she was glad enough to be able to spend time with Adelaide without being questioned.

“I know that we practiced all the dances together, but it’s not the same doing them with a stranger! I’m terrible with men. I haven’t had two hundred years to figure them out like you have!” Aurelie puckered her rouge-stained lips with distaste. “Besides, you have a guaranteed partner. The Prince is probably going to stalk you until you agree to dance with him, Addie.” The witch giggled over the prospect of Prince Julien trailing after Adelaide’s skirts until she looked his way…Like a downtrodden three-hundred-year-old puppy!

She was caught off-guard by Adelaide snatching up her hand and dragging her towards the curtain separating them from the scary, outside world. “Ehhhh?! Wait, no! I’m not ready to--” Aurelie found herself abruptly silenced by the sight of Le Mascarade’s incomparably elegant ballroom. The vision that danced before her eyes now—it did not seem real. Surely this was a beautiful dream she had accidentally wandered into? Some sort of extravagant mirage? Struck dumb by the décor, the flowers, the lights, the impeccably-dressed menagerie of attendees (or perhaps the combination of everything), Aurelie’s jaw dropped helplessly. In fact, she was certain that she would have rubbed her eyes if not for both the mask blocking access and the possibility of smudging the makeup Adelaide had so carefully painted onto her face.

“This is amazing,” she gushed, mindlessly following the faerie in the direction of one table brimming over with fabulous refreshments the quality and quantity of which the witch had never before seen. “I knew this was the millennial anniversary of Le Mascarade, but they really went all out! …Not that I know how it compares to any other century, but still!” She was just about to reach for her own glass of choice alcoholic beverage, turning to receive Adelaide’s imminent commentary, when--

“Excuse me,” said a melodic—and distinctly male—voice.

Aurelie froze, her shocked expression reminiscent of a deer caught in the presence of a predator. It did not help that Adelaide was grinning mischievously. Apparently the newcomer was not addressing Adelaide, but her! Oh, the horror! She pivoted slightly to the left, in order to view her (?)suitor(?), and was mortified to find him astoundingly attractive. And also clearly a member of the Winter Court! The witch’s eyes bulged with inner conflict.

"I do believe the maestro is about to start a new piece. May I?"

He offered his glove-clad hand to her. She stared at it, and then glanced back up at him. Beautiful. Red-haired. Fitted suit, gold mask. So gorgeous.

Cue verbal vomit.

“Hhh---uhhh? Yyyoou—whuuu?”

Aurelie’s head whipped in the direction of her friend, seeking assistance--but to her dismay, the faerie had already disappeared into the crowd! Damnations! Her insides battled over her next course of action. Potentially evil Winter being—but such a handsome man—so scared of dancing—but so excited to try it! What to do, what to do?! Seconds of silence seemed like eternity…He was waiting for her response! She had to answer, and now. Just answer, Aurelie, do it! She managed to face him again, albeit awkwardly.

“HnNnngh…NnO…O…Kay…” she finally relented, grimacing. Then, with enormous effort, she lightly placed her hand into the man’s. Somehow, she did not die.

Even so, this was not going to be pretty.

~~~

Clearly Marcel de Frontenac had chosen the perfect man for the job. He watched Dorian Arnoult lead the reticent-yet-willing witch away from Lady Beaulieu’s company, while she herself disappeared into the throng of costumed bodies. The vampire “lurked” on the opposite end of the vast ballroom, his icy gaze following her movements, garbed in perhaps his most dashing Mascarade raiment yet. He modeled a Far-Eastern-influenced embroidered brocade coat of maroon-and-gold with golden draped sash, cream-colored satin leggings, black equestrian boots, and a matching maroon-and-gold mask. His long, dark waves of hair spilled far past his shoulder blades, immaculately combed to fall on only the right side of his face.

The tittering voices of Unseelie women, admiring from afar, were not lost on his ears. Try as he might to ignore them, the vampire’s keen aural senses continually picked out bits and pieces of wistful conversation. Even many women from the Summer Court, decked in their floral finery, cast him lingering glances on the pretense of discussing his notoriety with one another. While he had dressed in the interest of multiple females’ attention (and envious glares from Unseelie courtmen of comparable age and ranking), the all-too eager hordes were to be neglected for the remainder of the week in favor of monopolizing Lady Beaulieu. Even now, he would need to move quickly…Lest her betrothed-to-be caught her eye and hand before he could. He could see the Summer Prince, Julien, orbiting the faerie at a distance--though he was repeatedly accosted by various guests of Le Mascarade.

Thus, Comte de Frontenac drifted along the periphery of the ballroom, casually making his way towards Lady Adelaide. He pretended to look anywhere but at her, carrying a flute of champagne, until he stood not five feet’s breadth of her. He finished his drink and, depositing the empty glass on the tray carried by a passing server, indulged in a fleeting smirk of anticipation before willing it off his face. Finally, the vampire then swept his cool gaze towards Adelaide with seemingly innocent curiosity. He waited for her to notice his inspection. Undoubtedly she would identify him. He had lived far too long and too recklessly for the rumors of him not to carry to her lands. However, in this endeavor, he knew the key to winning her trust: it did not matter what others thought of him, but rather what she thought of him. And so he would adjust his behavior accordingly.

His pale blue eyes focused on her face, but he kept his expression blank. Unassuming.

“I am sorry to trouble you,” he said. “I find myself without a partner for this piece. I suppose I have lost my touch for these things...” He smiled bashfully. “Would you perhaps be willing to join me next song? However, I understand if you are spoken for…”

Adelaide stood by in the crowd quietly, fingers curled carefully around her glass as she still got a side view of her friend and the Winter male. She didn't recognize him for the life of her, but she had no doubts in the dance being a harmless gesture. It was the intermingling of the courts in acts such as that kept the peace, and she relished the entertainment which it granted her. In this case, perhaps, it was at Aurelie's expense. Her sly grin became a full-fledged smile as she caught the distressed look on Elly's face. Pressing the fingers of her free hand to her lips gingerly, she held in her amusement, trying to keep her composure as another fae stepped up beside her to attempt starting up a conversation.

Sadly, though the tried, she couldn't bring herself to actually pay enough mind to them to properly respond to whatever they had said. Instead, she focused her hearing as best as she could on the pair she left behind. This was when she struck comedy gold, and the flood gates of laughter finally broke her careful composure. Over the quiet mingling happening in the social circles around her, Adelaide's musical laughter rung up just above the other voices. Her free hand moving to her heart, she allowed herself to show her amusement before shaking her head and forcing herself to calm. Apologetic grin coming to grace her features, she would finally grant the fae beside her her full attention. He, however, did not seem phased. Instead, he appeared rather boyishly happy to have received that laugh from her.

That was strange. Had he told a corny joke? Uncertain, she tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear as her gaze again drifted from him. Adelaide felt unsettled. She was surely happy to be here, yet with the knowledge that Prince Julien could circle in and mean to whisk her away from this excitement, she couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. She tried to humor his feelings, to accept them; it wasn't difficult to do at least that, he was after all a handsome and powerful man. He just wasn't quite right, though she dared not speak as such. After a few more moments of listening to the man speak, she kindly made an excuse to leave in order to refill her drink, stepping away from the man with a bit of relief. It was unlike her to feel as on edge as she did.

It was not until Adelaide had given away her empty glass that she looked up into the crowd again, half searching, half observing, that she found the figure in maroon that had become a whisper throughout the women of the crowd. He was a sight, surely. His suit was so well-tailored and fitted, his long locks combed to fall just so, blue eyes piercing even beneath his mask... His eyes? Adelaide's gaze had surely found and put a name to Marcel de Frontenac, but what took her back was that her gaze had suddenly been returned. A touch of pink dusted her complexion as she immediately averted her gaze, a tad embarrassed, but it was too late for embarrassment. He approached and spoke to her. Lifting her gaze, she allowed her grey gaze to fix on him, curious of this man's intent. He had a reputation known even by those in the Summer Court, but it sadly did little to detract from his handsome appearance. Adelaide found herself at a crossroads. See told herself that this event was to promote peace, so then it was peace she should seek, reputations aside.

With a renewed composure, Adelaide looked upon him blank-faced, gaze locked on his form as she took in his words, his bashful smile. Whether it was well-played or sincere, she wasn't sure. In either case, she was itching to dance, to join in the fun she found at events such as this. Yet, she hesitated for a moment. Spoken for. Was she spoken for, should her obligation not be to the prince? Teeth gentling her lower lip for a moment, she took a moment to find her answer. "It is of no trouble. I would love to join you, comte." She replied steadily, resolve having been found. I am not spoken for.

Then, slowly, she added, "I don't believe I've had the pleasure before. It is good to see you are enjoying Le Mascarade with the rest of us." She had no doubt he regularly attended the event, as she did, but she never recounted an instance of actually speaking to the notorious man. A part of her wondered why it was only now that they did-- the other, why they hadn't before. She mused that she may not have anything to do with a man of his repute, especially one among the Winter fae, but now was not the time to draw quick conclusions.

. _ . ______________ . _ .

Dorian's gaze remained curiously fixated upon her, facial expression still in the same calm position during the few quiet moments that passed between them. Even so, his insides bubbled up at the sight of her shock, pleased and more than ready to continue reeling her in. The shock was cute, childish-- also a sign of innocence and complete lack of experience, both of which appealed to the demon's particular appetite. Still, he had to be careful not to show signs of anything other than a charming disposition at the time, so he paid close attention to his posture and facial expression. Her failure to speak properly at once did cause him to widen his smile a bit, amused, but not willing to show any more signs than that. It could be considered rude. He wished to gag at how constricting this persona already was.

"Ah, yes. I'd love a dance with you, if I may." He continued on to say, as if reminding her gently, when trying to make sense her response. However, there truly didn't seem to be any sense to be made. At this point, Dorian had spoken those words in hopes of further coaxing her, and it appeared that something clicked into place in her mind not long after. Her second attempt at speech was none the more graceful, but he would accept it. Perhaps next time he wouldn't leave the topic of his presence up to her to answer verbally. As she accepted his hand, he chuckled and allowed his to enclose around hers, holding it gently but securely. Leaning forwards, he gently kissed the back of her hand in a sweet gesture, his lips soft as they brushed her skin.

"Thank you. I am at your service, my lady." He spoke with a voice like velvet, then straightened himself out of his bow to square his shoulders and look upon her briefly before slowly leading her out onto the dance floor, guiding her hand to rest on his arm. He would lead her carefully through the masses of dancers, towards the center of the floor, everyone around them gliding about rather gracefully as he turned to her with a grin. The maestro's song did end not a few moments after he picked this position, as Dorian predicted, leading a touch of pride within him. He fancied he had the intuition for sensing such things. During the short break in the music, he slowly moved his arm from underneath her hand in order to take the proper position, with his hand moving to rest upon her waist and his other hand gently grasping one of her own. The fingers of the hand holding hers gently laced themselves with her fingers, palms pressing together as he briefly allowed his gaze to look upon their enlaced hands before moving back to fixate upon her features. He supposed conversation would be encouraged, even if she did not seem that adept at speaking to men. This man his upper lip curl, but he disguised this as another simple smile.

"Forgive me, but you seem quite nervous. Is this your first time at Le Mascarade?" He asked innocently enough, though he knew better by now. She was the closest to a human here, the most frail; he could read that by looking at someone. That means she couldn't have been around for very long. It was this and her blaring lack of experience shown in accepting his offer to dance that convinced him that this was fact. Yet, this was a version of one of his trademark blunt questions. Curiosity danced in his eyes as he wandered what she'd have to say, if she could probably manage words.

When the music did pick back up, it was a slow but lively tune, which he praised the maestro for since he believed there no way this girl could pull off a complicated dance number. At least, not without taking him out, as well. He took the lead with ease, ensuring she could be lead to take the right steps, if she were to allow herself to move as he did. If she were to show a little trust in him. His hands were firm on her, but remained gentle, the one upon her waist especially so as he took care to maintain its position. Dorian wanted nothing to mess this up.

Marcel de Frontenac waited for the present song to conclude and the next to begin before taking the faerie’s hand. He inwardly recoiled at the spark of ‘life’ that jolted through his fingertips as he touched her, but no evidence of it shadowed his pristine countenance. He brusquely scanned the crowd for Dorian’s hair, and finding it, guided Lady Beaulieu to the opposite side of the ballroom to ensure that their trajectories would not cross. After nearly four centuries of soirees and intermingling with superficial mortals, the vampire had dancing down to an art. This was evident from the swiftness by which he directed Adelaide’s hand to his shoulder and his to her waist. He pulled her close suddenly, clasping her free hand in his and entwining their fingers. While the fae was tall, he was taller still, and their faces but mere inches apart. “Neither have I…And a pleasure it is, indeed, Lady Beaulieu.”

Marcel maintained eye contact with Adelaide from beneath his mask, even as they began to twirl in rhythm to the melody. He was skilled enough to both lead and also pay no mind to the other dancers; they were certain never to collide with anyone. His icy sharp irises regarded the faerie’s lovely visage quietly for a few, intense moments before he finally spoke again. “I always enjoy Le Mascarade. Why, I attend it every century. It is a time for the Seelie and Unseelie to put aside their differences for a week…Although it is a shame that they cannot do so on any other day.” He inclined his head to the right, searching her face with unabashed wonder. “You are certainly striking…Tres jolie. Why have I not approached you before?”

Of course the vampire knew the answer to that rhetorical question, sure as night. He had simply not wanted to speak to her. Seducing women beloved by society had lost its fun some years ago. If Adelaide Beaulieu were not a person of import, he would never have bothered. Not when there were more twisted women to satiate, or innocents to bespoil within the throes of passionate sin. Marcel masked these sentiments by smiling at her serenely. He loosened her from his hold in order to spin her out and around, and then reeled her back into his arms.

“I believe I was hesitant to learn your opinion of me,” he said with a chuckle. “Seeing how the others talk of me. It is all exaggerated, I assure you…Though still disdainful, I am sure. I promise that I will free you from my wretched presence after this song. One dance with you will be enough to satisfy me until the next Mascarade.”


