[ she doesn't suppose that visit nightly and detail to me all the quirks and features of your planet constitutes an attractive enough job offer. ]
There's no housing fee at Urithiru. Not for anyone. It... [ well, it's because they all escaped there as refugees, to start. ] It's got space enough. Anyone on the side of the Coalition is welcome.
[ as for everything else? food, drink, clothing, other amenities... ]
— Go on. List your skills.
[ yes, maybe this SHOULD be happening somewhere more private. ]
[ Verso stares at her, obviously a bit taken aback—slash amused—by the command. And it is a command, delivered with all the imperiousness of a queen. ]
Right now?
[ This is very off the cuff! He straightens up a bit, letting his feet drop to the floor, heels of his boots making a very faint thud as they hit the ground. ]
You've already heard me play. [ If he sounds a bit arrogant, well. So he is. There's no doubt in his mind that he's more musically gifted than most, given that he's been practicing for a century. ] I write poetry on occasion. And I'm not a half-bad waltzer.
[ these are not marketable skills. rather — she can think of only one position that fits a man who plays music and writes poetry. and two days ago they already discussed how that would nevertheless be a terrible assignment. and really, jasnah doesn't think she even needs a new queen's wit... ]
— Waltzer? What's a waltzer?
[ maybe it's a martial form. a sword stance. she can work with that. ]
[ Well, he is quite good with a weapon, but he's not quite sure how to bring that one up after he's unintentionally painted himself into a corner of being a total city boy who's never set foot on the Continent. Give him a moment to think of a good lie.
In the meantime, he scoots forward a little on the settee and holds his arms up, approximating a leading dancer's stance. ]
You know—
[ He hums Strauss's Blue Danube. Dundundundundu-dundun-dundun. ]
I thought you were top of your class in dancing lessons.
[ deftly, she leans back — out of his way, although his gesture doesn't truly come close to intersecting with how she sits. her gaze narrows, and even after he mimes the action she can't quite determine what in damnation he's suggesting.
[ After several days of knowing nothing, it's satisfying to see that blank lack of recognition on Jasnah's face. A-ha. So she doesn't know everything. Verso stops his mock-dance with an imaginary partner, pointing at her as if he were a very wise professor imparting knowledge onto a foolish student. ]
It's the dance, according to some.
[ All the more embarrassing that she doesn't know it! ]
Just 'waltz'. A classic partner dance in triple meter.
[ It had been more of an offhanded joke than a true skill, but he did learn quite young so that he could be appropriately entertaining at his parents' soirees. Although it's been a good few decades since he's had anyone to dance with—or any reason to dance at all—he's sure he can still remember the basics.
Only teasing: ] Your dance instruction leaves something to be desired, I'm afraid.
[ to her credit, she takes the correction in stride. jasnah is many thing — aloof, condescending, and strict. however, she is not so arrogant as to rankle under new information. she listens; she processes; she accepts. she is an adherent of the philosophy of aspiration and to aspire is to learn.
— doesn't stop her from wrinkling her nose and questioning his claim. ]
A partner dance? What, for harvest festivals?
[ light eyes feasts and fetes have always included a little bit of dancing, sure, but those dances were done in sets and lines. appropriate distance between participants. no touching. no partner. those are the dances she was taught. but she'd heard of other kinds, popular among the dark eyes. but verso, she'd noticed the moment she'd met him, isn't a dark eyes. his were a fine, bright grey. fit for royalty in roshar.
although...she also knows well enough that the colour of one's eyes means storms all in other worlds. wit told her so. it only underlined the strange arbitrary nature of the division — something she'd written about in the past, but only theoretically. ]
Or back-alley bars?
[ surely she thinks very little of this partner dancing. ]
[ Verso raises his eyebrows at that semi-accusation, although he finds it more humorous than offensive. He's been accused of a lot of things over the years. Being a deviant dancer is probably one of the more flattering accusations, all things considered. ]
My back-alley bar talents are of a... different nature.
[ An even less marketable nature, unless the Alethi are all secretly way freakier than he thought. ]
It's for parties. Socializing. You've really never pair danced before?
[ okay, alright, put a pin in the concept of his differing back-alley bar talents. jasnah is an equal opportunist interrogator. it's just that so many people resisted her curiosity.
she loosely crosses her arms, refusing to feel shame for her lack of familiarity with partner dances. her attention was always elsewhere — she learned as much as she needed to survive alethi feasts, and no more. ]
No. [ her head tilts. ] We have a handful of group steps, followed in a line, but nothing so — intimate. Is it truly so common in Lumière?
