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“This ball is truly well done, I must say,” his partner said, even though he’d remained silent for the past ten minutes of the dance and almost anyone else would have noted how taciturn he had become, and taken care to switch to a less selfish manner of speaking.
What was the point, he couldn’t help wonder, of having a masquerade if it did nothing to mask one’s identity in practice?
“To have the drapes match the costuming theme of the night was in such superior taste, I can’t help but wonder if the hosts have had occasion to visit my patr- a certain estate I have had many occasion to visit. There is a particular intimate dinning room that creates a similar sublime effect, when you follow the esteemed owner of that estate’s instruction on your dress. She has such an original, ingenious mind, I count myself very lucky to have that noble lady’s acquaintance.”
He wondered if Clovis had any idea what effort was. He’d certainly forgotten any knowledge of the concept tonight as he managed to brag about every possible hint towards his identity.
The appeal of a masquerade was: even if you did in fact know who most everyone was in practice, you would also pretend you did not in practice. It allowed for a certain mischievous allure that the lively parts of his soul appreciated.
The fact that Clovis was clearly violating the spirit of the event only served to heighten his dislike of his present situation, stuck dancing with a man who could hardly dance half a minute without making a mistake and stuck listening saying things that made Obi-Wan believe it was possible for ears to be unnecessary.
The only thing that made him not look forward to the dance ending was the possibility that Clovis would continue talking to him, would have the opportunity to ask him for another dance.
But the dance ending would also give him an opportunity to escape.
Perhaps.
Clovis had been very insistent. The only time he’d managed to avoid Clovis’s dogged invitations was when he nagged Anakin. If someone didn’t properly cut in and rescue him, his only chance at a peaceful night – and more importantly, a nice dance – might have been finding a new mask and a way to alter his costume.
Then again, he had the additional giveaway to make the masquerade pointless with his hair, rare enough in color in that he would still be identified.
Hopefully someone would realize the situation and take pity on him, as annoying as waiting for a rescue was.
He listened in again to Clovis, trying to figure out what the alpha was nattering on about now. Something about his patron, of course, and revealing his own ego of how self-important he felt at any attentions he received from those he considered above him. Obi-Wan was fairly certain Clovis was talking about a random trail on Lord Palpatine’s property, and found that he once again did not care about the subject capturing Clovis’s rapture.
The song began to wind down. Clovis thankfully managed to at least get into the correct position to end the dance, bowing low and slow.
Obi-Wan tried to retreat from his own bow quickly, hoping to slip into the crowd. Unfortunately, Clovis followed, before the other swirling masses of black and white could cut them off from each other. Obi-Wan realized he probably had less than ten seconds before the man got close enough to ask for another dance.
“Pardon me,” a voice said, far closer from behind him than Obi-Wan expected.
A buttery, clearly alpha scent followed as the new person continued speaking.
“If I may be so bold, may I have your next dance?”
Obi-Wan turned around to find his mouth answering in agreement before he registered more than the full-face mask, which was the style most alphas were wearing tonight.
It was only after his assent left his lips that he realized he knew the scent and voice of the person who asked him to dance, and that the design on the mask mimicked a certain traditional garb. Which very neatly pointed to Jango Fett, the only person at this ball he disliked more than Clovis.
Rush Clovis, who had just caught up with them.
“Pardon me, my dear-” Obi-Wan let his face twitch in annoyance at the unwelcome endearment, not surprised when Clovis seemed to not notice it “-but you are such an enchanting dance partner. I would fancy myself an alpha intelligent enough to understand how pleasant encouraging compatibility can be for all involved parties, which in the natural course of things makes me obligated to entreat you for another dance.”
“I’m afraid that the omega is already spoken for regarding the next dance,” Fett informed Clovis, tone uncompromising, from beside him as the alpha stepped around him.
Obi-Wan could see a few other party-goers look at them with the beginnings of mild interest.
Clovis startled, clearly taken aback and uncertain of what to do.
Obi-Wan gave a polite bow to his former partner and turned away. Fett joined him a moment later as he walked towards the smaller ballroom.
