I Was Enchanted To Meet You

[Amella Macksimov]

"Stand up straight, Amella. Remember, kick walk. Tuck your hair behind your ear, and remember girls do not shake hands they curtsy."

Amella Macksimov's mother was insistent on telling her what was important to remember as they prepared to enter the Shannara Charity gala. The fact that the young Veela was attending was only to save face. Her mother insisted they would think her children were hooligans if at least one didn't show up - and she was the lucky winner. Her manners and soft spoken personality made her an easy choice, and Amella ever patient and agreeably did not say no to her mother or father. After all, the charity was important to her father, her mother was even distrustful of it and seemed anxious and unwilling to go, but she put on her best face, so why couldn't the young Veela.

Amella had only just turned 15, but her impending adulthood and need to carry herself as a proud member of her namesake led to her mature responses when she was greeted. She gave a charming smile, speaking back proudly the phrases she was taught, hoping more of them were English or French speaking - she wouldn't push her luck for Russian. Walking carefully, kicking the dress out as she did, she tailed her parents, a small smile plastered on her glossed lips. Her lashes were weighed heavily down with too much mascara, and her mother had insisted that she wear a diamond necklace close to her throat, that occasionally caught on her loose updo. She desperately craved punch, but knew better than to leave in the middle of conversations, and thus she waited until the event was well under way to pry away from her parents and search for some water, punch, or an escape for some night air.

In her search the blonde walked close to the walls, trying to stay out of the way of those mingling, those dancing and canoodling. It was quite sweet to see the love in the room, and the blonde romanticized the day she might meet love. It wouldn't be for years she was sure. Finally coming across refreshments she took sparkling punch in her hand and glanced around the room, steel colored eyes eventually falling on a figure against the wall, much like she had been earlier. Trying to blend in maybe, or gathering a moment of silence. Regardless the boy wasn't fitting in elsewhere, and his familiar face drew in the Beuxbatons student. She made her way across, hand holding up part of her dress to make walking much easier. Finally once she had crossed the room to him she tapped him gently on the shoulder. "If you are trying to blend into the walls, your suit is the wrong color." She said, obviously joking - breaking the ice quickly she hoped.

 

[Ander Shannara]

"Make sure you are out of the way tonight, Ander, I don't want you ruining any potential interest we might gather, the only reason you're even here tonight is because your mother insisted."

Ander had always known he was a disappointment to his father. He was shy, awkward, he didn't like conflict, he didn't like to speak to people, he was a skinny and often looked like he was about to blow away in the wind. He was all pointy bits and beanies. Everything his father disliked. He sometimes wished he could be more like Eventine, he was cool and confident, he got to work in Russia whenever he wanted, he got to see their mum all the time. Ander got stuck at school most of the time and when he wasn't at school he was in the library learning languages or math or anything his father thought might help him possibly be able to help out with the work later. He was truly terrible with languages though and as a result spoke only English, Russian and conversational French which really wasn't all that great anyway. Listening to lectures in class was often a damn nightmare.

Ander had found himself a nice little corner with a glass of punch. The food wasn't too far away and he noticed that he didn't have to move too far in that direction to get what he wanted. He took a sip of his drink, trying to lean further into the wall when a girl headed his way. He vaguely recognised her as someone he'd seen in the halls, but he did spend most of his time either in his dorm or in the library. He turned around, hoping she would go away and leave him be, unfortunately though she seemed to have other ideas and tapped him on the shoulder. Not wanting to be rude, Ander turned back to face her as she spoke, though her words were kind of lost on him as he got a close look at her face and rendered himself speechless. He'd never been this close to a girl before, let alone a veela! Wasn't she one of those Macksimov girls his parents carted around at one of their galas to prove their charity was open to all? He and his brother were proof of non-pure intentions and benefactors like the Macksimov's were there to show their inclusive ways, but he'd never actually thought he'd be face to face with someone like her. "Ander." He squeaked out. His accent clearly identifying him as Russian born.
​

 

[Amella Macksimov]

The boy Amella approaches was not someone she was close to, nor really someone she recognized fully. He was thin, lanky, and she could feel the way he oozes self conscious awkward energy. That didn't bother The Veela though, as everyone was not social. If the youngest Macksimov was honest things like Galas were not even her forte. No she enjoyed sweatpants and cookies, staying in and watching romantic comedy movies. She was easy to please and as much as ritzy life had presented her many opportunities, money had yet to be motivation for the blondes choices in life. When the boy finally squeaked out a single word, it took Amella a second to realize it was his name. She gave an airy giggle, covering her mouth with well manicured hands, nails that sparkles and changed between light blue and dark blue depending on the light and the way it hit them.

Once she had moved past the fact that he had awkwardly given his name she realized his accent was fairly similar to hers. Though frequent tome spent in France had altered it a small amount, Amella was a Russian bred woman, and she could hear in his voice he was the same only male. Mel smiled wider. "These Events are a little bit of a bore, no?" She asked, voice in her native tongue for a moment, waiting to see if he understood before continuing in English again. "I am Amella." She said, giving a small curtsy - still aware of manners her mother had told her to have at this event. "Are you here alone or with another attendee?" She inquired - after all if she was going to choose this quiet boy to dance with her she first needed to be sure he was dateless.