[ Sorry, he laughs a little. It's just— clearly, their cultures couldn't differ more on the concept of intimacy. What she considers surprisingly intimate is really quite banal. Of course there's some excitement to partner dancing with someone you find attractive, given the proximity, but it's hardly scandalous. Back before he learned the truth, when he really was the bon vivant he's portraying himself to be, Verso would regularly do five more scandalous things than that before lunch. ]
I once waltzed with an old lady.
[ To give her an idea of how shockingly intimate the act is. ]
[ her jaw works, lips tight. likely, her tongue tucking into a tooth — idle, fidgety, thoughtful. it stands to reason that different planets have different customs. wit had (after all) provided a lengthy, annotated list of the different genres of seduction poetry found across the cosmere.
(she liked the memento mori ones best.)
nevertheless, it's so strange! her cheeks colour, just barely, but mostly at his laughter. she can handle being wrong; she dislikes being naive. ]
The ways of your world are [ insufferable, bizarre, horrific ] fascinating.
[ Insufferable, bizarre, horrific—that's him. But he doesn't want to make her feel too embarrassed for not knowing, so he concedes: ]
It can be intimate, under the right circumstances.
[ He'd be lying if he'd said he'd never used dancing as an excuse to push his luck with someone that he shouldn't. (Hey, it's almost like that's a pattern.) Verso hadn't had anything more important to worry about besides choosing the outfit for his next concert and charming women into his bedroom then; or, more accurately, he hadn't known that he had anything more important to worry about. ]
It can be used as a way to... socialize with the opposite sex. [ Put euphemistically. It provides a pretense to get physically close to someone. Puts a respectable veneer over it. ] Or the same sex, as the case may be.
[ Verso's mom is a /r/raisedbynarcissists #boymom, but she was also apparently very woke for 1905, because she created an LGBT-friendly world. I must admit that is queen shit. ]
[ jasnah recognizes the euphemism for what it is. perhaps it isn't too different from a brace of other events and excuses fabricated by young, hot-blooded alethi over the years. it was never her cup of tea, of course — but additionally, the war of reckoning had put a damper on most revels. her uncle, dalinar, had a strict code about these sorts of things: no leisure during wartime.
— and, notably, the barrier to "socialize" was much, much lower for those of the same sex. it's not like jasnah hasn't witnessed a half-dozen of her scholar-sisters pair off in quiet corners of libraries, eschewing their work and entertaining distraction. some scholars got inappropriately attached to their students, though jasnah personally couldn't stomach the idea of getting romantically entangled with a ward. ]
I'd like a demonstration. [ and then in case it sounds too much as though she means right now, she adds: ] Someday.
[ not a question. never a question. she commands, and the loyal provide. ]
[ Whipped around, once again. For once, Verso's fairly sure his rustiness isn't to blame for his uncertainty at whether she's suggesting they dance, or... dance. Although he's reluctant to follow a train of thought that is vanishingly unlikely, his nerve endings tingle slightly, and somewhere in the back of his mind he finds himself acutely aware of the space between them. Even more acutely aware of how that imperious tone of voice might sound making other sorts of commands.
Exceedingly casually: ] Sure. A proper demonstration will require your participation, though.
[ Because it's paired. And also because he wants it to. ]
[ her voice is iron, far more severe than the topic requires — and that should perhaps be his first clue that she isn't being entirely serious in her disagreement. still iron, her voice sinks low and quiet. presumably for his ears only. ]
I'm certain we could find a willing stand-in.
[ a glance across the back of the settee, indicating with just her sightline the three scribes who had ogled him upon their arrival to the shelter. they have long since moved on to other topics, but it's clear jasnah hasn't forgotten how they reacted.
ultimately, she will agree to dance (for science!) but something in her very nature disallows her from simply saying so. ]
[ ...Yep, there's more whipping around. It's a wonder she hasn't given him whiplash. He's starting to catch onto the cadence of this push-pull, though; she says something that suggests she might harbor some amount of interest in him, however insignificant and superficial, and then immediately withdraws when he responds favorably. So, maybe he shouldn't respond favorably.
An experimental calling of her bluff, he cants his head toward the scribes. ] Should I go ask?
