vtriol.
TO DANCE IS TO FREE YOURSELF. is that why the movements between bodies, fluid and close, intimidates them? (it’s too vulnerable too honest. it opens their soul like a budding flower, still unshaped, without its beauty.) so to escape prying eyes, thana stands beyond the crowd. no invitations to the dance floor can reach me here, they reason. the air near the door is crisp and void of the polluted noise found further in. it cools their covered skin, providing some relief from the insufferable drapery they’ve been confined to (at the request of a rose-haired companion). objectively, there are no flaws in wearing other than academic uniforms to a ball ordained by the archbishop… but they were coerced into attending!
in their routine glance-over, the heir of faerghus appears. something about holding his gaze unnerves them, so they hurry to look elsewhere but they react slowly. their king approaches and they seem at a loss, then hide it quickly. ` your highness, ` curt and forced. ` i hope you are enjoying the festivities. ` half-truth. festivities is generous.
𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫, 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐝. of course, he fits the intricacies of textbook royalty: the exact degree of the posture and the practiced smile and the tailored garments. it’s all there. and he’s not here. or rather, would like not to be. so, that leads him to excuse himself among the bodies, uncaught and with sights set on the exit until... he meets eyes with someone. they look away. it’s only polite to take a small detour and address them now, and he supposes they do make for amicable talk. ‘‘ ah, no need for titles or formalities. call me dimitri, please. ’’ and despite the times he’s requested that, the insistence doesn’t flow any less earnest.
‘‘ to tell you the truth, i feel a bit out of place here. festivities like these don’t quite suit me. ’’ which reminds him--------- ‘‘ that being said... if i may be so bold, 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗃𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝖻𝗂𝗍 ? ’’














