Parties of the Past

[Camille St. James]

Hm, she was starting to think she didn't like being called milady. Something about it felt...too superior. She didn't like the divider between them, like he was distancing her with the honorifics. She almost said so, but she was a lot more interested in continuing the other topic. She could come back to that later.

"Well, remember how I said you were always on the edge, watching all this?" She raised her hand from his shoulder briefly to gesture around them at the glittering world of royalty. All around them were other pairs, some happy, some arguing, others clearly bored to tears. All of them had been born into this world. "Even in the middle of it, now, we're still in a bubble of our own. If you're not one of them, raised into wealth and power and luxury, then it's like you're just a piece of furniture. Even now, I'm not quite a part of it--they know where I came from. I'm good at faking it, though. Lots of lessons." She laughed gently, remembering how much she'd had to learn when Maeve and Jareth took them in. "That's why I have fun here, I think. It's nice to be part of it, sometimes. To feel like I can be carefree."

She wasn't sure why she was telling him this much. Maybe because she didn't feel like she could tell Lillia how much she'd wanted to be accepted here. She still felt a little ashamed of that need for acceptance. Her twin always seemed so strong to her, like she really knew who she was. Camille, on the other hand, didn't have one self that she could stick to. She was always making up new ones for each occasion. 

"I don't know your whole story, and I won't ask for it, but I felt like you'd understand. And, you know, that maybe someone should make you feel like you were wanted here like Maeve did for me." She realized she'd gotten a bit melodramatic, and took the edge off of it with a smile and a shrug. "But then, I do have a habit of overthinking things. My sister is always telling me I need to calm down."

[Sebastian Arcturis]

This was his entire life. The posturing, the titles, the fancy dress, the extravagance... It was what he knew. It was the world he was born into. Even not knowing everything about who he was, it was a fact. He was raised in wealth power and luxury with none of the recognition. Furniture was right.

As for Camille...well, he didn't know her personal history anymore than she knew his. But he knew her family was a different matter. That hit him a little more. Adopted or not (more precisely because she was adopted) her family wanted her as family. He couldn't help the small smile of recognition in his eyes as she mentioned faking it. He knew that well. Lessons were infinite, but it was the practice that were the best teachers.

But the sad fact of this lesson was that he couldn't allow himself to identify with her, even if he wanted to. Because while it wasn't in the same way as she wanted, he was wanted here. And that want didn't include him dancing with her. He grimaced. "It's a very kind sentiment, milady. You might be right," he said. "Being wanted and belonging are two different ideas. A tip, if you really want to fit in to that world?" He raised an eye brow at her, because he wasn't convinced. "Don't dance with the help."

Because as much as Bastian wanted to fit in sometimes, he didn't want to fit in all the time. And while Camille's words said yes, her actions said no. But she was young and had time to figure it out.

[Camille St. James]

Camille listened to him with interest. Belonging and being wanted...hm. She hadn't quite meant to say that they were different, but then, they were weren't they? She was wanted with her family, at home. She belonged with Lillia. She wasn't sure what she did here. Maybe it depended on which of the other guests you asked. At his mention of a tip, her head tilted slightly and her brows scrunched.

Her eyes widened, and, for some reason, she felt like she'd been punched in the stomach. She didn't make a sound, though, as he had done; she just forced a brilliant smile like that was the funniest thing she'd ever heard. Too bad the smile was a little too late.

"You've got a point, there," she admitted with a laugh, her gaze drifting to the other dancers. She wanted to put back up her facade, be perfectly happy. She didn't want to run away, not at all. After all, if he could brave it, so could she. "I guess it's a good thing they already know I'm a fake, hm? Otherwise, I might have spoiled it."

She just wanted to belong somewhere. Apparently, this wasn't it. She wished he was wrong, but...there was no two ways about it. No one here would have spared a thought to whether or not the captain was enjoying himself. They also wouldn't thank the servants for helping them or wonder what happened to all the leftover food. And honestly, she wasn't sure she wanted to give up that part of herself, naive though it may be. Still, it was...disappointing. She would have liked to belong.

