Impressions of family members from the dancing:
            Gerard, of course, does not dance. While there doesn't seem to be a coordinated effort to ensure that he is kept company, it happens that someone is with him, talking, most of the time. He is most frequently kept company by Caine, who doesn't seem to care that his opportunities to dance are limited thereby. He offers a few courtesy dances to relatives and to the Queen, but that's it.
            Bleys and Corwin are the two flashiest dancers among the uncles. They are both almost constantly on the dance floor, and are reasonably promiscuous about whom they ask. Among the aunts, Flora has many suitors and is also constantly on the dance floor.
            As the hostess, Vialle is much in demand, both by family members and, to the extent that she accepts them, from outsiders. She is conservative in the dances she accepts, probably because her blindness limits her ability to process dance cues. (In the less formal dancing atmosphere of the Regency masquerade, this was less of a problem.)
            Random spends most of his time talking, but he occasionally asks someone to dance. Astute observers notice that he seems to get out of conversations he might prefer not to be in that way. He offers courtesy dances to his sisters and his nieces but seems uninterested in dancing with women unrelated to him.
            Martin follows his father's pattern in general, but is swifter to flee to the dance floor than Random. He sticks closely to women he knows, as well, but he includes some favorites from the Regency court, such as Aunt Felicity.  Observers note that he offers a courtesy dance to his stepmother.
            Benedict dances to only the most traditional of dances. He restricts himself to only the closest members of his family: his sisters, Lilly, and perhaps surprisingly, Aisling. He also asks the Queen for her courtesy dance.
            Cambina dances occasionally with men she knows, including her escort Brennan, several of her uncles, and Martin. Other than a couple of very strong-willed fellows like Marquess Maritime, few non-relatives actually have the guts to ask her to dance.
            Julian alternates between keeping company with Gerard and asking ladies of his acquaintance to dance. His partners include his sisters (particularly Fiona), the Queen, and, if they are willing, his daughter and some of his nieces. He is a precise, elegant dancer, with none of the showiness of Bleys and Corwin.
            Fiona is asked to dance by many men and accepts a fair number. Her choices include Bleys, Julian, Corwin, and one of the captains from the Land of Peace.
            To the surprise of some, Llewella spends much of her time dancing, although she occasionally retires to keep Gerard company. Observers from the time of Eric's court note that she has many dance partners who would not have asked her during the previous reign. Some of those who were there in Amber before Eric's rule might remember that Llewella had been more popular, and some of her old friends seem to have come out of the woodwork.
            Lucas dances with a number of ladies and a few women who might be described as less wholesome than ladies. He is quite possibly the most flamboyant dancer of the younger set. He checks in with Solace regularly, but seems to leave her on her own for the most part. He also spends a part of his evening keeping Vialle company during faster dances that she cannot keep up
with.
           All of the relatives are good dancers.

Aisling: Has a lot of partners because she is a true unknown, and comes on the arm of a royal. Benedict, Random, and Lucas ask her to dance.

Aisling is happy dancing with Random, and enjoys dances with any other of her male distant relatives who ask her, but it is Benedict's request that leaves her truly starry-eyed and thrilled.  She tries to 'keep this down' some, so as to not embarrass both of them as they dance.  Afterwards, she slips over to the side to sip on a fortifying glass of wine, so she isn't dancing while distracted from whichever poor fellow is next.
            Aisling would like to ask to the dance floor Reid, and I think -- yes, I think Bleys, since she's in a somewhat devilish mood today.  With a twinkle in her eyes...

Folly: Has her choice of dancing partners much of the time, because so many know her from the Regency. Corwin, Caine, Bleys and Random all ask her to dance, as does Lucas (probably checking her deportment, uh huh). Martin asks her to dance as often as he can without being too conspicuous.

Lilly: Probably has a number of people scared off, because the blade marks her as a royal lady. Nobody approaches her while she is with Vialle, but in her off times, Benedict, Bleys, and Martin ask her to dance. When Random asks her, Benedict remains by Vialle.

Paige: Has numerous requests from the red-headed faction, but not so many from nobles and honored guests outside it. Corwin, Bleys, Julian, Random, and Martin all ask her to dance at various times. Her non-family potential dance partners include the captains from the Land of Peace, Lord Rein, and Alan LeClaire, as well as a number of guests at her recent housewarming and men who know her from the Prince.

