shelley_winters | (no subject)

Shelley stares hard at the floor after Mesaana walks away, ignoring the proximity of other guests and the way they look at her, hopeful or fearful or condescending. How dare that women even speak to her after- but the Forsaken all have that supreme arrogance, Ishamael more than any. Her expression tightens bitterly. After this, she is never taking any wager from him ever again.

She turns to pick up her wine for lack of anything else to do, and catches a woman's eye, who curtsies, and makes her way closer.

"My lady," she greets.

Shelley stares back warily before nodding politely. How is she supposed to address this woman? Saying 'my lady' back would sound silly, but she doesn't know who this is.

"Your dress looks wonderful, if I may say so," the older woman continues, apparently unconcerned by her silence. "I am Mohra Terail. Might I know your name?"

Shelley pauses. Well... why not?

"Thank you, Lady Mohra. I am Selae Arata Pilaera," she lies smoothly, and with no small amount of satisfaction.

The woman smiles widely at this evident acceptance of her company, and moves closer.

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A small, almost predatory smile. Graendal's party was quite interesting. All these Chosen are on edge and no one can do anything. Now, that was a delight.

"There are small pleasures."

"Oh, I agree," Lanfear smiles, silky skirts swishing as she turns gracefully. She tilts her head with a quiet laugh.

"Asmodean's paranoia has never been greater."

A dark chuckle as Ishamael glanced across the room to where Asmodean was largely ignoring a Friend of the Dark who was expounding something passionately. How typical.

"It was a wonder you got him to come at all."

"It might be a Talent of mine," she says airily, also glancing over before rolling her eyes.

"I had no desire to enter partnerless."

A consoling glance from Ishamael. Lanfear was useful for spreading chaos, it was true, but little else. She gave him more trouble than any of the other Chosen.

"Of course not. Loneliness is a terrible thing."

Lanfear gives him a sightly sharper glance in return for that jibe.

"You would seem not to know it," sha says instead, raising her eyebrows lightly as she glances back in the direction of Rahvin and his redheaded child.

"Where did you find this one?"

A light laugh as he glanced up at the ceiling for a moment. Best not to give anything resembling an answer.

"Are you wanting to find one of your own? I did not know you had given up on claiming Lews Therin Telamon."

A clench of anger, but she had been expecting a dig of that kind, so she merely shrugs delicately, letting her hair fall softly over her shoulder.

"A little too... hmm. Female, for my tastes. Given up on the dark and violent type?"

Ishamael shrugged indifferently. How typical of her. He commented flippantly. Nothing bothered Lanfear more than not being taken seriously.

"Well, unlike your partner Asmodean, I never really cared for the deranged. Nothing is more upsetting than to find she has brought her work home with her and now there is blood everywhere."

Inwardly, Lanfear rolls her eyes. Ishamael is one to talk of derangement.

"I would imagine so. Your present pretty is a gentlehearted creature, then? What a rarity."

A slight, disdainful sniff from Ishamael. What a silly comment, especially from her.

"I am, as always, guided by your skills at judging the character of another."

He is avoiding speaking about the girl.

With a raised eyebrow for his remark, she turns once again, shaking her head.

"I wouldn't presume to dictate your preferences."

A small smile as he gracefully took another step. There was a certain sensual pleasure in dancing with a skilled partner.

"Of course not."

The music slowly faded. Releasing Lanfear's hand and waist, he stepped away from her.

"Thank you, Lanfear, for the dance."

She steps back, slight smile mirroring his. Her mind is made up.

"And you, Ishamael. I will be in contact about Emar Dal, should our paths not cross again tonight."

"Excellent. We will be in contact, then."

Ishamael smiled and walked away from her. The crowd of Friends of the Dark quietly parting for his black-garbed form. They knew the dangers of interfering with the Chosen. He had other matters to see to. That thought blossomed a smile on his face. More than one Friend of the Dark had chills at that sight.