#ahnenstolz

[verseandrhyme]

[ SLIP-UP ] - As it turns out, a lot of people at the monastery make for great body doubles in the dark. What do you do when you slap a friend on the back only for you to find out when they turn around that it's not your friend at all? He is gone for only a few moments, when the lights dim and they are separated by the crowd. When they reunite, he is notably red in the cheeks as he offers her an arm. "I... ahem. In case... we lose one another again... considering the. Dark. And. Agh..." There is a very, very good chance that he'd accidentally approached a complete stranger thinking her to be Mitama—and thus, a very, very good chance that he will be mortified about this for the rest of the night. The year, actually. Perhaps his entire life.

Who in their right mind thought that this would be a wise thing to do?

When the lights suddenly turn to darkness, Mitama makes the wise decision of planting her feet and staying exactly where she is. The last thing she wants to do is wander into something and hurt herself or, worse, someone else. How absolutely mortifying that would be.

So, when Siegbert finds her again, she lights up and quickly latches herself onto his arm, eager to have someone taller and larger who might better part the sea of crowds around them. "Yes, thank you. I..."

Hmm. Is he speaking oddly? Squinting at his face, she can see the lines of his expression pulled much more dour than they had been before. His promise to be happier the next time they saw each other had certainly been short.

His sleeve is pinched between her fingers as she tugs and pulls for him to lean down. "Are you alright? You seem as though something has happened."

@ahnenstolz

[heirjinto]

@ahnenstolz sent: [ ZENITH ] - A dance invented to celebrate the burgeoning peace recently established between the once feuding kingdoms of Askr and Embla. Long ago, so the story goes, these faraway lands had been meant to work in harmony. One land tasked with the closure of gates, and the other charged with opening them - this dance evokes a history of the back and forth of conflicting duty, eventually culminating in a tranquil hope for a better future. /

One melody ends, and all it takes is the slowly building hum of a lone violin to transition into the next. There is no better time, and certainly no better song, to which he can approach a man he hopes to know for the rest of his days.

"Prince Shiro," he greets, far too formal for the smile he wears with his approach. "You've room in your schedule to spare me a dance, I hope."

despite his inherent — and some would say questionable — competitive streak, this is where shiro's forced to admit defeat. and sure, even with a laundry list of faults to tote, he can manages to admit that where he's a fish out of water in this environment, it's siegbert who takes up the winning mantle.

tall, decorous, eye-catching. already looking more king-ly than prince-ly. born for this, really. all that talk of not being able to hold a candle to his father, but here he stands, the steadiest flame of them all.

"nuh-uh. we're NOT doing that." a very (un)princely finger prods siegbert's shoulder. firm, yet friendly. "it's always been 'shiro' to you. 'siegbert' to me. you're letting the night get to you, buddy."

no matter the fun he pokes — oooooh! siegbert the always-proper! siegbert the chivalrous! siegbert who unfortunately grew half a milicentimeter taller than him since the last time they met! — there's still truth in what he says. maybe it's not as forthright as it should be, or packaged in a neat and pretty way, but on the heels of a request comes a plea:

( let's keep things between us as they always have been. let's not change, even for the future. let's stay friends, and not solitary figures sat across opposite thrones. )

before siegbert deflates, shiro hurriedly slides in an, "oookay okayokay. okay, fine. this once. after you're all danced out, though?" a challenging grin spreads across his face. "we go back to the basics — best out of three arm-wrestling matches. loser has to fill the other's cup for the rest of the night. deal?"

[pastbelow]

[ OSTIA ] - An Ostian court dance where the leading partner wields a ceremonial sword as a part of the routine. This dance, meant to resemble a knight with his lady, is getting some attention from the students of Fódlan.

The sword is entirely ceremonial, but it feels right to have it in his hands. Righter, still, to find Shigure for it—a means to get even, considering the man had teased him first.

This dance, from what he's seen, isn't offered with a hand or a bow. Instead, it starts as a knight pledging himself to his lady—and so Siegbert bends low, offering the thin sword to his chosen partner with a smile. "What say you, Shigure? To ensure that I'll continue to keep my cool."

"I…"

… by the first dragons, he can't help it; a laugh punches out of him, simple and pure. "of course you're more confident with a sword in your hand," he manages, shoulders shaking with mirth. "don't you think that's cheating a little, though?"

taking the blade by the hilt, shigure taps his friend gently on both epaulets with the flat edge, before returning it to the proffered hand. "but it's good that you're confident. dance partners like that." he smiles back, fond. "I'm sure you'll master it someday."

he's not one to turn someone down their time of need, anyway. pressing his arm along the blade, he settles into a curtsy, closes his eyes---and listens for the start of the music.

( if the tips of his ears are a little red, well, who's to say? )

[princessmacedon]

[ ZOFIA ] - Modeled after an Archanean court dance, but with an energetic twist. The entire body is engaged with the dance, creating a spectacle that is enjoyable to watch.

She's a bright and cheerful presence, impossible to ignore as she flits from one attendee to the next—a bit like a bird with quickly-beating wings, for whom even the most taciturn of flowers seem willing to bloom. Admirable is the first word that comes to mind, but something about it doesn't fit quite right.

So he waits until she finally has a moment to herself, seemingly tired of exchanging flowers. It is a ball, after all, and it'd be a shame if she busied herself so much with ensuring everyone else had an armful of vibrant flowers that she didn't get to enjoy the rest of it.

