elizabeth f. fortescue (ringmybell) wrote in valesco,
@ 2009-10-29 20:32:00

Entry tags:

adelaide jordan, augustus borgin, bess fawcett, chester scabior, drystan fawcett, elizabeth fortescue, elliot alderton, ellsinore alderton, euan abercrombie, franziska dolohov, gabriel corner, group, hannah wood, jonas ackerly, kobe ackerly, lydia proudfoot, lyssandra vance, macon carmichael, noah boot, noël carmichael, odette boot, patrick vance, rachel corner, rebecca abercrombie, seth wadcock, stubby boardman

Halloween Party (for Saturday!)! Everyone!
Halloween was her favorite day of the year, outside of her birthday. And Christmas. And Valentine's Day! It was still pretty up there, considering that there were 365 days in the bloody year! Liz couldn't handle the excitement, whether it be from dressing Katie up in adorable little outfits (plural, because she simply could not pick one obnoxiously cute costume for her daughter) or doing her hair or making Ian dress up and the candy!

Ohhhh, the candy.

It was probably not a good idea to be on a full blown sugar rush when you left for a big party like this, but her fans (she had FANS!) were used to her rapid paced talk! So this should be the norm for everyone, because Liz Bell was a show stopper! The red carpet was sooo much fun, and the Bells were just sofreakinggoodlooking so why would the cameras not flash at them and sigh.

Halloween was the best ever.

"How are my buns?" she asked without looking up, unsure if she had wandered away from her husband or not. There were so many pretty costumes and lights and shiny things...it really wasn't her fault if she'd gotten lost in the crowd.

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brythonichero
2009-10-31 07:30 am UTC (link)

Drystan did not have the reputation for being the most approachable of players. He was patient with fans and willing to answer reasonable or intelligent questions for any polite representatives of publications, and attended a large number of social and charitable events, though it was usually at his teammates' behest, and he was more often than not the tall lurker in the back. So it was beyond him why this night, of all nights, acquaintances were demanding his attention from the moment he'd stepped through the door. He was accosted by the representative from the Department of Magical Games and Sports whose name he did not care about, but who insisted on pressing Drystan for his opinion on Rocco Molina's death, then making eyes at the woman on his arm.

That was certainly enough of that. Waving the wizard away with a sour glance, he glanced at the elusive Miss Zeller with a quirked eyebrow, smirking slightly at her rolling eyes.

"You're very good," he told her with a note of amused approval as there was a lull in greeting acquaintances and making small talk. Watching her from the corner of his eye, he was reminded of the lengths to which he had gone in order to involve himself in her life. The downside to this, of course, was that the woman was far from aware of how immersed he had succeeded in becoming (particularly in the financial aspects), but that might have been for the best.

"We've been here at least a half hour, and you've completely refrained from demanding why I elected to escort you here."

To be fair, she had completely refrained from demanding anything.

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bestzeller
2009-11-01 11:18 am UTC (link)

She could show how really good she was by continuing to act like she cared what he had to say. Bess' eyebrows rose slowly over the rim of her glass, her eyes not deceiving the rather rude thoughts that were passing through her mind. Why would she demand anything from him? All right, so she had been a bit of a pain in his side, probably, about the debt she felt she owed him, but other than that...'elected to escort'? What on earth did that mean?

With ease she placed her empty glass on a passing waiter's tray and let her hair fall over her shoulder as she feigned some thought on the matter. It was honestly befuddling, because as a famous, rather handsome quidditch player, Drystan should have had no problem finding a date to this party. If she went with her theory that he was looking to turn to the media with his heroic tale, that would more than likely perturb him and make the evening even more awkward than it was already was.

She decided to play nice, because she had been trying to be nice throughout this entire ordeal. Or, play as 'nice' as Bess Zeller possibly could when irritated.

"I have a reputation for being rather hard to get out of one's mind," Bess responded with a sly smirk and bat of her eyes. She straightened up to keep her humor dry, her eyes leaving Drystan to scan the dance floor. Bess wasn't sure if she was to be more than an accessory of Drystan's or if he'd actually ask her to dance, but she found she didn't care either way.

"It would have been rude to call you out on such a thing, however."

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brythonichero
2009-11-02 01:47 am UTC (link)

"On the contrary," he replied, glancing over at her with the hint of a smug expression, "I respect a woman who speaks her mind."

And Miss Zeller did, at that. In fact, Drystan was surprised that he himself was not at the receiving end of more of her "mind-speaking." That was, however, very much so about to change. It was, as he was about to speak, that he did not know whether his actions would fall under those of a sociopath, or those of the most socially-backwards fellow. He was not at all confident that he did not fall under either of those categories, but it seemed late to fret about that. Clearing his throat, he instead picked up a glass from a passing tray and drained its contents, able to deposit on the same tray not two seconds later.

