I am still reeling from the rather odd turns of that conversation when a new voice speaks behind me.
"You know I do not think I have ever heard a noble lady speak so dismissively about etiquette or blood status." It's a mans voice, teasing and just a little mocking
I turn, already exhausted with this entire night. Not at all appreciative of being forced into yet another interaction.
I am met with a rather strangely dressed man with light purple hair. His outfit is a dark blue suit and tailcoat with a gold embroidery depicting star patterns. His eyes match his hair, though they are a slightly darker shade, closer to plum then the lilac of his hair.
He is also, I note with dismay, unnaturally beautiful in that way only main characters can ever hope to achieve.
This would be the scholar, always eccentric. His hair is always some odd color, such a figure could never settle for having something as boring as normal colored hair.
I do my best to respond in a way I hope will discourage any further interaction.
"Who might you be, my lord?" This cunning strategy being completely and utterly ignoring his barbs, and giving no reaction. That is what people like him want. A reaction, without one they get bored, and move on to something else more interesting. He is always described as a genius, someone who secludes himself away with his research because he find people to be boring and not worth his time.
He blinks, clearly a little taken aback before forging ahead anyway. "My name is Faryll Motem, my lady." He give an over the top bow, before coming back up grinning. "May I know your name, my fair maiden."
Just looking at him makes me exhausted. A bone deep sort of weariness that always accompanies interacting with such over the top people.
"My name is Madeleine Blackwood, eldest daughter of the house of Blackwood. A pleasure to make your acquaintance." A curtsy. The absolute bare minimum. Conveying the message of 'fuck off, go away' as loudly as possible without ever stepping beyond the bounds of propriety. It is a skill I like to think I am rather adept at.
He, of course, pretends not to notice. I am certain he sees it. There is likely nothing he does not notice. The title of genius is not given lightly. He simply decides not to heed it, instead choosing to prolong this awful interaction. Likely purely because he can tell how little I want to speak with him and has decided he finds it funny.
It always makes me uncomfortable how much I know he sees. I am always left wondering what he knows.
"A beautiful name for a beautiful lady. Pardon my rudeness, yet I could not help but overhear the conversation you were having with that other young lady and find it intriguing. Most ladies here would never so dismiss the social rules the way you have." Alas my attempts at diversion have clearly failed. Now what.
"I do not believe I ever dismissed them, in fact I was trying to impress upon Lady Clearfield the importance of them."
"You were indeed. However, you did so by telling her she needed to follow them them because everyone else believes them important. Not because the rules themselves were proper, or traditional, or any of the usual reasons a person might give for their importance."
"So I did." My following silence asking the question I would not. Why are you asking? Why do you care?
Faryll's grin widens, apparently delighted with my lackluster conversation. The only thing betraying his mask of a cheerful and curious, yet harmless man is the glint in his eye. One that spoke of stripes in an otherwise tigerless jungle.
My approach had clearly been the wrong one. Acting uninterested had clearly backfired upon me in a most unfortunate manner. He looked interested. Intrigued even. This only spelled trouble for my poor future self. He had never been the sort to just leave well enough alone.
"Do you truly believe the rules to only be important only because people believe them to be? I am truly intrigued as to why you believe so."
Finally the actual question he had come here to ask. There were several ways I could try to answer this. None of them likely to actually get him to back off. I supposed acting like just another stuck up noble would be my best bet, but that also might just offend him, or it might backfire completely and get him more interested.
In the end I decide all this thinking is more work than it is worth. So I answer with as close to honesty as I dare to get.
"A lot of society only has meaning because we give it meaning. Words only mean the things they do because we gave them meaning, coins only have value because we assigned them value. The same applies to the social conventions of high society. Do you disagree?"
He is once more delighted by this answer. "My I had not taken you for a philosopher my dear lady. I do not disagree though. I was - " whatever he had intended to say was cut off by another man. This one dressed in a more traditional mage style. A long robe, though still fancy enough to be appropriate for a royal ball.
"Sir! You can not disappear on me like that. What happened to staying nearby." He hissed at Faryll.
Likely one of his underlings from the tower I presumed. His appearance unremarkable, especially standing next to someone like Faryll.
Seizing this opportunity to escape I interjected.
"I will leave you two gentlemen to your discussion. Good evening Lord Faryll." I quickly turn and make my retreat. Entirely ignoring the attempt Faryll makes to stop me, along with the eyes that follow me until I am out of his view.
My retreat takes me into the crowd. Fortunately I make it to the other side with no further unwanted social interactions other than a few half hearted greetings here and there. This side is closer to the throne where the Emperor still sits, a couple men gathered around talking with him. Both the Empress and the Prince and Princess have gone to mingle into the crowd.
I know that I still have several hours of this party left to go and with my role within this endless cycle I am unlikely to get through it without more drama. However, I take what time I can to relax just a tad. Being cornered by those two, one right after the other has me all stressed.
The Scholar is always like that, charming, always playing the overly curious but harmless researcher. Underneath that lay a man who mostly just liked to push and poke at people until they broke. He finds most people boring and so whenever he finds exceptions to that rule he decides to poke and prod and push until he figures out what makes them tick. Then, once he has figured them out, he gets bored. So he leaves to find someone new.
Of course the narrative would have you believe that the heroine is just so unique and fascinating that he simply never gets bored of her. Though I suppose I've never lived long after she marries the prince, so maybe he gets bored and leaves sometime after that happens. I wouldn't really be surprised.
Now, however, I go back to watching the crowd. They dance across the floor in elegant patterns. No two couples ever bumping in to each other.
I let my mind drift just a little. To thoughts about how nice it will be to finally get out of this dress and take my hair down. To the way the light from the chandeliers above reflect off the polished marble floors. It really is a beautiful sight, the sort of aesthetic artist spend hours trying to capture.