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~*~
Lyse burst out onto the balcony with a gasp, taking a deep gulp of the evening air. She was free; free from the sticky confines of an Ul’dahn banquet hall at the height of summer, and more importantly, free from the suffocating mantle of high society etiquette.
She’d lasted longer than her security detail, at least. M’naago and Fordola were already waiting, snickering in the shadows, doubtlessly at some noble fop’s expense. M’naago was in a handsome officer’s coat, jodhpurs and boots; Fordola, in a rakish long jacket that Lyse was trying her best not to associate with Thancred.
“Oi,” Fordola greeted her with a nod and an irreverent wave. “Couldn’t take it in there, either, huh?”
“It’s exhausting down there. I left Raubahn to do all the talking for me,” Lyse huffed, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. “...I’m gonna owe him for that.”
“Well, park it here,” M’naago said, patting the spot on a chaise beside her. “We saved you a plate. If there’s anything these bourgeoisie types are good for, it’s stocking a great buffet.”
“Oh, you two are the best,” Lyse grinned.
“We know,” the duo chorused, snickering, trading half-hearted shoves.
Lyse sank onto the couch with a sigh. She took the plate Fordola offered her and loudly tucked in. Not exactly fine table manners, but Lyse was far too hungry to care, and it’s not like Naago or Fordola gave a damn about her eating like a lady.
“Lyse?”
Lyse looked up. Her eyes went wide.
Y’shtola stood before her, in a gorgeous, sleeveless raven gown the color of the night sky, accented with pearl and silver. She was-- alright, Shtola was always beautiful, but tonight, compared to Lyse with crumbs on her crimson dress and her cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk? Tonight, she was downright stunning.
“Shto--” Lyse began, before choking, doubling over in a coughing fit. Fordola was already on her feet, rolling up her sleeves. M’naago gestured her back down with one hand, the other offering Lyse a goblet of wine instead of whatever rough measures Fordola was ready-- perhaps eager-- to administer.
Y’shtola smiled primly, her hand behind her mouth, acknowledging Lyse’s left and right hands with a pair of nods.
“Captain Rahz. Agent Lupis.”
“Ma’am,” they chorused back.
“I was wondering if the lovely Commander Hext might honor me with a dance.”
M’naago and Fordola wolf-whistled, rather more like irreverent schoolboys than Ala Mhigan officers. Not that Lyse could even hear them, over her heart pounding in her ears.
Lyse downed the last of her wine, and handed the empty glass off to Naago. She stood, brushed crumbs from her dress, and offered Y’shtola her hand.
“The Commander…” Lyse smiled, her cheeks pink, “...would love that.”
Y’shtola took her hand, and pulled her into an embrace. They whirled together to the sounds of lively strings and ethereal harps, under a sky painted in their colors-- crimson melting into twilight, eyes glinting like stars.
~*~