Which notably matches the list in Paige's mind, at least in the matter of her elders, and she's happy to take a few turns with Alan and Lord Rein.  She's disappointed that Lord Worth doesn't make the list, but not surprised, nor bold enough this evening to make the suggestion herself.

Solange: Has her choice of dancing partners much of the time, because so many know her from the Regency. All of her uncles ask her to dance, as do Martin and Lucas.

Robin: Julian, Corwin, Random, and Martin all ask her. If she declines, any of them will be happy to sit one out with her.

Robin would, of course, be delighted to dance with Julian. Random -- more of a spooky duty than anything else.  Martin -- why? Has he already run out of partners?  Corwin approaches her? Eyes spark fire and she'll unconsciously finger her knife. Maybe that snarl isn't such a good idea in public either. It's supposed to be a happy occasion. So it'll only be a momentary flash.

Vere plans on having several conversations during the course of the evening - when he is not involved in these his time will be split between standing near his father (either conversing with him or listening to his conversations with others) and wandering around observing what everyone else is doing.  He will not be dancing very many dances, although when he does dance his skill is excellent.  It is clear he knows all the steps perfectly, and has an uncanny ability to read his partner and tailor his dancing in order to make her look her best.
            Vere never asks for a dance from anyone who clearly has other suitors for her hand, he only asks those who are not currently dancing but look as though they wish to, and even then only if, once he approaches them, they obviously look as though they're hoping that he will ask.  He seems to make no distinctions based on age, appearance, or social rank.

When approached Lilly is polite and agreeable. She barely seems to notice the lack of partners. Perhaps that was because she is grateful for it. After all it was easier to do her job from the sidelines. Still, though she would never admit it, she enjoyed dancing. The movement, the rhythms, came easily and naturally to her.  Lilly is light on her feet, graceful, and poised. Plus she can carry on a conversation, keep an eye on the queen, and never miss a step.

As long as Vialle has royal company, specifically the Princes, Paige encourages some of the gentlemen of her acquaintance to take a spin with Lily, especially those she might've met at the housewarming.

After Marius and Aisling pay their respects to the King and Queen and after he and Aisling share a dance, Marius pulls back as Aisling glitters and prances across the floor in a shimmering flutter.
    
Marius escorts Aisling properly for one dance.  He's actually quite the dancer; something about being steady even on the least balanced ship, and then he bows once to her, and turn to his own nefarious purposes.

Well, since he's an accomplished dancer, Aisling hasn't the slightest qualm about rescuing him from any ladies too pushy as the evening traipses on.

Marius heads towards the refreshments keeping an eye on Vialle for a bit.

As Aisling flits off to the dance floor, Marius looks for Ossian.  When he finds Ossian alone, he addresses him with a, "Hail danger to lost sheep!" and a grin.

Alone? Ossian *loves* dancing. Well, there might be a few seconds between two ladies where Marius can snatch him...
            Ossian bows, somewhat mockingly, "Greetings, fish-catcher." Marius suspects Ossian is grinning back, but it's of course impossible to be sure.
           "You should be dancing, my friend."

At the conclusion of the opening dance, Jovian bows deeply to Kourin and yields to whichever lesser noble has doubtless been drawn to her sparkling grace. For his own part, he angles toward Fiona as she and Julian drift apart.

"O Sorceress in your verdant splendour," he addresses her, bowing, making a very elegant leg and spreading his 'wings' in greeting. "Where a Creature of Air has gone, may a Creature of Fire have a place, before you move on to water and earth?"

Fiona takes a moment to adjust her crescent-ornamented headband slightly and casts a glance in the direction of her former partner before answering the younger man. "The pleasure would be mine, Burning One."

With a flourish and a glowing smile, the Phoenix hands the Sorceress into place - and with any luck at all, the next dance is one of a style that will permit him to emulate her former partner's elegance....
            "I am glad of a chance to converse with you at last, my Lady," he ventures during the second turn of the music, having concentrated on the steps the first time through, "of whom my father has spoken so highly. "I trust the Return has treated you with deserved warmth?"

"I am well pleased to be in Amber, with matters of the succession settled and our kin gathered in peace," says Fiona. "That, and the knowledge that those dear to me were among the in-gathered, is sufficient to warm my heart."

A pleased little humming sound emanates from the firebird, with a smile of fond reflection. "To feel welcomed into the bosom of Family is a thing that, I gather, has been rare for some time. I hope we can  orchestrate a lasting harmony among us."

A few beats go by in companionable peace, attending to a complex figure of the dance. "I had a most interesting time along the way home, meeting some of Vere's maternal family."