~~~


While she truly appreciated his polite gesture (one that was not even unusual when dealing with Summer or Winter courtmen), the sensation of the handsome stranger’s lips gently grazing her hand further threw Aurelie off her nonexistent game. She blushed deeply, sputtering out something that sounded like an agreement, but was far too incoherent for one to say for sure. Normally, the only way the woman endured multitudes of attractive immortal nonhuman persons who looked down on her day to day was to mentally separate “work” from “play” and act professionally.

Now, however, she did not have the excuse of work to hide behind. Le Mascarade was diversional at its core, even if its existence served to quell civil unrest between the Winter and Summer Courts. ‘Ohgoddessohgoddessohgoddesss’, chanted Aurelie’s mind in rapid succession, ‘At this rate I am going to overheat before we even reach the dance floor!’ Adelaide had insisted on the witch’s attendance in the interest of her having ‘fun’, but Aurelie was unsure what sort of fun she was supposed to have now while wholly naïve to ballroom practices and therefore understandably petrified!

Regardless of her fear, Aurelie allowed herself to be steered to the center of the ballroom. Couples twirled expertly around them on either side, and she held her breath, willing herself to stay calm as the red-haired man placed his hand upon her waist and interlocked her right hand with his left. He was a head or two taller than her, only adding to her self-consciousness, but the witch steeled herself and let her hand fall lightly upon his right shoulder. At the commencement of the next song, they began to dance. He was a strong lead, whoever he was. Aurelie had practiced the steps to this tune many times in private, but right now she was hyper-focused on keeping her feet off of his or mistakenly bumping into any of the pairs in their vicinity. On top of that, the Winter stranger was attempting to converse with her!

It was no use—the only way for Aurelie to survive this unorthodox situation after all was to flip the switch in her mind to ‘work mode’. The witch’s demeanor altered drastically as if becoming a different person altogether—she gained a confident air and straightened her back. In fact, it could be said that she had mentally erected a wall preventing any form of intimacy between the two of them, surveying the stranger’s handsome face detachedly. Weirdly, she had lost none of her sunny quality. Her unblinking eyes were a vivid sky blue. “You are very observant,” she said eventually, the pace of her movements falling into time with his, “My friend had me accompany her tonight, but admittedly I’m out of my element. There are books I could be reading.” She paused and then added somewhat awkwardly, “What are you called?”

As the song came to a close and their hands touched, Adelaide was surprised to feel... a lack of vitality, perhaps a touch of cold? While she could say she had danced with fae from every court and many walks of life, this was quite different from what she was used to. It startled her, though she dared try to keep it from showing, her mouth only parting slightly in response while her hold on his hand did not even suggest movement. In a way, it was oddly invigorating, not to feel the intense warmth of a Summer man's touch as he lead her skillfully through the crowd. As he lead, she followed closely behind him, movements smooth as her gaze finally traveled back over the dancing pairs in search of two red heads. The pair were not all that difficult to find, really. A smile skimming her lips as she caught just a glimpse of her friend in the middle of the ballroom, she then released her gaze to settle back upon the man leading her. That surprising comte.

At the sudden swiftness of the motions he made, she was again quite surprised, lips parting once more and eyes widening as she was drawn in to stand but inches from him. Eyes curious, unsure, she studied his handsome features as she tried to collect herself. She was quite adept at dancing, easily able to follow his motions with care, but unused to a partner with such fluid motion, even among other fae. He was a mystery to her, and she couldn't deny that there was an appeal in being pressed this near to him. Yet, she found herself again. A slow smile lit her face once more at his words, the hand she laid upon his shoulder taking a slightly firmer hold as a sign of appreciation in his kindly response.

"I would like to think that all present here do enjoy it, in their own ways." She began in response slowly, thoughtful as she allowed her eyes to remain focused on his, trusting in his steps as a skilled lead and fully confident that neither of them would be colliding with anyone while they moved in sync. Both were masterful in their steps, and it showed well in her ability to move with ease alongside him. "Though, I do find it strange to hear that you find that a shame, comte. I have to say I would not have expected such from you." Adelaide spoke more casually now, a hint of humor brushing her tone as her eyes shone. She had found her composure again for certain, making it easier for her to say words meant to tease in a gentle manner. Yet, it definitely was most strange to hear such from a man of the Winter Court. She couldn't help but wonder what precisely was going on in his mind.

