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13orgLayla and Lorenzo
Location: Ballroom
Interactions: Charlotte Vikena | Theo Blackwood
Layla glanced around the ballroom until her eyes found her prey. She handed Zilal back to her servants quickly after assuring them he would be fed. The second dance was beginning so here was her chance. She sauntered over to Lorenzo and noticed the glass of wine he appeared to be nursing. “You’ll need more than that.” Layla grinned, took the wine from him, and drank it. She tossed the glass over her shoulder, not caring where it fell.
“Eh!” Lorenzo had to stop himself from yelping at the sudden approach.
“But you’re too late.”
With a mischievous grin, she grabbed him by the arm and pulled him towards the dancefloor. “Does the court jester know how to dance?” She inquired mockingly. “Or does he need lessons?”
Lorenzo looked frantically from right to left as he tried to register what was even going on. One moment he was enjoying a glass of wine and the next he was robbed of his pleasant drink and stolen away.
“What? I-I… Eh…” His pitiful sounds were all he could muster before he planted his feet. “What is the meaning of this?!” Lorenzo asked as he attempted to pull his hand away.
“Do you need hearing aids?” Layla inquired as she held onto his arm with a grin. The situation with Hafiz kept mentally replaying and it took all her self-control not to yell. “The second dance?” She began moving in time to the music, forcing him to play catchup. “Unless you’re afraid to dance with me? You don’t want to sit on your own, do you? What a pity.” Her voice became light and teasing now, switching from the mocking tone earlier.
Lorenzo’s expression still held a stupid look of confusion for a brief moment before his movements immediately timed Layla’s.
“Afraid to dance? Never.” Layla couldn’t erase her grin at his response. She noticed the piercing fire in Lorenzo’s eyes and smirked to herself. It was a rare thing that few ever saw in the man. Passion was a feeling he hadn’t experienced in so long. There were very few things Lorenzo excelled at as Duke during a grand event. Small talk, trash. Timeliness, don’t even count on it. Embarrassing himself, a definite given. Dancing… Now that was a playing field the man could challenge many of the best on. And there it was. The pathetic bastard wasn’t a shriveling and whiny coward. “The waltz is not a problem for a Caesonian. However, for the Duke of Veirmont…” He dipped Layla with a swift yet precise movement that took her by surprise and for a moment, she lost her mask. “It’s like clockwork… Wait, is that the right saying?” He shrugged as he raised her back up in time with the slow pace of the music.
Layla had recovered quickly, rising with a devious smirk. “You actually can dance and don’t need hearing aids. I’m shocked.” Her voice was sarcastic and cold. Lorenzo smiled and nodded with a hint of confidence in his talent. The two glided across the ballroom dance floor with an unforeseen elegance to those who held little knowledge of them.
“Not so clumsy either, and here I thought you would need a cane for support. You’re full of surprises aren’t you, Jester?” Her voice dripped with venom as she continued looking devious. “Can the same be said for your vampiric-looking daughter?” The insult toward Lorenzo could be brushed off his shoulder but again the duke found it difficult to ignore unkind words directed at Charlotte.
“Vampiric? Lottie is the most precious thing to grace this ballroom! If she is a vampire, then she is one that has seemingly captivated even one of the most beautiful of the Alidasht women? No?” Lorenzo nodded again as he moved his guiding hand upward so Layla could perform a twirl.
Layla had listened to Lorenzo and raised her eyebrows. She had pinpointed his weakness in less than five minutes. What a simpleton. She remained neutral with her expression. “And I am an older man, yes, but I am also the Duke of Veirmont. Hmph!” The twirl distracted her and she almost didn’t catch what he said but when she did, she shot back quickly. “You’ve said that twice now. Do you have a memory problem?” She turned the tables on him by forcing him to twirl.
“No no no! Wait twice?!” The wine was catching up to him and that sudden swirl wasn't helping with anything. Lorenzo had the split thought of fighting against her taking the lead but he decided to keep with the rhythm of the music.
“Do you sit down and rehearse that line to make you feel powerful?” Layla’s mind continued to race but didn’t spit out what she was truly thinking.
“Powerful? N-no.” He gulped but remained in step. Layla noticed his panic and fear. His breath smelled strongly of wine. It wasn’t difficult for her to put two and two together. She sighed as he rambled on. “Am I… coming off too strong? I apologize if I am! I just… I didn’t want to be seen as anything less than.” The poor, blithering fool seemed to host a number of different insecurities. His gem was his daughter and his weak point. It also seemed this man could take a verbal beating and not care. His cries from earlier only told everyone how broken inside he was. As Lorenzo averted his gaze and Layla was about to respond, the man fell out of rhythm with the dance. It had only been a split second but it was enough. Oh, it was enough. “Sorry.” He noticed it but it was too late. Lorenzo’s shoe caught the long hanging sash of her dress!
RIIIIIIIIP!
Dumbfounded, Layla looked down in time to see the hem of her sash now trapped between the dancefloor Lorenzo’s shoe. She paused, falling out of rhythm herself, and freezing with shock. Layla looked at Lorenzo’s fearful face murderously while her eyes flashed with viciousness. I think I may die… Feeling the staring eyes at her back, Layla shoved him gently backward off her dress. Her head slightly moved as a means to point Lorenzo’s attention toward the gaze of her uncle looming in the background with an expectant expression.
“Hm.” Lorenzo let out after making a glance toward the man who openly pleaded for his public execution. The one who had tumbled backward. Grand Vizier Hafiz Kadir.