"Forgive me, but you did readily agree to attend with me—I'd have happily explained my reasoning had you asked," he prefaced with a wary smile, keeping his eyes on the hobnobbing wildly costumed groups in front of him. "You see, there's a woman here who I'd much rather not see me without…" Drystan nodded at her, offering her a sly little smile, "well, without someone bloody good-looking on my arm. Your costume is stunning appropriate, by the way. Purple does look exceptional on you."

Not true in the slightest. This was what he'd been prepared to tell her, had she asked, which she hadn't. Why, then, was he feeding her this information with no prompting from her whatsoever?

It came, he realized, from an inborn desire to push her buttons, to illicit responses from her, to learn about her. Not the most self-preserving of hobbies, Drystan would most likely come to conclude.

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bestzeller
2009-11-02 02:45 am UTC (link)

Hm. Dexter had been pretty spot-on with her analysis of Drystan's requests. Bess hadn't seen herself as one of those glorious, look-at-who-he's-with, girls in a long, long time. When there was a man she was interested in, she managed to turn into a flirt and behave as confident as she needed to be, but. She had not been in any sort of situation for Drystan to see her that way. Her office attire wasn't meant to be attractive, she'd been in slacks during their little tiff over the flat, and...well she supposed there was the Slug Club party...

Bess felt herself flush as she realized this man wasn't that much of a stranger, after all. He knew quite a bit about her, and she him, so...should she consider him at least a friend? Bess found herself momentarily stunned by this revelation, but quickly shook it away. Without hesitating further, Bess grasped his hand and tugged Drystan to the dance floor. What good would she be doing just standing there? The woman must be the wench that has been pestering him with the fake paternity scheme, and if it wasn't, it must be far worse than that for him to want to make sure he had a beautiful woman on his arm.

All right, it wasn't so hard to believe that he found her quite beautiful.

"Put your hand on my waist," she murmured, her eyes watching the dancers around them for a particularly vexed woman. Bess found this more than amusing now that she was fully aware of Drystan's intentions, and she planned to have her fun. Her eyes ducked down to make sure she wasn't going to step on his giant feet (this man seemed far taller now that she was nearly pressed up against him), and then she looked up, "Have you spotted her? What's she wearing?"

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brythonichero
2009-11-02 04:07 am UTC (link)

That was the thing about Bess Zeller.

She always surprised him.

Confused, but never dreaming of distracting her and perhaps inciting the rage that had yet to appear, Drystan allowed himself to be led to the dance floor, keeping his expression neutral, but he was smirking quite plainly in his mind's eye. He slid one hand smoothly around her waist, grasping her hand with the other so that he held it almost to his shoulder. How many other woman would have yelled, swatted his arm, perhaps even slapped him? How many would be offended that he escorted them to the dance under false pretenses, or was—apparently—blatantly using her to strike back at another woman?

The answer was many. How many would lead him to dance with a vixen-like smile, oozing charm, after a revelation like that?

No other name came to him beside that of the woman he was dancing with.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, casting an eye about the floor for a good candidate. Yes, Miss Zeller was quite the enigma.

"I saw her for a few moments when we came in," Drystan said, making things up as they went along. "Her costume was rather extravagant, but I couldn't make out what it was she was supposed to be." He may have slid his arm the slightest bit tighter around her waist.

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bestzeller
2009-11-02 07:22 am UTC (link)

That excited her. She was here, and moving about the party, probably waiting for a Drystan to be free for a second before swooping in like the vulture she was. Oh, Bess didn't need a description of the costume anymore, she pictured quite perfectly the whorish disguise the rabid fan girl would be wearing; she would definitely know her when she saw her. Those types of girls stuck out in the crowd in the most glaring of ways.

"You certainly seem to have a way with women," Bess commented in amusement. She could understand why, of course, he was one of the most handsome men she'd ever had the pleasure of speaking to (pleasure of seeing was more like it), but there was the simple fact that she had this incessant need to...impress him whenever they had an encounter.

Now that she was looking back at all the times they'd been together, one common factor was that she didn't want to seem inadequate of holding up her part of the conversation, to be able to keep herself on the same playing field as him. Her time at the office had been absolutely terrible, but besides that...Bess was certain he believed her to be someone that she wasn't. Or, at least, wasn't all the time.

"Is it too early for a verdict? Am I living up to your expectations?" she asked as the song slipped into a ballad.

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