"Hm..." Head tipping at a slight angle, she hums. "That depended on you. But I had faith you'd figure it out in an hour or two since you're sharper than you look."

Sara intends it as a compliment in her own way, takes pleasure in seeing him stumbling around whether outside at night beneath the pale moon or under the brilliant chandeliers within the ballroom, and still carve out some time to entertain her.

"What brings you here to the Ethereal Ball? Which called to you more—the food or dancing? I'm glad to see you here and in good health. As the evening drags on, these parties can become boring after a while."

"Hah, you think so, though? The lights going out were sure a surprise, at least. Pretty sure they're setting the tone for the shows and the competition." Having some warning beforehand might have helped, though. He can tell that not everyone's adapted to the dark, if the gasps and the 'I'm so sorry!'s he can parse in the crowd means anything.

"I take it you're doing well too, then? Should I expect you sneaking around in the dark, too?" He does genuinely consider whether or not the limited lighting can be used to sneak around undetected. He concludes a maybe, if one knows what they're doing. He can only imagine the headaches those by the tower must be having right now.

"But hey, if you decide to play hide and seek or something, I'll find you. After all, I'm-"

It's all fun and games until Hugh remembers that he's supposed to be doing something of a job here. Mainly, it's just keeping an eye on things to make sure things aren't going into complete and utter chaos - but it would have probably helped to have known in advance about the lighting! Still, when he wanders about the halls, he can't help but notice that some of the rooms that should have been unlocked are definitely not.

Should he do anything about them? Maybe, if it means a higher pay at the end. But, maybe he can take a look inside, first. Definitely not because he needs a break or anything.

Hugh strolls on inside. The noise outside is mostly blocked thanks to these walls, and it's a nice, quiet break from the music. He's about to take a seat, however, when he spots someone else here.

"Oh, sorry, am I interrupting something?"

What Hugh should be doing is dragging the person out of here, but he's too busy taking a break himself to consider that.

Heath's tolerance for social activities may have increased in recent years, but he still has his limits. A small storage room provides blessed reprieve from the hustle and bustle of the ball's main floor, and the chair he finds isn't half bad, either. He breathes deeply, enjoying the open window's gift of cool night air while nursing a glass of wine.

"Oh! No, not really." He's not the only one who's noticed these spaces, it seems. At least it's not a pair of lovebirds or a mischievous student. Probably, at least. He thinks he recognizes the man, from some kind of mission...? His hair is a distinct shade of purple--not the one Heath's on the lookout for, but familiar enough that it gnaws at him. "Just resting for a bit."

He tilts his head back, eyes briefly fluttering shut before thinking better of it. There's still time left in the night yet, and he'd rather not sleep it all away.

"I've had a good time, don't get me wrong. But it all gets to be a bit much without a break, you know?" The young man's accent is familiar, too. Almost...Ilian? Had they taken a mercenary contract together, perhaps? "I should probably get back soon, but I won't bother you until then."

They sit there for a moment in silence. Heath had said he'd leave the man alone, but he can't quite shake the feeling. Absently, he fidgets with the flowers in his bouquet, finally removing one as he rises.

But then, Heath speaks, and it's something he doesn't expect to be asked in a place like this. "Hm? Yeah, you'd be right. Work has me travelling all over, but I originally come from Ilia. Way chiller than it is over here." He wonders how much a surprise that might be, given how many take up mercenary work to make a living. Still, what about him had made Heath guess this? He doesn't think there's anything about himself that makes him look the part, but...

"It's Hugh." He finds one of his own flowers, and offers it in turn, a big grin on his face. "Can't say I know you, but if you got stories, I'd love to hear them! Not often I come across someone who knows the place."

After managing to fool someone on a whim, Hugh thinks he can get away with anything. So, the next time he bumps into someone, he decides this will be the next one he'll have some fun with. "Wild night, isn't it?" He says, trying to play it cool. He offers a mint. "Have you tried one of these? I accidently grabbed one too many."

"'Wild' indeed, yes! I hadn't expected the technology would advance to such a point so fast... But it seems the crowd is enjoying it very much." Easy small talk. That's what tonight's for, right? To an extent.