Layla began to wrap what was left of her sash around herself as a makeshift jacket. This way, the bumbling jester couldn’t rip anymore of it. “I hated the sash anyways. Thank you…. You don’t need to be sorry. It’s fine.” She kept her expression up, however, not allowing herself to look elsewhere. Her words surprisingly were soft, which was a sharp contrast to her murderous expression.
“Expectations.” Lorenzo simply commented with a dejected expression as he reached down to grab the torn piece of sash and swiftly shoved it into the back pocket of his trousers. It was clear neither of them wanted to cause too much of a scene. “I know I have no place to speak but…” Layla listened to Lorenzo and observed him and his saddened disposition. He seemed so sad and broken, like a dry leaf floating endlessly in the wind. It tugged at her heartstrings and she let out a deep sigh. Her anger from earlier when she’d fallen and hit her head dissipated slightly.
The two went through the motions of returning their hands to their proper places. He was far too intimidated by the woman to look her in the eyes now, nevertheless, he remained in step with the music. “You should not do things your heart disagrees with.” He spoke up before gulping again, hoping he hadn’t spoken out of turn. She didn’t expect much from the man, and she felt grateful he was able to dance. Yet what he had said made her blink and pause. Even her intimidating expression softened.
This man, Lorenzo Vikena. The jester. The fool. He had a good heart. Layla had longed to hear such comforting words for a long time now. However, her guard would remain up. Who knew what the man would do? He was unpredictable. Her voice was quiet and low so nobody could overhear them. She noticed he couldn’t look her in the eye, so she spoke while looking at his forehead.
“One would hope they wouldn’t have to. Sometimes life isn’t fair.” Layla paused and watched as a pair moved closer and turned Lorenzo and her away from them quickly without falling out of rhythm. “I’m not sure who you are or what your story is, but I can tell you’re familiar with the concept.” She swallowed and hoped she hadn’t pried too much.
Lorenzo was just about to answer Layla when Charlotte Vikena and Leo Smithwood surfaced from the sea of the slow dancing crowd. The duke’s hand at Layla’s back almost burned with the desire to do it. He had to!
With a swift and stealthy move, Lorenzo reached out a well-timed open palm while flashing a smile to his lovely daughter. The high-five was successful but the gesture was far from enough to completely lift his spirits tonight. If anything, seeing Charlotte reminded Lorenzo of how unfair life could be. Lottie…
“Familiar? I almost feel married to that concept.” His words were meant to be a joke but the tone didn’t quite fit. Where lightheartedness should have existed, there was instead hopelessness, which only further dampened the mood. If it could’ve rained, it would have poured. Nothing but sadness radiated from the Duke. “You know, being Duke is not something I entirely enjoy…” Lorenzo briefly forced a smile while wearing such sad eyes that eventually met her gaze. That's when Layla noticed the tears forming. She grimaced now as she faltered with the rhythm of the dance and continued listening to him.
“But I do it for those dear to me…” He felt the familiar tingle in the ducts of his eyes, yet he continued. “Those close to my heart.”
Oh no, is he going to cry again? Her thoughts were answered as he turned his face away, though Layla could see it happening nonetheless. A single tear was rolling down his cheek.
What did she do now? Her mind began to race on what to do next. The man crumbled quicker than a cookie in milk. Layla sighed and turned him back to face her. Her expression became stony while her words were sweeter than honey.
“You should hold yourself with more pride, Lorenzo.” She glared at him as she continued while pausing their dance. “Mistakes don’t define you. You - your personality, your words, and actions, do. So what if you fucked up? The pits of vipers we both live in are only filled with vipers with no conscience and whose self-worth is built on dragging others down.”
Lorenzo tried his best to blink away any follow-on waterworks. The man seemed to have been reminded of how he was meant to carry himself. He couldn't embarrass himself any further tonight. However, Lorenzo would still wear his shame. With an impatient sigh Layla began moving them back into the rhythm of the music. “Focus on the dance now, alright? We both know you’re at least capable of that.” Her voice dripped with a little venom at the end. Lorenzo nodded silently and wiped his wet cheek on the shoulder of his sleeve.
“Thank you. I… Nevermind. It's been a pleasure dancing with you, Shahzade.”
Layla held back a disgruntled sigh when Lorenzo messed up her title. She knew she couldn’t expect much from him so she wasn’t surprised. If he continued though…. “Shehzadi,” she corrected dryly, now impassive then added quietly, “Remember that.”
“Yes…” He wished to say something more. Ask something more. Layla on the other hand glanced around the ballroom to find the other dances beginning to end. “And do yourself a favor and drink some water.” Layla let go of him and presented the Alidasht bow, though she didn’t bend down quite as much as the others would. She didn’t bow to anyone for anything. Lorenzo gulped for the third time in Layla's presence.
“Your… your name, Shehzadi? I would like to know it… If that’s okay. You don’t need to but-”
Layla managed a grin for a split second before it disappeared. Amusement showed in her eyes, then it was gone, quicker than one of Zilal’s deadly strikes. “Layla, and yours?” She replied, not referring to his title purposely, and waited patiently for an answer, entirely focused on him.
“Lorenzo Vikena.” This time his smile was not forced or uneasy. Instead, there was a sliver of warmth as he performed the Caesonian-Varian bow to formally conclude their dance.
Layla let out a quick smile when he told her his name. Lorenzo Vikena. She nodded her approval and left to go sit back down.