Their outfits, Obi-Wan noticed with agitation as they walked with the nearness only allowed by partners, were well matched. Obi-Wan’s white outfit revealed portions of black only when he moved, showing off any motions he made. Fett’s outfit was black with streaks of white that, when he moved, showed there was more white underneath. Fett’s mask was white with that ubiquitously Mandalorian T in black, and Obi-Wan’s black domino mask had a white line across his eyes that was pulled down into a beak of a point on his nose.
Any other ball-goer who passed by them without realizing who they were would be well-founded to incorrectly assume they had coordinated outfits with the intent of spending much of the night together.
They were too late to join in the immediate next dance by the time they arrived at the other ballroom. Which meant Obi-Wan would have to spend the next additional twelve minutes with the man he’d sworn to loathe and only ended up partnered with out of desperation, without any distractions from how much he disliked the alpha.
Fett did not say anything to him for the entirety of the dance as they watched from the side. Obi-Wan felt his irritation rise with each passing swish of black and white fabric.
If Fett wanted his company, as one often assumed was the intent of requesting a dance, then it would be reasonable to assume that Fett wished to interact with him. Yet here the man was, standing by his side, just as unsociable as he’d been at the first ball Obi-Wan had ever seen him at. And at that one, Fett had at least had the courtesy to not request a dance and obligate anyone to be trapped with his taciturn, worthless silence.
Then again, thinking of his last unwanted partner, perhaps it would be worse to have an obligation to talk with Fett, or listen to him.
Still, Obi-Wan mused as he watched the dance in front of him, it was quite strange.
Why had Fett, who by all reckoning Obi-Wan could swear disliked him with pompous sneering, asked him for a dance?
He could hardly make Obi-Wan more miserable than Clovis had already been doing, especially if he had any interest in his reputation. Silence was not much of a punishment or attack when the person had mainly heard insults and judgements out of the attacking party’s mouth. Wanting to dance with a person for normal, pleasure and relational reasons, required one to actually desire some soft of positive relationship with their partner.
Perhaps, in some odd way, Fett felt in competition with Clovis? Either he wished to ruin Obi-Wan’s spirits more than Clovis could or in some way wanted to deny Clovis the connection the alpha plainly sought.
That made the most sense, Obi-Wan was certain.
It also made him resolve to deny Fett the satisfaction of his plan being worth it. If the man’s motivation to separate him and Clovis were the first, then Obi-Wan would find it prudent to attack the man with more misery than either of the unwelcome alphas could manage. If it was the latter, then Obi-Wan would not bother tolerating being used as a tool in whatever competitive scheme the two had going on.
Quickly deciding that his best way to make Fett stay away from him would be to annoy and outstrip him in their upcoming dance, Obi-Wan watched the current set with much better humor than before.
He took his place across from Fett after the dance ended.
The music began and it became apparent mere seconds later that Fett would at the very least be a better partner than Clovis. The man’s steps were sure and while powerful, kept a light gracefulness that spoke of trained agility. If Fett remembered only half the steps of the dance, then he would prove a significantly better dancer, in Obi-Wan’s estimate.
But he was still a poor partner. Even without the rudeness that was asking someone who you shared a mutual dislike with to dance, Fett was clearly going to continue to be his unsociable self, completely silent and grim looking. A young omega with no preconceived notions of the man beyond the natural, immediate youthful expectations of some potential to giggle about giddily in private with friends would find their spirits and any budding fancy dashed.
“By the by, I may observe that themed balls are more interesting than unthemed ones.”
“What about them interests you more?”
“There is simply more to talk about by nature. The theme itself, how the hosts have done with it, how the guests have done with it, you may speak with your partner about your interpretation of the theme when you cannot think of anything to speak of.”
“Would you prefer more of them, then?”
“Of course not. They are interesting and exciting in large part due to their rarity, and I’d scarcely advocate for more on an economic level as well. It would be cruel to expect guests to find outfits that fit the theme more than two or three times a season. To be polite, the hosts would have to coordinate themes so costumes could be reused, which would only further cut down on the interest.”
“I see.”
They were silent for two whole minutes, during which Fett did not make a single mistake.
“I believe it is your turn to speak now, sir.”
“And what am I to speak on?”