[ He'll dance-cuck Jasnah if she wants to be dance-cucked. ]
[ she doesn't answer immediately. instead, like earlier in the stairwell, she holds is gaze without flinching. she does blink — in a wholly natural, human way. she isn't about to pin him with a crazed stare. but it's clear that he has her attention.
— and something else, too, given the nasty twist she feels in her chest. disappointment? apprehension? something about the way he plays along upsets her, but she's enough of a scholar to want to run that feeling down. hunt it, pin it, dissect it. ]
Go on. [ she lifts her gloved hand and gestures, vaguely. ] Let me observe the not half-bad waltzer at work.
[ Hm. Not a bluff, then, or perhaps she's calling his bluff on calling her bluff. Verso is terminally competitive, so instead of backing down from the challenge, he merely takes a moment to primp, tousling his hair just right and rumpling his collar in a way that's meant to be handsomely disheveled rather than unkempt. Standing from his perch on the settee, he says, ] As her majesty wishes.
[ It's been an awfully long time since he's actually used any of his more rakish skills, but he must still have access to them, deep down. With a loose, untroubled sort of posture, he approaches the scribes and leans nonchalantly against the wall. ]
If I might trouble you mademoiselles for a moment...
[ thrilling, really, to watch him arrange his appearance before he stands. jasnah observes with a water-oil mixture of contempt and compassion. after all, architecting one's own reputation through physical appearance and fashion is one of her more persistent habits. she likes how he recognizes the social implication of a just-in-time tousled look.
he speaks, as her majesty wishes, and jasnah resists a wayward urge to pat him encouragingly (sarcastically) on the arm as he departs. instead, she does nothing. says nothing. only watches.
across the room, the three scribes turn from their conversation. the more gregarious of the three, a dimple-faced woman wearing sky blue, smiles broadly. ]
Brightlord! [ she greets him with enthusiasm, clapping her hands together — the sound is deadened, as one hand is obviously buttoned into her sleeve. ] How timely. We were hoping you could settle a bet for us — surely, you're from Thaylenah?
[ it's the hair, most likely, that makes them ask. thaylens possess white eyebrows, with seemingly no upper limit to their growth. it's a silly mistake they're making, but jasnah's expression remains impassive across the room. ]
[ Verso makes a mental note to find out what a Brightlord is later, but since it sounds flattering enough, he lets it slide in the moment. With an index finger pointed in his new friend's direction, he says, ] Ah, good guess.
[ Maybe. He's not really sure, but he's certain Jasnah will be all-too-willing to explain why it was (or wasn't) a reasonable guess. ]
But no. My place of origin [ —it hasn't been a 'home' in a long time— ] is... lesser known than that.
[ A way of saying 'yeah, you've probably never heard of it'. A glance back at Jasnah, checking if she still wants him to do this, before he turns back to the women again. ]
I was wondering if I might recruit one of you for a little cultural exchange. [ And then, just so they know what they're getting into: ] A demonstration of partner dancing.
[ the dimples on the sky-blue scribe sharpen as she gasps theatrically, bare fingertips touching the edge of her cheek. ]
A dance, Brightlord? And here we were only wagering on the length of your eyebrows.
[ her companions react differently: the second, a severe woman dressed in copper, blinks once in a flat, assessing way. the third, in a soft lilac hue, visibly startles, then tries to hide it with a shy smile.
copper: ] Cultural exchange? Here? We’re practically drowning in culture already.
[ lilac: ] Don’t be rude—
[ copper: ] I’m not. Just cautious. Partner dancing is...
[ sky-blue elbows copper without shame, interrupting her, then steps forward as though announcing her candidacy to a council.
sky-blue: ] Well, if you’re looking for someone who won’t embarrass you, I danced at my cousin’s wedding last month. Half the warcamps saw it.
[ a beat. she glances, openly, boldly, past verso’s shoulder toward jasnah — not asking permission but clocking the monarch’s reaction like a practiced courtier. ]
But if this is meant to be instructive... perhaps you should tell us what sort of dance we’re talking about. Slow? Fast? Something respectable? Or...?
[ lilac squeaks. copper snorts. sky-blue's words demonstrate that not all alethi are quite as uptight as their queen. ]
Verso, vain as he is, touches his eyebrows self-consciously at the comment. (Are they suggesting they're bushy? He did spend a long time in the wilderness.) But then the women move on, so he does too, albeit not without adding 'shave beard, and also maybe eyebrows???' to his mental agenda.
