Slings and arrows.
( CLOSED TO V )

[ there's no harm in entering a tournament to flex some strange and new muscles given to him by astoria and this world that's ever so familiar. well. okay there's a bit of harm, but it's a bit late to consider that now as he steps into the ring that's clearly been battered and bruised by magic and brute force. percy's seen vex'ahlia fight many a time, but to do it himself seems... so incredibly foreign. still, his fingers have some sort of strange muscle memory as he draws fenthras from his back. the bow feels weighty, loved, like a precious treasure in his palm, adorned with winding branches and vines. the protector. the wrath of the fey warden.

well then. it's no bad news, but it feels like it will certainly do. as he moves forward to meet his opponent in the middle, a flurry of white zips forward, great wings and spotted feathers as talons touch down to rest on his pauldron. cordelia is just as ready as ever, her eyes sharp as she gives a cry of excitement.

time to fly. ]

Shall we?

[ all in good fun, right? :) ]

Is there a cleric in the house?
( OPEN )

[ after the fight, percy is looking pleased, but rough. the outcome doesn't matter. the thrill of the fight is enough to keep him smiling even as he might be nursing a few scratches, aches and pains. still, he could probably use a healer.

in his lap, a white bundle of feathers is preening herself, feathers out of place, her beak a black point in the tuft of white. he strokes her softly with a gentle murmur of "atta girl," fondness in his voice. if he sees someone who happens to look like a cleric of some kind, he holds up a hand. ]

I've got coin for you if you've got some bandages and magic to spare, [ he offers, rubbing a bit of silver together. ]

Paper faces on parade.
( OPEN | OUTFIT + MASK )

[ courtly dances have, unfortunately, been pressed quite deeply into percy's skull. thankfully, the food and drink seem to have loosed that from him enough that whatever folk dancing seems to be taking place here becomes easy to follow. it's light and pleasant, a skip and a step, partners passing fast as pages in a book where you've locked eyes with someone one moment and are spun the next to be met by someone else. he half loses himself in the celebration of it all, taking up the next hand that meets his and giving his partner a bit of a spin.

when he follows up with a bow, there's a grin spread over his mouth, visible just beneath his mask as he sweeps the person off into dance. ]

You know, I don't believe I've had this much fun at a party in quite some time.

[ and if you're somehow still brooding about dancing — ]

Lighten up, now. A single dance hasn't killed anyone before, and it certainly won't start with you.

[ it's the wine. a tipsy percy is a devil-may-care percy. ]

Just one dance.
( CLOSED TO VEX'AHLIA )

[ of course, as the music begins to slow down to something far more... cozy, percy seeks out vex'ahlia. they've danced together between changing partners, passed hands and pleased little glances and smiles, kisses and brushes of fingertips over arm and back. but now as he pushes through the crowd, he seeks to meet her somewhere in the middle, grand mistress, baroness, lady wife. her back turned to him, he sweeps up behind her and places his hands carefully on her hips. his fingers curl, the perfect perch there as he leans in and presses a kiss to the sensitive edge of her ear. ]

May I have the privilege of this dance with you alone, my fair Lady?