“I have offered conversation on the theme of tonight. You ought to comment on the hors d’oeuvres or the rooms or something else to signal that you have attended this ball willingly.”
“It is fortunate that the cook has access to such good cabbage for the rolls. The servants did well with cleaning every corner of the rooms so they may be used, for I think not a single person turned down tonight’s invitation.”
“That will do for now.”
They were quiet for twenty seconds, after which they joined in the middle to go down the line.
“Do you converse while dancing as a rule?”
There they were. Now the man was forced to unwillingly initiate conversation on his own. Obi-Wan was certain the alpha disliked it.
“Not at all. To remain unsocial and taciturn is my usual rule when I wish to enjoy another’s company. I have found it a good method to ensure I will not want for opportunity of freedom afforded by those without a spouse to claim most of their dances. But these masquerades rely upon so much mystique and intrigue in their format, that one must speak to both form the connection that make balls pleasurable and to keep the intrigue from getting tedious with the enforced ignorance. To ignore a partner and even potential partner at a masquerade is a snub on the entire ball’s spirits.”
“You put a great deal of thought into your pleasures, don’t you?”
Was this about the way his siblings had conducted themselves in so “shamefully hedonistic” a manner the other day?
“Of course. There are far too many sins one may find themselves committing if they don’t consciously seek out pleasure, for sins I have found are often most serious in cases where the sinner thinks nothing of what they are doing.”
The hand holding Obi-Wan’s, which he had been ignoring how warm and steady it was, tightened at the jab. Fett loosened it a moment later, although it was still tense as they parted for the steps.
Fett continued to not say anything as the dance finished, leaving Obi-Wan quite satisfied with his words, which kept his spirits high even as he was brought back to press his entire left arm against Fett’s warm, steady, sweet-smelling body for the final moments of the dance.
Fett at least had enough manners to merely bow at him and exit as quickly as possible when the number finally ended.
Obi-Wan wandered around, watching the rooms and the people in them, for the next dance, after which they were called to dinner.
Thankfully Quinlan and him had arranged to have the exact same mask, which granted them enough clearly deliberate coordination that they were still allowed to acknowledge each other as acquaintances without breaking the etiquette of the masquerade, so long as they remained anonymous enough for anyone overhearing them.
It was enough for them to claim each other as neighbors for dinner though, and then another couple that had apparently found great compatibility while dancing took his other side, which left Clovis to take a seat across the table and two down as his closest option.
Thankfully he could just turn away from the man and spend the entire dinner whispering with Quinlan, not giving even the impertinence known as Rush Clovis the opportunity to dare talk across non-acquaintances at a masquerade as if he knew one of the other guests, a faux pas that Obi-Wan was no longer convinced was too stupid even for that particular alpha.
His dinnertime reprieve really did end with dinner, however. Clovis found him before the music could even start up again.
Thankfully Quinlan, in good mischievous camaraderie of spirit, filled from Obi-Wan gleefully complaining about Clovis throughout most of dinner, intercepted the invitation to dance, forcing Clovis to dance with him.
Obi-Wan watched in bemusement for a few minutes as Quinlan deliberately kept all his steps perfectly constant and proper, with no flexibility to make up for Clovis’s mistakes. The alpha ended up stubbing his feet and stumbling as much as he danced.
Obi-Wan went away when the dance still had a few minutes, certain that if he was within the room at all when the dance ended, Clovis would ask for a dance again.
He enjoyed a small cake laid out for dessert before daring to wander back into the ballrooms.
He managed to watch two dances in good humor, and saw an alpha he was fairly certain was actually part of Fett’s party but hadn’t offended him look at him with interest, which he signaled openness to. The alpha started making her way around the dance floor, hopefully to offer him a dance, when he ran out of luck.
The unfortunately familiar checkered full-face mask managed to get in front of him first. Clovis offered out his hand.
“As your companion has not returned to you, I thought it prudent I offer you my own. May I have this dance?”
Obi-Wan glanced over the man’s shoulder to see the other alpha stopping, already turning away.