"Ah, yes. The Isles. They are an interesting place," Fiona says. "I suppose from your words that the news you brought to Gerard and his son was not what they might have hoped."

"Strange days indeed," the Firebird allows. "And developments of which I would value your opinion, were you inclined to give it."

"I have heard some of it from Julian. To offer an informed opinion, and I would hesitate to offer an uninformed one, I believe I would need to visit the Isles myself. But the road I will take next lies towards Paris," Fiona says.

"If you would find it of interest," the Phoenix offers, "I have an example of the offensive magics native to that place, which would welcome - and if I may be bold, my lady, deserve - a moment of your attention at your convenience. I would be most sincerely grateful for such attention," he adds gravely, emotion not quite allowed to rise in his voice.

"I will look at it, of course," says Fiona, "but I do not yet know when I will be leaving Amber again. It may be as soon as on the morrow.  I will ask my brother when I talk to him.  We shall talk again later this evening"

"My Lady, I could ask nothing better. The example I spoke of lay upon the eyes of Sir M'corli Antrithsrider, Companion of the Ruby, who is in this hall this evening. If it would please you, I shall introduce him to you later."

"It would please me. I will speak to Bleys of it as well; he is always intrigued by new magicks," Fiona says.

She turns her attention to the dance for a moment. Her movements are very precise and elegant.

Which in turn allows the Firebird to concentrate on matching her precision, without being thought dull if he lacks the flourish of some of the more stylish dancers in the hall. His frequent glances at his partner in green are appreciative, even admiring, but he keeps his smile just barely on the decorous side of the line where flirtation starts.
            As the music concludes he makes an elegant show of the reverence, the beak of his hood nearly brushing his knee, forward toe pointed a little (if he were not Juliani, one might suspect him of deliberately showing off such a well-turned leg).
           "Some refreshment, dear Lady?" He offers her a wing.

The unlikely pair make their way to the sideboard and chat for a little while, keeping conversation fairly light with no goal in mind but to gain some familiarity. Jovian, for his part, is cheerful but not as near-manically so as at the poker game. He doesn't seem to feel he has much to hide, unless he's very good at hiding things casually.
            The only thing tentative about him is his near-miss avoidance of direct flirtation. And when Fiona talks, he's an active listener - not like Vere who seems to focus on nothing but receives everything, his focus is very intent, like he's listening with his whole face and body.

Fiona is a pleasant conversationalist, speaking lightly of other occasions she has seen in the Great Hall over the centuries, such as the wedding feast of Oberon and Paulette. She does not deign to notice anything too close to flirtation; it is as if she has had many opportunities to perfect an absence of effect over time.

Conner dances with Thalia more than anyone but he takes the time to work the room as his station requires.
            Conner makes a point of asking all of his Aunts and female cousins to dance at some point.  He asks Vialle for their courtesy dance and also asks Solace to dance while Lucas is otherwise occupied.  And of course he also dances with his mother.

After that dance is done, Conner seeks out Solace.  "Would you do me the honor of dancing with a dragon, lady?"

"It would be my pleasure, Lord Dragon," says the masked shepherdess. Solace sets her crozier against the wall and follows Conner to his place on the floor.

Solace doesn't have great flair as a dancer, but she is familiar with the steps and makes a more than adequate partner. After the first couple of figures, when each of them has taken the other's measure, Solace asks, "Lord Dragon, what have you heard of the Land of Peace? My dear Shepherd tells me he will travelling there soon."

"Will he now?"  Conner responds sounding interested.  "Well I have heard it is a place of cutthroat business with the term meant literally in some cases."

A frown mars Solace's pretty face. "That's terrible. My Shepherd may be there for some time, he says. I suppose he won't want to bring me and the children if the place is dangerous."

"I would think that a wise precaution."  Conner replies.  "At least until your Shepherd has gathered a flock of supporters.  Though it is a shame he leaves the Shepherdess to look after his own flock alone."  Conner smiles. "How are the little ones?"

"Oh, very well, thank you for asking. Hope was very disappointed that she could not join Mummy and Daddy in their dress-up game."

Solace smiles coyly at him. "I see that you have a special friend with you this evening, Lord Dragon. She seems like a very lovely lady. Perhaps I should have her up for tea sometime soon?"

"Only invite a Sphinx to tea if you are in the mood for riddles."  Conner smiles back.

"Oh, I find I can get riddles aplenty from you, my Lord Dragon," Solace says, and laughs.

