The Elixir

~Gala

"What does your father do, Derald?" Jonan says his name slowly, addressing him for the first time.

Derald bows his head lightly, in deference of Jonan's position. Maybe the etiquette lessons he'd been forced to attend as a child really are helpful.

"My father just recently became an analyzer here at the Inventory, sir," Derald says, inwardly pumping his fists that his voice didn't waver.

"How recently?" The elder Wyvern speaks gruffly.

"Just 8 months ago, sir."

That is true, actually. Father had recently gotten a job here at the Inventory 8 months ago, and he is an analyzer. Just not a senior one. Analyzers take the artifacts and assess their worth, which is actually a pretty impressive job.

Music drifts in from the right corner, where the musiciens have begun to play. The black-haired boy strains his head above the sea of glittering people.

He nods at Derald. "I must find my lady. Adieu." Jonan doesn't say goodbye to the nameless boy.

"I see the waltz has begun." Jonan unfurls his fingers towards the dance floor. "I do hope you are worth the money, Mr. Pellefard."

Before Derald can say anything else, Vieva whisks him to the marble dance floor, positioning him across with the other men while she herself goes to the other side. The music heightens, and Derald bows, his memories of etiquette class rushing back. Twice in one night.

Vieva and Derald join again. He places a hand on her waist in a proprietary manner whilst she places a hand delicately on his shoulder. He can smell the oils on her neck with every breath.

She nods at him appraisingly as they dance. "I have to say I'm impressed."

Derald smirks. "I'm not completely useless, Vieva."

"Don't rush to conclusions."

He swirls her around, her dress fanning out as she spins. He tugs her back to him.

"What was that comment your dad said about the money?"

Derald didn't dare look back to where they'd left Jonan standing; he could feel the searing Bestel gaze on his back like a brand. Yet another thing Vieva had inherited from her father.

Vieva rolls her eyes lightly. "The whole point of this stupid gala is to raise money for the Inventory, right? So to be a guest, you have to pay 800 gold pieces. Father always pays for me and my escort, so basically, Father paid for you to attend this gala in the first place."

Derald nearly misses the next dance step. "800 gold pieces? My family could eat a month's worth of dinners with 800 gold pieces!"

Vieva wrinkles her nose. "That's... depressing."

Derald glares at her. "You know, not everyone gets a feast every night for dinner."

Vieva acknowledges his statement with a dip of her head, but Derald can see she doesn't quite believe it.

On the triple step, Vieva glances at the door. "We don't have much time. When this waltz ends, I'm going to excuse myself, saying I'm thirsty, and ask you to accompany me. We'll slip out the door then, got it?"

Derald bows as the music ends, and a light pattering of applause breaks out around the room. Then he looks up. Uh-oh.

"We may need to deal with obstacle number two first."

The nameless black-haired boy approaches swiftly. Vieva groans. "I'll handle this."

The boy smiles down at Vieva. "Can I steal you for a dance?"