'Has he tried one of these?'

Sir. This isn't his first Ethereal Ball, thanks much.

But Azama doesn't scoff. Eyes crinkle with gratitude as he accepts the mint. He's intimately familiar with them, but that does not preclude him being fooled - in this case, however, he is banking on it.

"Why, thank you. Don't mind if I do."

It tastes about as bad as he remembers. Actually, might be it tastes worse, even, but that's just as well. Azama makes a face, and suddenly hand flies to his throat. Eyes widen, staring at Hugh and yet unable to focus.

"You- you've p... poi-- me--?!"

And here, Azama collapses. (Maybe a touch too dramatically but shhh.)

He certainly gets some kind of reaction, but it's absolutely not the kind that Hugh's expecting!! Sure, the guy's probably going to try and spit it out, make faces and wish he'd never had put it in his mouth in the first place. But the fact that he swallowed it, and now he's hardly finishing the words he attempts to speak? And hey hey hey, what was that? He can't seriously be thinking he's been poisoned, could he?

These things can't possibly be. Right? R....right?

"Huh!? Hold on, there's nothing like that in-" And there the guy goes, collapsing to the ground. Shit, is this guy allergic to it, then? Does he need to call someone over to check the guy over? Ah geez, ah man...

Hugh kneels down, deciding to take a look at Azama first. Is there anything a guy like him can do to help? Can't actually be poison, but if it's reacting badly, maybe he needs to get the guy to cough it up? No, wait, he should get a professional over, what does Hugh think he could be doing to help here?

But as the curtain rises on their dance, any insensitive quip is hushed by the song that accompanied their footsteps. This is not a dance meant to spread joy. It is a tale of sadness, and Hugh can sense it in the way that Nyx carries herself.

But, Hugh also feels...

Style: 1 | Choreography: 5 | Technique: 9 Total: 15

The constant! Stepping! On his damn feet!

There's a few saves that he has to make to avoid Nyx toppling over altogether. At first, he believes it to be her fault, but as the dance continues, he starts to recognize that it's his own footwork that's too slow. He pauses - he hesitates. The weight of the song stirs up long-abandoned memories, the kind that, unlike Nyx, works against the song instead of empower it.

He thinks of when he was young. He can hardly recall the faces of the two he could call his parents. He had lost them when he was so small. And the person to pick up where they had left off?

By the time the song finishes, it takes a moment to recognize that Nyx is talking to him. He snorts at the suggestion - but it grounds him, too.

"Me?! You're the one who was stumbling all over me. Have you considered wearing heels?" He mentally winces at the idea of being stepped on by those high heels. "Actually, scratch that, that might make it worse..."

... Especially after watching their opponents dance. Hilda wasn't going to kick them while they were down, so she clapped politely, but she silently mourned the health of purple-haired man's feet.

As perhaps was to be expected, the judges' scores came through, and Hilda and Elise were moving onto the next round.

…Hm. They never decided on a team name, did they? Well that’s no good, everyone knows a good teams gotta have a great name! They can’t be the Black Eagles since Hilda’s not an eagle, but they can’t be the Golden Deer either since she’s not a deer… The Golden Eagles? Geagles? Bleer. Deagles. Eaeer? No, none of those are good, not cute at all. Maybe just their names?

“Team… Hilise! Like ‘Hilda’ and ‘Elise’, but together! Get it?” Elise smiles as she steps back, placing her hands on her hips with a proud nod. They both have an ‘l’ in their name, so the combination flows super well! Flow is always important in a good name. Shame their opponents don’t share a letter like that for her to give them a name, too…

When Elise offers kind words, Hugh hands some back. "Of course! Good luck with the contest!" He gives them both a wave, and once they've headed off, he lowers his hand.

...he's not actually upset about losing. Maybe if it was with someone else, and depending on the circumstances, Hugh might be petty about the loss. But for this particular match?

He looks to Nyx, trying to discern what enotion might be crossing her mind. Was she upset? Sad? Did she wish she had swapped him with one of the girls, so she wouldn't have had to deal with his clumsiness?

