I attended the Bastille Day Bal-Musette at Carntaigh Court, introducing the Caledon Library's Ellen Throckmorton Riel Memorial Etiquette Collection. "Independent", "resourceful", "elegant", "nonconformist", and "brave" are adjectives that have been used to describe me, but tonight threw me for a loop. Now, I am fine at dances where I can click a sign or dance by myself and I'm alright, but this was very different--a first--for me. The etiquette dictated ask or be asked. Was dancing with the same gent for more than one dance "unseemly?" Oh my. My "bravery" failed me because a certain shy anxiety that I have in RL about asking and being asked (or not, lol) crossed over into my SL like a junior high nightmare. I did dance with Post-Captain Kuba--who was quite dashing in his Imperial Navy uniform--and Sir Zen, who were both very gracious indeed, but by the 6th dance, I was done with scrambling for a dance partner and feeling crashy. In all fairness, it was quite a lovely ball, but I suppose that it did not help that I had a major argument with someone in SL earlier today and a misunderstanding with someone else later. With the foul mood that I was in by then, I felt that--like Cinderella--I should leave the ball quickly.
After some target practice in the back of the shop (which made me feel better), I knew where to go after galloping Flashy through the land. I found Mr. Webb at his workshop and jumped into the bunny pen (which made me feel even better). "I find your ability to enjoy yourself rather amusing," he said. "I don't even need to be social." "Eh. Your wry commentary is usually more than enough," I said, as an aggressive brown bunny bumped me and I threatened to turn it into rabbit stew. "You would not be the crotchety dragon inventor that I know without it." I went to Eyre afterwards, intending to buy a new horse and was distracted. I think the dark Victorian avenging angel--after all, a fallen angel's in my blood--look suited me...and my mood.