The genuine nature in which he seemed to observe her reeled her back to reality, a grin of pleasure lining her lips as she let a small laugh escape them. "I'm flattered. I do suspect living opposite lifestyles would have something to do with the matter." Adelaide replied sweetly, glad to have heard his words, but not quite enchanted by them. She was used to compliments, and sometimes they were simply fodder, so a part of her wasn't trusting of any she received no matter how genuine their speaker appeared. The Prince's many compliments hardly even phased her any more, though she was well-practiced in making it appear otherwise. Though, with the serene smile on Marcel's face, she found it hard not to allow a true smile to return his. This had become a fun encounter for her, though she found herself wishing to deny that it would be just that; one brief encounter.

As he loosened his grip on her to lead her into a spin, Adelaide took the cue, swirling with ease upon the marble, one of her hands even rising in a graceful gesture before returning to proper positioning with him. As she returned, his words truly caught her off guard, a chord seeming to strike within her as her easy smile faded. Her eyes remained intent on him as he spoke, actually considering his words with some weight now. "I..." She was unsure of what to say, after he had just seemed to own up to his notoriety. Her insistence on not judging based upon such tangled itself with her natural impulse to allow him to leave her presence. Then, after a few moments, she laughed once more, shaking her head. Adelaide believed she needed to relax, and found herself feeling obliged to invite him to spend more time alongside her. It was not only polite, but tempted by a new curiosity within her. He was an intriguing man, surely.

"You would be glad to spend another century without my presence?" She suggested playfully, before her grin returned. "I do not trust in the opinion of the Courts to tell me all I wish to know of someone. I tend to form my own opinions." She spoke firmly, though the opinions of the Courts were something to take into consideration here. Adelaide, while interested in spending more time with this man, did not want to entangle herself with someone that was truly dark. "I would request that you not free me of your presence, until you would prefer such." She then added, feeling a little emboldened in wake of her thoughts. Her eyes remained intent on the comte, unashamed of her wish to speak further with him, and lacking the sense of shyness others may exhibit after words of the sort.

. _ . ______________ . _ .


The mischief masked as curiosity hiding in his gaze relit as she seemed to change attitude completely, a new confidence rising in her as he lead her through the steps of the dance with strong ones of his own. Dorian knew the steps by heart, as it happened with age, but did note that she seemed to sometimes have a little trouble making the correct move. Continuing on in leading her with care, he would resume ensuring that they moved in the correct directions with a gentle firmness. His eyes remained on her small form, short but not without the continual innocent appeal he found himself drawn in by. Still, as she changed mood entirely, her sunny disposition sadly did not budge. It was a tad disappointing, truly, but he shouldn't have gotten his hopes up. She was a Summer girl, after all, and the lump in his throat told him that her warmth was making his insides wish to curdle.

As she finally managed to speak properly, he arched an eyebrow in her direction, intrigued. What clicked in her mind to alter such a change in disposition? Yet, a charming smile reclaimed his features as he chuckled. "Thank you. I tend to be rather detail-oriented. The poppies in your hair, for instance," he noted the flowers that made his nose itch, "their smell is light, but a wonderful accent to your beautiful outfit of choice." He complimented firmly, then thought his next words over for a moment, unsure at first at how to approach her comment on books. She did not seem to wish to be here, and it would now need to be his aim to try dismantling those thoughts of hers. He needed her here in order to coax her into his hands, after all.

"Ah, why books are helpful, no argument there. They bring a wisdom others sometimes cannot teach." He began, then pausing to carefully twirl her, ensuring she could not fall with a firm grip. Bringing her back in by catching her waist smoothly, he would draw her closer to him, keeping his distance just enough so that he could find secure eye contact with her while their bodies could remain close. "Though Le Mascarade has an appeal all its own. Day and night filled with dancing, courtesans, fae of every species. There is much to be learned from events like these." He insisted, passion in his tone to show a fondness for it. Dorian did indeed enjoy these events, these opportunities to learn what he could of others, to prey upon young fae without need to hold himself back. This year was different, however.

"Forgive me, my lady. I am Comte Dorian Arnoult, how terribly rude of me not to have presented you my name earlier." He spoke genuinely, voice like honey as he added, "I... Well, I am not accustomed to presenting my name to those I meet here, I am afraid. I presume a darling Summer girl as yourself would prefer to keep the Winter away." He allowed his voice to dip a little, as if injured by the thought, but his steps did not falter. "Does it bother you, that I am not of your court?" He then asked slowly, a hesitant grin lining his lips as he awaited a response.

"Also... May I ask the pleasure of your name? It would please me to know whom I have the pleasure of beginning this lovely evening with." Dorian questioned curiously, not actually sure of the name of his intended target, silly as it would seem. He was, however, entirely sure that this was the girl Comte de Frontenac had intended him to target. There was no mistaking her colored curls, or accompaniment of Lady Beaulieu. This was the girl he would taint.

‘Flattery,’ Aurelie’s reminded herself, ‘He is just trying to flatter you. Like when the Marquis compliments your dress. It doesn’t mean anything.’ …But what if it did mean something? The only other man who had ever shown interest in her as a woman was the Summer Captain of the Guard. (She was just as hopeless at conversing with him.) But that was only because he was drawn to people with power. His battle prowess was unmatched in the Summer kingdom, and so was her witchcraft. It was true that most Seelie fae could do magic. Magic came as naturally to them as breathing. But their magic was far more generalized and depended on their species. For example, undines could only use water magic and dryads could only grow plants.

Aurelie’s abilities were not restricted to one, or even two elements. With proper study, she could learn any spell she wanted. Other Seelie were put off by her magical abilities, which they considered strange and different from their own. They marveled over her, even sometimes admired her…But still, they kept their distance. Adelaide was the only member of the Summer Court who did not keep her at arm’s length. Aurelie had a better time fitting in amongst humans, but the moment her magic came to light, they, too, shrunk away from her. It was rather lonely. There were many more witches living in the Winter kingdom, but their sorcery was too dark for her to seek their company.

Aurelie was suddenly spinning before she could form a reply to the man’s commentary on books and Le Mascarade. She had to postpone her words in order to avoid tripping over her skirt. See, Adelaide had been incorrect! This trailing gown was indeed a safety hazard! Once he had righted her, she found herself closer to the man’s body than she was comfortable with. This was because she had never been held by any man other than her father! She took a firm step back and placed a little distance between them, all the while continuing to dance, and cleared her throat. Her businesslike confidence had faltered briefly. “Y-Yes…That is…True enough. There is much to learn from interaction with others. But it is how you…say…It is mostly dancing, and frivolous chatter. I doubt I will find deep meaning in a recreational gala.” She was lying, of course. Aurelie was happy to be present for Le Mascarade. She enjoyed the lights, the sounds, the delicious foods she had yet to consume--but she needed Adelaide nearby for reassurance!

The revelation of the stranger’s name jolted the witch back to reality. Comte Dorian Arnoult? The Comte Arnoult? She scanned through her mental registry of names, and sure enough…There he was, with a big red asterisk beside his name signifying ‘Watch out!!’ The Summer King had warned her to be aware of potentially dangerous members of the Winter Court—just in case Adelaide was threatened—and so she had memorized them some months ago. A tiny voice in the back of her head reacted differently, much to her dismay. ‘A famous (infamous) Comte is interested in me!’ It gushed. She buried the voice under a pile of mind pillows, and said, “As far as nature is concerned, the Winter is as relevant as the Summer—and Autumn and Spring, for that matter, although no Courts exist for them. My attitude is similar...Except if one of my friends were to be menaced. Then it would bother me a great deal.”

