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To Amadeus' great chagrin, he was rescued beefore the brute could do anything more, by a man who looked even more of a fop than he himself felt. Silly and feminine, the dandy subjected the boorish youth to the hand-flapping of a lifetime, until the boy finally fled. Before Amadeus knew what was going on, his arm was seized with great enthusiasm, and he was equally enthusiastically informed that his unlikely saviour had been looking all over for him. At this point, Amadeus began wondering whether he had been better off with the pig-in-boy's-clothing or with the dandy. This thought was jolted out of his head, as he was firmly and unexpectedly steered toward a table, and almost pushed into a seat.

The table was already occupied by a young lady, her great, wide green eyes, and fine halo of runaway dark hair making her look more like a fairy than her forest-toned costume could alone.

"To be honest," the dandy admitted, winking, after Amadeus had settled himself into the seat, "I wasn't looking for you at all, but maybe you were looking for me. Well, not me in particular, but someone? Yes?"

This barrage of words threw Amadeus completely off-balance -- nto that it would have taken much to do so at that particular moment. After a second's delay, he managed a slightly stuttered, "Yes. Thankyou."

Before he could really say anything else, the other man had drifted, feather-like, off into the currents and eddies of the crowd, saying something about refreshments.

Amadeus shook his head slowly, wondering what on earth had just happened. Then he remembered the young lady, to whom he had not been introduced. At a normal social event -- well, for starters, at a normal social event, he would not have been left in the company of a young lady to whom he had not been introduced, to begin with, but nevertheless, under more usual circumstances, he would not have dared to presume to speak to a young lady unintroduced. But this was a University event, and some rules did not apply. And he felt very strange sitting at the same table as someone whose name he did not even know.

Oh, but that would mean he would have to make conversation. He'd had enough of scatterbrained young women this evening, and this one was no doubt a quieter version of the same, with those big, pretty doe-eyes...

Very quickly, awkwardness won out over disinterest.

"Please forgive my presumptuousness at not waiting for a formal introduction, miss. I am Amadeus Gualterro. I'm in my third year here.

The whole fight was unexpectedly interesting, and quickly grew hilarious once her librarian friend had joined in the fight. His antics reminded her of a disgruntled bird. If only he were a quieter disgruntled bird.

As quickly as Beau entered the fight, he deposited the young man at her table. He seemed as much as a taken back as she was by Beau's quick bombardment of words. She felt slightly sorry for him. What a night he must be having. Being threatened by the school bully, and then attacked mentally (though surely not intentionally) by Beau and his volly of speech.

Beau disappeared and she was left, rather akwardly, alone with the young man. She could naught but stare sheepishly at her lap. One could notice quite a bit by staring at one's lap. For one her fingernails needed trimming, and a thread from her gown was wriggling out of the fabric. She'd have to fix that sometime soon... and she was soon enough lost in her own thoughts.


"Please forgive my presumptuousness at not waiting for a formal introduction, miss. I am Amadeus Gualterro. I'm in my third year here."

The sudden speech caught her off guard and she jolted back to the "real world", jumping slightly. A crimson heat spread over her cheeks. She was sure that someone ought to be able to fry an egg on her cheeks if they deemed it necessary. She managed to choke out some words.

"No apologies needed Amadeus, sir. My name is Katheryn Thornley. I'm in my First year here. How are you enjoying the Ball?"

She smiled slightly at this for she was sure he was not having such a good time at all so far.

((Er... time dicontinuity. What has happened, and what hasn't?))

((Ball starts, ball is in full gear, librarian is a flake, he pisses off Headmistress, Amadeus dances with pretty girl, girl's guy starts a fight, fight is caught by the Headmistress, and the ball's over. Sounds like a movie.))

((Oh.. party pooper... ))

Kyne blinked and grinned. "What is this? Party over already?" It was ironic. The party had been declared at its end upon his arrival due to some sort of fight. He waltzed into the room and toward the headmistress. "It is but the first time, Mademoiselle. First impressions... First times can be rather bonding experiences. Now, bonding experiences can vary in contact or verbatum. "

After all, this "party" was an attempt to get everyone acquainted... was it not? And this party was being broken up by the Headmistress, who Kyne assumed, had arrange this whole get together. That she would be put down so easily set her in place to be a coward to Kyne.

Kyne edged closer and whispered. "Giving up already?"

Amadeus pretended not to notice the bright blush spreading across the young lady's cheeks. Here we go again...

"No apologies needed Amadeus, sir," she managed, perhaps a little hastily. Ah, the sweetness of the very young... "My name is Katheryn Thornley. I'm in my First year here. How are you enjoying the Ball?" She asked this with a little wry smile, which made him wonder whether she was having about as much fun as he had been.

