laslow

[laslow]

[ MULLED WINE ] - Warm red wine spiced to perfection, ideal for staving off winter’s chill.

Now Thrasir was on the hunt. She needed a few more charms, and they should be easier to get with some simple effort. In her hands, she held two glasses of mulled wine. One was hers. If she was to "blend in" with the masses, then she would have to pretend she wasn't some undead witch. She had been doing alright so far. It wasn't like she could taste either the warmth or the spice of the drink in her hands. There was very little that she could do there.

The other glass was for whoever she spotted in hopes of getting a charm. Dangling from her fingers of that hand was the starfish charm she would be giving in exchange. It was simple, really. If it went the way that Thrasir planned it, she would be offering both the charm and the drink at the same time. With luck, she would get a charm in return. These people enjoyed charms in this event. Thus, it should be impossibly simple.

Then she spotted him. Someone she might have recognised. To be fair, many heroes had passed through her fingers both as Princess of Embla and as the General of Hel. It was hard to keep track of who was who sometimes. She did remember the more interesting ones, though. So Thrasir decided to approach with a constructed smile.

"A pleasant evening, is it not?" she asked demurely as she offered the drink and charm forward. "I don't suppose I could interest you in a glass of mulled wine, with a gift~"

At this point in the evening, he's a little less put together than when he first arrived. Hair tousled, cheeks flushed from dance and drink, shirt a little rumpled, Laslow's certainly the picture of a ball well spent.

He's lounging on one of the Duke's many plush couches, water in hand, observing all the merry-making. The energy that usually sustains him through these events is starting to flag; even the lure of a new dance can't rouse him from his comfortable chair.

A shadow falls across him. Mustering a smile, he gazes up at the newcomer, pleasantly surprised to find a lovely woman holding out a glass of wine.

Pushing himself upright--for he is a flirt and a gentleman, and exhaustion is no excuse for a breach of decorum--he accepts the glass with a wink. "And one that just became far more pleasant with your company, my lady!"

Laslow tilts his head, strands of pink bangs falling across his forehead. "A gift? For moi? I hardly know what to else ask, besides your company as we enjoy our wine together!"

[laslow]

Ah, that laugh. How rare, how precious! The part of him that will always worry for his far-flung friends settles a touch upon hearing Lucina sound so carefree.

Arms linked, he keeps their pace slow. Unhurried. For once, they can enjoy the fact they have all the time in the world for a leisurely afternoon spent in one another's company.

Ferox? Laslow swallows down an unexpected pang of homesickness--always, his heart longs for the snowcapped fields of his youth. "Is everyone alright? I hear there's quite the competition for who represents the Khans this year." In another life, perhaps, it would be him offering up his sword upon that stage.

He catches her smile from the corner of his eye, all of his earlier worries fading. There's clearly nothing to fear if she's looking so pleased.

Heat suffuses his cheeks. Lucina, calling his heart beautiful? His silly, battered, too optimistic heart? Well. Far be it from him to argue with her! Laslow clears his throat, free hand rising to scratch the back of his neck. "...thank you, Luci."

He's quiet as they round a corner, only breaking the silence once he's gathered his thoughts. "Well, I didn't fall in love with anyone--" though there is most certainly a girl who he misses every single day "--but I did fall in love with the country. You see, it's a place of endless dusk, filled with the most interesting people...."

--the end

Lucina links her arm with his as he turns towards the mess hall, laughing gently at his theatrics. He really has always been this way, though she's known him long enough to know that much of it is an act. Yes, he loves to sweet talk, he loves to romance, he loves to be flashy; but every single on of them found ways to cope with the pain they were dealing with from their own timeline, and then from this one. She doesn't judge him his flirting. She knows there's so much more going on beneath it all - more now, since she doesn't even know what happened after he left Ylisse.

"Yes, let's go find something sweet to eat." She prefers savory, but sweet doesn't go amiss sometimes. And, with present company, it feels particularly fitting.

"I just went to Ferox to help them before deciding to leave Ylisse entirely," she says softly. It had been a difficult decision, and she misses her father and aunts so desperately that a part of her wants to run back at any given moment, to push through burning lungs and aching legs until she can fall into her father's arms again. But no, she has to stay strong.

