The Dance Hall

[Raiden and Zahi]

**Raiden's nerves soon subsided, to a point where he could bring them under control. The whole attack had lasted less than a minute.**

I hate the circumstances that led to everything in my life being so messed up...

Calm down Raiden, deep breaths, slowly. Finish your drink, and join me on the dance floor, we still have a lot of danceing to do.

You're right, I do need to calm down more, and just enjoy the night. Out of interest, have we ever met any beast called Mikal, or Juantez?

**Raiden watched as Zahi shook her head. Sighing he set his now empty beaker on the nearest table, before rejoining his wife on the dance floor.**

**Rose was late, and she knew it. The cause? Makeing some repairs and alterations to her mother's old silk gown.**

Gah, why did I have to try and put those ribbons on the sleaves?

**Rubbing her sore back slightly, she droped her own linin dress to the floor in her quarters, and changed into the gown.**

Fits better now as well... well, if I'm going, now's the time to go...

**Quickly leaveing, the amber-eyed foxmaid made her way across the court yard to the dance hall, pauseing only to check her reflection in the glass; her tiara was still in place, gold with topaz shards inlayed... Her mother's old soft blue gown had been a bit long in the sleaves, so she had sewn ribbons to the underside near the wrists, and had pulled back the rest of the sleaves so they were poofed out, before tieing the ribbons that were now just above her elbow. She also had shortened the skirt of the gown, so it didn't trip her up when she walked, she wore long blue gloves that stoped just below the ribbons on the sleaves, over these gloves, she had her mother's old bracelets, sighing slightly, Rose felt dispiritedly slightly, most of her attire used to be her mother's. But she still studied the last of her reflection; she had tied a red sash round her waist, tying it with a bow at the back instead of a brooch, and finaly her shoes, leather with a cover made from a silvery thread, raied slightly at the back, and an amathyst cunnigly sewn on the front.**

I'm as ready as I'll ever be...

**With those words, she entered the hall, and instead of going to Raiden and Zahi, who were on the dance floor, she went over to Laylark, risk, and the other fox, Ragfur, she had been captivated by the charms of the newcomer fox, and didn't know why.**

[Rocky Rimblade]

**Rocky was in his small hut, fixing himself up for the dance. He was a vain little creature, and he washed his fur extensively through the water, combing it by hand. He slammed his door and left the hut with a strut in his step and smile on his face, walking how he thought every eligible bachelor squirrel should. As he swung open the doors to the room, he shot a wink in the direction of the beasts, swaggering slowly to the food tables, his face a look of charm. As he slid into a table, he smoothly took a plate of freshly roasted fish, eating slowly to seem more cool and collected. Rocky ate small bites, awaiting some company to compliment him freely.**

[Laylark]

**Laylark had now taken up fiddling with his cuffs. They’re funny things, cuffs. This fox’s were particularly fiddleable, if such a thing could be said. As he stared forward either into space or at the extremely interesting wall, his paws fidgeted and tugged at his cuff. Whether he realized it or not one couldn’t say.... but let us move on.

Now Laylark had moved from anxiety, to fear, to extreme boredom, and his lip was starting to get sore from being chewed on too much. Despite all this, something tugged his attention away from that wall to cast, once more, a glance at the door. He was stunned.

There stood Risk. Everything about her- her dress, her fur, the candlelight dancing in her eyes, was dazzling. Her lateness meant nothing, and did nothing but add to the effect, and for a second, Laylark could’ve sworn his heart stopped. But, of course, this moment lasted for little more than a second, for all of a sudden he was looking at her back, the silky voice of her pursuer shattering the moment.

For a moment Laylark was reminded strongly of a certain fox. His dashing good looks, his meticulously well groomed fur, his clothes; even the tone of his voice was so much like Raeulth. If it had been under other circumstances Laylark might have even had enough time to get choked up over his dear friend, but the part of him that still screamed of Raeulth’s death had been consumed by a deep smouldering hatred that had developed in those brief five seconds. The red fox gritted his teeth and strode silently over to the pari, glaring at the newcomer. Ever so quietly, he slipped his arm under Risk’s and composed himself enough to mumble a greeting, a shy smile on his lips.**

OOC: Ew it's so short. XD

[Tempest Zahrah]

Tempest entered the dance hall, her eyes shining with excitement. She was slightly uncomfortable, seeing that she was out of her element. But she had took her time to groom and dress herself. The vixen had chosen to wear a dark green silk dress with flairing sleeves. She also wore a golden colored girdle around her waist. Tempest nervously looked around for a familiar face while fiddling with a golden locket around her neck.

