#thelightofcreation

[ TEA ]

The lights dim- the ball brims with excitement for the coming competition. In the fringes, he can find a tired contentment from those who had made the most of the night already. Sephiran belongs to neither faction, though he can pretend for a moment.

"Care for a cup?" Another year has gone by. He offers the blend he remembers she had taken before- Albinean. A hardy drink for something as fragile as friendship. "It's good to take a moment to relax."

"They are offering entertainment in the other rooms," A recommendation, perhaps, though he makes no move toward them for now. "Hardly as interactive as a book, but perhaps a worthwhile experience if you ever grow tired of the spotlight."

The noise of the ballroom had softened into something distant here, dulled beneath low conversation and the gentle clink of porcelain. It felt almost dreamlike after the brightness of the evening—like stepping into the quiet space between pages of a book.

Nanna looked up at the offered cup and smiled at once in recognition.

“…You remembered.” The warmth in her voice arrived before she even took the tea, fingers curling carefully around the porcelain as though accepting something more delicate than a drink alone. The scent rose steady and familiar, grounding in a way she had not realized she needed tonight. Hardy indeed. A tea meant to endure long winters and longer conversations.

“...I think you may be right,” she admitted softly after a sip, shoulders easing almost imperceptibly beneath the calm heat. “There is a point in every ball where one risks simply being swept along by it.”

At Sephiran’s mention of the other rooms, her gaze drifted briefly toward the distant halls where flickers of moving light bled softly into the dark.

“I did visit a couple earlier,” Nanna confessed, amusement threading faintly through her voice. “The reproductions are beautiful in a rather peculiar way. It feels as though someone has learned how to preserve memories before they have even finished happening.”

Thoughtfully, she lingered in this idea.

“And yet…” Her fingers turned the teacup slightly between her palms. “I suppose books do much the same thing, only more patiently.”

Her eyes lifted back toward him then, warm beneath the dimmed lights.

“…But I have always preferred quieter corners like this.” A small smile touched her lips. “The spotlight is lovely in moderation. Friendship, however, survives best in softer light.”

"Students may only have one glass." Sephiran makes no move to stop her, though he watches her carefully regardless. Somehow, he doubts that the one in her hand is the first, though he could not say for certain.

"If you want another, it's best not to get caught, at least."

"Oh is that the case?" The champagne swirls against the wall of the glass as she raises the edge to her lips.

"I'll make an effort to chastise any belligerent students then."

The bubbles pop as they go down, leaving a faint tingling sensation followed by a dry aftertaste. She takes a moment, relishing entropy's fruits upon her tongue, before setting the glass down.

"Oh how I would kill for another. But alas, the years have taught me this form is quite intolerant, so I'm afraid I will have to leave it with this."

"Mm, I simply needed a break from the atmosphere. I do not see how the little ones can stand such noise for long periods of time." Maybe it's a sensitivity to so many bodies in such a small area, but Nel never has found herself too eager to be in the middle of a large crowd. She much prefers being able to move freely with little chance of bumping into another; that, she supposes, is a direct result of her upbringing and her centuries spent at war. "Oh? Not herbs this time, I see." Nel chuckles at that, recalling their first meeting that had been certainly... interesting. "I accept, of course. And in exchange, you may have one of my own- I think a rose would quite compliment your hair color."

"Let us both hope the ball is uneventful enough to avoid making use of any medicinal plants."

"Would you like help in arranging your flowers?" Ready, as always, to offer his aid- this time for something he is far more confident in. "It seems you've found yourself with a fair share of them already."

She has the ones that she's collected from others spread out before her. There was a science to matching colors - that part she understood. But when it came to breaking those rules, going with what felt best? Niamh was not sure the decisions she was making would reflect whatever expression she was attempting to convey through flower arrangement.

So, when a familar face offers assistance, relief can be briefly witnessed from her otherwise firm expression. "That would help...you've found some too, it seems..."

Beside the number of flowers she has received is a bundle of flowers she has yet to give. Yellows, whites, and red, alongside some that are a mix of two, she glances towards this collection of Tulips before looking back at Sephiran.

"Yours are violet..." she says, staring with awe. She carefully takes a yellow Tulip from her pile. "Here...they're opposite colors, but that's what makes them work well together..."

At the start of the night, Finn likely would have thought nothing of receiving this gift from a stranger. However, after a series of baffling events that have left him more unsure than when the night started, he can only stare for a moment at the offered gift and wonder if this is the exact same way he went wrong or not.

Still. He sees no reason to refuse, and he would not wish to misrepresent his lord with unnecessary rudeness, and so he holds out his hand for the other to drop the candy into. "Thank you. I appreciate the gesture."

Now that he looks at him, he does not recognize this man. Finn is aware that some people have ventured here from town, however... "Are you enjoying your evening so far?" He asks while tucking the candy into the pocket. "Do let me know if you are in need of anything." A pause. "A flower, for example."

"Even half empty, this is still too much for one person…" Holding the box out, an offering- with a smile of someone who has forgiven, though not forgotten, their first encounter. "Care to take some?"

"Oh! Don't mind if I do."

He may not have much of a sweet tooth, but what Matthew does have is a spoonful of sugary tact. He plucks up a chocolate, pops it into his mouth, and finds himself pleasantly surprised - it's more rich than mere confection, delicately layered and, well, actually kinda tasty! Props to their hosts at the monastery and to Stefanelli's are in order.

But they can wait.

He hopes he's reading Sephiran's expression right - hopes that perhaps bygones may be bygones at long last.

(Certainly, theirs was a first meeting Matthew has never forgotten, himself. It's still embarrassing to think about. And would he do it again, put in the same boat? Probably, yeah!)

"Here." Red hyacinth proffered between thumb and index finger, he means to sweeten the deal. "My thanks for sharing! May you enjoy a wonderful evening."