Ives looked at Rook with some relief, glad that he wasn't angry or upset by the fact that he was dancing with the Almoner. There wasn't much he could do, for to turn her away would disgrace his status. Most likely the petite elf knew that very well. "Yes, I don't think she had done anything to me," he said, brushing off his sleeve as he looked away. Though, if she had cast a spell on him, maybe it would take effect later. If that was the case, then he would have to make sure that Rook stopped him at all costs. Although he didn't say anything about it to him, he knew very well that Rook was much stronger than he and could take him down if that were the case. Unlike the last time were Ives was hopeless to stop him, and to prevent her touch. His posture then returned to its normal, continuing to hold out his arm to him as his eyes drifted back up to meet his cautious gaze. At the question the Lore Keeper turned his head to see the others dancing.

"We would get lost in the crowd anyway," he said, his tone light and his face content despite his previous encounter with Siofra. "Just look at all the many people." Indeed, so many were dancing, there were rumors of them anyway sure, but then no one would be surprised if they danced right? His gaze then returned to him, his arm unmoving. He leaned closer. "Look over there, I see another couple of men dancing with each other," he whispered, eyes not moving in their direction. His posture then straightened, indeed the Lore Keeper had to maintain his air of authority upon the dance as such, however that did not mean that he would loose this chance to dance with someone he loved. Perhaps this made him seem different in a way, at such a public gathering, however he was the same person at heart. If Rook would take his arm he would then move closer inward toward the center of the ballroom, making sure to dance slowly as he knew that most likely the soldier wouldn't know how to. Not that he would find it surprising or would look down on him for that of course. Rook was fine just the way he was. Though in fact he liked the way he wore his hair, how he wore the suit. It suited him.

"Indeed, you look quite dashing this evening," he complimented with the upmost politeness, as he then moved closer toward his body. Probably at first sight, even if spotted by strangers it would appear that he was dancing with a long haired woman. Well, from behind at least. Not counting the lack of dress that he wore. His body then began to continue to move to the rhythmic tune of the band that played, unknowingly dancing faster than usual, probably up to par with his last one. Maybe he was getting lost in the night himself, maybe he was excited because Rook was there, who knew. Though indeed it was pleasant that he was there, it was perhaps like a dream, a romantic dance within the evening underneath the shining light of the chandeliers while the music played. They wouldn't have done this in the Grand Library. Maybe they should, however he knew that Rook wouldn't be up for the idea. Then he realized that maybe he was beginning to get carried away, and his dancing slowed again, taking his hands and rocking his body back and forth smoothly. His eyes glanced up to his face. "Maybe I should learn how to dance better," he then said, realizing that without his refined posture, that he was probably making a few mistakes. "Perhaps we could learn? I am sure I could hire a tutor," he spoke softly, so that none but Rook could hear his indecorousness.

Connor lightly clasped her fingers with his own, his other hand pressed comfortably against her waist. The physical contact aspect to dancing, the intimacy – neither of those were bothersome to the Immortal Commander. The idea of dancing, of the pressure to move with decisive grace – that was annoying. Again, with the thought of throwing someone, of slicing them down in combat or a tournament. It was much more appealing…

And yet, that was where he found himself pleasantly surprised. Solara stepped forward with a smirk, which evolved into smile that didn’t quite seem to meet her eyes. He kept his expression smooth, though a teasing look might’ve crossed his features in a different situation. “Very well.” It took some restraint to not tag a Lady Ell Polst with the comment. Then, they gave way to dance. She was… impressive. It caused him to regard her with a renewed – and in that moment, very present – sense of appreciation.

He followed her nudges responsively, body well attuned to being reactive already. It was after several repetitious steps that he seemed to quickly catch on, at which point he was more inclined to charting the course of their movements. With her little comment, his eyes darted to observe the room from above her head. The next step he took, he drew her in tightly toward his body. It was not so obvious to be inappropriate in the setting, but it was certainly much more intimate; much closer to the image of a man cradling and treasuring something delicate. Bowing his head close to her temple, his breath was soft as he drew in the scent of her hair, before he uttered a response. “I might’ve called you condescending if you weren’t the once teaching me to dance… Thank you for coming Solara.” Pulling his face away slightly, he glanced down to her. “I know this isn’t exactly your idea of a good time. I do appreciate you being here.”

A blur of darkness at the head of the stairs caught his attention on their next pass around. They’d been dancing for a short while now, certainly long enough that the commoners had spilled in with the nobles as tensions and inhibition seemed to lower with the night drawing onward. They likely could’ve stopped, but some part of him had enjoyed learning. At least, that was until he was presented with something entirely distracting in the setting. The Commander very narrowly avoided a misstep, as his eyes fixed briefly on the shadow-y figure. His body held a type of renewed tension, particularly in his shoulder where Solara’s hand rested. Was she going to be an instigator, to give a reason for the party to end prematurely…? Fortunately, another figure darted up beside her. He let out a small breath, scarcely able to hide the small tension in his lips. “I’m curious who she is. My guards aren’t going to like that display.” He made eye contact across the room with the nearest two, who seemed to be giving him questioning looks: soldiers awaiting orders.