She glanced away, raking the crowd for Adelaide’s whereabouts. She could not seem to make her out while surrounded by many tall figures. “You would not recognize my name, sir comte. I am only Aurelie Vallette. I have no title to speak of. I am sorry if you have wasted your time by paying attention to me instead of a comtesse or marquesse.” She had to probe his intentions now, lest she be drawn in by this cunning man. If her memory served correct, Dorian Arnoult was a demon--and not one of the lesser variety. Even on her, he would have formidable sway. She had to be cautious.

~~~

Marcel de Frontenac, as a vampire, considered himself rather adept at interpreting body language. Assessing the reactions of others was necessary for most everything he did, the least of which being the acquiring of blood. In this endeavor, Lady Beaulieu had not yet demonstrated much reticence towards his attentions. In fact, she gave off all the typical signals of a woman enjoying his company. Was she, too, well-versed in deceit? Surely this was not her sincere response towards his presence? It came off as…Strange, to say the least.

Perhaps it was simply that Marcel wanted to sense more inner turmoil from her. Or maybe he had expected she would initially be loyal towards the Summer Prince? This was unusual for a Summer woman. Moreover, he detected genuine defiance in her stormy-grey eyes and teasing remarks towards him as they danced…As if she had been waiting to “rebel” on her own terms for quite some time, but had not been given the opportunity to do so before now. But she was going to marry the Prince, was she not? Of this he was certain. The situation required further inspection, it seemed…

“Who does not enjoy revelry, at the least?” he said, pleased with her ability to keep up with him as he spun her and guided her along the marble floor. She had the innate talent of both one accustomed to festivities and one who lived for them. He expected no less of a Summer fae. “Perhaps rigid types...Do you know of some? We have those in the Winter kingdom, but their numbers are few. If anything can be said for my kin, it is that they do not deny themselves pleasure. No good ever comes from denying oneself and pretending to be other than what you are…Do you not agree, Lady Beaulieu?” The irony of the statement was not lost on him—that was precisely what he was doing. He found that “hiding in plain sight” was often the best method of getting what he desired. Speaking of which--

Between dance steps, he noticed the Summer Prince Julien glaring directly at them from across the expansive chamber. The golden-haired man had his arms crossed over his chest, his posture rigid with distaste and jealousy. While the Prince’s reaction was to be expected given the circumstances, it still sent a thrill down Marcel’s spine. By stealing the first dance with Lady Beaulieu, he had subtly issued challenge to the Prince: I, the greatest philanderer among the Unseelie, have my eye on your woman. He held the man’s gaze confidently for a few moments before saying, “I was not aware I had a choice in the matter, my lady. Why, if I could choose to see you tomorrow and the next day and the day after…Ad infinitum…I might be apt to do so.” He returned his gaze to the faerie woman and smiled dashingly. The vampire wondered how much longer he could dominate Adelaide’s time without prompting a confrontation from Julien Seraphine.

“Do not look now,” he said (and by this he meant do look), and indicated Julien with a tilt of the head, “But I believe see a man who feels that our dalliance has gone on long enough. Perhaps I should leave you to dance with him next. Our song is nearly over.” He twirled the woman once more and then brought her back close, gazing down into her immaculate face with mischief twinkling in his eyes and a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "However, I would speak with you more if you asked me. I feel as if conversation would be...Interesting, for lack of a better word. Should you seek me out later tonight, or even tomorrow if it suits you, you will have my undivided attention."

Then Marcel laughed goodnaturedly. "But I will not count on it," he teased. "You have better things to do than humor an old man.”

As she seemed to have trouble with the skirt of her dress, Dorian took extra care during her twirl to ensure that she did not fall, though the idea did give him a rather amusing visual. That would be too easy to allow, and yet, it would undermine the plans the two comtes, and he wouldn't have that. As she took a step back, he loosened his grasp on her to allow it, an apologetic smile lining his lips as if he were indeed sorry for his closing of the space. At the same time, his mind bubbled up with a mix of delight and disgust. It was like a Summer girl to deny themselves the pleasure of dancing so close to one's partner, and yet, it were as if she was issuing him a challenge by doing so. So, she was a seemingly pure young woman after all. 'All the better to eat you up this way, my darling.' His sinister nature flared, though outwardly, he cast a charming smile down upon her with all the grace of a gentleman. Dorian knew the acts, the motions of court life too thoroughly to allow his act to drop. Deception and manipulation were his truly prerogative.

While she had taken the step back, the initial stammer in her words told him that his actions were working-- this confident facade she was putting up only covered that she was interested in his presence. Feeling quite happy with himself, he took little mind to her words on whether or not she could learn much from the gala. She had to be enjoying this, in at least some little way. "You may just find something worthwhile here." He spoke after a few moments' silence, with a little weight to his words, nodding slightly at her as if to gesture that he had. In a way, she was indeed providing him with his fill of entertainment for now. She was rather cute, childish, innocent-- precisely his type, though perhaps, not in the usual sense of the term.

As he heard that she did not see to mind his Court, a small smile, as if of relief, passed over his face. At least, he did not think it to be true relief. It had been voluntary, right? "I am glad to hear that you are open-minded on the subject. I tend to ensure that I spend my time at Le Mascarade letting myself intermingle, further establish the peace that this event upholds. I feel it is my obligation." He spoke thoughtfully, his words may having been considered rather noble coming from a genuine pair of lips. He, however, spoke them to attempt reeling her interest despite his reputation. "It is also rather important to remain loyal to one's friends. I can appreciate that." He added later, silently agreeing with the notion. By fulfilling his end of the plans well, he would be serving the other comte well. While the two were not quite friends, he would admit that they thought similarly enough in many instances to at least be considered comrades in this scenario.

"If you must know, I do not believe I have wasted my time in the least." He spoke evenly, eye contact unwavering as his voice again flowed out like honey. "I have quite enjoyed my time with you. You are a beautiful, intriguing young lady." Then pausing, his eyebrows furrowed together a tad, gaze casting a sort of hesitance as he took a few moments to form words. "If you have the time, I would be honored to dance with you again later on in the evening. It has truly been a pleasure speaking with you, Aurelie Vallette." At this, the song began to end, and Dorian wanted to ensure that these last steps counted. He lead her though one more twirl, gaze intent on her footing to ensure he could react should she stumble, hands firm upon her to lead her correctly through it. However, instead of ending their number by simply reeling her back in, he chose to first bring her back to him before using the momentum she had left from her twirl to lead her into a small dip. One of his arms would be firm upon her waist to guide and catch her during this, a charming smile upon his face as he wondered what her reaction to his little surprise would be.

Looking down onto her face for a moment as she was pressed into his arms, he carefully then lead her back properly up onto her feet. The partners around them dispersed or switched, and he released her from his grasp to send a slight bow in her direction. Again, gently taking her hand, he would place a chaste kiss upon its knuckles before backing himself away. "If you would prefer to be rid of my presence, I understand, though I do intend to try finding you again later on in the night, with your permission." He spoke slowly, giving her the option to make of her own will.

. _ . ______________ . _ .


As he spoke in brief of the Winter Court, Adelaide took his words into consideration with curiosity. She had not thought of the other court's behaviors to stem from wanting to relish the pleasure that could be found in life. Even with that image in her head, she could still draw disgust from the actions of some choice members of the opposing court, but it did highlight a new perspective in her mind. Adelaide hadn't been counting on such a thing to occur based on conversation with the comte. After a few moments of deep thoughtfulness, Adelaide would allow a small laugh past her lips as she nodded. "I will admit to knowing a good few... rigid types..." She spoke with a touch of amusement, though her smile flattened itself a tad as her thoughts took her to the prince. Why did they have to take her to the prince?

Prince Julien was a regal, noble man, though in truth she found him dry in terms of being able to actually take joy in social gatherings. He was dull, rigid. To think that she allowed herself such rude thoughts on the matter of the prince tied a knot in her stomach, making her suddenly feel quite ill at ease. She should not, of all things, be diminishing her view of him or allowing herself to think poorly of the man. Sighing softly, she pulled herself from her thoughts, instead wishing to focus upon the present while it lasted. "You are right. Pretending to be other than that which you are does you no good." She spoke softly, a tad somber but not willing to remain so down on herself. She could not pretend that she was not meant to marry the prince-- this was what she made of his words. Yet, she could surely enjoy the company of others still, and that's all this was to be. Wasn't it?

Marcel's next words threw her off of her moral high horse, her thoughts on this being mere polite conversation vacuumed into infinite space with the matter of a few words. "If I could choose to see you... ad infinitum... I might be apt to do so." A touch of pink rose to her cheeks as she looked up at the handsome man before her, now feeling the weight of the few inches between their faces. Adelaide swore she could feel her heart pounding in her head. "You may chose to do as you like." She countered with a grin, though dared not allow herself any more playful speech for the time being. Part of her was already scolding herself for her actions, though she could not deny the other part that craved the company of Comte de Frontenac.

This was when he broke her careful composure. Directed by his gesture to look upon her prince, she found her eyes widening at the severe distaste clear in his expression. She felt as a misbehaved child, running rampant through the grass in her white Sunday gown while her parents tried coaxing her to put her shoes back on, come inside, and behave for once. Adelaide was always one to follow her own desires, and while many of them were good natured, she suddenly felt as if perhaps she had made a grave mistake. She spoke not at first, instead allowing her sobered grey gaze to look up at his own chiseled visage. Those striking blue eyes. In some way, they granted her enough strength to manage a small, sheepish smile in his direction. Before she could process a reply, the song had ended, and here he laughed that she may have better things to do. A part of her felt as if he had been the voice coaxing her further into the figurative grass, staining the beloved lace of her Sunday dress as she made her own path.

"I do intend to. Adieu, for now, Comte." She spoke almost apologetically before slowly taking a step backwards, granting him a slight curtsy, then scurrying away in the general direction of the prince. Eyes closed as she moved through the crowds, she felt a painful weight tug at her insides, forcing her to stop where she stood once she was off of the dance floor. Feeling quite sick, Adelaide felt her forehead briefly before taking up a glass of water to rather quickly finish. She, in her mind, no longer deserved to face the prince. Yet, as the puppy dog she had learned to view him as, he was more loyal than she could let herself imagine.

“You may just find something worthwhile here,” the Comte Arnoult said, meaningfully. At this, Aurelie’s heart skipped a beat. Even though her life centered on her work, her value to the Summer Court, perhaps some little piece of herself wished that it could be inappropriate for just this week. What would it be like, she wondered, to be self-assured? Or, like Adelaide, at least enough so to attract men like moths to a flame instead of being invisible like usual? What if she could dance with Comte Arnoult without a care in the world, pretending she had no responsibilities to anyone, and just enjoy his company without fearing over his underlying motivations?

Truth be told, what Aurelie wanted from Le Mascarade was not something meaningful, but memorable. Something more…Daring. She wanted to somehow surprise herself by the end of the week. No one knew her by name or by sight, and thus no one would be aware of her position as Court Witch unless she decided to tell them. She could easily play pretend…Couldn’t she? The trouble was, Aurelie did not have the nerve. She was too proper and too shy. “If only it were that easy,” she mused aloud, before she could catch herself.

When she realized that she had accidentally spoken her mind, she cleared her throat before saying quickly, “I mean, I am too particular with people…And things…” She coughed and then continued. “I’ve heard stories of you, sir comte. I’m not so sure that you intermingle to keep the peace so much as to cause mischief.” A small smile tugged at her lips, but she swiftly regained her composure. “But that’s all right in this case. From what I hear, mischief is encouraged during Le Mascarade. Just be careful that it isn’t too much mischief, or you’ll get in trouble.” She tilted her head at his mention of loyalty towards friends. Did the demon also have friends in attendance?

Her chain of thought was abruptly cut short. Aurelie had not been prepared to receive the comte’s astonishingly blunt answer. He kept eye contact with her, informing her that he had not wasted his time with her and had enjoyed her presence. Furthermore, he considered her to be beautiful, intriguing, and wished to dance with her again. Her blue eyes bulged with surprise. He was so…So…Forthwith!! The demon had, once more, made it impossible for the witch to keep up her confident front. She immediately forgot how to speak again. “Uhh..Nnn...Thank...s?”

As the finale of the song approached, Arnoult carried her through one final spin. But, instead of ending upright as she had every previous time, the young woman found herself romantically dipped at the waist. The demon’s handsome face lay mere inches away from hers and he smiled gallantly down at her. His amber eyes shone with amusement. The woman felt a telltale tug in her heart, as if slowly she was falling under a spell that she had no knowledge of how to break. Her cheeks suddenly burned. Indeed, all the blood in her body seemed to be rushing to her face! Before Aurelie could pass out, Comte Arnoult brought her back upright and released her from his hold.

As he bowed and pressed another gentle kiss to one of her hands, she clutched the other tightly to her chest. She was trembling ever so slightly and feared he might notice. She found that… She did not want to be rid of him at all. She wished she were confident enough to tell him so, but she could not. He was a Winter demon, and she was a Summer witch. She should not desire his company. Still, she found herself mumbling,"You…may.” She glanced away with embarrassment, her skin bright red for second time in under a minute, and fled into the crowd skirts in hand. She really needed to eat away her feelings!

