The courtyard glittered of abandoned silver plates, dishes wiped clean of the grand foods they once held. The party had been a success up until the grand arrival of some rather pesky participants that set several young folks scurrying away from the dance to avoid any run-ins with the despicable.
Now though, there was not even an uninvited within the courtyard that had once been filled with colors and beauty alike- only two figures aside from the cleaning servants remained; the young Lautaro of House Wodenstaff and his Half-Ithanian wife. The two still remained in their masquerade attire, all the way to the white and gold masks that adorned their faces, though they were soon abandoned by both and held in hand.
Lautaro's wife, Juliette, peered around the courtyard, moving her arm to interlock it with her husband's. "It was a lovely party, non?" She asked finally, the accent of her homeland being unnoticeable until the final words of her question. Lautaro raised a brow and glanced down at the shorter woman who was inquiring, taking a moment to gaze at her before answering.
"It was indeed, I can't wait until the next." The man's familiar chuckle warmed the air before Juliette slid her foot in front of her and pivoted, light on her feet after half a decade training in the arts of agile swordsmanship. Her arm disconnected from its tight hold around Lautaro's, her hand opting to instead rest lightly on his wrist.
"You did forget something though, didn't you?" The woman questioned once more, her ocean blue eyes narrowing at him with tattered annoyance.
"What did I forget, Julie?"
"You never danced with me," she bluntly stated, her tone perhaps coming off as annoyed or hurt- either acceptable. It was like the man to be forgetful of such things, he rarely danced with her at parties but tonight, a dance was all she'd been looking forward to. Her husband blinked as if caught off guard by the pointing tone before going to slide his hand back- locking his fingers with the Ithanian rather than letting her fingers continue to rest on his wrist where she could easily dig her nails in if he managed to piss her off more than usual.
"I didn't know you wanted to dance, Julie, you could've just told me," the man said, resting his left hand on her shoulder blade as her hand settled on his shoulder. "We could dance now?"
"There's no music," Juliette responded, frowning despite following him as he stepped forward and guided her across the barren courtyard, their steps weaving between each other's as their waltz made a square over the courtyard.
"We don't need music to dance, Julie," her husband stated, giving her a cheeky smile. He lowered his hand to rest it against her lower back.
"What have you even been doing lately, Lautaro?" The woman turned her head to ask as she was slowly twirled mid-question, coming to rest her cheek against his shoulder as they moved forward, hands outstretched and interlocked.
"I've been sorting out ideas for my business," came his short answer, more focused on dragging his wife into another spin, no longer at a gentle waltz. The two spun around, hand in hand and laughing like children. "What have you been doing?" He finally asked, pulling the noble lady back against him, their steps guide them around the courtyard with no care to where.
"I'll be contacting some people on terms of getting myself recruited." The woman was push away, one hand still grasping her husband's as she stepped away before being twirled back. Their laughter rang through the chilled air and a little girl, her arms hanging out a window and peering into the open courtyard, watched with curiosity at the dancers.
"When was the last time we danced?" The question went unanswered by Juliette for several moments as her husband waited, taking her around for another spin before lowering his wife in a dip.
"I don't remember, no time recent," With the solemn answer, the woman returned to her feet properly and simply staring at the Lautaro's face, refusing to meet his eyes. He pulled his hand away from her waist and patted her cheek affectionately.
"Belleza," he said gently, the pet name that once meant nothing to the woman when they met making sense now. Beauty. That is what Lautaro considered her, a beauty, despite her often coarse and unfriendly nature that she met him with in common times. "Why are you getting so upset over nothing, Jules? It's not your fault," the Daen said affectionately before kissing her cheek lightly. The Ithanian gave an annoyed huff, perhaps at the fact that she'd realized she had been getting upset over something so simple as not dancing with her husband.
The woman brushed her palm under her eye and grumbled, "I just feel bad sometimes, that I've been ignoring you while you've been here for me." Lautaro, as always, only chuckled, pressing another gentle kiss to her cheek and took her right hand back into his left, the man's free hand returning to rest at her shoulder blade. Like at the beginning of their dance, the married two began back into a gentle waltz, Lautaro humming quietly as he guided his wife. No one disturbed the two as they struck over the courtyard, not even the shadowed servants who did everything they could to not interrupt the two's rare moment of happy peace.
In the window above, the little girl leaned out and rested her hands against her cheeks. Mathurine, only three but still smart for such an age, glanced backwards towards the nanny that was pulling the blankets back from her small bed, preparing it for the night. "What's that?" The soft voice of the mutt girl inquired as she returned her gaze back to her waltzing mother and father.
"They're dancing, Lady Mathurine, why do you ask?"
"They don't do that," the little girl sassed, huffing lightly as she was drawn away from the window and the glass was swung closed and latched to keep out the Autumn wind. Her dark hair was combed gently before she was lifted into bed and covered with a quilt. The nanny let out a gentle, warm laugh at the small lady's tone as she tucked in her charge.
"Well, they are dancing now, little one. It is a good sign, it means better times ahead." The candle in the room was blown out, but still the room remained bright from the moon's light. Before Mathurine could bother her caretaker anymore, the older woman closed the door to the room and left her to sleep. With the near muted humming of her father in the courtyard and soft clicking of her mother's heels- that could so likely have simply been imaged by the girl- she let her eyes slowly close and into a peaceful sleep she drifted.