He glances back at Jasnah's reaction, too, eyes following Mademoiselle Sky-Blue's. Honestly, he hasn't the slightest idea if Jasnah has just set him up to deeply offend the innocent women they're holed up with. She had seemed rather scandalized by the prospect of partner dancing, after all—but the more gregarious of the bunch seems the type to step out of her comfort zone, perhaps less tightly wound than Jasnah.
"Don't I seem respectable?" Mm. Don't answer that. "It's a party dance."
He takes a few steps back toward the center of the room, hand outstretched in invitation as he offers easy flattery: "It should be simple enough for someone who's danced in front of half the warcamps, I think."
Across the room, Jasnah suppresses an eyeroll. Now, don’t get it twisted — she has long argued that there are now roles, behaviours, or personalities that adhere more feminine than others. If the scribe in sky blue wants to flirt and fuss, Jasnah would defend that woman’s right to do so. Doesn’t mean she finds it appealing. Or practical. At least, not on this day, in this place, with this man.
(Or maybe she’s simply feeling a little territorial.)
The queen helps herself to a cup of wine — orange again — and settles back onto the settee to watch this ceremony, this mock courtship, this cultural exchange that she understands is for her benefit first and foremost. Her education.
Sky-Blue’s smile widens, showing teeth, and she places her bare right hand in Verso’s. Palm to palm. Casual, confident, clearly a woman who feels easy ownership over her presence and her affection. Unlike Jasnah, she does not guard it jealously like a finite resource.
“—What manner of music should I imagine, good sir?”
Ah, not an offense, then. Judging by Jasnah's behaviors, one might think something as simple as the touch of a hand would be impossibly inappropriate, but his understanding of the culture shifts a bit to the left now. Maybe it's just Alethkar's queen that's so icily withholding.
"I'll take care of the music," he says, shooting his partner a grin back. It's been a long time since he's felt the warmth of another person's fingers against his, and he has to admit that the sensation is nice, even when coming from a near-stranger. "Just put your hands here—"
Patiently, he walks her through the stance—left arm draped across his right arm, right hand clasped in his left—and the basic steps, before humming Blue Danube again as he steps forward, to the side, back. He was right: although it's been ages since he's had cause to do this, the steps come back easily once he starts, like riding a bicycle.
It's sort of fun, actually. Makes him feel a bit like he used to feel, back when things were simple and easy and his greatest concern was whether he'd get to dance with the prettiest girl at the party. It's not strictly accurate to the waltz, but he lifts his arm and twirls Sky-Blue around before pulling her back in, showing off.
From her vantage point, Jasnah can't identify anything truly scandalous about the dance. The pair are physically close, yes, but from across the room she can see the space between their bodies. The tense cant of the arm suggests restraint — not indulgence. She understands (in observing) why he called this style classic. And, as her attention sweeps briefly to the dancers' feet, she can imagine herself managing the steps. It looks easier than some of the more basic sword stances, and she'd only just recently started learning those.
Meanwhile, the scribe wearing sky blue seems to light up in Verso's arms. His attention for her us reflected back in a dazzling grin and an energetic, cooperative nature. She may have danced before, but this dance is still new to her and her steps are clumsy.
Sky-Blue (or whatever her name actually is, Jasnah thinks she's related to the Sebarial house) doesn't seem to mind her own clumsiness. When she misses a step, she laughs and lets her momentum crash against Verso. Not in an over provocation — simply joyful and heedless. A far, far cry from the queen who deliberates every word.
Her friends cheer her on. And as cantankerous as Jasnah can be, she at least appreciates what it means to witness this sliver of peace in otherwise dreary times.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
There's no housing fee at Urithiru. Not for anyone. It... [ well, it's because they all escaped there as refugees, to start. ] It's got space enough. Anyone on the side of the Coalition is welcome.
[ as for everything else? food, drink, clothing, other amenities... ]
— Go on. List your skills.
[ yes, maybe this SHOULD be happening somewhere more private. ]
no subject
Right now?
[ This is very off the cuff! He straightens up a bit, letting his feet drop to the floor, heels of his boots making a very faint thud as they hit the ground. ]
You've already heard me play. [ If he sounds a bit arrogant, well. So he is. There's no doubt in his mind that he's more musically gifted than most, given that he's been practicing for a century. ] I write poetry on occasion. And I'm not a half-bad waltzer.
