It is almost something out of a fairytale, Snow idly thinks as they waltz about the glittering hall, two marble statues come to life. She feels his cold, grey-blue eyes take her in and knowingly smiles. He is curious, this fellow immortal, and is most likely wondering just who and what she is. Well, she would be lying if she said that the fascination was not mutual. She has met other ‘nations’ before, of course– England, France, Spain, Italy, even her own beloved Bavaria. Nonetheless, he is something different and new; she might even go so far as to call him a kindred soul.
She tilts her head, ear pricking at his whisper, as soft as the wind before a blizzard, and her blood-red smile grows with a twitch. Ah, her suspicions just might be correct. “You seem to have read my mind, Herr Romanov. If you would lead me to the gardens, I would be much obliged. I am certain that there is much we can learn from each other.”
She halts her steps as the musicians pause in preparation for another song. However, rather than curtsy as many other ladies were doing, Snow allows a hand to slide down Ivan’s coat sleeve before grasping one of his own. Her eyes twinkle with excitement. Knowledge, after all, is power.
AMID THE GRANDEUR OF PETERSBURG’S WINTER PALACE , they sway together , such a contrast against the bright of the crowd . in her , he sees glimpses of himself ; she carries herself as one who’s lived through decades upon decades - he would know , that was something else they shared . through all the years he had lived , all the many summers he has witnessed become winters , then summers again , ivan doesn’t recall ever meeting anybody like her , that can capture his interest so eagerly in the span of a mere dance . selfishly , he has always reveled in meeting those cursed with eternal life , if only to enjoy company that he will not have to one day bury .
before he can hold out an arm for her to grasp once more , not for a dance this time , but to steal her away into the night , her hand had already found his . he can’t deny the smirk that tugs enthusiastically at his lips , accompanied by a warm glint in his frozen , grey eyes , like a lit winter fire . gaze locks with snow’s momentarily , ❛ oh , indeed , i’d certainly agree . you are simply captivating , милая , there’s much i desire to learn from you . i don’t think i’ve ever met a woman quite like yourself , i’ll admit , do consider me greatly intrigued . ❜
hands now entwined , he begins to lead her outside through the fog - like crowd of royals and elites , russian and foreign alike , all whispering and gossiping among themselves , though he pays them little mind in his eager retreat to the palace gardens .
❛ come , i doubt they will mourn our absence . ❜
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