@light-puns | continued from here.
“If you have attended so many, and you did not need to, why did you? You do not sound pleased.” It is genuine, puzzled; why would anyone put themselves through irritation when it did not appear to benefit them at all? “Of course there are weapons in our dances. They are rituals of death, displays of strength. A dance without blood is - ”
How much do you know about human customs? What a good question, Valmar whispers, and the darkin nearly snarls.
Shall we learn?
He blinks, and in an instant he understands why he is moving so naturally. Despite the fact that the dance is simple, that he can predict the steps, it is his body that is so familiar.
A cascade of impressions crash into him before he can brace against them, and he stiffens, feet faltering for half a beat. A warm laugh - the flash of a crooked smile - the teasing jostle of a shoulder and the glint of light off of sparkling champagne. Soft steps around a tiny campfire, leaves crumpling underfoot, and an awkward stumble - and the laughter that follows at the quick catch.
But the worst part was the crushing ache deep in his chest, a longing he cannot begin to understand and that leaves him reeling.
That’s what you’ve taken from us.
“I know nothing at all of your customs. And if I am honest I do not find what I know of them very appealing.”
Not least because every new learning experience came with a load of emotions that he didn’t understand or want.