She almost sighed but managed to give a more genuine smile as she looked back up at him. It wasn't really his fault she was having an identity crisis, after all. "I don't think I'd give it up, though. I happen to like dancing with the 'help.'" She grinned. "Oh, and? My name is Camille. You should use it. I think I've proven that I'm hardly a lady."

[Sebastian Arcturis]

Belonging was about acceptance and inclusion. Wanting was about desire. Bastian was wanted. But he didn't belong. As for want he felt about the relationship he had with nobility...Camille wasn't wrong. Being recognized and his feelings considered and being asked to dance...those were all nice things. But they didn't change anything and he could never stand on her side of the glass. Even if she was tbe unwanted puppy in the corner of the for sale box, this was where she belonged. At least right now. She wanted to be wanted. And he couldn't begrudge her that.

He could see his words hit her and ruin her facade for a second. The smile that returned wasn't so genuine, a facsimile of the cheap fake most no les wore. Like everything was funny. Bastian didn't bother with pretending. He didn't wear his emotions on his sleeve but nor did he make up extras.

Hearing Camille suggest she liked dancing with him almost made it through. Almost.

"You belong here, my lady Camille," he in fact said the term more properly for her having asked. "What you have yet to figure out is who you rrally want to be wanted by." Her family wanted her. That was a step. But if Camille didn't want herself...well, she sounded like she did so that was another. He was confident she would figure out the rest. And hopeful it didn't include him.

Luckily, one could belong and be wanted in a number of places at once. Finding thise places was the problem. Fortunately, while Bastian sometimes wanted to be wanted...he had been conditioned not to worry about it. So he didn't.

The song began to draw to a close. If he hadn't promised her one dance, he likely would have left already.

[Camille St. James]

Camille let her smile fall and her face became thoughtful once more as she considered what he'd said. Who she wanted to be wanted by? That was actually...a very good question. She'd thought that by dancing and talking with the captain she might learn more about him, come to understand him better, and yet she got the feeling that she'd learned more about herself than she had about him in the last few minutes. He was judging her just as surely as the others were, whether he knew it or not. And not one of them had the full story. Perhaps he thought he would be able to put her back in her place with the titles and riddles, but she wasn't going to give up just yet. She'd just have to try a different tactic, next time. Despite her still furrowed brow, the smile returned to her face and she shook her head at him.

"You know, you're quite evasive, Captain," she remarked, "You know very well that's not what I meant about my name. But, I'll take your advice into consideration. Perhaps knowing where I want to be is more important than where anyone else believes I should be." She raised an eyebrow and her eyes sparkled with mischief as the song ended and she drifted back enough to curtsy once more. If he offered his arm again she'd take it as they left the floor, otherwise, she'd simply walk alongside him back to his spot from earlier.

"I hope I haven't made you too miserable this evening. Thank you for humoring me. You've given me a lot to think about."

[Sebastian Arcturis]

Sebastian supposed it was a bit forward, telling where she belonged. But he had meant it more as a reminder of the moment. They weren't part of the same world, no matter how much she smiled at him. Her place was her place. But his...wasn't dancing with her. Not in this moment.

He had started it with the titles. She had started it with the riddles. Regardless, neither of them had asked to be saved. Maybe he was overstepping just as much as she was under-stepping. Sebastian quirked a small smile as she called him evasive. He did know very well what she had meant with her name and he also knew very well that to suggest such familiarity would see him rightfully back handed by someone.

He nodded at her thoughtful words. "Indeed. Myself included." He withdrew his hands and mirrore her curtsy with the same bow he had first presented her with. He did in fact politely escort her from the dance floor but immediately released her at the edge.

"Of course, my lady," came the sinple reply. "Enjoy your evening."