A Play Of Cats; Theatre.

"Mummy and I are going to see a play," Arianne muttered, her usually sweet voice cold as she spoke to the young being. For some reason, she had little patience for the youngest Noble, who had tripped suddenly into her life, unconcerned for the world around her. Perhaps she was a bit too similar to her, in that way, but it was the simple knowledge of existence that bothered the woman. It had gotten to the point that Rushka was nothing but noise. "Without you, thank the gods."

Her nose twitched as her lips were suddenly sucked away, the motion nearly causing her to trip from her original perch, which was attached to her wife, swaying carelessly. With her dance thwarted, and the light pink of her dress ruffled, eyes turned upwards. The sky darted in and out of her gaze, much like the ocean of her dreams. It was magic, almost as magical as the place that they were nearing. "I'd rather play." Her eyes rolled delicately, a lady-like motion that echoed her giggles. "But watching is fine."

"You like watching, of course," the witch murmured, her little words muffled by the sudden intake of breath. With a teasing little glance, she slipped out from beneath the grip of her love, and danced across the pavement, wiggling her hips as she did so. "Couldn't I be a dancer, Cissy?"

Cissia watched her wife, groaning as the woman danced from her grasp. "Of course you could be a dancer, Ari." She moved toward her wife slowly, her own steps falling in that familiar - almost dance-like motions. The woman never danced in public, but today, she would.

"Come here, darling. Let us dance." Cissia reached to claim her wife's waist in her hands, a smirk upon those luscious lips. "And, Darling, if you would like to be in the play, I can make it so."

The woman had not yet spoken to her wife of Traxton's wench; the girl who would bear Cissia's legacy. Oh, Cissia was pleased with her son's misstep. Of course, the Queen was dressed as a Queen should be; her skirts were held in one hand, so they would not drag against the ground. The other hand was trying to take hold of the other's waist.

A crowd had gathered, all of those eyes were on the Queen and the Duchess - as people insisted upon calling Arianne. Cissia's violet eyes, those sharp orbs narrowed slightly as she leaned to try and dip her wife, a whisper parting her lips, "My darling, promise me, if I let you preform on stage, you will give me a private play tonight."

"The very best dancer?" she asked, a fleeting look of desperation flickering upon her porcelain face. It was quickly replaced with the usual smirk, always a shock on her innocent looking façade. After swaying a bit in the very place where she stopped, the young woman raised her arms, just like the ballerinas did. "Perhaps not ballet. Exotic dancing?"

Eyes lidded carefully as many seemed to gaze upon the pair, and she resisted the urge to stick out her tongue, knowing that her wife would find it less-than acceptable for the people surrounding them. Was it not acceptable for her to seem immature, teasing? No, no. They were sending their kids to study under her tutelage. She had to act mature.

For the time being, at least. After sauntering away, moving from the hand around her waist, Arianne offered a nod, two brows raising. "Perhaps." She wasn't promising anything. In truth, she wasn't exactly looking forward to even dancing on stage, not in front of everyone. She couldn't stick out her tongue, and here was the crazy woman announcing that she could possibly dance on the stage?

She would never understand her wife.