"Always do what your best at, my mother used to say."  Conner chuckles.  "You must be used to it though.  Your husband has been known to drop a puzzle or two."

"Oh, not to me," says Solace. "He knows I'm not clever enough for all that.  I suspect your Lady Sphinx would run circles around me. I hope though, that she's clever enough to riddle away those wicked Rebmans."

"So do I."  Conner murmurs.  "Though that conundrum will require a lot of unraveling."

"We were all better off before Corwin found the Rebmans and brought them here," Solace says firmly. "They should leave their games at home and not bring them to Amber."

"Ah but  Amber is always the game."  Conner replies.  "They just have troubles earning the privilege of sitting at the high roller table."
            Conner muses a moment letting the dance takes the fore.  "Of course the
very fact that Corwin found them is curious in itself."

"Yes, it is. Would you like me to dance with him and find out how he did it for you?" Solace offers.

Conner looks at Solace with new appreciation.  "A most kind offer, Lady. Please do."  He smiles.  "I see you enjoy playing the game too, in your own way."

Solace offers him a flirtatious grin back. "Just because you're not a king or queen doesn't mean you can't be a useful pawn sometimes."

"It's not every pawn that seeks to advance across the board."  Conner grins back.  "That takes courage."

"I needn't advance all the way across. But if you're going to be on the board, my Lord Dragon, you'd best learn the rules of the game." Solace is clearly enjoying the flirtation; it may be, Conner suspects, that he is the first one of her husband's relations to take her seriously.

"Very true."  Conner smiles.  "And your opening gambits have played out well, I think."

"I am pleased that you think so, sir."

They finish the dance.

Beyond the family, Conner asks any of the female ambassadors to dance most notably Ambassador Harper and, perhaps surprisingly, Ambassador Kaia.
            Lastly, Conner also seeks out some of the wallflowers in the crowd, the ones that look like they would love to dance if only someone would ask them,  and gives them the memory of dancing with a Royal.

Solange is well pleased by all the attention, and does not decline any invitations.  She also keeps her wings folded shut wile dancing so as not to poke other dancers in the eye.
            Even Benedict asks her to dance?  Amazing!

As does Worth, who is otherwise somewhat shy about asking partners to dance.  He is dressed as a common sailor.
    
"It would be my pleasure," Solange replies formally, although her curtsy is only a suggestion of the customary gesture, because of her more-clinging gown.

As they wait their turn in the middle of the set, she asks, "How are you, Papa? Everything's been so busy with the coronation, we haven't had a chance to say two words to each other."

He smiles.  "You know I like being busy.  The fleet has been a lot of work to get together, and we still don't really know what it is the king wants from us.  Not everyone is too happy, of course.  Busy is good.  Do you know yet what you'll be doing after all this is done?"

"His Majesty hasn't assigned me any specific duties yet," Solange says.  "I'd thought, if I weren't needed for anything else, that I might go searching for places with advanced healing methods -- maybe even regeneration.  But it's possible I might get drawn into a different matter, one that I'd thought was Vere's concern."

"Vere?  Vere has a reputation in the Navy as exactly the kind of hard-working, scrupulously honest paymaster that you hope is working for you back home.  For certain captains, he's the kind of hard-working scrupulously honest paymaster that you hope to send floating back home.  What does he need his half-sister for?"

"Some trouble brewing in our grandmother's country," Solange replies.

"What kind of trouble?" he says, all parental.

"Political, I think," Solange answers.  "I'm not clear on its exact nature, truly, but since rulership passes through the female line there, it may not be possible for me to remain uninvolved."

He relaxes a bit.  "So not martial.  I was afraid you'd tell me that boy was dragging you into a war."

"Now, would I tell you a thing like that?" Solange asks.  Her tone implies that she means "Would I get involved in something that stupid?", but she has chosen her words carefully.

"No, you'd try to pull the wool over my eyes, and yes, you would.  There were places your father went that the Navy tended to stay out of.  Places where it didn't matter how good you were at what you did, because the enemy used magic.  Dangerous places.  That's where Vere is from, a place where a girl needs to be careful.  Don't go in to such a situation half-cocked, Solange.  It may not be as simple as it seems when you're planning it on the dance floors of Amber."

"I can see why you're worried, Papa," Solange says.  "I don't even know whether I'm going to be involved, yet, and I certainly plan to find out much more than I know now if I do become involved.  'Simple' is the last thing I'd expect it to be.  The people there would count me as a god, can you imagine?" Her tone is as baffled as you'd expect from a girl raised in irreligious Garnath.

