Someone comes wandering in from the direction of the park. He's also a little overdressed for this party, if he were going to it, which he might very well not be; but he carries himself like all that silk is just what he wears on a casual evening stroll.

When he spots Emara with her dress and her wine and her tart, he pauses and smiles wryly. "Another grand social success on Stargazer's Hill, I see. Don't feel too bad, these things always turn out to be an enormous disaster for somebody. I'm not sure whether your hosts are cruel geniuses, persistent idiots, or just really, really unlucky."

Emara has officially used up all of her emotional energy on her mother. Stressing he could have heard her yelling? Nope. Worrying about her ridiculous dress? Nope. Caring who hears her complain? Nope.

"All of the above?" she suggests tiredly. "This will all be my fault somehow, though. Never mind that the dress I first picked would have been fine, no, let's change dresses six more times, but- um." He was being friendly, and supportive, and she is about to vent. (Vent more.) She smiles at him, embarrassed. "Sorry. Thanks for the encouragement."

He laughs. "It's fine!" he assures her. "If I didn't want to encounter tired grumpy people I could've stayed in the park. Anyway, who's blaming you for their own bad advice?"

"Flatterer," she snorts. "My parents are. Uh, more my mother, but still probably both of them. My mother and self awareness are... not exactly on speaking terms?"

"Evidently not. What are they even trying to accomplish here? Make a lot of rich friends in Skygarden? Take it from a rich person who lives in Skygarden, making rich friends in Skygarden is a huge waste of time."

"Sounds about right. On both counts," Emara says dryly. "I was looking forwards to moving here, but." She shrugs. "Um, there's upsides? More things to do, more people to talk to," she nods at him, "and a lot of it is just gorgeous. But, uh..." she flails her hands for a second, fails to settle on an adequate phrasing, and settles on, "parties."

"Parties!" he agrees, sympathetically. "Have you considered just walking out and going off to do something fun?"

"I'm in a red satin ball gown and heels!"

"So?"

"So what does one do for fun in Skygarden in a ball gown and heels? Since parties have failed me."

"Hmm. What's your opinion of libraries?"

"Uh, yes."

"I know a good one near here!"

Hmm. Is she annoyed enough at her parents to leave the party with a stranger?

Not quite. Even on a couple glasses of wine. But she can compromise.

"Only if I can get another cheese tart first," she says. "Want one, mysterious stranger?"

"I would be delighted."

Well, that didn't work. Unsubtle it is. "I'm Emara."

"Sekar. Pleased to meet you."

"You too. Um, one minute, cheese tarts coming up."

She ducks inside. She can't quite manage to 'sneak', in this dress, but 'act embarrassed about her outfit' serves just as well to keep people from approaching her. She wraps up two cheese tarts in a napkin and then stops one of the waiters arriving to refill the plates.

"Would you tell my parents I'm stepping out, please? I'll be stopping by the library with a guest named Sekar." She points out her parents across the room, deep in conversation with a couple she recognizes as a business interest of her father's, and barely waits for him to nod acquiescence before she's on our way back outside. She wasn't quite up to explaining to her parents herself (or her mother's inevitable palpitations about "wandering the city at night", despite the safety of the area and the fact it's not even really night yet), but at least they know where she's going and with who... and hopefully at enough of a delay to let her sneak away. It'll do.

She heads back to where she last saw Sekar. Thankfully, it's not a terribly large garden.

And Sekar is indeed waiting there. He smiles and waves when he sees her.

She smiles back and offers the napkin. "Cheese tart?"

"Thank you!" He takes a bite. "Oh, very nice."

"Th're d'l'cious" she agrees around a bite of her own. Then swallows and adds, "and extra tasty when you've just been told not to eat them."

He laughs.

"I like your style."

Emara laughs. "Which makes you literally the only one here, but I'll take it." She finishes off her cheese tart and leaves the napkin on her erstwhile chair with its companion. "So, uh, something something library?"

"This way! Are your shoes going to bother you? It's not that long of a walk but I admit I've never tried it in heels."

Emara eyes her shoes. "Probably? But, um, kinda better than trying to go barefoot and stabbing myself on something."

"And we would look very silly if I carried you."