[scramasax]

Scramasax Julian Scraggleshade Junior looked at his reflection in the sheet of polished metal which substituted for a mirror. He saw looking back at him a small, slim harvest mouse dressed in formal attire of crimson and black. He stroked the black seams of his velvet, crimson, full-length gown, admiring the gold and silver embroidery reflected in the mirror, flexing the new dove-grey gloves on his forepaws. Smiling, he held open his gown, checking to see if his scramasaxes were still in the special pockets stitched to the inside of the gown, and glancing down to assess his outfit. His pointed doublet was tailored of black velvet, with full sleeves and his crimson crest of two crossed black scramasaxes and two silver and crimson magpies embroidered on the front, along with a flowery white collar.

Looking down further, the mouse confirmed the neat cleanness of his breeches and boots. His black breeches were fashionably baggy and tucked into his boots, with vertical crimson slashes adorning the light material among the numerous folds. The boots into which they were tucked were made of fawn-coloured, smooth hide, reaching up to his knees, with hardened toecaps, black laces and a polished surface. His charming green eyes flitted up again to the mirror, and the vain mouse picked up a comb from the table, raising it. Running it through his mane of slightly wavy ginger hair, he flicked the longer tresses out of his eyes and behind his large ears, winking roguishly at the mirror as he did so. Dipping a paw in a pot of water, he smoothed his hair down in waves radiating down his neck.

Satisfied, Scramasax set down the comb back on the table, admiring himself for a moment. Smiling vainly, showing his strong white teeth, he examined his dove-grey gloves, flicking off the hairs stuck to the soft material. Dusting off the square shoulders of the elaborate gown and the front of the expensive doublet, the mouse turned in front of the mirror, checking his whole figure, taking care to get each and every excess hair off his clothing. Facing the mirror, he drew out his whiskers, cleanly pulling it up at the tip, flattering himself with unspoken compliments. Taking his umber-brown tail in paw, he picked up a warm, damp cloth from the table and cleaned the fuzzy furs of his prehensile appendage, stroking it gently with the cloth.

Wiping his paws together and chucking down the cloth, he grinned again at the mirror before turning to head out of his small chamber. It was a little small for his liking, but the vain harvest mouse knew he would not be spending much time in it that night. For he had heard of the Dance. At the mere thought of the approaching event, the young mouse's stomach boiled with anticipation. It gave him an opportunity to meet the others, and of course, more importantly, show off his glamorous outfit and what he called his dancing prowess. Though by calling it such, he complimented himself far beyond reality, he was far too delighted about the waltz to remember he had hardly ever danced in his lifetime. Skipping a few paces forward down the corridor, he headed in the general direction of the great hall, nearly tripping on the skirts of the gown.

Scramasax heard the music, and knew he was late. But he had the whole evening, and he could make much more of a dramatic entrance if he was late. But hardly any would know him, he mused. The mouse was a newcomer, but he considered himself an amiable fellow totally capable of finding multiple friends. He ignored the little voice in his head that truthfully insisted he was a conceited snob, dismissing it as unnecessary modesty. Fiddling with his hair and garments, he proceeded to follow the sound of music, and found himself at the entrance to the hall. Awed by the magnificence of the structure, he hesitated before going in. Striding regally with his head held high and a dignified smile on his face, he continued to the central area with a longer gait than his usual swift trot.

Examining the assembled, he sharply noted the diversity of the species. There was a whole group of foxes, and several mice dispersed across the hall, with squirrels of equal measure scattered about. He was not surprised to find he knew none of them - in fact, he admitted that it would be more surprising for him to actually know any of the others. But there were many there, and it did not seem a hard job to go about and introduce himself. His eyes fell on the food tables, and his smile widened. With a measured swagger, he strode past several beasts to the area, and examined the dishes there. With his cook's eye, he carefully inspected the dishes, mentally taking notes on the variety and the popularity of certain dishes. He would have to remember that when fulfilling his duty as a chef.

As he walked, he noticed a lone male squirrel with a plate of fish. Forgetting momentarily his dignity, the mouse sidled over to the squirrel, scrutinising his features inquiringly. Keeping a safe distance away, and pretending to examine a dish of roasted nuts, he watched the behaviour of the squirrel eating the fish. Wondering if fish was a popular dish among the Guardians, he scanned the table for the plate, wishing to check how much had been taken. Not very encouraged by the sight of the near-full plate, he collected his dignity and proudly swaggered to the squirrel. Eying him cautiously and the way he proudly held himself, the small harvest mouse raised his head proudly, crossing his arms and fixing his features in an expression of arrogant challenge, he looked up to face the other lone male.

"I say, do you like the fish? It seems to me that you are not appreciating the cooks' efforts."

