masquerade ball starter for @sharpnosedscout

There are few things Clive actually enjoys during festivities such as this. Usually he finds them too loud, too crowded and the false pleasantries exchanged make him uncomfortable, for he can see the way near all of these other nobles regard him in the same way his mother does, with disdain. By now it is widely knows that interacting with him would not gain them any favour with the Duchess, so they avoid him like the plague, granted that he's not at his brother's side. The ones that don't shun him are mayhap even worse for the pity in their gaze.

Clive sighs, gaze straying out one of the massive windows of the ballroom, wondering how much longer he'd have to endure this before he could sneak away.

For now he has found a hiding place leaning against a wall on the far side of the room, watching the spectacle, listening to the music. At some point his attention turns entirely to the musicians, captivated by the ease with which they coax beautiful melodies from their instruments. Clive isn't able to carry a tune if his life depended on it, so it always fascinated him to see other's do so with ease.

At some point he locks eyes with a bard just as another song fades out, having watched him work his instrument instead of anything or anyone else for what he realizes must have been a good long while. Embarassed to have been caught staring, Clive starts and looks away, hiding his face in the goblet of wine he'd been nursing over the past hour for lack of anything else to do, only to realize that it is empty.

Acting as if he didn't just try to take a sip from a cup devoid of liquid, he makes his way to get something else, mayhap some water would suit him better, his face feels flushed enough as is.

masquerade ball starter for @creatrix-mea

Roughly an hour until the first guests arive, he thinks as he walks by several servants working to get the last preperations for the ball out of the way. He would love to lend a hand, do something to keep his hands busy and his mind occupied.

However, with his mask held tightly in one hand, his festive attire in place and also already sufficiently uncomfortable as he tends to be before bigger events such as this, Clive instead is forced to make his way through the castle halls towards his mother's study. Her having summoned him on very short notice.

His hair is for once tamed into a somewhat tidied appearance, although it threatens to curl at the the ends, whatever the servants tried to put into it this time to keep it straight failing it's intended purpose like all the others before it.

He breathes deeply, shuffling his feet as he stands infront of the door, jaw clenched, teeth grinding. A nervous knot in the pit of his stomach keeps him from raising his hand to knock. It's never a good sign when the duchess bids him for conversation.

As of late she seems to prefer to act as if he doesn't exist at all, which is an improvement to the open hostility she utilized before. However, it is also all the more reason to be wary of whatever she means to speak to him about now.

At last he raises a hand to knock and then, he waits.

masquerade ball starter for @equescaeli

Clive had kept to the sidelines all evening, leaving Joshua to do most of the talking, rarely straying from his side for his own comfort's sake rather than his duty as First Shield. His brother knows of course, but doesn't seem to mind nor appear determined to tease him about it, only offering a comforting hand to his shoulder at some point when Clive appears particularly tense.

Sometimes Clive wonders just how much of their relationship is Joshua protecting him rather than the other way around...

The music, and consequently the dancing started about an hour ago, with various pairs having made their way to and from the middle of the room in the meantime. Clive has never been one for dancing, enjoys to watch the pairs twirl rather than doing the twirling himself so to speak.

He is also meant to engage with the conversation Joshua got roped into, at least judging by the nudge of his brother's elbow against his side. Rather than doing so, however he is distracted anew when his gaze strays to the far side of the ballroom where he spots a familiar figure. Of course his face is mostly concealed by the mask he is wearing due to the nature of the event and Clive hasn't seen this man in far too long, but he still recognizes him within seconds, his golden hair and the intricate brooch in the shape of Sanbreque's token flower on his attire a dead giveaway.

It's then that Cllve excuses himself from his brother's side for the first time that evening, making his way towards an old friend. One he hasn't seen in over a decade.

"Dion!" He exclaims once he's within earshot, and immediately regrets the way he raised his voice and the lack of titles used in his excitement when several heads turn his way with matching looks of exasperation. Clive nearly whinces, lips pressing together in embarrassment ere he manages an apologetic smile. He steps closer, lowering his voice even as Dion and him step away from the crowd to talk. "I thought your father declined our invitation." At least Clive had been told as much a while back when letters were first sent out, thinking that Sanbreque would go without a representative for this event. In fact, it's been a while since any ambassadors from the Empire came to visit either, the relationship between Rosaria and Sanbreque a strained one ever since the Empire began to seek to widen their influence beyond their current borders.