She turns her gaze up to Inigo, offering him a small smile. "Your heart especially has more capacity than I think even you know sometimes. It is beautiful." She nudges his side with her elbow. "So you fell in love wherever it is you wound up? Tell me all about it."

[laslow]

[ CHAMPAGNE ]

Ah, last time Joshua had fine drink like this, it was after the Demon King had fallen. Feels nice to indulge without the backdrop of horrific bloodshed.

Joshua has had a night. Not a bad one, though it could be better. Dread still sits like oil in his gut from his previous romantic miscommunication. He's not looking for any more action; just something to clear his palate.

He downs one flute and asks for another, glancing across the dance floor. A rather handsome gent is dancing alone, though he has the eyes of a man looking for a partner. Sure, he'll regale someone so pretty with a dance. He sweetly asks for a second flute of champagne, carrying both to the handsome blond.

"Hey, I'm Joshua," he greets, holding out one flute with his charm braceleted-hand. "Care for a drink?"

So maybe he's indulged in a few drinks. Nothing crazy, just enough to where his anxiety has faded into a distant memory and everything feels a touch fuzzy around the edges.

He's enjoying dancing on his own; of course, he'd enjoy it more with a pretty lady in his arms, but none of them seem to have been bitten by the dancing bug quite yet.

A nearby voice pulls Laslow out of his thoughts. He smiles at this Joshua, a little breathless, and tilts his head. "Nice t'meet you, Joshua! I'm Laslow." A slow blink at the offered drink. He really shouldn't. He's a professor, for one, and if he imbibes any more he's liable to break out into song and never stop until someone firmly tells him to shut up.

On the other hand, it is a party and they've been rained out and now they're making the best of it in this duke's? count's? magical house and he's already been turned down for a romantic boat ride on the ocean and really, what harm could one more drink cause?

Laslow accepts the drink. "Thank you!" He raises it and softly taps it against Joshua's own champagne flute. "To love!" (He does not realize it, but he says this in Feroxan.) Toast given, he takes a sip, feeling as bubbly as the ones currently floating on his tongue.

[laslow]

"Who, moi? Psh, you're too kind to me, Luci," he replies, flush deepening. It's still a little strange, sharing his secret so openly with the very people who pretended he didn't spend hours practicing his mother's craft.

He falls quiet, giving her time to focus on the steps before the music swells and they approach the final handful of measures. "Hey. We can add a spin here. Really have some fun, eh?"

Laslow winks and gives her hand a reassuring squeeze. "When I extend my arm, do a little twirl, then I'll pull you back. Easy! Ready? One...two...three!"

Laughing, he steps back, clearing out some space for her to show off. Just a little.

[continued from here; @futurepastlord]

Her laugh is music to his ears--even more so than the orchestra currently playing Ylisse's waltz. He resists the urge to kiss her knuckles, instead squeezing her fingertips lightly as he leads her onto the dance floor.

"All the more reason to shower you with them! There's no better acceptance than your smile, Luci." Laslow flushes a faint shade of pink in reply to her own compliment. "Aw, thank you, my sweet! If you like what you're wearing, you feel good. That's my philosophy, anyway."

They face each other, the stars and lantern lights glinting along her face, and her hesitation makes her look so young. Girlish. Like a princess nervous for her first dance.

Laslow swallows back a sudden wave of grief for the life they never had. "Just follow my lead," he replies softly, settling his free hand on her waist. "This a faster paced waltz than most, but the steps are the same."

Gently, he guides her backwards and begins counting under his breath. "Step back one...right two...left three...front four. Perfect!" Laslow flashes her another grin. "You're a natural."

[laslow]

Laslow huffs, resisting the childish urge to stick his tongue out at Niles. "Quite the contrary, actually! I've scheduled a date to take a lovely woman out rowing in an hour."

(Famous last words.)

Settling into a sparring stance, Laslow rolls his eyes. "I think I'll manage to survive without your suggestions." Normally, he'd accept anyone volunteering to be his wingman, but he has the sneaking suspicion taking Niles along may result in worse than a slap to the face. And it wouldn't even be Laslow's fault this time!