He smiles.  "I've sailed into places where we were taken for Gods.  I've heard of places where they eat their Gods.  Don't let Godding go to your head.  They might devoutly and sincerely and religiously do ye in."
            He pauses while she dances.
            "If the Navy is officially lending ships.  I might be able to go with you."

"That's another thing I'll have to find out," she says.

"Admiral Winter has been quietly trying to figure out which captains want what assignments.  I'll have a word with him, and I'll let you know what I find out."

"Thank you, Papa."

Just in case anyone was wondering, Solange has no particular objective for the evening other than dancing and drinking champagne, but she is not averse to having more serious conversations if someone else starts them.

Jerod and Solange let their dance pass with only light pleasantries exchanged.

Ossian asks Folly for a dance (and I expect she won't decline.)

Indeed she won't.  Folly loves dancing with Ossian.

Ossian is a very good dancer and Ossian and Folly together on the dance floor is a sight; probably the most improvisational pair of the night.
           When he leads her off the dance floor after wards he says:  "A good friend of mine, Mr. Otter over there, has expressed a wish to meet you."

"I would be delighted to meet him," Folly replies.  "We creatures of the water ought to stick together, you know.  How unexpected that a man of the desert should bring us together."  She grins merrily at Ossian.

"Strange it is indeed. I had to venture to the sea shore to meet him."  Ossian muses. "He has only recently arrived in the nearer waters, and was ill for some time. That's maybe why you haven't met."
            "When I told him that the swan's song was like the siren's call, he wanted to see and hear you."

"Yet both speak of death, and not the merriment of the night," the Otter says, taking more than a few liberties with his leer at the singer.  Not the kind that Uncle Corwin should feel his chivalry flaring up, as it's still admiring, but certainly the kind that suggests he should offer her dinner first.

Folly smiles.  Were her cheeks not partially obscured by the bottom of her mask, they might show a bit of a flush.  "It is good we have your playfulness, then, Sir Otter, to remind us what the night requires," she says, and drops a curtsey so graceful and stylized it is almost a parody of manners.  But her eyes are twinkling.

"Ah, but I am not in the fool's role," he gestures towards the Harlequin.  "I merely find the most joy in that which is simple, slipping in and out of the moist..." he touches his tongue to his upper lip, "...waves," he finishes.  He laughs aloud.  "And cracking open oysters, although I have no need for pearls."  He chuckles again.

Ossian knows when it's better to keep quiet than join the conversation.  This is one of those times.

"Then the simple joy you find in them is to taste of their soft insides?" Folly ventures with a grin.  Yes, she's definitely blushing now.

"The wanderer of the desert speaks highly of you.  I hope to have the pleasure of you," he pauses, grins, and then continues, "or rather, of hearing your talents at some point."  The mask has freed him a little to be, well, bad.

"I will happily exchange a pleasure for a pleasure," the swan replies with a mischievous grin, "and it would be my pleasure to sing for you, when the opportunity arises."

"It will be hard for one such as me to not shake opportunity awake, then," he winks, and curls a gold whisker between his fingers like the fellow in a melodrama pulls at his waxed mustache.  "Alas, like the sun itself, opportunity chooses its own schedule."

"In the meantime, I certainly shall not keep you from wearing your feet out on the floor.  In fact, if you are not promised to a partner in that crime, I would be pleased to take such a role."
            He winks at Ossian.

"But surely not half so pleased as I am in the giving, if your feet prove as nimble as your tongue."  Folly smiles and bites her bottom lip, giddy at his -- and her own --  audacity.

"And how do you measure the nimbleness of the tongue?" he asks, playfully.  "Just so that I may test it against my feet, of course," he'll lead her off to the dance floor with a smile and wave to Ossian.

Folly blows a playful farewell kiss to Ossian before answering Marius:  "By its rhythm, of course! -- measure by measure, for such is the measure of all good things."  Her voice lilts over the beat of her footfalls as she follows him onto the dance floor.
            Unlike Marius, she is not leering, quite, but she is certainly sizing up this new playmate -- and finding him most entertaining.

Ossian bows and heads off to find a new dancing partner, pleased that his two friends seem to like each other.