His eyes fell downward, and Alvina again shook her head, hand squeezing his hand. The gesture was not unexpected. Perhaps in some way, she might’ve been testing him. Realistically, she had no impression that he’d had been the sort to act so rashly. With his mentioning of a potentially familiar face, she found her eyes attempting to track the direction where his had gazed moments before.

But then, there was that woman. Warin himself trailed off, seeming to feel the air around her in the same way she had.

Alvina’s tongue briefly flicked forward in her closed mouth, brushing teeth that could so easily transform into sharpened tools. It was a reflex almost, something that would’ve been comforting… had they not been in a hall surrounded by potentially hostile armies, and a plethora of unseen magic users. She was painfully aware of the damage which could be done with a blade or claws – her face was a testament to that fact – but she also knew that no Werebeast was an easy match for someone who could wave a hand and cast a spell. Fire, smoke, whatever gifts their Gods had given them, they were entirely too favored in combat for her living. Even had the Pack been here… the woman’s appearance, projecting magic so intensely, would’ve been a signal to withdraw. Warin was one individual, she only a second, and neither of their lives was worth the risk of whatever political spectacle this ball was staged to become.

A nearly imperceptible nod met Warin’s comment in acknowledgment, her eyes skimming the crowd as she found several others regarding the woman. The Immortal Commander’s, too, she fleetingly glimpsed. If he was paying her such mind… She did not release Warin’s had as she was guided into a small spin, instead keeping a grip which gently, but insistently, tugged him after her. “Stepping out to a balcony sounds good actually.” A little louder, more meant for any wayward ears around them, “It’s getting very warm in here.”

Reaching the doorway that would lead them to the cool breeze of the outdoors, however, was not as easily achieved as she thought. Whether it was prompted by the growing throng of dancers, or simply the arrival and gathering of so many guests, it was as if a wall of people sought to obstruct her. And certainly, so many noblemen present were not inclined to move aside for a woman, no matter how intent she seemed in attempting to weave through them.

That restraint, coupled with the raving instinct brought through the woman's appearance, nearly sent her inner wolf into a predatory frenzy. Her eyes - they briefly flared with the crimson hue of her animal form, which sent a nearby man who had been regarding her into an anxious backstep.

Ea had been invited, Arlyn too. Powerful officials, ready and equipped to represent their secluded, magical school. Ymir had not been in a position, as a teacher of poisons and potions, to receive such an invitation. Or, so she had thought prior to her own invitation arriving not long after Ea’s. Not one to question motives, but certainly excited at the prospect of seeing a new place, she'd been happy to oblige. Certainly, Ea might've thought to tease her a little along the way, but it had only been in good fun. He had been a friend as far back as her childhood.

And that was another point. This was the perfect opportunity to introduce old friends to new, even if the particular friend which she had contacted to attend with her was one which was... more eccentric than most.

She’d been late arriving to the City, having chosen to make her way in separately from Ea and Arlyn so she had had the freedom to deliver a message in exchange for some coin. The secondary problem, as was fitting (or rather, ill-fitting), was deciding just how to attend the ball. Wearing frivolous, pretty things was not in Ymir’s taste, even in her feminine form. A suite or traditional robes, too, were far too flashy. After some consideration, the outfit which she had ultimately chosen was something of a cross between robes and pantsuit. The legs were sweeping, almost mimicking skirts, with draping indigo fabric which wrapped up in a square-ish fashion around the torso, leaving her shoulders exposed. She wore her ebony hair down, the only accouterments on her form appearing as a simple set of silver earrings and bracelet. In truth, the entire ensemble might've been a little simple for the taste of most of the party-goers. For Ymir, ever inclined to switching forms, it was perfect.

Though later than anticipated, she found her way to the doors leading into the ballroom. She’d narrowly ducked the herald, brushing off an introduction – for she was far from nobility – in favor of seeking out Seymour. The only problem? He was nowhere to be found, which was quite an impressive feat for him. She lingered near the wall at the top of the stairs, scanning, finding even Ea’s head of bright red hair. Ymir worried her lip, considering. She didn’t need to have a date for such an event. Ea would dance with her if she asked. But something about that felt so… childish. Especially given that her date was nowhere to be found, even as she’d shown up late. Trying again, even glancing toward the doorway, tried not to fret, even if doubts were blossoming in her thoughts.