"That seems just as dangerous as no shoes!"

"I'm not going to drop you," he says, playfully indignant.

Uh. She thought he was joking??? But this is still not a good idea. Funny idea, yes, but baaad idea.

"Satin!" she reminds him instead. "And probably too slow? I mean, uh, the libraries must close eventually."

He giggles. "Well, fair enough," he says, leading her out into the park. "It's just down the hill. And if they're closed by the time we get there, it's still very nice to look at."

"Skygarden is pretty spectacular," she agrees readily, following him through the park. Her shoes seem to be doing all right; she suspects she'll have blisters, but that's nothing new. "I miss Shattered River sometimes, but definitely not for the buildings."

"All the best architects live in Skygarden. And I'm not just saying that because I'm an architect who lives in Skygarden."

Emara laughs. "Oh, yes, definitely not biased at all, I'm sure."

"You caught me. The only reason I know there's a library nearby is because I built it."

"Cool. Tell me about it? But I, uh, am kinda not an architecture expert, small words please."

"It was an interesting challenge because of the light—books don't like strong light very much—I ended up giving the building windows of solid stone, shaped just thin enough to let in a little sunlight but not enough to hurt anything. And then there's carefully designed magic lamps for times and places the sun doesn't reach, but coming up with those was somebody else's business."

"Huh. Why stone in particular? Not curtains or darker glass or, I don't know, special architect materials I've never heard of."

"Because it's pretty!"

Emara laughs. "A good reason! ...except maybe about dresses. It has failed me for dresses."

"Maybe you just need better dresses. Or better friends. Or better parents."

"My parents mean well, they do. They're trying to do what's best for me." She doesn't sound enthusiastic. "We just, um, disagree sometimes." Then, less morosely, "and save me, I do not need more dresses. Seven outfit changes was more than enough."

He giggles. "Well, suit yourself. And here's the library!"

It is, as promised, very pretty.

"Wow."

Sekar beams.

"I'm glad you like it!"

"Uh, yeah, it's gorgeous!" She wanders back and forth, catching different angles. "No wonder you wanted to be an architect," she says wistfully. (She doesn't get to make career choices.)

"It would've been a shame not to, after self-dedicating Land."

"Oh. Wow. Um." Emara blinks, attempting to gather her thoughts. She's never met a self-dedicate before (...that she knows of, at least.) Her parents always told her it wasn't worth the risk. "I don't... I've never... uh, good job?"

Yes, good job Emara, you sound like an idiot. She flushes red.

He laughs. "Thank you!" he says cheerfully.

Still red, she manages a slightly more coherent, "I've only met a couple people, and, um, never self-dedicated."

"Makes sense. Magic's more common up here but self-dedication is still pretty rare."

"Why is everyone so much more interesting than me," Emara grumbles, mostly to herself.

"I don't know, are they?"

"Well, apparently the best that can be said about me is business connections," she says. Bitter, her? Never. "You- uh, you're magic, and build pretty libraries, and rescue me from stupid parties. I think you win."

"I do build very pretty libraries. And I am very magic," he agrees. "But I think you're pretty charming, and I assure you I am not even slightly charmed by business connections."

Emara's complexion does "light flush" much better than "bright red", but it gives it a good try anyway. "Um." Her well trained social skills are also pretty flustered, but they manage a "Thankyouverymuch." Scrambling for something actually functional to say, her brain supplies, "Though gods only know where I get it from?" This is... not really better. Argh.

He cracks up.

...well this sets off Emara, who winds up giggling helplessly with him. "You are breaking my brain," she accuses. "And I haven't even seen inside the library yet!"

"Well, I can fix one of those things!" And he heads for the library door, beckoning her to follow.

Well, she's come this far. "I'm calling you Brainbreaker now," she mutters, but follows him inside.

Inside there is Architecture, and also Books. So many books. Really an amazing number of books. And everything is all softly lit and pretty.

Emma leans against the nearest wall and just admires for a while. "Yeah," she finally says, "you're, uh, kinda ridiculously good at this."

He beams proudly. "Thank you!"