He had scarcely opened his mouth to reply, when the figure of the Headmistess came storming over like a cross between a steam-train and a thunder-cloud. She looked as dangerous as a boiler with a faulty safety valve: there was no way of knowing whether the valve was going to blow, or the boiler itself, and all you could do was watch the pressure gague with the dread knowledge that either way it wasn't going to be pretty. He rose respectfully and immediately.

"Both of you will be in my office promptly at nine ay-emm to-morrow," she snapped -- referring, of course, to himself and the ginger-haired pig-boy who had been holding him by his lapels moments before. "Is this understood?"

Amadeus inclined his head, hoping that he had found the right balance that would make it a gesture of utmost repect, rather than that of a naughtly schoolboy. "Yes, ma'am. Of course." Naturally, he said 'ma'am' to rhyme with 'harm'. As much as he hated it, he was of the bourgeoisie, and did know the requisite accents, airs and graces.

"And for shame," she hissed, her eyes alighting upon his now-raised face, "a third year, too!"

He had nothing to say. The string quartet had faltered and stopped, and the room was filled with the hush of people trying to work out what was going on. Amadeus was trying not to turn bright red.

"This is over," she continued, in a ball-bearing stacatto. "Because of your actions you have now closed the party for everyone else."

Amadeus pressed his lips together, but still said nothing. What was there to say? It was not the time to plead his case: not now, not here. He just continued to stand, silently, with as much dignity as he could muster while being dressed down by this lady against whose temper none could stand.

She paused also, her eyes boring into him, as he silently told himself to just keep breathing. In his first year, his room-mate had broken down in tears under that gaze. Well, admittedly, it had been deserved: they had ruined the carpet with a tin of engine oil. Certainly this was accidental, but such materials were not allowed in the rooms. There was also the fact that they had stolen it from one of the workshops, anyway. He still was unsure of how they had avoided being expelled there and then.

After what felt like several years, she broke eye contact, and barked for the benefit of all the assembled staff and students that the ball was over, and they were all to return to their rooms immediately.

Amadeus remained absolutely still, slightly stunned, as she turned on her heel and stormed away. He did not move at all until the rustling of skirts beside him reminded him of his present company. He turned to her as she was adjusting her dress. Automatically, he took her hand when she extended it, and kissed it, as was proper.

"Thankyou for talking with me, Amadeus," she smiled prettily. "I hope you did not have too horrible of a time at the ball. Maybe I shall see you around the school sometime."

"I have no doubt," he replied, with a twist of the corner of his mouth. "I'm fairly hard to miss."

Then with a hurried curtsey, she was gone. Amadeus stood for a moment. He had no intention of rushing to leave. In fact, it was his intention to be as near to the last one to leave as possible. Less likely to run into trouble from any hot tempers outside the ballroom that way.

One of the ivy leaves came loose from its pin, yawing and spiralling to the floor, tipped and tumbled lightly by the turbulence of many people moving about in the --albeit large -- basically closed room. He bent and picked it up, idly flipping and twirling it between his fingers.

Gentles -- do not reprehend;
If you pardon, we we will mend.
If we have unearned luck
Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,
We will make amends ere long;
Else the Puck a liar call;
So, good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.

((Gotcha XD ))

Larisha grinned. Ah, what fun. Ruining everyone's lives was her specialty. A stream of gloomy students glided towards the door in disdain, obviously disgruntled at the sudden closure of the ball. Though she had technically started the whole incident, it seemed that nobody noticed. At least, nobody glared at her. The way they pushed out of the door, oblivious to her transgression... it reminded her of Saint Harold's Academy. Her smile faded, replaced by a faint frown. Larisha crossed her arms, lips starting to quiver. Maybe she couldn't be traced this time. After all, that girl didn't seem to be the type that got into trouble; her escort- who was now currently standing by some scary lady, she realized as she glanced around the room- wouldn't blame anything on her because he didn't know she had intended for this to happen.

It was one of the easier ways to end an event Larisha loathed, especially socials. There were countless other schemes she could've come up with, but it seemed that manipulating jealousy was most efficient. The itchy girl sighed, bending her arm just enough for it to reach her side. Her sister probably made the measurements a few inches smaller again- unless it was intentional, because she obviously didn't want a pudgy sister if she was to be a tailor for the most fashionable individuals in society- so it was a bid hard to function as she usually would.

When someone finally brushed by her shoulder she snapped out of her thoughts, picked up her skirts and trailed after them, headed for the stairs. That moment Larisha swore never to wear a dress again. Of course she would break this oath, but it was a habit she failed to break.