La Cumparsita

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The video above is just to get you in the mood. Watch it if you feel like it, and imagine John and Viola! :)

K. <3 

***

Viola looked around the grand hall of Nidhogg and couldn't help but smile a pleased smile. She had indeed done a great job organising the dance, she assured herself. The tasteful decorations had turned the hall into a Winter fairytale land, and the soft music poured out of speakers, just enough to create a joyful, festive atmosphere, without being too loud just yet. The long tables along the walls were brimming with appetisers and drinks, and the small hired crew of staff, mostly the younger children of the local large families, were shuttling around with trays. Frank Harris' younger sister, Edith, walked by Viola, proudly carrying a tray of champagne flutes, and gave Viola a happy smile. The Dance would give the young ones a chance to earn a bit of money, while keeping them part of the community, still under subtle supervision of their older relatives.

Mrs. Small rushed to Viola, starting on her compliments a few feet away from their small group, which made a few others join her to congratulate Viola with her success. John maneuvered Clem away from them, whispering something in her ear, which pinked her cheeks and made her giggle. Suddenly, Oliver was nowhere to be seen as well, and Viola was in the tight clutch of Mrs. Small's little dry hand - and surrounded by many other Fleckney residents that started pooling around them.

About half an hour later, Viola finally got a chance to slip away, and swap her empty glass for another flute of excellent champagne, generously paid for by the Fleckney Woulds Preservation Society. She took a sip and discreetly looked around the hall. Everyone who was anyone was present: the Mayor with his red-haired plus one; his Father, accompanied by a slim blonde woman - surprisingly, of the appropriate age, Viola noticed in amusement - who was leaning on a stylish cane, her leg in a plastic brace; six or seven Fitzroys; most of the Holyoakes - Viola gave each of Rhys' sisters and Julie's wife a small wave; the local clergy: Father Peters from the Church of All Saints' and the Reverend Phipps from St. Peter's; and most of the business owners in Fleckney. Rhys was nowhere to be found.

"Viola Holyoake," a lazy baritone rolled behind her, and she startled and turned.

"Niklas," she said, looking over Anders Bjornsson's infamous nephew. Pillock or not, what a specimen! she couldn't help but think. "Good evening," she said calmly. "Welcome back to Fleckney."

Being just a half-Holyoake, as John called him, Niklas had auburn hair and a dark ginger beard, the same long, prominent nose as his cousins, and the most unusual eyes, which Viola had forgotten about. Hazel and green mixed in them, in the lightest shades, making his eyes look like amber. His hair and beard were unkempt, and he looked thinned and exhausted, his expensive three-piece suit hanging on him - but his large, wide-shouldered frame still made him quite an impressive presence.

"I can say the same to you," he said venomously. "I've heard you've settled back in."

"That's one of the many advantages of the medical profession," Viola said in the most level tone of hers. "We are indeed welcome everywhere. I hope you manage to settle as well."

He narrowed his eyes at her furiously, but Viola was already walking away in search of his Uncle. It was time for her dance number with John.

She found Anders absorbed in a conversation with Yolanda, which made perfect sense. He would definitely be on the list of the most useful connections one could make in Fleckney. Yolanda laughed at something he said, and patted the lapel of his jacket. Bjornsson's cummerbund, tight on his large stomach, could as well be made of the Swedish flag, the colours were just right.

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