She starts wandering past shelves, idly skimming the titles on the shelves as she goes, but not expecting much to catch her eye. Going by the first few shelves, she's not wrong; they're books on magical theory, and look far too esoteric to be relevant to someone like her, without magic of her own. "So which came first, the, uh, architecture or the dedication? Does your family work in architecture or something?"

"Oh, the dedication did. I wanted to be able to - do things, you know? And as far as having tangible effects on the world goes, there's nothing quite like building entire libraries from scratch."

"Makes sense," she nods absently, still scanning bookshelves. (She's made it up to economic treatises, which she gets more than enough of at home.) "That's kinda why I started picking up Riverish? There's, um, really only so many business meetings you can attend and just sit and be quiet before you start collecting new words on napkins."

"Aw. If I had to sit and be quiet at business meetings all day I'd probably set something on fire. Picking up Riverish is so much more constructive!"

"Well, uh, that would definitely end the meeting," Emara laughs. "But my dad needed the deals, so."

"I didn't say I thought it would be a good idea."

"Maybe not so much, no. Do you speak any Riverish? Or are the boring meetings required?"

"I do travel sometimes. I know a little of a bunch of different languages. Mostly things that shouldn't be repeated in polite company, I'm sorry to say."

"Not that I really care about the phrases, since I, uh, have nowhere to repeat them anyway, but... caring about polite company has not really been the theme of my evening."

He laughs softly. "Fair enough."

"I tried! And all I got was weird stares and cheese tarts." She pulls out a book that looks interesting; a comparison of self-dedication practices in various rural areas. "This not caring thing has much better bookshelves."

"I dunno, the cheese tarts were pretty good too."

"Uh, they were tasty, but did you just compare the cheese tarts to this library."

"All right, I admit, they were not anywhere near this good."

"Different types of good," Emara allows. "I would not want to eat the library."

"Me neither. It's not a very tasty library."

"I'm sure it's fine. That's, uh, not normally a requirement." Emara flips a couple pages in the book she's holding, realizes she's probably being rude, and shoves it back in the shelf.

...now what. Social graces, help. "How long have you been doing this?"

"Architecture? Oh, a while," he says vaguely. "It's a lot of fun!"

"You're lucky you have a job you like," she says. Perhaps a little more wistfully than she meant to. "What about the rest of your family, uh, what do they do? You said the architecture was a Land thing, not a family thing?"

"—oh, I don't—uh, really have any."

That is not a face that invites asking further questions. "Oh. Uh. I'm sorry, I didn't- sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

"Eh, it's fine, you couldn't have known. Most people don't have my problem."

"Everyone's family has its own problems," Emara agrees.

It is possible from her expression she is not talking about his family. Maybe.

"I noticed that, yeah."

Well, that's horribly embarrassing. Emara sighs. "Yeah, um. Sorry if there was too much shouting."

"Eh, I've seen worse."

"That should probably make me feel better", Emara observes, sounding unconvinced. Then: "...uh." That was probably an attempt at reassurance, wasn't it. "I appreciate the thought?"

He shrugs. "I just mean - you don't need to worry that it bothered me, or anything."

...she laughs. "If I say I've seen worse, does that even make sense outside my head?"

"...Maybe not."

She considers. "Kinda that you'd already said that, but, um. That you did not in fact seem at all bothered, I'm just horribly embarrassed by basically everything my parents say or do?"

"Yeah, fair enough."

Emara looks around the library wistfully. "I should probably get back to the party eventually," she says, sounding not at all interested in this prospect. "Otherwise they'll be all... preachy at me."

"Or you could wander the city all night, but in those shoes you'd probably start regretting it pretty quick."

"Beauty is pain," she mutters. From the eye roll, it's probably a quote.

Snort. "Well it shoudn't be."

"Wouldn't that be nice," she says with a laugh. "And the parties should be optional and the cheese tarts should be mandatory. But alas."

"Most things in life are optional if you're sufficiently stubborn," he says cheerfully. "Also, I'm a bad influence and you shouldn't listen to me."

"Well, uh, listening to my parents got me a fancy party and a stupid dress, and listening to you got me cheese tarts and a pretty library," she points out. "So far you win."

"I suppose that's true. Good for me. I have no idea how I'll keep it up."

