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Rose had been busy herself- until the dead and wounded crew's replacements had been found and trained, it had been up to the rest of the crew- herself included- to pick up the slack. And even though she'd fallen into her bunk at the end of each shift exhausted, sleep had been dreadfully difficult to come by. Dreams of blood and violence plagued her, again and again she saw the faces of the men she'd killed as the light left their eyes. It did not make for good rest, and some of those men she worked with more regularly had commented on her lack of color and the bruised look of her eyes.

She'd found a measure of solace in a new creature who she'd discovered on a particularly sleepless night when she'd given up on her bed and been exploring the hold, double-checking the cargo lashing for something to do. In the dark of the hold she'd bumped something with her foot which had cried and scuttled away. It didn't sound like a rat, and Dante had retrieved the small, quivering ball of fluff and claws for her from between a couple of crates. He'd gotten much too big to sleep in Rose's bunk with her, and he was worried- perhaps a new small fluffy thing would help?

Born to one of the ship's Sunderland grimalkin, (and Rose felt sure she knew which one was the father by the kitten's brilliant eyes) the wee ball of fluff charmed Rose immediately, and lived in her bunk until she was big and quick enough to come out on deck. The striped beast was never far from Rose's side, sometimes hitching a ride on Dante's back. This indignity the young buck tolerated grudgingly, as the kitten's presence had eased Rose's nightmares somewhat.

When Finn finally deigned to speak to her only to inform her of his harebrained scheme, she'd found a smile and nodded. She could use some time away from the ship- no matter how much she or anyone else had scrubbed, the stains of blood and death were still there on the deck if you knew where to look. While she was no longer so certain she could or even wanted to go back to being a lady, even for an evening, playing sick wouldn't be difficult. All she had to do was stop pretending to be fine all of a sudden and the rest of the crew would buy it. And it would please Finn, and maybe give her a chance to check his shoulder, which he was still favoring, the idiot.

So it was that, shortly after they'd arrived in port, she lay bundled under an extra blanket in her corner of the crew's quarters with Dante doing a very good impression of being concerned, awaiting Finn's arrival.

It had taken long enough for the men to clear out that Rose had nearly fallen asleep under Lyric-the-grimalkin's warm, watchful, purring weight. She was a dreadfully big cat as all grimalkin were, and stretched from her hip to her shoulders where she was kneading kitty biscuits into the blanket contentedly. At the sound of Finn's voice she twitched in surprise, then sat up to examine his offerings. The dress was by far the nicest piece of clothing she'd seen since she'd been forced to steal clothes for herself back in Sunderland at the behest of the handsome-yet-irritating pirate who was now... giving her privacy? Why, when he'd never bothered before would he... Oh, hells with it, she'd take the small victory however bizarre it was.

Dante also politely turned away, scratching the top of his head where antlers were just beginning to bud against his foreleg. The constant itching was a trial, but he was looking forward to being a proper buck once they grew in- and it was nice when Rose scratched there.

A few rustles and a rather unladylike grunt or two and Rose cleared her throat to signal him to turn around. The dark green of the dress made her skin look less sun-browned and windburned, and when she pulled back her hair in a quick but elaborate-looking bun and pinched her cheeks and nibbled her lips to redden them, she looked just like a lady of the court. She donned the mask, a small, but sincere, smile gracing her features. "It's gorgeous, Finn, thank you. I don't even want to know what you had to do to get it," she teased with a smirk.

"How could I refuse?" she asked, taking his hand and letting him spin her out among the dancers. Dante caused a bit of a stir when he tried to follow. He was not exactly small, but he was polite, gently but inexorably pushing his way through the crowd to stay close to his Chosen. Lyric, meanwhile, had vanished, but that wasn't particularly unusual. She was, after all, a cat.

When was the last time she'd been dancing? It seemed a lifetime ago that she'd been to her last ball, and this certainly wasn't that. Far from the staid, measured affairs of her homeland, this was an exuberant, joyous celebration. It felt more alive, more... real. She wasn't sure when the traditions and culture of her homeland had begun to seem stale, but she suspected it was on a rainy night several months ago.

"Absolutely!" she agreed, her arm about his waist as well, out of her own fears of being swept away in the crowd like a silken, rainbow storm-tossed sea. She wasn't even sure she remembered what port this was, let alone how to get home. That would be a hell of a thing, one she very much wished to avoid.

Dante continued his grim vigil, ears pinned back against the din and yellow eyes narrowed in a suspicious glare which he leveled at anyone who seemed too interested in the couple. The little knobs of his antlers-in-potentia were not strictly speaking an intimidating sight, but he did as best he could. One of the revelers decided to get cute and impress his date, slinging his cape around the buck (who already looked a bit like he was wearing a tuxedo, and tying it around his neck while Dante was still deciding if this was enough of a threat to warrant trampling the man, or if Rose would shout at him again.

Rose giggled at the buck's expression and beckoned him onward, though, still leaning companionably against Finn's good side. They made their way out of the crowd to a marginally quieter side street where vendors were plying various sorts of spirits and the types of food appealing to the drunk. "Here we go. We should get something to eat, too," Rose said in a more conversational tone. "I'm starved. How's your shoulder holding up?" she asked, finally remembering his injury again as the euphoria of the dance faded.

As expected, Rose sighed and gave him a skeptical look, but let it pass for now- there wasn't anything she could do for him in the midst of this crowd, anyway. At his question, though, she grinned. "No, I've never seen anything quite like this," she admitted a touch giddily as she accepted her food and took an appreciative bite. At that, Dante quit glaring daggers at Finn and twitched his ears happily; his ward hadn't been eating properly of late, and if the pirate got her to eat, perhaps he could be forgiven for his teasing. A little. Maybe.

The vendor also included cheap clay mugs of surprisingly good wine with their purchase, as was apparently the custom at this particular festival, with a refund for returning the vessels unbroken. Rose passed one to Finn and kept one for herself. The former noblewoman sniffed the contents curiously and took a cautious sip before smiling in approval.

Perhaps because of the Guardian's newly less-murderous demeanor, perhaps because of the cape, or perhaps because of the copious quantities of wine flowing like water all around them, another patron decided to get brave. Despite the deer's creepy, glowing eyes and the spooky stories whispered about Sunderland's guardians, the masked man decided to drop a crown of silken, deep-red roses atop Dante's head. It was quickly turning into the world's most hazardous game of pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey as the young buck's temper frayed. But then Rose cooed in delight over the flowers and gave him a kiss on his velvet nose, and Dante's ears came back up. Perhaps the cape and flowers weren't so bad after all, if his Chosen liked them?

Rose fairly wolfed down her food, in much too good a mood to think about the things that had been stealing her appetite of late. She was tucked companionably against Finn's shoulder as Dante stood grimly vigilant, protecting them from the worst buffeting of the crowd as the tide of revelers and satin flowed by them. She finished first, but was content to tuck her arm around Finn's waist for extra security and people-watch while he ate and she emptied her mug of wine. When he was done, she looked up at him with a bright smile. "What do you want to do now, handsome? More wine? Dancing? Watch a show?" she pointed to one of the stages set up in the square where performers had been cycling through every quarter-hour or so.