[attr="class","isratalk"]

It was a crisp winter night, her favorite kind.

The bite in the air felt like a perfect fit for the festival that was taking place in the city. She could feel it through the long shawl draped over her shoulders and wrapped around her torso, just enough to make the sleek black dress she wore to the office cozy in her mind. Despite being born to the tropical region she had always found the cold more welcoming, invigorating even.

If only she had not been so late to the festivities, but work comes first. The league seems to be in an ever present state of disarray and working for Fernando silph of all people makes that a little more so she feels. It seems like even when they make a little headway something else drives him in a tizzy or finds its way to his desk. She smooths over what she can, and works fast enough to be able to leave early and get a peak at the lingering festivities.

She doesn't fully understand the appeal, surely as she approaches the novelty of it leaves her mesmerized but without someone to enjoy it with the glamour disappears fast. She does not belong amongst the laughing families and loved ones, and in many ways she sees them as nothing but trespassers. Day walkers in her domain, in his. Carelessly so. The night itself is almost more appealing but she is determined to see what the fuss is about, she's heard the story the festivity revolves itself around enough times over the last week to drive her mad. Curiosity reigns, ultimately dictating her interest in being here.

Something out of the corner of her eye derails her, and she finds herself debating between which curiosities to sate first. She supposes, she can always read about the festival later. She's missed most of the fun already anyway, cooped up in a box.

If the sound of her heels does not announce her the sound of her voice certainly will. "A green tea, if you would." she's never been much for coffee. "Do you mind?" she gestures to the seat beside him. "Unless you'd rather not have a visit from a poltergeist on such s festive night."

Remiel Calcifet

MADE BY VEL OF GS + WW

[attr="class","isratalk"]

Between his gentlemanly gesture of pulling the stool out for her and the sinistea's delight at her presence, Isra can't help but think the welcome is warm as she's ushered into joining them. She slips onto the stool with a practiced grace one might expect of her before reaching out to tap a finger on the rim of the pokemon's cup in greeting. "Well hello to you too." the chuckle is light on her lips, finger only leaving to receive her own cup of tea.

"You do look much sharper tonight, you wear the look well." she compliments, grinning at him over the rim of her cup before she takes a sip. The warmth of the beverage is a delightful compliment to chill of the night. "It sounds like I'm right on time tonight though, must be why I felt so compelled to come out this way."

"can't have you tapping out just yet. They can't have been that bad?" she inquires, knowing full well they most certainly can be.

Remiel Calcifet

MADE BY VEL OF GS + WW

[attr="class","isratalk"]

"Thank you." she accepts his compliment with a fitting smile. It helps to cover the slight disappointment when he misses her joke but she lets it slide. The woman is more used to it than not as her social capacity flits between someone well composed and capable to an awkward child that misses their mark more often than not. Besides, what he says about his night is much more interesting.

Isra looks at him, a slight tilt to her head at the curiosity his answer piques. She stows it away for the moment, because he inquires something of her and Isra is, if nothing else a woman of tit for tat. The compulsion to let the conversation swing back and forth deriving from childhood habits and games. "Hmm..."

Her eyes move back to her tea first when he mentions it, her head moves to face it again shortly after. It comes off almost like a puppet on a string being pulled at and following along reluctantly. "I don't mind crowds themselves." She wraps her hands around the cup a little more tightly, as if she were warming cold fingers against it. "People like me fade into crowds, we're just part of the background more than anything." A fact she often uses to her own advantage.

"But tonight, is more a matter of experience."

Reading and watching filled her head with information, experiencing gave it substance. It was no longer words on pages and pictures in her head that way, it was reality. It was touchable, tangible, believable. All the things her head played tricks on her about when it was just words in her brain. Her eyes narrow at the steam coming off her cup, considering the train of thought an unpleasant one.

"The tea is just an extra." and with that she hopes to leave such a topic behind. A part of her knows that if he was curious enough to ask it of her in the first place however, she can expect further questions.

"It sounds like your night hasn't exactly been fun, spend too much time on the wrong side of Lilycove and the city stops sparkling." it's a knowing smile that follows. She can't say she's surprised by his words, perhaps the fact he said them out loud but not what they were in the slightest. "No intention of enjoying the festivities for yourself? All business and no play is boring."

She on the other hand, was wondering about the dance he mentioned and the fireworks. With a side of wondering what exactly he meant by business partners.

Remiel Calcifet
>>she probably hates the tea tbh

MADE BY VEL OF GS + WW

[attr="class","isratalk"]

Isra has turned back to her tea when he catches her off guard, slipping from his seat without another word on the matter. Even better is him inviting her to join him as she had anticipated it being the other way around. In truth, Isra had expected their second meeting to be short lived once her curiosity got the better of her and she returned to the festivities.

The momentary surprise doesn't last long, nothing more than a blank face and a blink before one hand slips away from her tea. "I would." she takes the offered hand as she slips from the stool, posture matching his as she stands beside him. The smile is contained but genuine, pleased by the unexpected turn around. "I was expecting to ask the same of you."