~~~

In two sentences from Lady Beaulieu, “you may choose to do as you like” and “I do intend to”, Marcel de Frontenac had obtained all the permission he needed to pursue the faerie to his heart’s content. She had practically admitted to him that she wanted to continue interacting, and interact they would, periodically over the next six days. However, in the interest of staving off a brawl with Prince Julien at this time, Marcel would have to take his leave of her for now. Moreover, after he had pointed out the Prince to her Adelaide’s playful expression had all but vanished. He understood that she was feeling pangs of guilt towards her conduct, or perhaps annoyance over her situation with the Prince, and he could use easily those sentiments to his advantage. If the woman were to view the Summer Prince as chains and himself as an escape, she would fall faster into his arms. And then the game would be over.

As the song finally came to culmination, the vampire took one last opportunity to deliver a calculated blow to her resolve and add insult to injury in the Prince’s eyes. Before departing, he swept into a low bow and lifted the faerie’s hand to his lips. Rather than maintaining eye contact as lips met skin, as would perhaps have worked well enough on its own, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to linger there reverently. Worshipping her. When he finally released her hand, with an obvious air of reluctance, he straightened himself and smiled kindly. “Do not stay away for long,” he said. “I will be waiting.” The man flipped his dark hair back over his shoulder in one deft motion and then vanished into the flocks of dancers.

Marcel sought out a comfortable corner in order to observe what Lady Adelaide did next. At first she appeared to be moving in the Summer Prince’s direction, but seemed to change her mind several meters short of him. She brought a hand to her perspiring forehead and went instead to fetch herself a glass of water. The vampire smirked triumphantly—the seeds of doubt had been planted. If she came to find him on her own, his plan would proceed naturally. If not, he would switch to a different strategy. By provoking the Prince over the next couple of days, for example, he might prompt an outburst and shine him in a more negative light…But he had to keep himself occupied for the time being.

Comte de Frontenac danced with a few other women throughout the evening. This, too, was a tactic of his. If he paid too much attention to Lady Adelaide he might seem overeager or even obsessive. After a while the vampire found he was becoming…Hungry. Oh, well. He supposed that he could take a break from mingling to satisfy that urge. Consensually, of course. It was Le Mascarade, after all. He had to be a gentleman. He disappeared into an adjoining hallway, searching for some manner of female that he could coax into sharing blood with him. It was not a difficult task. He led an Unseelie sylph girl into an empty room and shut the door.

The chamber contained one full-length mirror and a few pieces of furniture covered with dusty sheets. He shoved her roughly up against the wall and began undoing the buttons at the neck of her gown, pressing kisses to the flesh as it was exposed. She twisted and moaned under his ministrations, gripping the fine fabric covering his back. Once he had drank his fill, he urged the sylph to leave the room before he was tempted to carry their tryst further. After all, he could not chance Adelaide finding him in the arms of another woman this early in the game. Once he had straightened out his hair and his clothes, he returned to the hallway.

Dorian quirked an eyebrow at her as she allowed a response to flow from her freely, almost as if she hadn't meant to. Why would such a thing not be easy? He inwardly mused that if she were too shy, as she first appeared, or too calculative, as she had switched to being, that perhaps she may indeed have a difficult time enjoying the ball. That was, of course, if she didn't have his attention. A grin slid onto his face, pleasant outwardly, but with a sly motivation. Dorian was all too proud of the reactions he was capable of drawing from her, regardless or not of her words. She was giving him just enough signals for him to know that she certainly held an interest in him. Or she at least held an interest in dancing with a handsome man.

As he was alerted that she had heard stories of him, a sheepish chuckle left his lips. Of course she would have. If anything, he assumed this may just hinder his progress with her, but her next words surprised him. It was alright with her that he enjoyed mischief? Was it, truly? His insides twisted with confusion. They were only to twist themselves up further as she smile and proceeded to tell him to 'be careful'. Had anyone else spoken those words to him, he would've simply scoffed. Yet, they were a sensitive and sweet gesture towards someone as himself, especially when she had heard of him. Perhaps she had heard wrong, or had the wrong name in mind. No-- on second thought, mischief was typically a realm all of his own, so the petite miss couldn't have been mistaken. A slow, charming smile swept onto his face as he understood her acceptance of him. "I will only divulge in little bits of fun. No worries about me, my dear. I would hate to trouble that mind of yours." He spoke sweetly, voice soft as his gaze skimmed over her features in admiration.

Dorian's eyes sparkled as she stammered once more in response to his gestures of dipping her just so, and kissing the back of her hand, enjoying the flustered look he was able to draw out of her. Suddenly, a number of other ways he could draw out such a reaction came to mind, none of which at all suitable for a ballroom. He chuckled as he noted her free hand drawn close her chest, as if she may overheat and pass out. Dorian played this off as his pleasure in her allowance of his presence later in the night, smiling as he nodded once at her in understanding.

"Then I presume I should no allow another gentleman the pleasure of dancing with you. I look forward to seeing you later in the evening, Mademoiselle Aurelie Vallette." He spoke slowly, the emphasis of his words like silk as he spoke her full name with charm. Then bowing briefly once more, he would turn swiftly to exit the dance floor. As he did, his smile took on a sinister curl and his golden eyes once glistening with curiosity seemed to darken with a sense of dark pleasure. He would indeed be seeing her later on in the evening, that he was sure of. How he would love to simply devour the little darling, though.

After that much time spent dallying with a girl of such a Summer air, he first grabbed a glass of deep red wine before making his rounds about the room quietly. He did catch bits of female attention, and made some casual conversation with others of his court at times, but the person he sought was not to be found. Instead, he did note with some curiosity the presence of Adelaide Beaulieu as she was approached by the Prince Julien. Eyebrows raising slightly at the sight of the pair, he wondered of the other comte. Had he made contact with her yet? He hadn't even taken notice. Curious, Dorian continued to casually search for the other, not finding a trace of him until he stepped out of the main room to slither through a hallway further back. The other had just stepped out into the hall from a private room, the scent of a female distinct in the vicinity. It didn't take much for Dorian's mind to paint its own picture of what the other man had been up to.

"Evening, Comte. How do you fare?" He spoke up, head tilting slightly as he stopped where he stood near the hall's opening to lean casually upon the wall. Feet crossing beneath him, he tapped his cheek with a thoughtful finger as his amusement clearly played across his face. "The little lady was quite a treat. It appears you just found yourself one, as well." He commented lightly, voice musical yet suggestive as he was released from his earlier act.

. _ . ______________ . _ .


As the comte pressed his lips to her hand, a gesture she was familiar with, she fund herself blushing regardless of her experience with such a thing. "Of course." She managed softly, her free had rising to her cheek as she took in his words and the look that had crossed his face while he closed his eyes. It seemed so serene, so peaceful. Did he truly hold a noble interest in her? Adelaide couldn't help but wish that this was the case, though a part of her was still unsure of whether he was just after another tail to chase. Then again, he would not choose a Summer lady to chase if he simply wanted that, would he?