Marius doesn't believe in the rhythm method, of course.  Not that he says that aloud.  He also doesn't make a staff comment.
            He is a few minutes in responding.  "Ah, and what if my measure is as a ruler?" he asks.  "As Otter I only dance to the waves, but I acknowledge no master."  He grins.  "The wanderer says you are a good friend.  Are you a clever one as well?"

 Folly tilts her head and regards the Otter thoughtfully for a moment before responding, "Just clever enough, I suppose, to measure you neither in feet nor against our current  ruler. He's a drummer, you know." That last is said with a faint trace of wistfulness, banished immediately by a merry grin. "But if you prefer the current to the ruler, perhaps you *should* be measured in litres; and I will follow -- until this dance is done, at least."

"Ounce for ounce, and flounce for flounce?" he asks, smiling. "I prefer the galleon to the gallon, and both to the gallows, should it come to that. But I'll hang tight for this turn," he gives her a little whirl.

Folly laughs with delight at the turns of both body and phrase.

"A man who has need of clever friends could be thus warned that he's in over his head. But I've never been drowning in wit; I prefer just to get my feet wet and maybe splash around a bit." He smiles one of those smiles best akin to an animal showing its teeth.

"Chalk it up to your strength as a swimmer, Lord Otter," Folly replies, returning the smile. "Your wit suits you, and I am glad to see you wearing it again."
            She turns her attention to the dance for a moment, getting a better feel for the way Marius carries himself, adjusting her own movements minutely to better complement his. He can hear her humming quietly along with the music.

This brings a delighted aspect to Marius' smile, almost as if he was "background grinning."

After a moment, she says, "Tell me, my kinsman-in-water, will you remain in Amber's harbor past the turning of the tide?"

"A popular question," he notes, amusedly. "I have one journey which calls to me, though I am not sure where it begins, except under my feet. I am ever the curious beast," he says, and there's one of those strange, "rings of truth," in that that makes it sound less Masquerade-referencing than related to himself on a regular basis. "My whiskers suggest there is maybe more to learn in stone than water, for the coming time."

Folly nods, as if she's had similar intuitions.

He tilts his head ever-so-slightly. "Were you to migrate, sun and wind more tempting than water?"

"I am to travel on a brief errand, yes -- Would that I could fly there!" Folly responds, and there's Truth buried in her words as well, layers and layers of it. "I do look forward to spreading my wings, even if it's only a brief flight. I've been too long in the coop, I think."

As the dance draws to a close, the Otter grins, and there's a genuine quality to it. "Wind to your wings, lady Swan. May the sunshine be at your back, and your landings always light. I have a premonition you will need the luck you can gather, so take a filip from me, and weave it strongly into your journey."

Folly smiles, warmly, and ends the dance with a graceful, joyful curtsey. "I thank you, dear Otter -- for the dance as well as for the luck." Straightening, she adds, "I'll offer my promised song upon my return, if you still wish it. Until then, swim strong -- and may you find the secrets you seek in these stones."

With regards to who gets asked and who doesn't, Jerod's list of dancers will cover a fairly wide range.
            Tthis would include Llewella (who's already at the start of the list), Flora, Solace and Queen Vialle.  Both of his sisters are also asked when the opportunity presents itself.  The Rebman party gets asked as well, specifically Kaia and Bend.  He is also smart enough to select dances that are not too difficult for any of the Rebmans who might concerned about looking awkward (and he's smart enough to make sure they realize what he's doing.
            Only Fiona is not deliberately asked.  Jerod does not make a big show out of it however so unless someone is keeping track of things, it could easily be ascribed to having many dance partners and regrettably someone gets lost in the shuffle.
        None of the ladies are ignored, though all requests will be subject to their availability and inclination (Jerod's not going to bother chasing someone who's not interested in dancing - he's here to enjoy himself).  The most probable order (no double pun intended) to be invited would be Solange, Paige, Lilly, Folly (assuming he can get her away from Martin), Robin and Aisling.

For what it's worth, after Folly, Vialle, Cambina, and another dance with Aisling, should she be available, Marius will not entirely be the gentleman Jerod is.  He will prey on the ones who are so dolled up, and smile and flirt, without promising a thing.   If anyone gets too aggressive, however, he'll probably give Aisling a bit of a "ready to rescue me?" glance with a smirk.
    