He very much did not want to dance with Clovis, but just standing and listening to the alpha, as he surely would have to unless Quinlan came back to accompany him, seemed far worse than having a dance to distract him. Still, he made sure to actually curl his nose a little as he placed his hand in Clovis’s. The man had been more than rude enough that he was still behaving reasonably by showing such open distaste.
“If you insist,” he said, voice flat.
Clovis apparently still couldn’t notice a hint on how unwelcome he was.
The dance was painful. Clovis was apparently even clumsier on a full stomach. Obi-Wan gave him three minutes before following in Quinlan’s footsteps and not accommodating any mistakes.
He somewhat bitterly hoped that Clovis might fall and injure himself enough that dancing was no longer possible. Obi-Wan was of course not so fortunate, although it did seem possible a few times and more than one or two of their fellow dancers looked upon Clovis’s numerous missteps with astonishment.
Perhaps the man would have better luck at finally finding or remembering his steps if he didn’t talk so much, Obi-Wan mused. For even as he accumulated injuries, the man didn’t stop talking about the most inane, dourly and inappropriately moralizing opinions of his. It was as if his second cousin thought the phrase to read a room meant to read it like a sermon.
Thankfully the dance lasted long enough that Quinlan found him again.
Less thankfully, after bowing and leaving as quickly as possible, Clovis still followed him to Quinlan.
Quinlan gave him a purposefully strained smile that contained too many teeth to not be threatening as they reunioned, but did not comment at the unwelcome interloper. Obi-Wan was fine with the idea of ignoring Clovis as well.
Clovis, however, was never a man to see being ignored.
“My dear cousin,” he said in his version of a whisper, which was better at being heard than when Anakin was going around to purposefully gossip about the latest news. A few heads turned towards them in shock at the breach in basic rules for a masquerade. “I feel it necessary to list to you my concerns regarding this evening. Namely that you may, by having only a fellow omega as a companion tonight, be brought into situations that, while not too damaging to your overall reputation, may indeed damage your virtue in spirit if not in more practical matters.”
Clovis was claiming he was worried about Obi-Wan suffering from a “temptation of spirit” tonight, was it? If it wasn’t so impertinent, Obi-Wan would laugh at the irony, given all the temptations – of a different kind than the alpha was thinking – that Clovis had tainted his spirits with this evening.
“Sir,” Obi-Wan said, emphasizing the technically distant, anonymous title, “this is a masquerade, a relation should not be talked about, given the amount of the community we all know in barefaced daylight. And two omegas are perfectly capable of deflecting any decent alpha with their own company.”
“Be that as it may, it is wise to be cautious and I find it an obligation to prevent fair omegas such as yourselves from becoming involved with such pressuring situations whenever possible. As such, I must my declare my intent to remain in proximity to do so for the rest of the evening.”
Obi-Wan turned away from Clovis, Quinlan quickly following suit as he walked away. They were already fodder for gossip enough that Obi-Wan saw no reason for his abrupt leaving to increase how much people talked about the incident.
Clovis somehow seemed to take his actions as assent instead brusque rejection, however and followed along, voice prattling on at his usual volume.
It seemed like the entire ball would be an unpleasant affair, Obi-Wan lamented to himself, after he had been looking forward to it for a month and a half so eagerly.
True to his word, Clovis remained with them from then on, no matter how much they ignored him. He and Quinlan exchanged subtle communications to confirm how ridiculous the man was to each other, and Obi-Wan felt the regard he had for his friend keenly. Quinlan could easily improve the amount of pleasure being felt at this ball by removing himself from the situation and not sharing Obi-Wan’s misery. And yet Quinlan remained steadfastly by his side, providing a bit of comfort amongst the ample discomfort Clovis was only too happy to provide.
Still, Clovis primarily addressed him, which meant that Obi-Wan had to bear the brunt of such discomfort. This also meant that Obi-Wan’s patience was being worn out quicker, especially since he could remember that he would have to listen to Clovis not only tonight, but the next morning at breakfast as well.
Quinlan, always more astute and compassionate than most gave him credit for, waited scarcely three dances of Obi-Wan being forced to listen to Clovis, as the man’s presence meant they could not find partners to dance, before taking action.