After she had retreated, Adeliade couldn't help but wander over the man. He was marvel to her, in action and words, regardless of reputation. Besides, reputation did not matter if propriety proved otherwise. Comte Marcel was surely proving otherwise thus far. The warmth she still felt from his chaste kiss of her hand tingled, making her heart leap as she attempted in a futile effort to calm herself. Aurelie wasn't here to help her do so, so it was her own duty to work things out herself.

A firm, distinctly warm hand pressed itself firmly to her back, startling her from her thoughts as her gaze flew up from its focus upon the ground to find the form of the Summer prince suddenly near beside her. His chest brushed her shoulder with a sense of familiarity that only he truly seemed to feel, drawing Adelaide to wish to reel away. Yet, she didn't. Realizing the obligations on her part, she forced herself to remain put and deal with the intense warmth of his presence. Deal with. They spoke at some short length before Adelaide found reason to excuse herself as she caught sight of the russet curls of her young friend. Face lighting up, she hurriedly provided the prince with the excuse of needing to find her friend before dashing in the direction of Aurelie.

Her heart still pounded, mind heavy with thoughts of her interaction with the comte, despite her moments with the prince. The prince whom was showered in female attention, adored by all, and loving of only her. Her prince that she could not bear to stand beside, though she knew she must. Adelaide needed to dish on these events, and who better than her closest companion? She needed Aurelie. At the thought of Aurelie, however, she drew an image in her head of the girl waltzing off with the red haired man from earlier. Seeming to clam and forget her own strife, Adelaide would smile a bit smugly. She would also need the details on that devil of a man.

After a few minutes of searching, Adelaide would finally approach her friend, gently grabbing her arm with a small rush of excitement. "Elly!" She greeted her warmly, regaining her composure nearly immediately as she gently let her friend's arm go. "So, tell me. How did it go?" Her eyes sparkled with the delight of the details she was sure she'd eventually hear, and also the story of which she had to tell. It was a fantastic beginning to the night, indeed. "Did you enjoy herself? He was handsome, no?" She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, a little laughter coming from her as she meant to tease her just a playful bit. Adelaide was happier than anything to have seen her go to dance with the man, to think that she may have found fun in attending the event after all. At least, she'd certainly been right about the fact that Aurelie would indeed have no problem finding a dancing partner.

Before returning to ballroom, Comte de Frontenac paused in front of a large open window in the hall. The full moon hanging overhead blazed gold against a dark sky glittering with stars. The night was quiet and cut only with the sounds of chirping crickets, and was much disparate from the clamor of the celebration indoors. Surely it was the perfect atmosphere for “romance”. If possible, Marcel would find a way to lead Adelaide into the garden where they would be uninterrupted and safe from prying eyes. “Evening, Comte. How do you fare?” said male voice from the entrance to the hall. The stranger's figure was silhouetted by the light streaming in from the ballroom, but it was unmistakably Dorian Arnoult. Speaking of interruptions.

“I noticed you with the girl,” Marcel said. “Well done.” He turned away from the window with an unpleasant smile slowly spreading across his face. “It seems that you are indeed the right ‘man’ for this job. Just her type. I hope that it was not too irksome for you--I hear she lacks in social graces.” He chuckled at the demon’s comment and shook his head. “My thirst required quenching. Call it the weakness of my kind. However, I did not indulge in anything…Unseemly. Not yet, anyhow.” His words were also tainted with suggestion. He gestured to the space beside him. “Why don’t you join me? I do not wish to attract eavesdroppers when there are matters of import to discuss.”

The vampire waited for the demon to draw closer before continuing. “As for myself, I requested the Lady to dance, and she complied. Furthermore, she would not be opposed to interacting again. I sense a rebellious streak in her, which will assuredly keep her disposed to my attentions. There is the matter of the Summer Prince, of course. Prince Julien is keeping a strict eye on Adelaide and her movements. I noticed this while we were dancing. He seems to be a bit of a stalker.” At this, Marcel laughed. “Ironic, is it not? Even I, a vampire, consider him a stalker. Still, based on his conduct, I do believe he will confront me within a day or two.” He leaned up against the stone wall and crossed his arms. “And what do you have to report?”

~~~

Before Adelaide located Aurelie, she was busy scooping various edible items onto a plate and wolfing them down. “I cannot believe that happened to me,” she muttered angrily to herself, “What a glib, beautiful, handsome...DEMON. IDIOT. Aurelie, you. Are. An idiot!” The witch shoved several golden crackers topped with fancy cheese into her mouth, but continued ranting despite the impropriety of talking with one’s mouth full. “Wou know dat he ith dangewous, but wou still wanna jump his bowns! IDIWOT!” When hands suddenly grasped her arm, she nearly choked on her cheese and crackers from the surprise. She coughed a couple of times, smacking her chest, and, after swallowing, glared at her friend.

“Addie, you nearly scared me to death! I thought you were him for second! Oh, Hecate, it was so bad…” Aurelie set her plate down on the edge of the table beside her and covered her face with her hands. “I got so scared that I switched to business mode--you know, Stone Elly--and was even more terrible at dancing, and yet he still wasn’t put off!” She then turned to grasp her friend’s hands. “And then, at the end of the dance, he dipped me! And I forgot how to speak! My face just turned completely red and I thought I would pass out.” Her sky blue eyes bulged with horror. “But do you know who he was, Addie? Comte Dorian Arnoult! The Dorian Arnoult! Why does Dorian Arnoult want to dance with me? Demons are so frightening, but for some reason I just want to--”

The witch stopped to take a few deep breaths after running her mouth for so long, and exclaimed, “--And you left me there with him! I could have died! He says he’s going to dance with me again, too!” She fixed the faerie with a strange look and then said, “Wait a minute, why do you look like that? You look all weird and flustered, too. Did you DANCE with someone, too, Addie? Oh Hecate, you DID, didn’t you? Who was it?? The Prince?” She laughed at first, but shock abruptly overtook her features. She could tell—Adelaide was not overly fond of Julien, even though everyone expected her to marry him. “No, not the Prince. Ohhh…Not the Prince…! Then who?”

With the comte's first comments, Dorian chuckled, a slight shrug rolling off of his shoulders carelessly. "Lacking social grace is a compliment to the flustered mess she became at points." He responded bluntly, amusement clear as he approached the other to join him, as asked. "Of course... So, no unseemly behavior? That's a shame. One of us should be enjoying themselves." Dorian then added, chuckling. He saw why Marcel hadn't chosen to do anything too risky with the young woman he must've been with to feed on, with Adelaide present in the ballroom, yet he would have most likely had his fun regardless. Risk made life fun for the demon, even if it sometimes overstepped strategy. Risk often paid off, after all.

As the rest of his encounter was relayed, Dorian nodded along thoughtfully, eyes focusing in on the comte as he considered all that he had to say before a slow smile overtook his lips. It was not the same which he showed Aurelie; this was his natural smile, mischievous and sinister, often spelling trouble for the subjects of conversation. "Ironic, indeed. The Prince Julien, a stalker? I wouldn't quite have pegged him for the type, the rigid fool." He scoffed at the Summer royalty's mention, then shook his head a little to himself, gaze moving from the other comte to the window before them. However, he did not see the stars nor the beauty of the moon, he saw their plans moving forward successfully. "She seems to have fallen right into your hands, good." He began after a few moments, nodding. "The prince should be of little consequence. I did see him approach the lady earlier, though... Why, she seemed eager to leave. Poor fool." Though he spoke the last bit lightly as if sympathetic, there was an underlying tone of disgust remaining unhidden in his speech.

"As for the witch... You are correct in assuming that I appear to be her type. She was quite the flustered young girl when I requested a dance, and seemed to need to switch her mind set to a more serious mode to even speak to me at a basic level. It was an entertaining sight. Her composure did break when any mildly intimate gesture was made, suggesting inexperience with men in general. Coaxing her into my grasp should be of no problem. She also expressed interest in seeing me again later." A smirk formed as he considered this a job well done, only now choosing to re-consider the comte's earlier words on his being her type. "I may admit it to be irksome that she has such a warmth to her, that folly, but her innocence is rather... appetizing. I presume she'd make a lovely treat at some point." A laugh again rose from him, this one louder and deeper, musical in a sinister sense of the word.

. _ . ______________ . _ .


Adelaide found herself quietly giggling as what she overheard from her friend, though she recoiled to cringe as the girl began to choke. Worriedly, her eyebrows knitted together for a moment before she felt the relief of Aurelie managing to find her breath again. Even the glare she received was a welcome escape from her choking. Feeling a tad sorry about having scared her, Adelaide spoke a sheepish, "Sorry, dear!" Then quieting to listen to her friend recount her experience, she found herself giggling once more, eyes sparkling in curiosity with Aurelie's reaction. She liked him, no? The answer was all too obvious. So, smiling, Adelaide would nod in understanding, though it did falter a bit as she was told the demon's name. Dorian Arnoult. The scoundrel that known for manipulation-- even of other fae! He was said to be cruel, mischievous, heartless... yet, from the sound of things, he hadn't been anything of the sort to her friend. That, and reputation was again not something she usually trusted.

Thoughtful, Adelaide considered what Aurelie had to say, piecing together a picture of what had happened even though her voice trailed off bits of the story. "That's fantastic! I'm so glad!" She finally let out, wide smile beaming at her friend. "He may be a demon, but if he treated you sweetly, who cares? It's Le Mascarade! If he approached you, he probably thought you were beautiful, and if he wants to again, that's marvelous! If you like him, and I know you do, then I say got for it. Not every guy will take the initiative to dip you romantically! Try not to let it fluster you, you can relax. If he had bad intentions, you'd already know." She spoke confidently, hoping to encourage her friend to pursue him, especially after seeing her react in this way. She hadn't seen her react to a man quite like this before.

"Besides, I did not leave you to die. He didn't do anything to hurt you! Did he let you trip, hmm?" She teased gently, though her confident air soon dissipated as the questions were turned onto her. "I-- well..." A blush reforming on her cheeks, Adelaide's gaze shied away from her friend, uncharacteristic of her. She was not often flustered by male attention. "No, it wasn't Prince Julien. I did speak to him briefly, but..." Frowning a little at the thought, she then quickly shook her head.

Grinning, she looked back up at her friend. "I danced with a vampire, Comte Marcel de Frontenac. He's supposed to be something of a womanizer, but... well, he was a complete gentleman! He danced with more skill than any partner I've ever remembered having, spoke so easily to me, and I to him, and... his words seemed so genuine, Elly! He wishes to see more again tonight... and tomorrow... ad infinitum..." She spoke the last words almost breathlessly, quoting his own. "Not to mention, he was dressed in this bold eastern outfit, and was far more handsome than I could've ever imagined, but Elly... Elly, the prince wants my attention later. I just ran away from him to come see you." Adelaide finally allowed herself to verbalize her disappointment with the man, unsatisfied with the attention of the prince, though it was expected of her to accept and embrace his affections. "I don't want to." Adelaide added in a very small voice a few moments later, under her breath.

The vampire snickered at Comte Arnoult’s remark and shook his head. Truth to told, it had been quite an exercise in self-control to abstain from his usually antics. But Marcel could be prudent if necessary. Danger was a spice of life, even to an immortal being, but considering that the fate of their mission rode completely on his ability to seduce Lady Beaulieu he had to exercise caution when dealing with other women. “True, it would have been enjoyable…Sadly, no. It is a certainly a strain to feign gallantry for the Lady’s sake, but there is a degree of amusement in changing one’s character,” he mused, “As if taking part in a performance. Besides which, if all goes well, the faerie herself shall be a participant in my ‘unseemly behavior.’” He flashed the demon a twisted grin.

When Dorian mentioned that Adelaide had fled the Summer Prince soon after he approached her, Comte de Frontenac tapped a finger to his lips pensively. He’d assumed the faerie welcomed Julien’s attentions, so this was indeed intriguing. Their relationship appeared more fraught with weakness than he’d initially thought. “She was eager to leave him,” he pondered aloud, “Interesting. Perhaps she will be easier game than I anticipated. If the Lady is uninterested in the Prince and wishes to rebel against the Court’s expectations of her, I need only convince her to escape. The fragile peace that exists between the Courts will shatter with the scandal.” He could see it now, the Summer Court in an uproar from losing their darling Lady Beaulieu. Prince Julien would challenge him to a duel, which he would consequently win, and the Winter King would take advantage of the Summer Court’s weakness and conquer them. As soon as both kingdoms became united under a common banner—the Winter banner, obviously—Marcel would discard Lady Adelaide like a broken toy.

Comte de Frontenac glanced over at the demon and smirked. “If the witch falls prey to your charms, then by all means have your fun. She will be a well-deserved treat. But take care to remain ‘genuine’ until the end of our charade. We cannot afford her as an enemy. Social ineptitude aside, she is Court Witch and therefore a threat to our success. It would be wise not to anger her with, say…” He casually mulled over his words for a moment, and then said, “…Infidelity. Emotional abuse. The murder of a family member. Do you get my meaning? Leave those things until after we topple the Summer Kingdom, understood?” The vampire peered down the hallway past Arnoult to ensure no one had been listening in. “Perhaps we should return to socializing. We do not want to be seen plotting the dark, as it is inherently suspicious.” He snorted.