[ These are not marketable skills. ]
no subject
— Waltzer? What's a waltzer?
[ maybe it's a martial form. a sword stance. she can work with that. ]
no subject
In the meantime, he scoots forward a little on the settee and holds his arms up, approximating a leading dancer's stance. ]
You know—
[ He hums Strauss's Blue Danube. Dundundundundu-dundun-dundun. ]
I thought you were top of your class in dancing lessons.
[ Class of one. ]
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but then he hums. and talks about dancing.
oh — hmm. ]
And...a waltzer is a — a dance?
[ help a gal out. ]
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It's the dance, according to some.
[ All the more embarrassing that she doesn't know it! ]
Just 'waltz'. A classic partner dance in triple meter.
[ It had been more of an offhanded joke than a true skill, but he did learn quite young so that he could be appropriately entertaining at his parents' soirees. Although it's been a good few decades since he's had anyone to dance with—or any reason to dance at all—he's sure he can still remember the basics.
Only teasing: ] Your dance instruction leaves something to be desired, I'm afraid.
no subject
— doesn't stop her from wrinkling her nose and questioning his claim. ]
A partner dance? What, for harvest festivals?
[ light eyes feasts and fetes have always included a little bit of dancing, sure, but those dances were done in sets and lines. appropriate distance between participants. no touching. no partner. those are the dances she was taught. but she'd heard of other kinds, popular among the dark eyes. but verso, she'd noticed the moment she'd met him, isn't a dark eyes. his were a fine, bright grey. fit for royalty in roshar.
although...she also knows well enough that the colour of one's eyes means storms all in other worlds. wit told her so. it only underlined the strange arbitrary nature of the division — something she'd written about in the past, but only theoretically. ]
Or back-alley bars?
[ surely she thinks very little of this partner dancing. ]
no subject
My back-alley bar talents are of a... different nature.
[ An even less marketable nature, unless the Alethi are all secretly way freakier than he thought. ]
It's for parties. Socializing. You've really never pair danced before?
no subject
she loosely crosses her arms, refusing to feel shame for her lack of familiarity with partner dances. her attention was always elsewhere — she learned as much as she needed to survive alethi feasts, and no more. ]
No. [ her head tilts. ] We have a handful of group steps, followed in a line, but nothing so — intimate. Is it truly so common in Lumière?
no subject
[ Sorry, he laughs a little. It's just— clearly, their cultures couldn't differ more on the concept of intimacy. What she considers surprisingly intimate is really quite banal. Of course there's some excitement to partner dancing with someone you find attractive, given the proximity, but it's hardly scandalous. Back before he learned the truth, when he really was the bon vivant he's portraying himself to be, Verso would regularly do five more scandalous things than that before lunch. ]
I once waltzed with an old lady.
[ To give her an idea of how shockingly intimate the act is. ]
no subject
(she liked the memento mori ones best.)
nevertheless, it's so strange! her cheeks colour, just barely, but mostly at his laughter. she can handle being wrong; she dislikes being naive. ]
The ways of your world are [ insufferable, bizarre, horrific ] fascinating.
no subject
It can be intimate, under the right circumstances.
[ He'd be lying if he'd said he'd never used dancing as an excuse to push his luck with someone that he shouldn't. (Hey, it's almost like that's a pattern.) Verso hadn't had anything more important to worry about besides choosing the outfit for his next concert and charming women into his bedroom then; or, more accurately, he hadn't known that he had anything more important to worry about. ]
It can be used as a way to... socialize with the opposite sex. [ Put euphemistically. It provides a pretense to get physically close to someone. Puts a respectable veneer over it. ] Or the same sex, as the case may be.
[ Verso's mom is a /r/raisedbynarcissists #boymom, but she was also apparently very woke for 1905, because she created an LGBT-friendly world. I must admit that is queen shit. ]
no subject
— and, notably, the barrier to "socialize" was much, much lower for those of the same sex. it's not like jasnah hasn't witnessed a half-dozen of her scholar-sisters pair off in quiet corners of libraries, eschewing their work and entertaining distraction. some scholars got inappropriately attached to their students, though jasnah personally couldn't stomach the idea of getting romantically entangled with a ward. ]
I'd like a demonstration. [ and then in case it sounds too much as though she means right now, she adds: ] Someday.
[ not a question. never a question. she commands, and the loyal provide. ]
no subject
Exceedingly casually: ] Sure. A proper demonstration will require your participation, though.
