[ She hand going to his shoulder, the other outstretched with his, the dance begins with a single step followed by another. They are not guided by music itself, but by the melodious emotions within-- rather, she is. And rather than any drum or brass, the energy within her feels like a cello, a piano, a harp, one note or hum echoing into the other. Their steps become seamless, synchronized, soft upon the grass, quiet like the world around them, until everything else fades but them.
She cannot tear her eyes from his own, his smile-- who knew he could smile like that? Certainly not she, and how blessed she is to be able to see it. He seems more at ease than he's ever been, as if he were suited for secret dances in a notgarden just as much as he is for conquest...
And the most shattering change these flowers bring is that suddenly she wants to help him obtain that goal. That if she could be the weapon he wield to conquer the land, if he would ask, if he would accept her aid, she would not say no. She would do all in her power to help him obtain the throne. For the feeling that is within her heart, this consuming, burning, blinding emotion, is none other than...
She falls into whatever last turn or spin he leads her into, and when pulled back to him, she stays closer, the hand falls from his shoulder to his chest, her movements slow, her gaze lowered, distant, reserved-- scared?
If what she's feeling here is-- for him, then... then she really hasn't learned anything, has she? But now that she has these feelings, she cannot think of any other way of living. ] ....Lord Berkut. [ She calls his name, timid, swallowing. ]
no subject
She cannot tear her eyes from his own, his smile-- who knew he could smile like that? Certainly not she, and how blessed she is to be able to see it. He seems more at ease than he's ever been, as if he were suited for secret dances in a
notgarden just as much as he is for conquest...And the most shattering change these flowers bring is that suddenly she wants to help him obtain that goal. That if she could be the weapon he wield to conquer the land, if he would ask, if he would accept her aid, she would not say no. She would do all in her power to help him obtain the throne. For the feeling that is within her heart, this consuming, burning, blinding emotion, is none other than...
She falls into whatever last turn or spin he leads her into, and when pulled back to him, she stays closer, the hand falls from his shoulder to his chest, her movements slow, her gaze lowered, distant, reserved-- scared?
If what she's feeling here is-- for him, then... then she really hasn't learned anything, has she? But now that she has these feelings, she cannot think of any other way of living. ] ....Lord Berkut. [ She calls his name, timid, swallowing. ]