"Excuse me, my lady," he calls, just in time. The current song comes to a close; it will be a moment before the next one starts, but it gives him plenty of time to bow and offer a singular rose to add to her collection.

"...May I have this next dance?"

My lady. She almost doesn't turn at the sound of it, a title more elegant than has been used for her in what feels like ages. Certainly she does not expect to meet someone's eyes, nor to be the one favored with a rose.

"Oh!" What a pleasant surprise it is. One hand darts from around her bouquet to cover her mouth; the other reaches, hesitantly at first, then gentle in its acceptance, to accept the proffered flower. In her arms it may be a rose like a hundred thousand other roses, but to her each given flower is unique in all the world. She places it precisely; if he asked her now or at night's end, she could tell him just which one it is.

"Hee hee..." Her fingers curl over her mouth as if to catch her laughter. It scatters across her dress, swept into a mirror curtsy, and the last of it pressed into his hand in acceptance. "Of course!

"My name is Maria," she continues as they slip among the other dancers. Slowly, the song begins, but in its first notes she giggles again. "And what about you, my lord?" The words lilt not with disdain, but with a certain sort of mischief -- two parts delight and two parts joy. Enough to share, isn't it?

My lady. Such a small thing, yet she beams as though the sun itself had gifted her its light. Really, she does not hold such a love for titles, but-- well, isn't it nice? To feel like a princess without feeling helpless. So she dances her best for him, the grace of her royalty and the laughter of her love, dress fluttering in time to a familiar song made lighter than she'd known.

"Thank you for the dance!" Maria giggles as they part, a rose like any other rose offered in return. "Hee hee... you're a wonderful dancer -- I had so much fun! But, you know?" Leaning in a bit closer, she brings a hand to her mouth, head turned at an angle as though this is something only he can know. "You can just call me Maria, if you want!"

[venalier]

@ahnenstolz sent an intivitation　✱　[ LIGHT ] - All things considered, it's quite possibly the worst dance they could partake in. It isn't that Siegbert doesn't trust Caeldori—he does, of course he does; he's put his life in her hands time and time again, and that he remains standing here and now is testament enough to how richly he's been rewarded for his faith—but that he can't take proper measure of his own mistakes. There will be neither room nor time to correct his error if he were to misstep. But Siegbert has never been a quitter, and he'll be damned if he starts now—even if he can't bring himself to relax, his posture ramrod straight and rigid as he settles a hand at the small of her back. "...Shall we?"

SHE WOULD KNOW THAT VOICE ANYWHERE.　𑣲　even if she didn't already know who it was. though shiro was her generation's prince and to whose blood she swore loyalty, in many ways it was siegbert who had always steadied her. in their campaign into valla, stepping out her——their ; it'd been much the same for all of them——deeprealm for the first time, believing she was ready in every way she possibly could be and still finding that there were so many things training and studies couldn't teach her, so many ways for her to flounder and to fail, and to find herself alienated from all the rest in her struggles.

in all of that, siegbert had seemed to understand her best, even as he also sometimes struggled and sometimes hurt her. it was hard to explain, but even though he was a prince and they were really not the same at all in a lot of ways, she couldn't help but think when she looked at him that perhaps she really wasn't so alone as she'd always thought.

it was a thought no one else had ever teased out of her, not in the same way.

so, even though she startles when hands settle on her back and she hears his voice so close——intimately close, really ; why had they picked this dance again??——it's easier than it is with almost anyone else for her to tell her muscles to relax and her posture to be more natural. blind faith, is what it was, quite literally, since she couldn't make out anything even a foot from her face behind the blindfold. she just had to have faith that he would guide her and do his best ; and in a way, it felt the same as trusting herself. "i can feel the tension in your arm even from here," she giggles, settling her shoulders and standing tall. "relax your arm a little. and don't think even a little bit about how my father and i will definitely kill you if you step on my furisode and rip it."

surely, that would give him all the confidence he needs.

[ephemeralove]

[ ARCHANEA ] - An old minuet originating from the Kingdom of Archanea, a true classic that has stood the test of time. Due to its difficulty, successfully executing the dance is an achievement in and of itself.

It doesn't surprise her anymore that an Archanean dance has found its way into the ballroom of an academy oceans away. Given everything she's seen and suffered in her time here, it hardly registers; no, what truly surprises her is that someone has approached her for a dance.

"Me...?" The question slips out before she can stop herself, though a hand is quick to follow, held up firstly in reassurance-- "O-oh! I'm sorry... that was rude of me. I was just surprised..." --and secondly placed in his in quiet acceptance.

"I'm lucky that I know this one," she murmurs, nearly swallowed by the song. Her eyes drift elsewhere in the steps, but when one of them speaks, they fall quietly upon his face once more. Rapt. Curious. It is not her attention that leaves; it is just that her gaze is shy, for-- "I don't dance very often, so... hehe. I'm glad I won't step on your toes."

The song dies as all things do, but before they disappear into their separate crowds and shadows, Katarina offers him a tulip, a small fleck of white between their dark ensembles. The act feels a bit foolish; the tulip is too gentle and bright for her, just as the pearl of yesteryear had been too beautiful, and the bell before that had ripped the wallflower up by its roots...

"Ah... Thank you." The words come out softly, a bit self-conscious, but there's still a speck of light that reaches her eyes. "For the dance... it was fun." Gray eyes turn faintly crescent, marked by the thought of a smile.

"Have a good night."