Hoping somewhere within his conceited being that a possible dance partner would notice his confident, "dashing" posture, Scramasax glanced around the dance hall, his attention stolen by the beginning of a new waltz. It was a cheerful one with plenty of ups and downs, and would have sounded very nice had the minstrels not been so gloomy. Focusing on each group rather than the assembly as a whole, the mouse swivelled his eyes but not his head, assessing the dancers. The constant movement and dancing made it difficult for the harvest mouse to keep track of a pair for long, but a rather curious combination was that of a mouse and a wolf dancing together, who's made an amused smile creep across Scramasax's face. He glanced back at the squirrel, his ear twitching with slight distaste at the arrogant way he held himself, awaiting his response.

[Finnerator Rudderbow]

*It seemed that Finnerator's attempt at starting a conversation with Darter and Laylark hadn't worked very well. As she waited for a reply in vain, she noticed that Laylark was looking very distracted, and soon knew why when he walked away to meet Risk as the fox entered the dance hall. The ottermaid had also noticed the third fox speaking to Risk and Laylark's evident dislike of him*

*Darter didn't seem to be in a very talkative mood either, but most of the people who she knew were on the dance floor. For the second time Finnerator attempted to make a conversation* So, how goes running the fort? *Besides just making small talk, the otter was, in fact, interested in how things were going for Darter. It had been a while since she'd talked to him. Since when the fort had been divided into divisions, she thought. The time should be well spent catching up on things*

[Darter]

"Nice, eh?"

Darter chanced another glance upwards at the fox's wide-brimmed hat, and wrinkled his snout slightly with distaste as his headfur scuffed against the silky material. Maybe Laylark liked annoying everyone who was unfortunate enough to choose to stand beside him, but the otter concluded that the fox should've forgotten the accessory. He swayed to his left, and took a step away from his friend, where he could stand up straight. He hated being cramped up; it made him feel undignified. The otter's chest rose, causing the red cape draped over his broad shoulders to sway with the sudden movement, as he sighed deeply. He was already having enough trouble with keeping his dignity, having no partner to speak of.

As Laylark replied that he had no partner, the otter's barely perceptible frown deepened slightly. He had heard rumours... hadn't his friend become rather close with another, a rogue called Risk? But, glancing again Laylark's way, maybe she hadn't arrived yet. The distraught expression on the fox's features would be evidence enough of this assumption. His gaze again returned to the dance floor, and the commander quickly became mesmerized by the flowing movements of the dancers combined with the haunting yet peaceful tune coming forth from the musicians instruments. He personally found the transformations from tough and reliable soldiers to lively and graceful beasts amazing. How somebeast could put away their
weapons and simply forgot about all the combat and battles to enjoy such a night was almost beyond the young commander.

The otter was brought back to the present moment by his friend's inquisitive voice seemingly coming from nowhere. At first he thought that the fox was simply joking, but his last question seemed especially desperate, and Darter wondered if Laylark was indeed serious. A look at the fox confirmed his thoughts; his pleading features betraying the desperation hidden within the rogue. He sighed. Wow. The otter's brows came down as he gazed calmly at his friend, trying to conceal a grin threatening to
show itself, but even an even tone couldn't hide his surprise and slight indignation at the possibility itself.

"Dance with...you?" His left eyebrow raised slightly, suggesting he found the idea absolutely ridiculous. "Sorry, but I'm not that desperate to look a complete fool."

He stifled a chuckle and looked away in fear of his friend seeing the grin spreading rapidly across his face. He let out a long intake of breath, and finally allowed a brief smile to cross his features. There would never be another Laylark, he thought fondly.

From his position, half turned towards the open double doors and leaning against the wooden siding of the large hall on his left shoulder, the otter had a clear view of what lay outside, even through the many beasts moving about. Not that there was much to see; the wall and parapet came up abruptly few more than roughly five or six metres away from the oak doors. An apparent gust of wind picked up dead leaves previously trampled and strewn over the beaten dirt path leading into the room, before leaving them to swirl down, fluttering gently. Suddenly a shadow darkened the path and Darter frowned to himself, fingering the hilt of his broadsword, before realizing it was just another beast, no, two beasts entering the dance. Looked to both be foxes, and he had seen at least one of them around before. The otter relaxed. False alarm.

As he heard Laylark's sharp intake of breath from behind him, followed by the sound of the fox's steps carrying him away from the otter, Darter couldn't resist a quick glance over his shoulder to discover what had caused his friend's sudden change in movement. At first he was puzzled, but after catching the looks in both Risks' and Laylarks' eyes he smiled gently. So the fox did have a partner.