Whatever the case might be, Hugh gets the impression that she's not the type who'd want to wallow in their loss for long. So instead, he thinks back to the dance itself.

"Where did you learn this dance from?" He asks, finding a place to rest his legs. "I've seen all sorts of dances during my travels, but that one's new for me."

Her partner was a blonde student she recognised from around the Academy, but wasn't someone she'd spoken to at length. She gave her a bright smile of encouragement.

"We've got this. Let's go!"

They were up first, and it fell to Hilda to start them off.

She didn't really know what she was expected to do, so she just gave a little strut in time with the music, spun around, and blew a kiss to the judges.

Style: 10 | Choreography: 2 | Technique: 1 Total: 13

She pointed to Elise to cue her up.

Oh well. Nothing to be done about it for tonight, anyway — there’s always next year, and bonus practice is always a good thing! Even if it took her dance partner out last minute! She doesn’t know her new partner all too well (she thinks she vaguely remembers seeing her in another group during the whole monastery disaster? They never really spoke, though) but she does know she looks super pretty and fancy, so she’s gotta know what she’s doing, right?

…Huh. Not the kinda opener she expected, but you know what, she likes it! It might not be traditional, but it’s definitely got the style she’d expect from someone like her. And she’s got more than enough tradition practice down for the both of them!

“Great job! Now follow me,” It’s a tad bit of an awkward transition as Elise pulls Hilda along with a hushed whisper, but she thankfully manages to pull the both of them along without too much stumbling. There’s not enough time left in their section for the whole dance, but there is just enough time for… 

Style: 10 | Choreography: 7 | Technique: 8 Total: 25

“Spin left!” The Nohrian princess gives her pink partner a gentle shove to the left as she pivots right in a practiced twirl — right into the part of the dance floor she’d scouted beforehand as the spot with the best lighting to catch upon her dresses sequins as she curtsies. A perfectly executed ‘big finish’, if she does say so herself.

She only hopes the familiar face in the crowd she waves to with both hands on the tips of her tippy toes agrees with the sentiment.

The lights dim, notes of elegance and rhythm fill the air. She grabs Hugh by his hand, pulling him along onto the stage. She didn't want to be here, but she wasn't going to let her aversion taint this man's night.

Her gaze trails upwards from his chest to meet his eyes, assessing him,"Calm your nerves. Though I haven't practiced in many years, I am very well read on the subject of dance." Romance books yes, but literature none the less.

Style: 10 | Choreography: 3 | Technique: 2 Total: 15

The music is that of a well known tale, one depicting tragedy and despair; a doomed duet. Embodying the story, Nyx pushes off from her partner, isolating the two. Though her movements are elementary and stale, the subtle emotion in which she sways, hands reaching out towards the crowd, stirs something within the audience.

All the time spent alone. The years on the search, the dark nights, the cloaked market visits, the lone steps on the road, all of it floods her mind. The gaze of the crowd discarded far from her mind as her past weighs on her once more.

Yet,

in her labored breath exhales a small hope. A quiet one. One that, in the rising of the music, leads her back to her fellow contestant. The dance continues with the two closely in step with each other.

At least, that is how it was supposed to go if it were not for Nyx constantly tripping on Hugh's shoes, taking her out of own mind and back onto the dance floor.

"In the future, you should consider shrinking. It would make this a lot easier on your partner."

But as the curtain rises on their dance, any insensitive quip is hushed by the song that accompanied their footsteps. This is not a dance meant to spread joy. It is a tale of sadness, and Hugh can sense it in the way that Nyx carries herself.

But, Hugh also feels...

Style: 1 | Choreography: 5 | Technique: 9 Total: 15

The constant! Stepping! On his damn feet!

There's a few saves that he has to make to avoid Nyx toppling over altogether. At first, he believes it to be her fault, but as the dance continues, he starts to recognize that it's his own footwork that's too slow. He pauses - he hesitates. The weight of the song stirs up long-abandoned memories, the kind that, unlike Nyx, works against the song instead of empower it.

He thinks of when he was young. He can hardly recall the faces of the two he could call his parents. He had lost them when he was so small. And the person to pick up where they had left off?

