Bad Ideas

   She knew what she was doing. She had to. There was no way she couldn't.

   Cain would've needed more than his iron will to keep his jaw up if he hadn't been in the middle of one of his mother's damnable 'parties' - all he had to do was show up and stand around in a suit while young noble ladies, daughters of other houses, threw themselves at him. Seriously though, the overdone makeup had to be the biggest turn-off there.

    So he'd had the genius idea of inviting his apprentice, who he'd recently found out was actually a High Elf, and thus technically allowed on Alliance territory as per one of Varian's agreements with the Silver Covenant. She'd been reluctant at first but had eventually caved, and Isabella had dragged her away giggling.

   Now, she stood by the door as all eyes fixed themselves on her and stayed firmly put. Faintly he heard mutters begin to sweep the room: "A High Elf? Here?" "Dear Light, she's beautiful!" "Look at the tramp's low neckline!" being prominent among the people closest to him.

    Her dress was made of black silk that faded into a dark red at the ends of her sleeves and the bottom of the skirt. The sleeves went to her elbows and then cut into two pieces, creating a streamer effect whenever she moved her arms. The skirt seemed to just flutter around her feet: it didn't trip her, but it was definitely floor-length. For the sake of his own curiosity, he was going to have to ask her about that. Above the waist, the dress fit snugly; not nearly as clingy as an evening gown, but definitely not anything like the overly-frilly lace corsets of most of the human noblewomen's dresses. The neckline was cut fairly low and, due to the mild tightness of the dress itself, showed just enough to drive him - and all the other men present - absolutely insane.

   To top off the look, she had in some silver (same as the embroidery) earrings with rubies set in them, and her hair was done up in a simple ponytail that flowed gracefully down over her shoulder, glistening black under the warm light that the mage-lit torches gave off.

   Beginning to make her way over to him, Ariav glanced around in her usual fashion, and it struck him how out-of-place she looked. Not just by her clothes (which lacked all the lace and frilly embellishments, and also a huge skirt, that the 'top fashions' in Stormwind all had), but by her attitude: she was on high alert, but it would take another warrior to be able to identify that as anything more than nerves. She was like......a wolf in sheep's clothing. Yes, that worked.

   Finally arriving next to him after passing many hungry eyes and jealous frowns, they exchanged the pleasantries required by their court setting; he kissed the back of her hand, she curtsied and mustered up a bit of a faked blush, and then she took his arm and did not move. Personally, he had no problem with being the envy of every man present, but the jealous stares of the other women made him slightly uneasy. Nobody knew how to dig up dirt on someone better than a jealous noblewoman.

    Studying her a bit more closely this time, he noted that she had on no makeup, and that there was a small hint of black visible on her skin just abover her elbow.

   Glancing away quickly, something else caught his attention: his mother was sashaying over from her spot by the punch table with two glasses in hand. As she reached them, she offered one to Ariav, who took it with a silent nod of thanks and began casually sipping away. "So Cain," Trynna de Luka began after a sip of her own punch, impaling him with her spring green gaze, "Are you going to introduce me to your friend?"

   Awkwardly, he disentangled his arm from Ariav's, and started to word a reply. "Mother, this is-"

   "Lady Ariav Lightblade," the elf interrupted, dropping into a graceful curtsey. "I hope me being here isn't too much trouble, and I sincerely apologize if it is."

   "Nonsense," Trynna replied, waving a hand. "My son invited you, yes? You're as welcome here as anybody else."

   As the two women talked, his mind wandered. Mostly to dirty things, little scenes of fantasies of his. A few in the bath, one on a balcony, and even a couple other places.

   "....I wasn't expecting the invitation, so I hope my lack of time to research what kind of dress was acceptable for such an occaision hasn't offended anyone," Ariav was saying, almost done with her punch as he drifted back to the conversation. "I just went with what was popular in my homeland right now and hoped for the best."

   His mother once again shook her head. "The only people you really offended, dear, are the ones who don't like you simply because you're far more beautil than makeup will ever help them to be."

   "You're too kind," the elf replied, casting her eyes to the floor.

   Ariav had been clinging to Cain's arm for another hour or so after his mother had left to tend to some other guests. Really, she could tell that it was getting late and the party was winding down, but she instead chose to focus on what was going on in Cain's mind, which she'd been listening to since she'd arrived.

   Watching his mental images of herself being pinned down and taken by him in various places and ways was really making it hard to concentrate on courtly smalltalk, but as she noticed he had barely said anything since she'd arrived. In fact, one who studied him for a few minutes at close range could clearly see that his mind was not on the party.

   Turning her attention outward again, she was fairly surprised to see that almost all of the other guests had gone already, so she shook Cain. "Hey dumbass," she whispered quietly, "Everyone's leaving."

   He blinked and glanced around, then once again disentangled his arm from hers and took a small step back. "So, I forgot to ask, are you gonna stay the night here?"

   "I don't see why not," a voice chipped in from behind them, and they whirled around to meet Cain's mother, who was in the process of getting all of the bobby pins out of her hair. "There's an empty guest room right next to yours, dear. Have her stay there."

   They glanced at each other and she shrugged, so he turned and headed for his room. On the way, they passed hordes of servants who were cleaning up. "Your family keeps servants?" Ariav asked as they turned the corner.

   "Yes and no," Cain answered. "Some of them volunteer here and mother pays them, others forgo the pay in exchange for a room and breakfast the next morning. Some of them switch back and forth at times."

   Ariav nodded, mostly to herself, as they turned yet another corner. "I see."

   It took a few more minutes of quiet walking, but eventually they arrived at the end of the hall. Directing her towards a door, Cain said a quick goodnight and hurried into his own room.