~~~

Aurelie Vallette rolled her eyes at Adelaide’s commentary. She was not sure what she expected—of course her friend would encourage her to fraternize with a seductive demon who may or may not want custody of her immortal soul! Adelaide was never afraid of things like these. Well, all right… She was also decently careful when it came to trusting others, but the faerie’s attitude was certainly “innocent until proven guilty”, whereas Aurelie tended to be “wary until a decade had passed”. In other words, she would be suspicious of someone until her scrying and tarot readings informed her otherwise. This applied to members of the Summer Court just as much as the Winter Court, as unpleasant people existed in all walks of life.

Aurelie had to admit, though…Adelaide was right in this instance. Dorian Arnoult had been perfectly courteous towards her, despite her social shortcomings and his bad reputation. Furthermore, he had been terribly charming and…Oh so enticing…Her heart fluttered as she recalled his golden eyes and debonair smile. And she was sure to relive that romantic dip in her memory for days! “Addie, to be honest, I…I don’t even care if he has bad intentions. I feel as though…My intentions are also bad.” She blushed furiously and once more covered her face. “Is it wrong of me?” she squeaked. “Sometimes I want to be like other girls, and have passionate trysts with men that I will never see again! I know it is a terrible idea, but I cannot help wondering if maybe, for Le Mascarade, I could be that sort of girl. All my life I’ve been modest. I'm already twenty-three and…Ohhh, I don’t know. Please tell me not to think of such things! I think I have to hide from him for the remainder of the night!”

Aurelie peeked at Adelaide from between her fingers as she admitted that she had danced with the equally-notorious Comte de Frontenac. The witch could not help but gasp. “You danced with him? With a vampire??? Addie, do you know how old he is? He’s like…Twice your age! And yes, he’s a huge lady-killer! You should be very careful around him, even if he was nice to you. He might try to, oh I don’t know, chomp on your neck.” The witch paused to think over her own words and suddenly began to giggle. “Oh Hecate, just listen to me...Giving you that sort of advice after telling you I wish I could have flings with men! I’m such a hypocrite, hahaha! All right, well…You can do as you like with de Frontenac, obviously.”

She frowned sadly. “But what about Julien? I know you don’t really like him, but he isn’t a bad person. It's not right to keep avoiding him like this. I think that you need to be honest with him about how you really feel. Everyone expects you to marry him, but it’s your life, you know? Even if you feel obligated to please the King and Queen, why give up the chance to find true love some day? I’m your friend, and…I just want you to be happy, Addie. So…Just do what you think is right, okay?”

Dorian grinned at the suggestion Comte de Frontenac made concerning including the lady in his 'unseemly behavior' if all went as planned. Hell, if all did go so smoothly, he figured he'd make Aurelie into a nice snack, himself. My, they would make nice little rewards on the side, while they proved interesting. Assuming they would indeed prove interesting at all, of course. Eyes gleaming with mischief, he chuckled. "I suppose there is some fun to acting. Deception in an environment requiring this amount of care is quite the trick to pull off." He spoke thoughtfully, finding joy in the thought that his was presently working. His work always did prove successful, eventually. "Hopefully the both of them prove their use when we do later claim our treats, then." He added as a side comment, amusement dripping from his tone.

Hearing the other comte think aloud, Dorian rose a curious eyebrow in his direction. He wasn't quite sure of the details to whatever he was planning, so there was a sport to guessing what approach he may take in giving the lady this 'escape'. "While it does appear an easy task, convincing the girl to escape in itself should probably be handled delicately. I hear she suits her court well, despite her apparent lack of interest in the prince." He noted, though his voice showed no true concern. It was more of a passing thought than a warning. It was already expected of the both of them to handle these matters delicately, especially with the witch posing a potentially powerful threat if things were to go awry.

The warning he received over Aurelie drew a small smile to his face, particularly at the list item 'murder of a family member'. He had yet to think of that one. Laughing a little, he nodded, easily agreeing with that statement. "Certainly, angering her before the proper time would be a poor decision. I don't intend to do so before our purpose is secured and I've had my fill of her." He responded casually, then adding, to be clear, "Understood." Nodding, he followed the eyes of his fellow comte, ensuring that he felt no other presences in the area before straightening himself up and readjusting his mask a little. "Let's meet again tomorrow, then. I believe I am off to find my little darling."

He spoke more eloquently then, as if back into the act, though the amusement in his tone would still ring clearly as he sent a short wave in Marcel's direction before slipping his hands into his coat pockets casually and making a slow round down the next hallway to eventually circle back into the ballroom. At such time, he did spy his russet-haired girl speaking with Adelaide, but chose not to approach the two. Instead, he slipped into a group of his fellow court, making easy conversation with them. The brief talk with the comte had given a boost to his confidence in their tasks, though he would be careful now of how he let his body language read. He maintained a better posture once back in the ballroom, and was careful to wipe any trace of sinister intention from his facial features as he spoke at ease with the group he had joined. As boring as the small talk was, it suited his means of wishing to wriggle himself into his surroundings again.

. _ . ______________ . _ .