And then, not the form she was looking for though certainly one she was familiar with, swept in. The woman was cloaked beautifully, if ethereally with her magical display, and, like herself, forwent an announcement. Ymir swallowed, knowing very well what the display would illicit from so many packed into a room. Their race was an eclectic, often unseen one. Magic, especially something so overt, was a source of anxiety within their people, but especially to others. Certainly not to Ymir, though that was not a sentiment she could easily sway people with.

Ducking forward, she was nearing Shae when a man she’d not seen before ducked in against her side and up took her hand. Ymir’s steps faltered for a moment before she hurried over to pair. The obligation she felt in that moment was mixed, something crossed between a friend and an instructor. “Hey, Shae." The greeting was paired with one of her easy-going smiles. It would've been so embarrassing to reprimand her in front of the man... "I didn't expect that you'd be coming. It's good to see you here." Perhaps if she found a way to phrase it...

shaecayrn Djinn  Seymour Ostadar

The color faded when Warin’s gaze met her own, her iris’ reverting back with their regular pools of brown. His demeanor was entirely calm, entirely composed. In some intuitive way, she didn’t resist when he draped his arm around her shoulders. In fact, especially as the head of the wolf sought to bare it’s teeth, she was drawn to that composure. There was something grounding, calming about it. Human in a way which tempered the beastly nerves, but also familiar in understanding. Then came the breathy murmur near her ear, to which she responded with via a small nod. Had it been anyone from outside of her Pack, no, in that instance, anyone else aside from Warin in the room, the word might’ve had the opposite affect.

The Alpha was grateful that his stature allowed him to easily plow through the bodies which had obstructed their path. Though certainly capable in her own right, she was well aware given the tumultuous feelings that had flared within her that her doing such a thing would’ve garnered far more attention than desired.

They were nearly there. His voice cheerfully sounded in her ear, something which did go some length toward sparking a competitive pulse. Not missing a beat, and in fashion that was typical of their interactions, “It almost sounds as if you want to share. I don’t think you could handle me being sweet.” The quip flowed smoothly, as they slipped out onto the cooler balcony. Perhaps she could’ve corrected him, given him some look at his choice of the word darling, but she refrained in that moment.

Wetting her lips briefly, the smallest flick of her tongue briefly appeared before she pressed them together. Perhaps indulging in so much time in their little refuge in the mountains was taking its toll in ways she hadn’t considered. Regardless, the air of the damn place had changed. She could taste the unease in the air. Exhaling and inhaling a small, steadying breath, she drifted a few steps forward, and turned to face Warin, resting her hip against the railing. “Thank you, for helping.” Her other hand drifted up, fingers lightly touching the jewelry which had only minutes before felt like a collar restraining her throat. “Would you… be opposed to us going back soon? I don’t want to linger too long. It seems risky now, for all of us.” Of course, she meant to the Pack.

There was a hesitance in his acceptance of the offered arm, even after the mention of other men dancing. That wasn't what concerned him, Rook could care less what anyone thought of him. But it was Ives that had to deal with the intricacies of diplomacy, something that he was thankfully spared. He didn't speak but slowly took the offered arm and moved into position to dance with him. Noticing straight away that Ives was taking the dominant role. The lead. Rook bristled but begrudgingly fell into position. It would become evident very soon that he was not some skilled dancer. It was something he had never made time for, something that had been unimportant. But after watching Ives dance with all the grace of a spring fawn he had hoped to mimic it. Unfortunately, he could not.

He followed the steps as best he could, feeling worse by the moment. And Ives was picking up speed. Moving faster and only making things more complicated. Dashing he said and Rook scoffed. "I don't look like myself in the least." And he didn't. He was dressed nicely with his long blonde hair brushed and loose around his shoulders, his beard perfectly trimmed. He could have blended in with the elven nobles had the permanent scowl vanished from his face and been replaced with one of their fake smiles. "Do you prefer me like this?" He followed up after a few moments, his voice level but curious. The lowly drunkard soldier was certainly not the type of man one might expect the posh and proper Lore Keeper to align himself with. It would be pretty fitting that he might prefer him like this instead of his normal 'mountain man' look.

The mention of a tutor came up and Rook frowned. His blue eyes moving away from Ives for a moment before flitting back to him. "You dance...beautifully. But I don't want to learn this, Ives. This...isn't me." It wasn't a comfortable admission and he knew the elf would likely be unhappy with it. But he didn't want to dance, he didn't want to dress in these suffocating clothes. He didn't want to wonder if a smile was fake or real. This was not where he was comfortable. In the forest was where he called home, or as of late, in the library with Ives. "I hope you are not disappointed. If you wish to dance with someone else I wouldn't blame you. Just....just stay away from the Almoner." And Ea, wherever he had gone.