He shifts his weight forward. Bounces lightly on the balls of his feet. "First to three it is! Now, let's dance!"

With a grin, he dashes forward, flicking his sword up at the last second for a neat slice that unfortunately swings too wide.

[Roll: 6! laslow i am begging.]

BEACH BRAWL! retainer edition

toa ball 2025 mini thread --- continued from XXX

[laslow]

Laslow catches Leif's crushed expression. His brows knit in concern; he didn't mean to press upon a fresh bruise.

Ah. Lover's quarrels are a serious matter. Laslow's heart goes out to his friend--potentially losing the affections of your beloved are enough to bring even the strongest man to his knees.

"Have you seen her yet tonight? Not necessarily for a conversation, but enough to say hello? Compliment her no doubt lovely dress?" The questions are genuine. A way to determine the current situation without sounding accusatory.

"Most ladies appreciate knowing their likes and dislikes are being taken into consideration. Prove yourself in what way?" Laslow pauses. "...tell me if I'm being too nosey. And," the dancer says, tucking his present under an arm to grab a pearl off his bracelet, "for you."

the reasons why

         ⤷   ethereal ball 2025: first half.

[laslow]

Laslow knew Raven brought bad news before the other man even opened his mouth.

Paper crinkles as Laslow unfolds the note. Her handwriting is pretty, he thinks, even while the crushing weight of rejection settles deep within his chest. He'd really thought they'd hit it off, too! Sure, she wasn't the most talented dance partner, given she'd stepped on his toes more than once, but what does that matter when true love is potentially on the line?

Crumpling the note in his fist, he sniffles once, staring in surprise at Raven's comforting touch. "Course she knew my name. I introduced myself and everything! It's just so hard, you know? I didn't even flirt with anyone else while we danced, nor did I make one--one!--comment about her lack of rhythm!"

Said better prospect is thousands of miles away. But he can't tell Raven that. Laslow exhales a frustrated breath, then hurls the note into the sea. It doesn't even land with a satisfying splash and that makes him feel even worse. "Well. Don't feel obligated to stay, Raven. Thank you for bringing me the message. Oh, here," Laslow fiddles with his bracelet, then holds out a pearl charm. "For your troubles."

[ ROW BOAT ]

"Well, hel-lo there, my darling!" Laslow says, head turned toward the ocean as he feels someone enter the little boat. "Ready for an evening under the st--RAVEN!?"

For the person opposite Laslow is not the pretty brunette woman he'd shared a dance with, but in fact a redhaired swordsman. Laslow swallows, cheeks turning pink with embarrassment. "Ah, that is, always a pleasure to see you, my friend! I was merely, um, expecting someone else."

He rubs the back of his neck with one hand, the other gripping an oar like a lifeline. "...I guess she's not coming."

Raven hadn't intended on taking jobs while he was here, but the girl had been rather firm, and it seemed perhaps had thought him not even in attendance - a passing mercenary, who just happened to be in the right place at the right time, like this was a fairytale wherein she resided happily - so he had glanced down at the note with some perplexity, then at the dock where the little boats bobbed in the bay, and had sighed.

He knew that head of pink hair. It was a shame, but then it wasn't - better to have an answer than to be stood up, he supposed.

The boat dipped under his weight, and the corner of his lip rose in dismay at Laslow's surprise to see him.

"Apologies," he said in lieu of a greeting, settling himself uncomfortably on the bench of the boat, "but the one you're expecting sent me instead."

Here, he handed over the sharply creased note in his hand, a simple pair of boxes and the words yes and no. Beside the word no, a check mark.

He watched in silence as Laslow absorbed the information, waited for the despair of rejection which, strictly speaking, was not part of the job - before he reached forward and gently tapped Laslow's knee. Almost comfortingly.

"If it's any consolation...I don't think she knew your name. Or the names of many here. There are...better prospects around. Surely."

Surely.

[laslow]

He takes her hand, raising it just enough to press a kiss against her knuckles. "But of course, Lady Camilla! I love the wyverns on your dress. Feel as if I'm being watched, heh," he says with a nervous little laugh.

This waltz always brings with it memories of home. It's strange, dancing it with someone from his adopted homeland. Once it ends, he bows to Camilla, then offers up a little pearl charm.

