Dragon paused at the entrance, patiently waiting her turn while Stilzkin greeted a young man bearing a katana on his back. She took the opportunity to adjust her clothing yet again, tugging at the edge of a silken sleeve. Having never attended such a grand formal event before, she'd gone all out and though she absolutely hated wearing the outfit, she had to admit was kind of fun to dress up. Not that she'd ever admit such a thing in public, of course.

“Good evening miss, wel-” the moogle stopped midsentence as she stepped forward and swept him a graceful bow, left hand against her right shoulder in a gentle salute.

“I am Dragon Heart,” she said, quiet as ever. She straightened, smoothed out her dress one last time and entered the ball, leaving the bemused moogle in her wake.

The warm light of the foyer made her dress all the more radiant. It was a rich crimson silk, tastefully accented with a simple white orchid design flowing up the right side from edge to just below her hip. Hiding beneath the bottom hem which reached nearly to the floor, were her neatly matched shoes with conspicuously lacking heels. Her jewelry was similarly simple in design. She wore her mother's old wedding ring, a gold and silver band set with three tiny diamonds. And as always, her Griever replica necklace hung around her neck, somewhat out of place against her elegant dress yet still accenting her appearance.

She'd kept her waist-length brown hair down as usual, though she'd relented to a delicate touch of makeup. A mirror hung conveniently on a wall just before the stairs and she paused there, stepping aside to let other guests enter while she checked one last time, making sure nothing was out of place. She frowned a bit; her deep brown eyes still looked tired around the edges, the result of too many long hours and not enough sleep. Rubbing at her temples, she shook her head. Now was not the time to be thinking of such things. She was, after all, here to enjoy the party.

With a cheerful smile, she turned to the stairs, careful not to bump anyone coming in.

“Hello Andromeda, Andromeda,” she said. “I regret missing the last ball but it looks like you've done a splendid job this year. She bowed to the two and made her way down the stairs.

Despite her quiet confidence, anxiety fluttered in her stomach. She approached one of the heavily laden tables and selected a glass filled with a fruity nonalcoholic punch. She never did care much for alcohol. Sipping at her drink, she leaned against the back wall to observe the other guests.