By the time the song finishes, it takes a moment to recognize that Nyx is talking to him. He snorts at the suggestion - but it grounds him, too.

"Me?! You're the one who was stumbling all over me. Have you considered wearing heels?" He mentally winces at the idea of being stepped on by those high heels. "Actually, scratch that, that might make it worse..."

Truly, though, Mauvier does not know the purpose of the Goddess Tower. He does not know what - if anything - is inside. All he knows is the consequences for trespassing it are severe, and he has the means to enforce them.

Maybe it's a cold read, but the trespasser seems to sense that Mauvier doesn't know what it is he's guarding. It's a cheap trick; he won't let that curiosity phase him.

...But knowledge is important, too. He sighs. "Tell me, then, what your purpose is here. It will not change my mind. But perhaps we can come to an understanding."

"I've been here before. Well, not the tower itself, but..." he gestures with a hand to emphasize the general here. "Work brought me away from here, and now I've returned because of it. Guess you can say I felt nostalgic?"

He finds a place for him to rest his back against. Somewhere where he can pay attention to Mauvier just as much as he can to him. Not that Hugh has any plans to book it, not around someone who'd stop him before he reached the top. But maybe it'll help assure the guy that he's not going to cause trouble.

The squeak that Azura makes is matched with a yelp from Hugh. Given the crowds and the darkness, maybe he should have expected something like this to happen. And maybe he did, just, not to him!

Fortunately, the outfit he wears is fairly dark. It'll be annoying to dry off, but nothing's ruined. The fact that its only water helps, too.

So, in the end, he ends up laughing with her. "Who's idea was it to provide drinks after the lights went down?" He jokes a little with her. "Man, I should've brought the torch staff. I could dry everything way faster that way."

But he doesn't have it with him, so he ends up searching for the next best thing. Plenty of napkins and the like are nearby the refreshments, so it's easy for him to grab some for him and Azura.

It certainly could have been worse — Azura stifles a frown at the thought of something staining like coffee or tea — so at the end of it all, she smiles. "You're right, though. Who thought that this was a good idea? Although, I'd think they wouldn't want us to have fire, either — did you hear about the fire that happened around the corn station? I wouldn't be surprised if they forbade any form of fire magic in the future."

He really is thankful that it was just water. It definitely could have been worse! Water's one thing, and there's of course tea and coffee. But there's also a ton of food that could have been a mess, too. If he's honest, though, he would have been more worried about Azura's attire than his own. At least with Hugh, he could take the jacket off it got ruined, and he'd still have the shirt underneath to wear.

As Azura heads off to dispose of their napkins, Hugh's mind wanders further, and their conversation repeats in his mind. He had nodded along, laughed a little at the joke, but, wait.

Wait.

Wait, was that a joke?

Wait,

"Wait, the what-?!"

He had found them right before the lights had dimmed - fake candies that would not grant the coveted minty freshness that real ones could. He had considered them a funny enough prank for a certain few who'd find a laugh in the whole thing, but after darkness had blanketed the area, Hugh didn't have a clue whether the ones he held were the real deal or the 'fake' deal.

As he stumbles through the darkness, he accidently bumps into someone. Fortunately, the mints remain in his hands, but if he had any clue which were which? He definitely doesn't know now.

But hey, it could be fun to have an element of surprise, right?

"Whoops! Sorry about that." He offers a smile, though he's not sure whether or not the person before him can see it. "Want one? I picked up too many earlier, so I don't mind sharing."

"Hey, no worries—I know I tend to dazzle. People have been bumping into me all night," Fogado casually dismisses. It's a slight exaggeration—honestly, considering the circumstances, he's been pushed around a lot less than he would have expected.

In apology, the man offers him something from the palm of his hand. He's seen people passing these around, sometimes well-intentioned, sometimes as a thinly veiled insult—you know, as people did. And Fogado's not above a little candy from time to time; if asked, he'd even agree he liked it. Probably no one is trying to poison him here, in broad daylight public, and if they are, the church is probably prepared to deal with that.

So, after a subtle moment of thought while he unwraps it, he decides odds are good enough that he can pop this gift from a relative stranger in his mouth.