"So, how goes running the fort?"

Another voice broke through his thoughts and the commander's head snapped back to see Finnerator standing before him. He hadn't heard her approach, and judging by her expression, most likely her first statement. Offering the other otter a quick smile to show he was glad to see her, Darter straightened up into what would be considered proper posture and briefly pulled at the sides of his tunic so that the creases were nearly invisible before letting both of his paws drop to his sides once more. Absentmindely his left palm found its way onto the hilt of his sheathed broadsword as the commander cleared his throat before speaking to the captain. He shrugged.

"Pretty well, I'd say. Nothin' too disruptive goin' on any case, matey. Not 'eadin' a division can git a bit lonely, admittedly, but I manage. And you?"

[Finnerator Rudderbow]

(OOC: Argh, how do you post so much?)

*Finnerator nods in agreement with his statement* Aye, the fort has been pretty quiet of late. The vermin must know that they don't stand a chance by now. *She says with a wink, at the same time hoping that it was true. The ottermaid may be a good fighter, but she wasn't one to go out looking for trouble* I've been doing well in Division 2, but, unfortunately, we are still in the process of actually naming the division. *She said in response to his question with a grin. It was rather funny when one thought of how long it has been taking them to give a name to it*

(OOC: I tried, but I'm not feeling incredibly creative)

[Songwind and Brawn Oakbrush.]

**Song huffed when Cathy didn't answer her and went of towards Brawn. She smiled at him and took his paws. She twirled around and was swept into his arms in a whirling waltz.**

[Rowan Sorriven & Jamie Sareem]

OOC Truly Darter. I really wonder if I could actually type a post like that. Probably not.

BIC Rowan smiled grimly as his breath came in ragged gasps. His chest heaved up and down as Jamie soaked a long piece of cloth in a poultice of dock leaf and mint extract. "This should help to keep the swelling down Rowan." Taking the cloth dripping with a curing poultice, Jamie leaned forward and wrapped it around her husbands waist. He shivered as the cooling cloth made contact with his fur. Jamie finished wrapping the cloth around his waist, and started putting the medical gear like ointments back in her kit. Placing the kit back in her cloth bag, she stood up. "Now all we have to do is wait for the healing to take effect." He grinned at her. Jamie leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek while helping him stand. "Thanks Jamie. Well, thanks to my injury, we can't dance anymore." She shrugged. "Oh well, let's go find some other couples to talk to.

[Tempest Zahrah]

Seeing no one come forward to greet her, Tempest frowned slightly. Maybe coming here was not the right decision. She was about to turn and leave, despite the time she spent on getting herself ready, when she saw something that made her grin.

There, dancing with a mouse, was her good ol' friend Taundor. "Looks like Wolfie already got a partner" the vixen said while chuckling. Might as well stay a bit and at least chat with someone.

Tempest then looked around more closely and noticed that a large group of beasts were over near the food table. Sniffing the air, the vixen gave a cocky grin and started toward the table. Despite her dress, she gracefully glided, (maybe because she had chosen not to wear any shoes), to the other side of the room.

[Rowan Sorriven & Jamie Sareem]

Jamie and Rowan both stepped across the dance floor, carefully avoiding the dancing couples. Rowan held his ribs with one paw as he saw Tempest Zahrah walking over to the food table. Jamie notices her and they both turn to their right to intercept her in a way.

OOC Sorry for the short post.

[Songwind and Brawn Oakbrush.]

**Song stopped dancing and pointed. Brawn noticed her paw moving and squinted to see who it was. He realized it was Song's friend. He allowed her to leave his paws for the third time that evening. he knew how she felt about injured beasts. Song walked over to Rowan and smiled at him.** Hello. What did you do to yourself?

[Rowan Sorriven & Jamie Sareem]

Rowan halts his wife and whirls around with agility. Seeing Song standing there smiling, he smiles back. "Oh, nothing much. We just collided with this mole couple and they both landed on my side. Jamie says they only broke three ribs." He winks as Jamie turns around. "Yeah, we ran into two couples tonight. I mean we must be some bloody unlucky dancers."

[Raiden and Zahi]

You're lucky, at least your wife willingly lets go of you... Zahi's being too clingy, she wants to dance the night away with me... I can't take too much more, it's punishing my frayed nerves...

**Raiden's scared head poked it's way into sight, followed by the rest of his body.**

I need somewhere to...

There you are... Stop trying to escape and surrender yourself to me with danceing...

**Zahi cut Raiden's voice off as she caught up with him and began dragging him back to the dance floor.**

Nooooo!! Let me go... I want another drink...

**Raiden's moans were heard as he was dragged off**