Jovian's agenda develops organically. When the dancing starts, his first belongs to Kourin, naturally, but he seeks out Fiona for a dance, and perhaps sitting out the next one as well, soon after.
            As for style, he flows naturally through things like pavanes - but those are basically prettied-up walking. Some of the faster and more complicated dances he can pick up reasonably, but now and then he gets tripped up in a dance that started out being familiar to him and then turned out...not. For this reason he sits out reels, if any there be, or anything with a hey more elaborate than the most basic.
            Surprisingly, he seems born to galliard - his turns and changes are fluidly graceful, and his kicks are remarkably high for a cavalry man. If there's a tassel-kick or other such test of skill among the night's diversions, he is a Serious Contender.

Bowing slightly, the Viking Lord offers an arm to the White Swan and leads her towards the refreshments.  As they enter the small room, the Viking comments with a nod towards the Oriental costumes of the servants, "In my travels, I have seen many a foreign land, but none so elegant as this."  It is unclear if the 'this' refers to the Orient or to something else.

"And what of your own homeland?" the Swan asks as she looks over a tray of little sandwiches.  "What were the celebrations like there?"

The gentleman selects a small plate and holds it out for Folly to fill at her leisure. A wry smile flits across his mouth as he responds, "Loud.  With lots of singing and lots of fighting.  My...Brother Thor would start a contest to see who could throw a Hammer the farthest or highest or whatever.  Loki would always cheat, making Brother Thor mad enough to shoot lightning.  Of course, getting my Brother 'mad enough' was never that difficult..."

The swan laughs.  "Now *that* sounds like a party," she says, sounding a bit awed.  Who needs strobe lights when you've got a guy who can shoot lightning?
            She takes the plate and begins nibbling on a sandwich, offering one to the Viking, too.

The Viking declines the food and waits until Folly has finished to question, "What do you think of Amber's current State?  It does not seem to be the tranquil lake you would be most in tune with."

Folly nods.  "It is turbulent, yes, but there *has* just been a big rock, and a lot of pebbles, thrown into the pond.  I find myself hopeful that once things settle down, though, it'll be my sort of place.  Or at least that we'll have the opportunity to shape it for the better."

"It is unfortunate that you have the ability to shape it at all right now." the Viking notes, obviously thinking of a different interpretation of Folly's words. "Perhaps the big rock will serve to anchor Amber again."

The Viking, after departing from Folly's company with a low bow, wanders over towards a spot on the wall opposite the garden doors when he stops short and cocks his head to one side.  He turns in place and stands still for a moment or two, apparently staring at a spot above the heads of the dancers and breathing in the ambiance of the room.  His head snaps down suddenly and he restarts his walk around the room, more purposeful this time, but apparently undecided as to where to go.  

Ossian approaches Robin rather early:  "Would you dare to follow a nomad to the dance floor?"

Robin turns from where she was watching the orchestra.  She looks somewhat surprised to find someone talking to her.  Then she replays the 'invitation' in her mind.
            And raises a brow as she replays it yet again.  Almost unwillingly, a quick flash of appreciation dances through her green eyes.  White on white, the two of them are.  And both armed with curved knives, there's some symmetry there.  And he thought enough of her to challenge her.  She smiles.
            "Nooooo," she drawls teasingly.  "But I might let one track me there."

Ossian chuckles. He has not really noted Robin before. Her dress this evening had alerted him that there was something there worth investigating. A wildness?
        "That's good enough. I'll follow the track as well as I can."  Ossian bows.

Robin grins, turns and just barely manages not to stalk or stride to the dance floor, but it was a near thing.  However once there, she looks around just a little bit... concerned perhaps, to make sure that Ossian has indeed come with her.

Ossian tilts his head slightly. There wasn't any good reason for him not to follow. What did she fear?

As she glances over to the nomad, the girl's eyes widen slightly in the darkness of her facepaint.  She's brought herself to the edge of the meadow, a place no wild thing enters casually.  Her breathing has elevated slightly and her expression is just ever so slightly on the side of 'Okay, I can too do this thing.'
            The Huntress looks around herself quickly.  And then holds her hand out to Ossian just exactly like the other ladies are doing to their partners.  It is an easy guess, that no, Robin doesn't know this dance.  Or any other pattern dance actually.

Ossian takes Robin's hand, moving so close to her that only she can hear his words "It's there in your blood; I've heard you play that ocarina, remember? This will work out fine." There is an implicit /trust me for this dance/ in his voice. Then he moves into whatever the starting position is for this dance.

