#macnaradhaigh

[ NETWORK ] - “I think there has been some confusion about my meaning. I am expressing that I am pleased where I am, and how the evening is currently arranged.” Petra’s smile is trained as she folds her hands neatly in front of her, knuckles white. “If you will pardon me, I have seen someone I am needing to speak with.” She takes one step forward, only to be blocked. Petra briefly locks eyes with Ferdinand, keeping his gaze a moment longer before returning her attention to the situation at hand.

"EHEM!"

Ferdinand coughed all too loudly for his ailment to be natural, and his theatrics—wrists flicked back and palms up-turned—make him an exotic display for all to see. "excuse me!" he saw that! how dare he! Petra was of royal lineage and no one had the authority to block her from taking her leave should she please! tossing back his hair dramatically, he preened like a ill-meaning peacock.

"I am Ferdinand Von Aegir, legitimate heir to Aegir, and you will excuse us both! Come now, Petra—" he jerked in-between them, elbow pronged so she can take her place by his side. back arched and chest puffed all too proudly to be ignored, Ferdinand arrived to his own mental fanfare. "I have been looking all over for you! you know, you promised me a dance, did you not?" she did not! he was not all that talented at lying either!

whisking her off, frilled sleeves up in a storm, he murmured to her in rapid succession. "how dare he! asking is one thing, but physically insisting? Petra, I understand you are in a position where your reputation must remain pristine, but next time, should you need me to, I am willing to part crowd and sea to get to you!"

though, there was a silent understanding that his reputation could not be bruised while his father still gripped his hand like a beloved son, and still gripped the throne like violence. nothing of Ferdinand's glimmers truer than his heart and his privilege.

still, the young man's brows go up in joy, fated to be a beautiful fool's gold. "are you weary? I was convincing was I not?"

"Petra. Do you have a moment?" As Edelgard calls her over, she signals towards the now-vacant device moved in front of a wall. It is adorned by flowers and green vines. If she hadn't known any better, she'd find it awfully befitting for the bouquets sprinkled across the ball. "I wanted to ask how you're finding this event." She hopes the answer is well.

Taking a step to block the center of the photo-artifex, the princess turns her back to it: "— As for me, what would you say to trying this device together?" It is no mural to be hung on walls— No signifier of the dreams she bears and the past she will crush, but a sign of the future.

Oooh, wait! This was one of her students right? They've never talked, but Yunaka remembers seeing her in passing around the Eagles classrooms a few times. Phew, good thing she remembered that before saying something stupid.

"Heya!" She's sure to put on a big and bright smile as she waves to her. Important to look friendly and not like this whole event is like pulling teeth for her. "Petra, right? Glad to see you here! Are you having a fun time?"

At the very least, she can make sure her students do. That goal makes the chocolate box offering all the more surprising because woah, for her? But she takes it with a smile and a laugh. "Aw, how sweet! You didn't have to do that."

...damn, they barely filled this box at all, what a scam. Still, she keeps smiling as she offers the box back to Petra before taking anything. "Here, as a thank you for being so thoughtful!" The bouquet that she's carrying catches Yunaka's eye. Right, those! She throws in an extra wink. "If it makes you feel better, I'll even throw in a free flower if you take a chocolate."

"say, petra... does brigid's royal family have a special dish they like to serve on such occasions? like a dessert that says, 'wow! look at me—i'm the picture of decadence!'"

she opts for the bun with the candied cherry, lifting it carefully with tongs to place onto a small plate. "one time, a patron of mittelfrank's hosted a dinner party for the performers. you wouldn't believe the kinds of sweets they served. large, spherical molds of ice cream encased in layers of cake that had been steeped in the richest syrups imaginable, all served with poached fruits... some of the displays were taller than me."

Petra and Dimitri are on hiatus until October 9th!

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“P-Petra!”

Bernie didn’t know how she’d gotten talked into joining this trend of booths. So much had happened all at once...Everyone had been talking, and words had flown over Bernadetta’s head so fast, she didn’t know what a hot girl summer was, what did that mean and why did everyone have to kiss because it was hot?

Bernie had practically been a vibrating ball of nerves behind the booth that she’d been shoved into, anxiety growing as she thought about what she was supposed to do and wondering who would end up wandering to her booth and oh no what if someone scary showed up Bernie would die she wasn’t ready to die she-

“U-um...” Bernie swallowed the nerves and forced herself to calm down. Petra. She knew Petra. She even liked Petra! Petra wasn’t scary. Well, she could be, but she was nice to Bernie! S-so...Bernie could do this, right? Right.

“I don’t...you know what the booth is for, right?” She hoped she did. Bernie was pretty sure if she had to explain it, she would die from all the blood going to her face. She already felt pretty red as it was.

Bernie braced her hands on the table. She still kind of felt like she was vibrating as she stood up, but holding something solid helped. A chance to ground her. Her legs itched to run, but she managed to stay.

“So...um...oh geez, Bernie, you can do this!” She did her best to not focus too hard on how much her hand shook as she placed it on Petra’s shoulder. A deep breath, eyes squeezed shut, and Bernie leaned forward.

She was so glad she was a competent archer with good aim.

She lifts the glass to her lips and takes a swig when something begins to burn her nose and stabs at the back of her throat. Petra chokes and recoils from the glass as it falls to the ground, shattering like a newborn star.

Grasping desperately at one of the many cloth napkins, she coughs wetly, earning her some stares from passersby. The acrid sensation dissipates, and she surveys her surroundings once more. An unknown gentleman appears to have been caught in the crosshairs of her carelessness.

“Apologies, my lord.” Napkin in hand, Petra looks to see if whatever foul potion the Ethereal Ball was serving had marred his clothes. She kneels down and begins sweeping up the glass into the linen.

Ronan had been watching this guest out of the corner of his eye as she perused the refreshments. She seemed indecisive, or uncertain, so he'd stepped around the table to offer a few suggestions - however unrefined his own palate may be - with nothing but good intentions. Now, a dozen heads have swiveled around to gawk at shattered glass, a man standing over a woman who kneels at his feet, and assumptions run wild in the whispering hush over this corner of the room.

"M-my lord?" Ronan fumbles clumsily for another cloth napkin on the table, knocking over another pair of glasses as he pulls one out from under them without thinking and ducks down to help this young woman with the mess. His shoes are splashed with water and glass, and even a little bit of the hems of his pants, but he doesn't notice quite yet.

"I'm not a lord, don't worry. Here, let me take care of this. You might cut yourself." He glances up at her in the dark, his eyes landing on the mark on her cheek and lingering there for a moment, before he remembers himself again and tries to gather up more shards of glass before she can get to them.

"Was something wrong with the drink? You looked like you'd just taken a mouthful of poison."