Adelaide was a bit surprised, to say the least, to hear Aurelie speaking of hooking up with gentlemen here. It was an odd image for her to conjure, but once her friend mentioned hiding from the comte for the entirety of the night, Adelaide let out a small laugh. There was the Aurelie she knew. "Oh no, don't do that. Hiding won't solve anything! If you're feeling particularly adventurous, then I say do what feels right to you. Just, don't take it too overboard. Maybe, if he behaves, this Dorian could end up as a lover of yours? Hmm?" She suggested playfully, not actually finding anything horrible in the concept. If Aurelie wanted to experiment a bit with more freedom, then she should be able to. Plenty among the fae were free with themselves in ways Adelaide could only just begin to imagine. While that was not her friend's place among them, a little passion couldn't hurt her. "Besides, he'd surely mope around for the entirety of the next week if you blew him off now." She added with a smile.

As she received the bit of the warning, Adelaide nodded, but her small smile didn't falter. The concept of him 'chomping' on her neck was all too funny of a concept for her to let go of that easily. Giggling, she shook her head a little, glad for the dose of reality, though scared now that she was told to do what she wished. Well... She did wish to see him more, no? Rubbing her neck troubledly, she said no more of Frontenac as the subject instead moved on to Julien. The handsome, kind, king-to-be, Summer Prince Julien. He brought warmth to her presence, that she would not deny, and he had an excellent eye for the gifts he had presented her. Still, she couldn't conjure why she wasn't as fixated on him as he appeared to be with her. The part of her that yearned to share his affections pained her, stiffening her facial expressions to avoid pouting. As a favorite of the King and Queen, she felt it her duty to oblige their wishes and marry their son. Adelaide was very fond of them, and they weren't fae to be trifled with, even if she did wish to deny them the satisfaction of their plans. Her loyalty was deeply rooted, albeit she did disagree with this one vital decision of theirs.

"I know, I must do something soon. I... I have to do what's best for the court, but also for me. I just am unsure of what that is, Aurelie." She spoke more seriously now, sighing softly as she let her gaze wander. Through the crowd, she did not find the prince, and found herself wandering if he found another more worth his time. She knew it was a silly hope, but she couldn't help it. "It's just not that easy, I can't just deny him. He's wonderful! He's our future leader, and... and it's my duty as a Summer Lady to serve him how he needs. If that's marrying him..." She sighed again, voice low, the feeling as if she were trapped sinking in once more. Such was the court life, in some instances. One couldn't simply disobey the fae royalty so casually.

Before she could say any more, she was startled by the appearance of the man they spoke of. Her lips parted in surprise as he stepped up beside them, a charming smile spreading across his face. She quickly curtsied towards the well-dressed man, golden hair tousled neatly upon his head as he looked between the two of them. "Prince Julien! A pleasure to see you again so soon." She spoke, flustered, though he seemed not to notice this.

"A pleasure it is, my Lady." He spoke politely, bowing his head towards her briefly.

The prince smiled kindly at the both of them before focusing in on Aurelie. "I see that she found you, I'm glad... Is it alright if I steal her away from you for now? I promise she'll be in good hands." He spoke with an even voice, facial features calm as one of his hands came to rest on Adelaide's shoulder in a sort of intimate gesture.

Feeling the intense warmth of his touch again, Adelaide wished to cringe away, but did not. After having reminded herself of her duty to her court, she remained by his side, grinning with little ease. It is for the best that I grow used to his presence. Hesitantly, she placed one of her hands gently on his chest, returning the sense of familiar touch while sending a hesitant glance at Aurelie.

Without another word, he calmly proceed to turn with her, guiding her with a strong arm onto the dance floor as Adelaide's gaze seemed to trail after her friend. "We'll talk later." She mouthed, hoping she would understand as their eye contact was parted by the crowd once more. He lead her onto the dance floor, making casual conversation, though Adelaide wasn't entirely committed to the motions of speaking to him. Still, as the dance began, she scolded herself into focusing upon him as best as she could; the warm eyes, soft features, of the prince. He danced with a grace that complimented hers, but the small gestures of fondness he sent towards her - a brush of her cheek, a caress of her waist - many of them were lost to her. Adelaide couldn't help but allow a quiet voice in her head to compare his formal manner with that of the Comte's. It was a dangerous comparison, that she knew, but she retained her focus upon the prince with graceful smiles and kind responses to his words.

Comte de Frontenac agreed with Arnoult in one sense—these two women were not physically unappealing. Sullying their honor would be a reward all on its own. He indulged in yet another twisted smile at the demon’s words. Why, a simple touch of the faerie’s hand had sent a jolt of warmth and liveliness through his arm. Would effect would it have on his body during carnal intimacy? Furthermore, would her blood taste of sun?

He had tasted the blood of Summer girls before, but none had been of Adelaide’s quality. Normally he would find the notion unpleasant, but once upon a time, centuries ago, he had been mortal. Mortals enjoyed sunlight, typically, and he had to admit…On occasion, he, too, missed sunshine. It repelled him now, but it had not always been so. “I do wonder,” he ruminated, “What her blood will taste like…Floral? Sunny? Not an agreeable environment for us by any means, but I undoubtedly would enjoy that sort of flavor…True purity of the soul gives blood a certain pleasing edge. I am sure you understand that to a degree.”

Dorian did have a point, however. Even if Lady Beaulieu disliked the Summer Prince, that did not guarantee she would abandon her Court. It did suit her perfectly. She had subsisted in the Summer lands for two centuries at least. It might be necessary to turn more than the Summer Prince against her for their plan to succeed. She was rebellious, yet her demeanor and personality would not please any among the Unseelie lest he…Corrupted her and her surroundings properly. “You are correct, Comte Arnoult,” he said finally. “At this stage, I will have to probe further into her past and her attitude towards the Summer Court. Perhaps she is a women who will take the side of her lover, and thus will be easily persuaded…If she is not, I will have to adopt a different strategy.”

Marcel nodded then, and inclined his head towards the other. It was a respectful gesture, albeit it casual and lazy. He genuinely appreciated Dorian’s participation in his plot, at least. That much could be said. “It will be important to meet regularly to discuss any…Developments. As well as report suspicious behavior the women might demonstrate in our company. We do not want them to discern out true intentions. If you do not find me tomorrow, I will find you. Good evening, Comte.”

The vampire watched the demon disappear from sight before once more casting his gaze to the view outside the window. He patiently waited a few minutes, if only to ensure they would not been seen in each other’s vicinity, before returning to the ballroom. He quickly caught sight of Adelaide speaking with her witch companion beside a table of refreshments. Their discussion, even at this distance, appeared energetic and vivid. Not long after, the Summer Prince engaged the pair in conversation. If Lady Beaulieu had been avoiding Julien on purpose, he had either not taken the hint or he simply did not care. The vampire smirked. He would be available should Adelaide require another excuse to escape him. Somehow he believed the faerie would come to see him sooner rather than later.

To pass the time, he met with a group of several Unseelie admirers. While he regaled them with a tale of his misadventures, he made it a point to regularly glance in the faerie’s direction. If he managed to catch her eye, he would simply smile pleasantly and continue with his animated retelling.

~~~

Aurelie wanted to smack her forehead repeatedly against the wall. While she appreciated her friend’s validation of her feelings, she might have preferred Adelaide to be her conscience and advise her against acting on them. Instead the faerie told her to do what “felt right” and not to hide from Dorian Arnoult. All right. Fair enough. But indulging in her strange desire did not “feel right” to her to begin with!

“Oh, why do you have to be so accommodating!?” Adelaide cried, bouncing up and down anxiously. “Why can’t you tell me to hide from him in the lavatory for the rest of the week?!” Despite her own, sentiments, however, Aurelie admittedly was more concerned over her friend’s well-being. She was so…Restricted…When it came to Prince Julien. Aurelie liked the Prince, but she knew that he was wrong for Adelaide. Adelaide needed more passion—adventure—in romance. The Prince was stable and kind, but he was not particularly exciting.

She opened her mouth to offer Adelaide more advice on the matter (though she was by no means an expert on relationships, having never had one), but was interrupted by Julien’s appearance. Speak of the devil…The witch pursed her lips, but said nothing more on the matter. She merely curtsied awkwardly to the Prince and smiled. “Oh, if you must. Don’t keep her too long, though! Don’t you know girls have to gossip with each other at parties? This is my first party experience ever, so I want to do it right!” At least the witch could speak with Julien comfortably. He did not intimidate Aurelie in the way that other men did, although she could not say why. Maybe because he was so entirely enamored with her friend to pay much mind to her anyway.

Aurelie smiled sadly at Adelaide as she was led away in the direction of the dance floor. She mouthed “it’s all right” to comfort her, and “I’ll be around.” As the faerie disappeared into the crowd, the witch began to worry about what she was to do now that she was alone. She did not intimately know anyone else in attendance. She was also not especially adept at making conversation with strangers in general, male or otherwise. If she stood around appearing lonesome, however, it increased the possibility that Dorian Arnoult would seek her out again…If he truly intended to, anyway. There was also the possibility he had lied about enjoying her company, and really wanted nothing more to do with her. There were surely better girls to dance with.

While the prospect of being lied to by such a handsome man saddened her, it would be a blessing in disguise. Aurelie needed to avoid temptation at all costs, so it was better for her to go hide before she could be located…Just in case. The witch lifted her plate off the corner of the table beside her, restocked it with various goodies, and looked for way out to the garden. She knew it had a hedge maze with various benches she could camp out on until Le Mascarade ended for the night.