EW???

The prince visibly recoils—he's usually pretty good at neutering a reaction, but he was completely unprepared for this to taste like... well, that. He covers his mouth, coughing. Spitting it out is pretty tempting right now, but then he would be the guy who spat on the floor at a party, and that's not really the look he's looking to give off.

He's left with the distant second place option of swallowing it, which he does, with some regret.

"Alright, you got me. That'll teach me to accept candy from a stranger at a party. What am I, a baby?" Fogado wipes his mouth, as though that has any chance of getting rid of the taste. He almost wishes it had been poisoned, at least then he could probably be treated. On the contrary, he's not sure he's heard of any staves that make someone's breath stop smelling like garlic and onions. What a one of a kind taste for a candy to be.

...a one of a kind taste...

But then he thinks harder, and he remembers that there's some in his pockets, too. If he was going to prank someone, he really should have given them a label. Er, well, wait, if they did, then how would he be able to fool someone?

The one in his hand is a legit mint, though. He's sure about that.

Probably.

"Yeah, I have another." He pulls the 'mint' that's in his pocket, and hands it over to Fogado. Did he actually like the flavor, or did he have plans to bother someone else with it? "Here, have one of my flowers, too. Least I can do."

Whenever there's a party, there's really only one thing you have to do first. It's scouting the food! A good party has to have good food. It's what gathers people in the first place. It's what keeps the folks around who don't want to start a conversation. There's plenty of ways to start a conversation with the food, too: what'd you think of this one? Should I have this, or that? The perfect conversation starters for those who are pulling at straws to say, well, anything.

So of course Hugh's checking to see what's been rolled out so far. There's a few treats he can vaguely recall from the last time he's been to a venue like this, one being the trio of tiny, bite-sized buns.

Maybe it's the familiarity that other might share with the food, but it becomes apparent fast that there's only a few plates of the dish left. And by a few, there's actually only one plate of the buns left. They're selling out fast!

While it could be expected that the staff has more in the back, there's still a sense of urgency that has Hugh race towards them. He's about to secure the dish himself when someone else does - and boy, when his eyes wander to the person who now has them in his hands?

"You--!!"

He could ask to share. That's what any other person would do, wouldn't it? But between the dash over, and the sight of the man who has definitely noticed him? The man who probably has a word or two to say? Hugh decides that there's really only one actual answer to the problem at hand.

Raven wasn't in particular a man to indulge in sweets. He liked them fine, he supposed, but not to such a degree that he would eat them regularly or with what might have been called gusto. If another wanted the ones that he'd had, it would have been his first instinct to share them, if not give them away entirely.

Their eyes met at precisely the same moment, and it was such a surprise to see the other man had returned that Raven found himself taken aback for long enough that Hugh's hand could snake up and pluck the bun from the center.

Raven's expression hardened.

Another moment passes, and he swallows the food. A held back snicker arises when he's able to speak again. It's the closest that he can get to saying thanks.

He's missed it, if he's completely honest.

There had been a couple of familiar faces tonight. Folks he had recalled from the last he had been taking jobs around the academy, and those he fought beside long ago. The person he spots in the crowd is the latter - and when he does spot the guy? Oh, does he have a thing or two to say.

"Hey! What's someone like you doing here? Not causing trouble, are we-" The last words trail off, however, when something doesn't add up. There's no bark back at him, for one. Maybe he confused Lugh with Raigh, then? He goes to apologize but, no, this isn's Lugh, either.

Who is she?

"Uh, I mean..." He searches for something to say, but struggles to do so. He's too distracted by how familiar she looks. She could probably tell him that she's the long lost triplet, and he'd believe her.

Someone's calling out - certainly not for her. The only people who'd talk to her like that are...well. She'd rather not think about it. It's not them.

Nino turns around anyway, though. Just in case. But her brothers are not there. The guy who'd called out is unfamiliar, and he seems just bewildered as she is.

"It's funny, but you actually remind me of two people. Couldn't be anymore different, but from behind, I'd sometimes mix one of them up for the other." He takes another look at Nino. Even in the dim lighting, there's a lot that reminds him of the twins. Strange.