August 2, 1892 - Wisteria Ball, Wellingtonshire
Debuting was just as Juniper had expected: a crowd of girls looking to be seen by a gentleman who would allow her to keep her lavish lifestyle, harmless flirting with the right connections, and moving through the crowd offering polite greetings, answering simple questions and fluttering the fan she always had to have within her grasp to use just the right moment. The ball was a high class event and Grace tended to steer her toward men she thought would be a good match for June, a political marriage it seemed, more than anything. She did the same to Ophelia, although tonight her sister was blessed with Grace as her chaperone while she had her father at her side. He’d married for love for his first marriage (and would argue he had for his second as well, although Juniper merely rolled her eyes because no one in the family actually loved Grace in any capacity), and she was certain he’d allow one of his daughters, if not both to follow in his footsteps. She could only hope it would be her. ”The night is still young,” Juniper teased quietly as she stepped away from an older gentleman, her eyes drawn toward the crowd of people around them. The music had died down as they readied for their next set. “You’ll have to be patient with me, sir. I think I need a few moments to catch my breath.” Juniper had forgotten his name already, but it didn’t matter much. He was one of her dad’s connections and there was always a chance she’d wind up as his bride. Dressed in an almost all white gown with her hair tightly wound in a bun, June felt like a miniature one, ready to be whisked off and married at any notice. The fan flashed in front of her face as her face twisted something mirroring disgust. He merely laughed quietly as he nodded his head.
”Please, excuse me.” June curtsied before she turned away from the man, watching the champagne float past her for the hundredth time that night - she was determined to finally get her hands on a glass! One by one the glasses were claimed as the tray made its round throughout the ballroom, just out of reach as she politely made her through the throngs of ever shifting people, doing her best to avoid eye contact and being dragged further into conversations before she had acquired her drink. Her father's eyes watched her movement but stayed close enough that he didn't move.
Someone stepped directly into her path and she nearly reached the limit of her manners. (Hitting someone with a fan she currently had clenched in her hands would certainly be frowned upon.) “Excuse me,” Juniper tried as she gathered her dress into her hands to shift a little easier past the person toward the tray of champagne flutes and the waiter who seemed intent on moving on. They didn’t seem to pay her any mind and the blonde huffed before she placed her hand gently against their back to let them know she was there and to keep them from stepping back onto her toes.
Of course all the progress Juniper had made getting across the ballroom was in vain as she watched Cassian Valenduris pluck the last flute from the tray. Scoffing, her eyes narrowed at the man as she pressed her lips into a thin line; him again. Her fingers clenched around the fan until her knuckles blanched, and had her wand been in her hand, he would be sporting large teeth and a bald head. Anger boiled beneath her skin from having to even see him here. “Please tell me that’s for me,” she said as she moved to stand next to him, her lips pinching further into a frown. The blonde frowned at him as she flicked her eyes to the glass in his hands, watching the bubbles she desperately needed to quench her thirst before she continued. “Because I think I may need it a little more than you, given that I have to see you.”
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