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[color=6ecff6][h3]Duchess Philomena Ceswick[/h3][/color]
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	In all blunt honesty Philomena has little to no knowledge in the art of dancing. Her understanding limits to the steady movement of one's limbs, with enough discipline to not appear lanky and awkward. It can be a struggle. Yet what Philomena lacks in that department her confidence and intellect would make up for it. Both of the latter seemed to be of more use to her anyway. 

	[color=6ecff6]"I see."[/color] Her tone was understanding, and her words was more so directed at her being cautious of their exchange, as the duchess have already noticed. Such privileges were not common for servants, as simple as having to dance to a single melody seemed criminal. It is as it should yet the duchess felt some sympathy to the woman. A feeling of having deprived of simple happiness in exchange for something more essential, which she somehow relates to. Philomena shook off the thought and returned her stare at the woman,  she observers her uneasiness, she wasnt sure what might have caused it but now she could only guess it's due to her hand almost giving out on the weight of her tray. She's aware that servants shouldn't disobey their tasks, but right now Philomena is tempted to just grab the tray and put it aside. She feels just as tired by just looking at her. Or better yet, leave her be to her work, as she should.  

	[color=6ecff6] "Would you like to set down your tray?" [/color] Her words were surprisingly under confident as if she knew she was not suppose to say that, of all things. Of course she wouldnt set it down, it was her job after all. Certainly not standing around freely corresponding with guests as they have other people to serve aside from her.  [color=6ecff6]"My apologies, I should not be keeping you from your duties."[/color] 

	The conversation was abruptly interrupted, and had only caught a slender hand taking one of the wine glasses from the other woman. Her gaze followed to a blonde, woman behind them who was nonchalantly, talking about her mother wishing to decapitate her for doing what she just did. Philomena was astounded at how the woman moves and carries herself. Not as what the typical, ideal noble woman should be, and currently she was not quite sure if she should be offended or be impressed for lasting this long, having such a bearing. 

	Philomena momentarily was at a pause, but she knew better than to level with her or view on her dimly based on her responses alone. The duchess, in all her prim and properness, turned to the woman. [color=6ecff6]"The Duchess of Stonia, that is who."[/color]she spoke in an aloof demeanor, at first glance the  duchess may not have taken her for a noblewoman, and Philomena is very entitled and serious when it comes to status.  [color=6ecff6]"I am Duchess Philomena Ceswick."[/color] She gave an effortless curtsy, [color=6ecff6]"And who might you be?"[/color] SHe spoke calmly, a faint smile going with her piercing stare, a cold and judging look that came with it. As the duchess' usual exhibit, albeit sometimes unintentionally in the beginning of unpredicted meetings.