A bit of hemming and hawing, of voicing a bit of concern that he needed a drink after being around a ball for so long. He quickly turned his singular “I” into “we” which made it very easy to make Clovis think that it would be a good, gentlemanly way to show off to go get them drinks. He still needed to be encouraged by them claiming to be too tired to run off and dance to actually go, but he did go.
It wasn’t much time, with the punch only across the room, but Quinlan had moved them near a few sets of balconies. There was, barely, Obi-Wan thought, just enough time where Clovis was forced to turn his back, for him to rush out onto the balcony for a break from his presence.
The night air was cool, and the balcony undecorated to indicate it wasn’t part of the ball with its plainness, even if the grey stone and black and white tile along most of the floor made it blend seamlessly in with the night’s theme otherwise. Especially with the ethereal glow the full moon gave the shining stone and tile.
Obi-Wan let out a large sigh of relief at clear, quiet air, only able to hear a general din and muffled music from inside.
The quiet only made the rustle of fabric and choked, muffled but nearby noise of surprise more audible.
Obi-Wan startled as he looked towards the sound.
There was another person hiding on the balcony. In a black outfit with streaks of white, and a mainly white full face mask that Obi-Wan had seen before.
“My apologies,” Obi-Wan said, mouth rather than brain carrying him through the situation on reflex, “I thought it would be empty out here.”
“I dare say we both thought similarly,” Fett answered after a moment of awkward silence, voice strained with awkward surprise.
The music died with their conversation, if it could be called that. They remained in uncertain silence for several moments, Obi-Wan knowing he was the intruder in this situaion and not wanting to spend more time with Fett, but finding himself at least equally unwilling to make himself available to Clovis, now that he’d finally managed to gain a true reprieve from the man.
And then Fett walked towards him, his dark clothes that made him look part of the night making the glowing flashes of moonlit white that matched his mask more apparent.
“May I have this next dance?” he asked, bowing slightly.
That had not been in any of Obi-Wan’s expectation as he wondered at the man’s purpose of getting closer to him. He couldn’t account for an alpha who disliked him and disliked dancing asking him for a dance when there was no one around to make it a social expectation of any form, especially since their identities were still ostensibly hidden by the masks.
“I believe many consider it an obligation for an alpha like me to add to the mystique and intrigue of such an event as this through such actions as a masked dance under the moonlight.”
Obi-Wan was almost impressed by hearing what must have been the largest speech he had ever heard from the man as he was annoyed at having his words from earlier in the night thrown back at him.
There was truth to them though, he supposed, that was the only way he could account for the madness that led him to bow back in acceptance. It must have been the moonlight and darkness dancing around, adding to the allure of a masquerade’s mystique, that had him accepting a dance from Fett when he didn’t have to.
They did not speak as they took positions and the music began. Nor did they speak as they began to dance.
It wasn’t needed, Obi-Wan found. Rather, he thought he might resent it if either of them did.
The moonlight that set their dancefloor and Fett’s every motion aglow felt too beautiful in an otherworldly way to drag down to the homely fun of dance conversation. Jango’s mask, also alight with moonlight, was a near constant that grounded Obi-Wan in remembering that he was indeed still performing a dance he knew from such routine pleasure.
He preferred to stare at Fett’s face for the night, the grounding view, than try to handle how electrifying the touch felt.
They held each other’s hands and sometimes forearms as much as usual, but every bit of warmth made Obi-Wan want to shiver. He was so conscious of each point of contact compared to normal, the way he could feel the moment of connection and separation. Fett’s sleeves flashed white each time, as well, making it even harder to ignore.
This was merely a dance, a dance he’d danced dozens of times with other partners. A dance that had as much physical connection as any other, that made people take no more note than seeing him and Quinlan whispering at a ball together. But here, tonight, with Fett, it felt like too much, like something that didn’t belong at a ball.
Obi-Wan felt himself swallow as they passed behind each other, the black mass flashing white as Fett left his vision, smelling the alpha sweet butter scent as they came so close.
They stepped and turned, facing each other once more.
Obi-Wan didn’t let himself falter, despite his heart trying its best to break his ribs more than an axe set to break up logs for firewood.
A flash of glowing, moonlit white led him to Fett’s raised hand, and he took it without hesitation.