"Something to remember me by, hm?"

A Yearly Tradition

[ YLISSE ] - The successor of the Archanean minuet, this waltz suits modern Ylissean tastes with easy-to-learn steps, a faster pace, and a closeness to your partner that continues to scandalize the older generations in Ylisse.

[laslow]

[ ARCHANEA ] - An old minuet originating from the Kingdom of Archanea, a true classic that has stood the test of time. Due to its difficulty, successfully executing the dance is an achievement in and of itself.

“Professor.” Kris is no longer a student, but it’s for lack of an alternative form of address that isn’t just the man’s name—a long-kept habit, respect and decorum almost second nature unless told to shed it for the country boy underneath—that he falls back on what he knows best. “I have...a favor to ask, if it’s not too much trouble. You’re skilled at dancing, aren’t you? This one is from my homeland, but I don’t have much experience with it...”

"Good evening, Kris!" Laslow greets with a smile, faint smears of chocolate evident along the corners of his lips. He waves away the use of his title. "Please, call me Laslow! Congratulations on your recent graduation--have you settled in with the Knights well enough?"

The question is forgotten in the wake of Kris' own. Laslow perks up, lackadaisical air shifting into something a bit more serious. "Ah, well, I certainly have a passion for dancing, yes." He pauses a moment to place the current song. "The Archanean minuet is quite a technical one. People overthink it; it's all in the footwork and timing, not the amount of moves, which are actually repetitive! I actually think it's quite fun--oh, forgive me!"

Sheepish, Laslow rubs the back of his neck. "...heh, didn't mean to lecture you. Come on, I'd love to teach you the basics!"

[laslow]

"Woah, Inigo!" Cynthia takes in the sight of her old friend with a low whistle. "Looking good! I'm sure the girls will be all over you tonight." You know, as long as he doesn't... Inigo.

She doesn't say that - she's a supportive friend.

"What's with these bracelets?" She jangles her seashell bracelet. "I guess they're pretty good conversation starters. Liiiiiike..." She peeks at his bracelet. "Ooh, you have pearls! Wanna swap?"

He twirls for her, mindful not to kick up too much sand. "Oho, you really think so?" Adopting a mock serious look, he places a hand over his heart. "I promise to be on my best behavior tonight, no matter what!"

His lips twitch into a grin. "And you, my dearest Cynthia, are looking positively gorgeous. Blue looks amazing on you! Are you matching with a certain masked wyvern rider?" Laslow can't resist tossing her a teasing wink. "Will I bump into you two on the dance floor later tonight?"

Oh, right. The bracelets! Laslow nods, offering up his charm for her inspection. "'Twould be the highlight of my evening! And you're right--it's a fun little game to encourage confidence in approaching other people."

He attaches the seashell charm to his own bracelet, admiring the way it flickers in the light. "By the by, I'm reserving a dance, just for you! Gerome won't mind if I steal you away for one waltz, will he?"

[laslow]

[ LANTERNS ]

The flower lanterns sit enticingly on the table in colorful array. Gerome is debating on writing down his wish, but before he can commit to the idea, he spies a familiar face. Without a word, he comes to stand beside Inigo. "Are you going to write down a wish?"

The blank piece of paper stares mockingly back at Laslow. How can he condense all his fervent wishes into one measly line?

He jolts at Gerome's sudden greeting, nearly spilling a pot of nearby ink. "ACK--that is, good evening, Gerome!" Laslow saves the inkpot and gives a nervous little laugh, adjusting his arm so it covers the empty paper.

"I am, Mr. Nosey Pants," he snarks, more out of reflex of being surprised than any true annoyance. "Did you have to sneak up on me about it?"

A long sigh escapes. "...what about you? Say, when we think of our wishes, why don't we release our lanterns together?"

[laslow]

[ROW BOAT] -

“I confess, I’ve only ever read about these in stories…” Nanna said softly, glancing over the edge of the small rowboat as it bobbed beneath her. She took a cautious seat near the bow, smoothing her skirts as she folded her hands in her lap. “But this is… charming.” She glanced toward her companion and tilted her head, voice light with amusement. “We’re always meeting each other outside of the ballroom floor. A little break from expectations will do, right Laslow?”