"Oh, please don't, I don't need more advice in my life," Emara shudders. "Spontaneous architecture is far superior."

Time to go, before the fallout from her absence gets any worse. When they reach the door, she eyes her shoes crankily, contemplates on the (well maintained) state of the neighborhood, and takes them off after all. She's got at least another hour in them at the party, she'll spare herself. "It was really nice meeting you, Sekar. Thank you for the tour of the library!" The phrases come with a much larger, more genuine smile than her Society Phrases usually do, but just in case, she adds, "Definitely a vast improvement on my original plans."

...is he a hug person? She has had a nice enough time that she would normally hug someone goodbye (not that this happens often, in her social circle.) She can attempt a hug, she supposes- as long as it's a one armed hug, given her other hand is occupied with shoes.

He giggles at 'vast improvement'. So she can have a giggly hug.

Awww that's pretty cute. Giggles may occur on both sides of this hug.

"If you're ever in the Merchant District, I'm usually in the café on Highbrook after work," she adds. "Hopefully I'll see you around?"

"I'd like that!"

"Me too."

Emara's mother does not in fact scold her when she returns to the party, but only because that would cause a Scene. (Emara can't tell if she's just ignoring the earlier Scenes that were Emara's dress and their argument in the gardens, or if she's legitimately blocked them from her mind.) It's once they're home, therefore, that Emara is read the riot act. She sits quietly and makes apologetic noises in the correct places and says the things her mother wants to hear and does not talk back. She's left with the simultaneous impression that obviously the party was a Rare Chance at Success which she forfeited by leaving the party, and that she was a Shameful Embarrassment in her socially inappropriate clothes. Pointing out the contradiction will not help her case. Pointing out that her mother selected the dress will definitely not help her case. She says nothing.

Her father hadn't noticed her departure. When his mildly hysterical wife appeals to him for backup, Emara gets a much shorter lecture complete with his disapproving face and his favorite question, "what will people think?" She does not talk back. She is conciliatory and obedient. She's clearly in their bad graces for the foreseeable future, but she manages to skate by without much in the way of actual punishment.

She usually stops by Grove Café once or twice a week, but this week she decides she'll up it to three. Sekar was friendly and entertaining and seemed just as deeply unimpressed with her parents as she is, which makes him a vast improvement over most of her social circle pretty much by definition. Grove is cute and surprisingly small, for all it's on a main street, but if she times it right she can grab one of the smaller tables in the back and curl up with a drink and a book for an hour or two. Today's book is a selection of children's fairy tales in Riverish; she can justify reading cute fluff if she tells herself it's language practice.

And there he is! Approaching her table with a cup of fruit tea and a little round pastry.

She doesn't spot him quite instantly, but she goes to turn a page, looks up for her drink and spots him approaching. "Sekar! Hi!"

(He came! He actually came! She made a friend all by herself!)

The tables don't come in one-person sizes; there's an empty seat across from her. "Would you like to sit?" she asks, nodding at the chair.

(It's probably a stupid question. It's definitely a stupid question. Right? He's not here by accident... probably... he did come because she mentioned it? Argh. She's overthinking this. It's just a chair.)

He sits.

"Hi! How's the book?"

She blinks at it for a second. "...fluffy," she decides.

—he giggles.

"They're fairy tales! I'm not reading them for, uh," she flails her hands a bit, "deep and meaningful content, or whatever. Just wanted something easy in Riverish."

"It's just very cute hearing somebody call a book fluffy!" he says.

Aaaah he called her cute what does she do. MOVING RIGHT ALONG.

"Well, I stand by my ridiculous adjective," she says instead. "How have you been?"

"Pretty good! You?"

"Work is.... well. Work," she says, somewhat crankily. "You know, normally confusion arises when we don't all speak the same language, but I wasn't even translating! Apparently the phrase 'we do not have an office in that province' is beyond comprehension and must be repeated six times."

He giggles.

She's not exactly used to grown men doing something she would call 'giggling', but it seems to be his thing and it's pretty adorable, so, why not? But if he's not going to hold up his end of the conversation she is going to lean on Small Talk, and, well, she'll probably sound like an idiot eventually but it will still be so very much better than awkward silence. "What about you, anything new in the world of architecture?"