(this is so late but i saw the prompt and couldn’t NOT do it)
Nevios sees them the minute they enter, a bright splash of color against the perpetual dreary weather outside the gate to the courtyard. The shock on their faces is still fresh, probably from the illusion they just passed through, and Nevios knows. What they know they couldn’t say, exactly. They know they need to meet these people– true, but probably also true of the dozen or so vampires flitting around the courtyard, and especially the Count himself. They know– it doesn’t matter. Given how few things they know, that’s a large percentage of their brain’s storage space right now, so it’s probably worth addressing.
The red and gray ones have disappeared... somewhere. They didn’t see them go, but it doesn’t really matter– the blue one is friendly! He teaches them how to do a cartwheel! Well, tries. It’s great fun either way!
They play Uno. It’s an incredibly foreign experience, but then again, everything is, so they’re not half bad at it. Shockingly, they win the first round, and they look the Count in the eye and request the one thing, as far as they know, that it is not in their power to grant themselves. The look on Strahd’s face is reason enough to make their heart do– something. He’ll try, he says, and they have no choice but to believe him.
They’re asked to dance. Yes, it’s because Leoros needed to learn, needed to not embarrass himself in front of Strahd, but it’s nice all the same.
And then they dance with the Count, which is great of course, and he’s asking them all these questions that they don’t know how to answer, like, at all. And it’s fine and cool and chill but they do find themselves wandering about the party for a bit afterwards. Just... thinking.
The party has gone so, so late, but they don’t mind. It’s starting to lighten outside, dreary gray dawn poking through the dreary gray night– but the clouds are clearing too. The party is– well, they’re leaving, and if everything goes well, Nevios is coming with.
They’re shaking, ever so delicately, when they bend to kiss Leoros’s hand. Their shaking is more pronounced when they follow Strahd into his coffin room, to the point where if it weren’t so nicely padded, it would be rattling like something out of a cheesy C-list horror movie. They can feel an inexplicable wind combing through their hair. It awakens feelings as yet unlocked– fluttery ones, excited ones, and they daren’t hope. They can’t. Can they?
The carriage rattles and rumbles up a rise, rolling to a stop with a perfect view. A beam of brilliant, warm light crawls up their face, bit by torturous bit. At the same time, a warm hand slips into theirs and squeezes once– comfort, they recognize, and squeeze bacl. They look over just briefly, smile, blush a little. Then back at the sun, cresting over the hillside.
It’s beautiful. It’s enlivening, like nothing they’ve ever felt before. The brilliance reaches the tips of their ears, bathes the bridge of their pale nose, makes alive the many colors of the band of brigands they’ve decided to share a carriage with, for the time being.
They’re tired, all of a sudden, from a night spent dancing and stuffing themselves. A sort of bone-deep weariness, but one they could get used to, in this new life. Leaning over to rest their head on Leoros’s shoulder seems like the easiest thing in the world.
