You and Me, Rendezvous

[Mino]

37 Glade 121

The final day of the cotillion — and Mino was exhausted.

He was exhausted every year, but something about this year wore on him more. After the events of the first night, every day following seemed boring. Perhaps it had something to do with the repetitive turn of conversation to the Briathos that had graced the opening gala. Or the fact that guests suddenly seemed more inclined to hound him about what had been discussed. Not that he would say — it really wasn’t any of their business.

He’d already managed to excuse himself from a group of young ladies who had wanted to bombard him with questions. The simple act of a dazzling smile and claiming that he had to move on to other guests had sufficed. The crunch of grass beneath his feet as he moved away was loud, but not loud enough to drown out the talk. The interest. He was used to it, yes, but something about this irritated him more than it usually did. His ears twitched as his gaze slid over the gathering. People clustered together, chatting and preparing themselves to show off what they had thought best for the day.

Mino complimented a few people who had already performed. Acts of strength, short bouts of duels. Cake baking; a boon, really. There was less money spent on catering when people did it themselves. Just as he was to step toward where he knew the performers would be, he found him accosted by a mixed gaggle of young men and women. Keen eyes, expectancy in their smiles. His own smile felt forced as he turned to face them fully.

“Lord Lekivian, there wasn’t word if you’d be performing any special feats today.” One of the girls, cheeks overly rosy and perfume strong. It was also, noticeably, not a question she asked.

He offered her only a grin, and little explanation beside, “Not my year.” He made to leave, pulled back by a hand on his arm.
“Surely, you would still perform for us.”

Mino glanced again to the gathering of performers. He wasn’t sure how he had ended up playing host today. The Rathari would have thought that the ladies of red would have taken over on this particular day. He’d not had to deal with the lecture days; Green had seen to that. But, with a sigh, he turned to the group. His smile lopsided as he cocked his head to the side.

“Yes, well. What would you like to see me do?”

[Fawn]

37th of Glade, 121

’Just like the sun.’

That’s what the letter had said, at least. Two days before the cotillion Fawn had received a box. Mysteriously wrapped and delivered with no sender to reply to, the girl's face had lit up like the very sun she’d been compared to when her eyes fell upon the contents inside.

And today she stood tall at the entrance to the cotillion wearing it; a dress made of crimson chiffon, embroidered with golden stars and flames, and hugging every inch of the country girl's body before spilling out into a skirt from her waist where a star shaped embellishment was clasped together. Her wrists, adorned by cuffs that held sheer fabric cascading from her back like wings, raised up. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, though this time she’d fashioned it all into an elegant bun- with help from Naila who for some reason knew far too much about this sort of thing.

But it meant that the halter choker, wrapped gently around her neck, was perfectly shown off for all to see and unhidden by the usual masses of her unruly hair.

Was she overdressed? Would he like her like this? Was it too formal? Not pretty enough? Too pretty? In some ways she felt maybe the dress made her look even more plain in comparison. But to the other guests walking up the steps to the event, she was ravishing.

She took a deep breath.

’It’s time…’

Fawn pulled an excited grin to her cheeks and rushed up the steps and past the guards. Or at least she would have if a hard, armored hand hadn’t stopped her in her tracks.
With a soft thud Fawn gasped and looked up at the stern faced guard.

”Name and invitation?” The man asked, eyeing her with an emotionless stare.

”Ah!” The girl beamed. ”Fawn Brisbane! I’m here with Mino! He said I’m his date!” Saying it out loud made her cheeks flush. She felt warm, flushed, like it had suddenly become high noon in searing. Looking past the guard she scanned the crowd frantically for any sign of her shifter.

”Miss, you’re going to have to come up with a better excuse, and not one so often tried. Produce your invitation, or you will not be allowed entry.” His hand did not budge from it’s spot on her chest but he made no movement to push her away either, simply remaining as a wall between the girl and her desired man.

Fawn turned back to him with a raised brow and chuckled. ”But I didnn’a get an invitation- Mino said I was his date. Is that not enough?” She asked, squinting to get a better look beyond him.

And that’s when she spotted him. Standing off in the distance in front of a gaggle of fawning women was Mino. Her eyes glimmered as she raised a hand and began waving at him. ”Mino!!!!!” She screamed.

Countless heads turned to see which rowdy, drunken guest had decided to ruin the ambiance with such a fowl screech. But it was none other than stone cold sober, country girl in a ballgown, Fawn. A few scowls shot her way, followed by some light giggles and sneers. Who was this girl to get his attention? Truly someone desperate, they must have thought. But the man had never been known to answer to outlandish women. At least, that’s what the ignorant had thought.

”Mino!!!!” She called once more, waving vigorously until the guard shoved her back with a glare.

”I will not have anyone, no matter your dress, disturbing the sophistication of such an event because of your silly crushes.

She stumbled in the short golden colored heels she wore. Looking up, she stared at him with flushed cheeks in confusion. "But I really am his date! Just go get him, he'll tell ye!" A small crowd had drawn around the scene, though most shuffled in after showing their invitations to the other guards. Some giggled. Some whispered to their friends. But most rolled their eyes.

"Now, produce your invitation or I will be forced to make you leave.”