houseofcards_rp | It's Swing Time~

Entry tags:

It's Swing Time~

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out Elisha's motivation for organizing - or, honestly, delegating the organization of - a semi-formal dance party. Lucinda had suggested a ball, with stars in her eyes. She probably had already picked out ballgowns and themes in her head when Elisha had nixed the thing and - in a moment of desperation, with the memory of the swing-themed Fox wedding still in his head - suggest a Spring Swing, instead.

Everyone had run with it, and Elisha was pleased to say it had come out well. He was even more pleased to say that he didn't have to wear a suit, even if he stepped out into the lantern-lit gardens in everything but the tie. He paused near the raised dais provided for dancing and gave the small band the signal to start up the music before he attempted to fade back in the crowd. Not that that ever worked.

"Let the games begin," he murmured to no one in particular as he picked up a glass of champagne off a tray.

Note: Open to everyone and their brother; tag around, have fun!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Certainly not. It's more a desire to understand your particular motivation for coming to this one."

In an idle sort of way. Clearly cake was equally or more important.

"By your own report, you've never come to a party of your own volition before, which either means you've only ever been dragged or you've actively decided against them your entire life. But you're here, which seems to imply either someone brought you here against your personal inclination, whether or not physically, or you've changed your mind entirely about wanting to come to a party, which surely must be a seismic mental realignment."

"Maybe I was bored." Being holed up in the castle all night did, after all, get to be entirely uninteresting after a while, and Briony was otherwise occupied tonight. He hadn't bothered to find out what was keeping her busy; it didn't seem important.

"Anyway, the majority of the ones I get dragged to are my mother's formal gatherings, not that I expect that to matter much to you, Lady." Wherein he's reminded that he's an embarrassment, but still has to attend, for one reason or another.

He never claimed to understand women.

They are inexplicable creatures. But there's nothing to be done about that.

"I don't see why it shouldn't matter." She taps her fork lightly on the edge of the plate, not quite taking a bite. "If only for entirely selfish purposes."

Like complaining about mothers.

"I'll follow the conversation, if you'll lead it." And, to encourage her to chew on her own cake, he took a bite of his. It wasn't great, if only because he wasn't particularly a fan of sweets, but it was by no means terrible, so it was worth it.

"Who knows? I might even have something worth adding to it."

That did remind her to take a piece of cake onto her fork, but lifting it to her lips was distracted by the need to huff a bit of a sigh, lean her chin into her palm with her elbow on the table.

"I suppose it's different for you, though. Girls and their mothers aren't the same as boys with their mothers."

"Feelings of rejection are similar across the board, Miss Eileen," he corrected. "But what most people don't know is how much their mothers do care for them." He knew exactly how much his mother cared for him; unfortunately, that happened to be 'not at all.'

Oh well.

"What is it that Lady Argine has done lately to frustrate you, little lady?"

She twisted her fork absently between her fingers, attention on the table between them.

"It sounds horrible when I say it out loud."

With a gentle smile, he set the cake aside and caught her chin, lifting gently so that she had to look at him.

"It'll be our little secret, then, darling. I promise not to tell anyone."

It was strange, at the end of the day. Attention from her mother felt so unwanted, but this sliver of attention felt special; important.

Clearly, being a teenager wasn't going to be any fun at all.

"I just wish she'd leave me alone. We had-- all those years of things being the way they are, and suddenly she-- wants to be involved."

That much, he could personally empathize with. Well, not the sudden desire for involvement, but the need to be left alone because that was the norm. So with a delicate touch, Pierre found her hand, and he gave her fingers a gentle squeeze -- a strange show of affection, especially for this particular child, but it was needed at the moment.

"I prefer for my own mother to leave me alone, as well, you know. I'm thirty-five years old and would be perfectly happy if she never contacted me again." Admittedly, his reasons were far different than her own, but the point stood. "You should probably tell her that the whiplash makes you uncomfortable, though. Or tell Elisha, perhaps."

Tell the man who could act as a buffer between mother and daughter. Surely that would end well, right?

"I have. With both of them."

Which had resulted in the not entirely unpleasant excitement of a 'family' shopping trip to buy this particular dress. Certainly something to continue to encourage.

"It's not... selfish, is it? To want to be alone or-- to go to someone else than your actual family when you're unhappy?"

"Not at all, my Lady." He lifted her hand to his lips to press a kiss against her knuckles. "My dear, sometimes we can't handle being around those who frustrate us." There was a reason he'd executed Edgar, after all.

"You have to do what's right for you, hmm? If you can't take care of yourself, you can't take care of anyone else, either."

There's absolutely something calmer to her smile as she nods, fingers squeezing his lightly. Nothing she hadn't been told, but there's always something reassuring about hearing the same words from a plethora of trusted sources.

"Why's taking care of oneself always more difficult?"

That, at least, was easier to answer, and the words came naturally: "Most are trained to put others before themselves. When the realization sets in that they need to care for themselves, it's a struggle."

He had no problem with it, though. He was raised to look after himself, first.

"...why are we trained that way, then?" Because surely this was the best time to launch into a philosophical debate.

And, maybe, to actually take a bite of cake. Lest they feel completely non-festive.

"Because, if we only ever care for ourselves, and we neglect others at all times, our home will fall. But if we look after others, and then look after ourselves, the theory is that we will flourish."

He didn't want the cake, but another beer would be good, That's why he was waving a waiter down for one, and absolutely gesturing for a glass of champagne to be given to his little Ace.

"Isn't that counter-evolutionary, though?" Not that she doesn't agree with it. She does, clearly, even around her nibble of cake. It's just that her most recent legal father had been something of a philosopher--and her mind had a natural predilection for tearing ideas into their smallest components. "Shouldn't we want to be self-interested?"

He shrugged again. "I don't have all the answers, little lady. But humans are social creatures, and that means that for us to flourish, the surrounding society has to flourish." It was the best answer he had -- and it wasn't a very good one.

"So we don't mind sacrificing self-interest of the immediate in order to complete the self-interest of being surrounded by society."

Which, well. Is getting just a little heavy for a party.

"What about uncomfortable pretty dresses? Are those part of sacrifice for the preservation of society?"

That, at least, had him laughing, and he nodded. "Something like that, at least. If we men have to wear uncomfortable suits, I think it's only fair that ladies wear uncomfortable dresses. Particularly if it means preserving society."

A laugh was a much better reward than the neglected cake and flute of champagne could possibly be. It's absolutely got her own smile firmly in place.

"And pinching shoes all around for good measure, yes?"

He didn't care, really, but the closer he lured her, the better his chances of fulfilling his ultimate goal. So he winked at her and raised his chin. "If the shoes pinch, you ought to have them made custom for a better fit, Miss Eileen." Clearly. "But if everyone is in the same discomfort, then it probably preserves society a little more."

"And probably teaches us some lesson or other about endurance in times of distress and trouble." Shoes started to fit better sooner or later, after all. "It's a shame we aren't born tougher."

"Unfortunately, we're born weak, and can only strengthen ourselves after the fact. That's why our training requires diligence and dedication, little lady: if we let our minds stray, we will harm ourselves and only suffer more."

"You sound like Julien."

Which, well. She gives as a compliment, no matter how it might be taken.

(no subject)

hommesadique - 2013-06-07 09:51 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

lowtohigh - 2013-06-09 10:11 (UTC) - Expand

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only