Robin nods, her eyes large and green, as she tucks her bow, one-handed, over her back through her girdle and tucked into the crescent-moon pin on the shoulder of her chiton.
            "I know," she whispers back to the nomad as she takes her position.  "It's just that... I'm not used to this kind of... venue."  Her eyes dart around to the so-open public place encircled with dead stone where she is surrounded by strangers watching her.
            But then, she looks into Ossian's eyes, hears the 'trust me', takes a deep breath and lifts her head, proud wild thing.

Ossian does all he can to make the two of them look good on the dance floor. His touch is light but firm as he guides Robin through the dance (how much does she resist?) He keeps the fact that he is trying to teach her as discreet as possible.

At the beginning of the dance, Robin doesn't 'resist' per se.  Instead, she 'attacks' the dance.  There's just no other way to put it.  It's as though the mincing steps were a kata or a sword-drill.  The Huntress is athletic, graceful, and a very quick study.  But she's also determined, focused and terribly, terribly alert.
            As the dance progresses though, as Ossian doesn't half-turn her into a sheepskin-hey-look-out-crash!, as the patterns begin to repeat, Robin starts to relax and let herself move with the music and her partner.

Ossian dances with a very clean and simple style until Robin relaxes.

And when she relaxes, the Huntress is revealed to be a fantastic dancer.  Every move evocative of the bon-fire and the drum circle. The night air and the green of the forest seeming to twine around her despite the warm well-lit ballroom.  The elusive glimmer of green in black, the white flowing limbs, the joy of movement, the peace of stillness - Robin brings *life* to her dancing.

When Ossian sees this, his eyes beam with joy. He lets his dancing style change to enhance Robin's to the point where it is not clear who is leading.
            "I did not know....Why do I feel like I have let a bird out of a cage?" he asks her.

A cock of the girl's head rattles the beads in her hair.  And a glimmer of dark green from a side glance indicates that if a bird has been released tonight, it wasn't a canary.  But a raptor.  Then just as quickly as the glimmer came, it's gone.  And Robin smiles somewhat sadly to Ossian.
            "These walls will always be a cage to me, Wanderer.  But perhaps, just for tonight, I can stretch my wings."

Ossian shakes his head slightly. Words never serve him quite as he intended to.
            "I hope so. I never was much for caged birds. They never have the same beauty as the flying ones."

Robin ducks her head to Ossian, a hint of ruefulness in the shrug of her shoulders.  She's a prickly one, she knows it, and decides not hold that against Ossian tonight.  Especially since she's been known to put her own foot in her mouth more than a time or two while she's been here at the Castle.

Ossian stays quiet for a while, letting his dancing talk for him. It grows more intense, and conveys a desire for...wings?

Huhn.  Robin's eyes flicker with a little 'I didn't know' of her own.  The words of Ossian's limbs seem so much more... right, somehow, to her than the words on his lips.  And she mentally tsks at herself for allowing the "I let" to overshadow the sharing of his grace.
            The girl smiles to her partner and does her best to weave her own power - raw and wild as it is - into Ossian's composition of elegance.

Ossian welcomes the Huntress. For a few minutes fury and graceful elegance exist simultaneously. As the Nomad's eyes meet the Huntress', they convey appreciation and something more, harder to determine.
            "Say, huntress, what will your prey tonight?"

"I think..." she shakes her head, "I'm not sure.  But I think I shall hunt for a new path.  One that doesn't lead me to be quite so solitary."  For a moment, unconsciously, Robin bites her lip as she thinks.

Ossian nods.  "If your path... should windle it's way closer to mine than it has done before...I wouldn't be displeased."

Bright forest-green eyes turn to the artist, hope warring with fear.  "Oh, Ossian," she sighs.  "Do you think you can stand me?"  Something mournful in that.  "I'm likely to do worse than hand you an ocarina full of spit."

Ossian's almost sad eyes look back, and narrows slightly. He might be smiling under the veil, but that's hard to tell.
            "I can handle that. What I've seen tonight more than compensates."

Robin's eyes search her veiled partner, trailing from face to frame and back again.  But whether she is searching for something in Ossian or something in herself is hard to say.
            Then a carefree smile dashes across the girl's face and the Huntress gives a most unfeminine snigger.  "Okay," she drawls.  "But just remember.  I warned you."  Robin tilts her head downward so that's she looking at Ossian from under her brows.  Green mischief burns there, hinted at by the wildness in her dance.  And she grins.

"Consider me warned." The nomad is definitely grinning back. The mischief and wildness in Robin's dancing is matched by pure joy is Ossian's.

Robin laughs freely, and spends the rest of the dance enjoying herself, twining around Ossian in frolicsome abandon.