"Since you've been here awhile, I suppose I'll leave taking the lead to you." she'll step in line beside him the same as his teacup floats beside him. A mannerism drilled into her as proper for a lady of her stature and though normally she hates it Isra finds she doesn't mind it so much tonight.

The lack of her own annoyance is stored away to address later, compartmentalized until it can be broken down and assessed. She despises the social politics but to find someone they do not bother her with is a rarity she is never quite certain how to deal with.

Remiel Calcifet

MADE BY VEL OF GS + WW

[attr="class","isratalk"]

He's not wrong, it is a lot to take in. Isra is too used to watching for anything and everything, thinking too much and enjoying herself too little. The little bit of bubbling giddiness as he guides her through the booths is more than she expects. The lights and decorations are charming in their own right and the noise of people is something she's used to tuning out, trying to ignore but she lets herself listen to it tonight. Her eyes wonder around their surroundings freely, holding onto his hand and trusting him to guide her through the crowds.

When he draws her eyes back to him the excitement is noticeable. Despite her initial skepticism she is still a child, finding herself lost in the ambiance of the festival. Having another with her makes her feel, in the most abstract of ways (she is fooling herself and she knows it, quieting that little voice in the back of her head) that she belongs here too after all. No longer feeling out of place, like a spectre on the fringes of the living plane she is free to enjoy it. She looks away from him again and glances over the booths, there were several she found interesting but one stuck out in particular.

"We should play a couple of the games." She says decidedly. "But over here first." The tug on his hand is barely there, just enough to direct him towards a booth sporting a variety of hair pins fitting the theme of the festival. Snowflakes and winter flowers, replications of some of the decorations all in white and blue and the colors of the northern lights and while she does not often wear such things she feels drawn to them.

Once they're within reach her eyes drift over them with apparent interest, resisting the urge to reach out and touch them. She can't pick any one of them out over the others, and could spend far too long looking them over if he lets her.

Remiel Calcifet
>>apparently trinkets

MADE BY VEL OF GS + WW

[attr="class","isratalk"]

Isra is quiet and patient as he rescues her form her indecision. The plum colored moon had caught her eye but she hadn't though much of it. The woman watches him carefully as he hold the hairpin up to her and seems to inspect it, ultimately deciding that he finds it fitting. When he lowers it for her she runs a finger over the smooth surface for a moment before she quietly decides that she agrees. "Just a moment."

Fingers uncurl around his hand as she takes the pin, digging out her wallet and waiting a moment to offer her card to the gentleman manning the stall. She smiles and nods her way through the quick exchange, complimenting the craftsmanship of the pin in a practiced fashion. Social pleasantries she's good at, playing off the expected script until she turns away from the man and back to Remiel. It takes her a moment to nestle the pin into her hair on the left side, ensuring it wasn't going to go anywhere and she thinks she'll have to wear her hair up a little more often after this. An excuse to wear it.

"Your turn then." she states, implying that she expects him to pick next as she reaches for his hand again. An old habit, taking turns feeling natural to her and as something that has yet to fail her she retains in many of her social interactions. Most don't think much of it, and if they do see nothing more than an odd quirk of an already odd woman.

Remiel Calcifet

MADE BY VEL OF GS + WW

[attr="class","isratalk"]

There is something about the moment that stands out to her but she can't quite name what. Perhaps in that moment in time he and his Sinistea seem too fitting a pair, or maybe it's because she's actually pleased he's there. Whatever it is, she must tuck it aside when fingers lace together and he guides her away through the crowd again. The spark of curiosity is much easier to address, she doesn't even have to ask only follow.

Isra spots it if only because the plushies would get her attention even if they weren't headed in that direction. A childhood trinket she had managed to ignore most of her life, and now she couldn't help but look them over. Silently in her head she names them off, even the more unusual ones. She finds their names in pages in books, frail and dusty from years in that old building. Her eyes flit about the colors lining the stall until they settle for a moment on the sign, reading its rules and prices with a raised brow.

Her eyes pry away at the appearance of the vendor and she's skeptical from the start but no more so than she would have been to begin with. Isra errs on the side of pessimism, a natural byproduct of her upbringing. She says nothing though, choosing to watch and keep her thoughts to herself as Remiel pays. She's the one that told him to choose after all, she can't take that back now.

"You know, I did expect you to have a try at it too." she comments, grinning playfully at him as she winds up with the toy gun in her hands.

The woman humors him regardless, taking aim, dark eyes taking a moment to watch the duckletts as they cross. Trying desperately not to over analyze the game but the habit is hard to break. Isra plays for keeps, that's why she hadn't intended to play. It was too easy to draw attention to herself that way because no one expects that the dainty woman in a sleek dress might be something worthy of fearing. She tracks the patterns and in quick succession lets off the shots.

One, two, miss.

Isra sets down the toy gun and scoffs at the vendor, dark eyes narrowing at him because she's not a bad shot and she's quite certain that shouldn't have missed. Her anger is cloaked in a quiet stillness however, because getting angry is rather unsightly for a lady of her stature.

Especially in what she thinks to be good company.

Remiel Calcifet
>>The answer to my Q was in your post I'm just dumb sorry ;w;