As the boat gently cut across the surface, she relaxed into the rhythm, the oars dipping and rising in practiced strokes. The quiet between them wasn’t empty—it was thoughtful, filled with the hush of water and the soft creak of wood. “It’s lovely,” she murmured. “Almost like we’re floating between worlds. Just you, me… and the stars reflected on the water.”

“You’ll take my charm, won’t you?” She held a seashell charm out to him. “I just wanted to thank you for taking me out here to enjoy the view.”

Laslow waits until Nanna settles comfortably in the little boat before dipping his oars into the sea. "Aren't evenings like this all about living out a fairy tale?"

Never mind the fact he's never really rowed a boat before. Or spent any significant time on the ocean when not fighting for his life on the deck of a ship. Maybe he should consider a career in sailing; captains are always such heroic, rouge-like figures in the stories....

Anyway. He laughs, eyes twinkling. "Who cares about expectations, hm? Although, if you're willing, I'd love to steal you away for a dance."

He finds a rhythm easily enough--keeping a count in the back of his mind like he would for a new dance helps. There is a weight to the silence; thoughtful, like Nanna is a million miles away. Laslow won't press the issue too much, but he will try to help ease her mind.

"Heh, the space between worlds is a lot more colorful and far less comfortable by means of travel." He phrases it like a joke, intentionally keeping his tone light. A little bit of truthful levity never harmed anyone. "But if you were to wish upon a star and go anywhere, where'd you go?"

Laslow releases the oars and stretches out his shoulders. Perhaps sailing won't be in the cards for him after all. Graciously, he accepts her charm, proffering a pearl of his own. "My darling Nanna, your company and a smile is all I need by way of thanks. This charm is merely the cherry on top."

Exchange completed, he settles back in his seat. "The honor is all mine. We can float out here for a bit longer if you'd like. Sometimes the peace is good for the mind, no?"

[laslow]

[ BIRTHDAY GIFT ] 

“ Inigo! You look like you fit right in here, ”  Leif calls out in greeting to the dancer, waving his hand as he moves his way on over.  “ Your clothing looks like a similar material to what I wore growing up too. You must be one of the most comfortable people here.

“ Did you come with flowers for your gift? I'd considered making a bouquet like you taught me, but I wasn't sure how to do it for someone I don't know very well... ”  he admits. 

"Ah, hel-lo, Leif!" Laslow returns the wave, then rests his hand atop his hip. "Oh, this? Why, thank you! Comfort is everything when dancing, you know."

He assesses Leif's outfit, noting the fine detailing on his shirt lapels and the rakish addition of an earring, of all things. "You look rather dashing yourself! Is the piercing new?"

Touched, Laslow shakes his head. "Alas, no flowers for me tonight. I worried they wouldn't survive the trip here, for one, and two...." he trails off with a shrug. "This young man strikes me as someone accustomed to more, ah, material gifts. Still! You don't need to know a person to brighten their day with a flower."

A brief pause. "Oh! How fares your lady love?"

[laslow]

[ SPLASH ] - It's not a secret Sara never learned to swim, but she does have plenty of experience staying afloat, in keeping her head above murky waters so that she may draw breaths even when painful. Life has never been predicable and that makes each inviting twist of fate all the more precious.

She bunches her skirts in one hand to prevent the ocean spray from thoroughly soaking through overpriced fabric, tromping around the shallows and marvels at the sensation of sand underfoot when she stands in one place too long.

"Do you remember that time we went to the beach?" Her heel traces a circle as she turns to spin on him. "We've come such a long way since then." Memories lap at the edges of her mind, adrift. He returned a seemingly different person, donned a new name and new teaching position, but all she sees is the same Inigo from all those years ago. There's no need to fear drowning with him nearby.

"You handed me my first loss at the Battle of Eagle and Lion, I never repaid the favor. Care to dance with me again here? Fufufu..."

Cupped hand dips below the waves, gathering a palmful of seawater that she tosses in his direction with a mischievous smile and breaks towards the horizon line. He'll have to catch her if he wants to play because Sara won't wait for the thief of time to apprehend them.

