Perhaps it was a unique perspective to find such an event romantic. It was a hedonistic affair, yet there was romanticism in the fleeting nature and mystique of it. For Oskar, at least. Lady Mar'iath did not make mistakes when it came to her matches. Which made it all the more baffling to Oskar when his letter burned away to reveal the name of his partner, Sorena Blacke. Certainly there was no other, and this was the princess herself. Oskar did not know her aside from sharing the same places at times, however, he knew of her — of her cruel and sadistic nature. It was far from anything which appealed to him, and his doubt about the match was a foregone conclusion. Nonetheless, he could not deny the intrigue it stirred in him. Oskar would go to embrace Sorena for the evening, if nothing more.
The door to the Zinnia Room sat before him, a grand door in a grand manor. He hesitated only a second before pulling the behemoth wide and stepping across the threshold. Oskar had dressed in his colours of cream and red, both crimson and dusty, with simplistic rings on his fingers. He did not overly garnish himself as many a noble did, preferring the quality of the garments to the gaudy adornments. Oskar closed the door smoothly behind him, releasing it only once it had latched.
The ambience of the room tasted rich on the air. It was large and regal, with dancing lights and a quietly crackling fire. Surely unintentionally, the colours of the room matched his clothing. Oskar wondered if he perhaps looked like a part of the décor. Sorena had draped herself across the prominent couch, her expression one of boredom. She was a beautiful woman, with all but entirely raven hair and the reddest of eyes. He had not considered her beauty before, perhaps for the best. Yet at that moment he found himself mildly enchanted by it. Oskar crossed the room, pace neither slow nor quick, he walked with comfortable leisure. He stopped when he stood just in front of her.
"Princess," he greeted politely with a small bow of his head. Oskar spoke the word in a low, soft voice, in the same way he always talked. Although it was presumptuous, Oskar assumed that the princess knew who he was. He was far from insignificant. Oskar introduced himself, regardless. "I am Oskar, Duke of Carinthia," he said, voice matter of fact. He made no boast of it. He knew he would not impress her with a title. "Charmed to finally meet you," he said. And charmed was a good word for it.
"Shall I pour us a drink?" Oskar asked, eyeing the bar. Knowing only of rumours, he was not yet certain how to tread.