[Gideon has been enjoying herself immensely. The fighting, the festivities, the food-- it's as though a good portion of her girlhood fantasies have all come true at once. Finally released from the cold, grasping shadow of Drearburh, let loose amongst people who know how to live rather than wasting away into rheumatic senility, she really couldn't be happier. Yes there is the weighty question of just what their kindly benefactors are going with those people thrust down into the dungeons... but surely all of that can wait until after the party. It's a real party too, with music and alcohol, alcohol that tastes a fair amount better than the acidic sacrament wine she'd once pilfered and utterly sickened herself with. In fact, its left her feeling pleasantly buzzed.
She is, actually, in the midst of refilling both her cup and her plate - the amount of food on display here is frankly staggering, and she can't name any of it which makes for something of an adventure - when the man sidles up beside her. She turns, just a little surprised, when he addresses her so brightly, and the deluge of compliments that follow make her feel almost as giddy as the ale had done. For someone who has spent most of her life sore and furious with loneliness, either ignored or regarded like something that could only be killed with a stake through the heart, being abruptly littered with compliments out of the blue is something of a shock.]
Huh?
[She says, the very picture of eloquence. Give her a moment, good sir. She looks at him, and at the instrument at his back, the suggestion of lines. Then abruptly she's grinning big and bold as brass]
I was good, wasn't I? You don't know what a kick it was to finally get to spar with someone who isn't a classically trained cavalier or some stuffy old Ninth House reject.
[She feels a short, sharp twinge of regret at having referred to Aiglamene that way, but it's quickly forgotten. Instead her aureate gaze slides to the instrument once again, and she motions to it with a quick jerk of her chin.]
Sparring contest!
She is, actually, in the midst of refilling both her cup and her plate - the amount of food on display here is frankly staggering, and she can't name any of it which makes for something of an adventure - when the man sidles up beside her. She turns, just a little surprised, when he addresses her so brightly, and the deluge of compliments that follow make her feel almost as giddy as the ale had done. For someone who has spent most of her life sore and furious with loneliness, either ignored or regarded like something that could only be killed with a stake through the heart, being abruptly littered with compliments out of the blue is something of a shock.]
Huh?
[She says, the very picture of eloquence. Give her a moment, good sir. She looks at him, and at the instrument at his back, the suggestion of lines. Then abruptly she's grinning big and bold as brass]
I was good, wasn't I? You don't know what a kick it was to finally get to spar with someone who isn't a classically trained cavalier or some stuffy old Ninth House reject.
[She feels a short, sharp twinge of regret at having referred to Aiglamene that way, but it's quickly forgotten. Instead her aureate gaze slides to the instrument once again, and she motions to it with a quick jerk of her chin.]
What have you got, there? A few lines...about me?
[Far from shy, she sounds eager and interested.]