There's nothing quite like wading in the ocean, especially after dancing nonstop for what feels like hours. It's fairly quiet along the shore line as he aimlessly meanders up and down, enjoying the cool water lapping around his ankles and the salt breeze fluttering his hair.

A familiar face joins him. He smiles at her but does not yet break the quiet that surrounds them. A half-broken shell catches his attention; Laslow crouches down and gently removes it from the sand, smoothing away the clinging grains with a sweep of his thumb.

The shell is beautiful, shades of light beige banded with a darker brown. He stands just as Sara speaks.

Fuzzy memories linger at the edges of his thoughts. A bonfire, crackling with warmth. Another beach, another fight. Sara's voice, though he can't make out what she said. "Vaguely," he replies, frowning. Not at her; at his inability to fully grasp what she's referencing. Perhaps all the time and realm travel has finally messed with his head. "Indeed we have."

He curls his fingers around the shell. "I did, didn't I?" A smile curves his mouth. "I'll never say no to a dan--hey!"

Spluttering, he wipes seawater off his face with his free hand. Laslow stares after her in disbelief for a moment. Sheesh, talk about waiting for payback! Sara immediately runs, water splashing in her wake.

Tucking the shell in the folds of his shirt, he starts after her. "You'd get along well with a friend of mine," he mutters, cupping his hands. Water fills his palms; once satisfied, he hurls the water in Sara's direction.

[laslow]

"Laslow!" Laylea was hoping to see him tonight. "Good to see you again, it's been too long. I'd like to dance with you again, are you available right now?"

"My dearest Laylea!" Laslow exclaims, sketching an elegant bow in greeting. "Aren't you looking positively radiant this evening! Look at that, we even sort of match." He gestures to the belt adorning her waist, then brushes his fingers on the coins around his own middle.

He grins, already reaching for her hand. "I'm always available for a dance. Doubly so for one with such a lovely lady."

[laslow]

[continued from here; @futurepastlord]

Her laugh is music to his ears--even more so than the orchestra currently playing Ylisse's waltz. He resists the urge to kiss her knuckles, instead squeezing her fingertips lightly as he leads her onto the dance floor.

"All the more reason to shower you with them! There's no better acceptance than your smile, Luci." Laslow flushes a faint shade of pink in reply to her own compliment. "Aw, thank you, my sweet! If you like what you're wearing, you feel good. That's my philosophy, anyway."

They face each other, the stars and lantern lights glinting along her face, and her hesitation makes her look so young. Girlish. Like a princess nervous for her first dance.

Laslow swallows back a sudden wave of grief for the life they never had. "Just follow my lead," he replies softly, settling his free hand on her waist. "This a faster paced waltz than most, but the steps are the same."

Gently, he guides her backwards and begins counting under his breath. "Step back one...right two...left three...front four. Perfect!" Laslow flashes her another grin. "You're a natural."

[laslow]

[ JOUST ]

"Laslow!? I knew I recognized that handsome face!" There's a playful lilt in his voice as he approaches the other man from a few feet away, stopping to pick two rubber swords from one of the barrels near the small makeshift arena. "What do you say we have a little fun?"

Niles tosses a sword to him, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he eyed the pearl charm on his fellow retainer's bracelet and then held up his own. "We trade, and then I help you impress the ladies?" If he could wink, he would have done so. Instead his smile grows a little wider as he rolls his sleeves up to his forearms.

It does not take long for Laslow to find his way over to the stage near the shore. Drawn by overexaggerated shouts and the dull thwacks of practice weapons, he's pleasantly surprised to find there's more to this year's ball than just dancing and delicious treats.

"Niles?" Laslow hasn't seen his fellow retainer in quite some time--years, it feels like, though he's always felt the bonds of time moved a little differently in Fodlan than elsewhere. "A good evening to you, my friend!"

The archer appears the same as ever--teasing smirk and all. Laslow catches the sword with ease, idly weighing it in his palm. "A fair trade indeed! I've yet to find a wingman this evening."

Laslow steps closer to Niles, briefly extending his braceleted wrist. A faint hint of magic stirs the air and when Laslow retracts, an anchor charm has appeared.

"Now," the dancer replies, eyes alight with the promise of a challenge, "Let's dance!"