[ Because it's paired. And also because he wants it to. ]
no subject
[ her voice is iron, far more severe than the topic requires — and that should perhaps be his first clue that she isn't being entirely serious in her disagreement. still iron, her voice sinks low and quiet. presumably for his ears only. ]
I'm certain we could find a willing stand-in.
[ a glance across the back of the settee, indicating with just her sightline the three scribes who had ogled him upon their arrival to the shelter. they have long since moved on to other topics, but it's clear jasnah hasn't forgotten how they reacted.
ultimately, she will agree to dance (for science!) but something in her very nature disallows her from simply saying so. ]
no subject
An experimental calling of her bluff, he cants his head toward the scribes. ] Should I go ask?
[ He'll dance-cuck Jasnah if she wants to be dance-cucked. ]
no subject
— and something else, too, given the nasty twist she feels in her chest. disappointment? apprehension? something about the way he plays along upsets her, but she's enough of a scholar to want to run that feeling down. hunt it, pin it, dissect it. ]
Go on. [ she lifts her gloved hand and gestures, vaguely. ] Let me observe the not half-bad waltzer at work.
no subject
[ It's been an awfully long time since he's actually used any of his more rakish skills, but he must still have access to them, deep down. With a loose, untroubled sort of posture, he approaches the scribes and leans nonchalantly against the wall. ]
If I might trouble you mademoiselles for a moment...
no subject
he speaks, as her majesty wishes, and jasnah resists a wayward urge to pat him encouragingly (sarcastically) on the arm as he departs. instead, she does nothing. says nothing. only watches.
across the room, the three scribes turn from their conversation. the more gregarious of the three, a dimple-faced woman wearing sky blue, smiles broadly. ]
Brightlord! [ she greets him with enthusiasm, clapping her hands together — the sound is deadened, as one hand is obviously buttoned into her sleeve. ] How timely. We were hoping you could settle a bet for us — surely, you're from Thaylenah?
[ it's the hair, most likely, that makes them ask. thaylens possess white eyebrows, with seemingly no upper limit to their growth. it's a silly mistake they're making, but jasnah's expression remains impassive across the room. ]
no subject
[ Maybe. He's not really sure, but he's certain Jasnah will be all-too-willing to explain why it was (or wasn't) a reasonable guess. ]
But no. My place of origin [ —it hasn't been a 'home' in a long time— ] is... lesser known than that.
[ A way of saying 'yeah, you've probably never heard of it'. A glance back at Jasnah, checking if she still wants him to do this, before he turns back to the women again. ]
I was wondering if I might recruit one of you for a little cultural exchange. [ And then, just so they know what they're getting into: ] A demonstration of partner dancing.
no subject
A dance, Brightlord? And here we were only wagering on the length of your eyebrows.
[ her companions react differently: the second, a severe woman dressed in copper, blinks once in a flat, assessing way. the third, in a soft lilac hue, visibly startles, then tries to hide it with a shy smile.
copper: ] Cultural exchange? Here? We’re practically drowning in culture already.
[ lilac: ] Don’t be rude—
[ copper: ] I’m not. Just cautious. Partner dancing is...
[ sky-blue elbows copper without shame, interrupting her, then steps forward as though announcing her candidacy to a council.
sky-blue: ] Well, if you’re looking for someone who won’t embarrass you, I danced at my cousin’s wedding last month. Half the warcamps saw it.
[ a beat. she glances, openly, boldly, past verso’s shoulder toward jasnah — not asking permission but clocking the monarch’s reaction like a practiced courtier. ]
But if this is meant to be instructive... perhaps you should tell us what sort of dance we’re talking about. Slow? Fast? Something respectable? Or...?
[ lilac squeaks. copper snorts. sky-blue's words demonstrate that not all alethi are quite as uptight as their queen. ]
aggressively backflips into prose
He glances back at Jasnah's reaction, too, eyes following Mademoiselle Sky-Blue's. Honestly, he hasn't the slightest idea if Jasnah has just set him up to deeply offend the innocent women they're holed up with. She had seemed rather scandalized by the prospect of partner dancing, after all—but the more gregarious of the bunch seems the type to step out of her comfort zone, perhaps less tightly wound than Jasnah.
"Don't I seem respectable?" Mm. Don't answer that. "It's a party dance."
He takes a few steps back toward the center of the room, hand outstretched in invitation as he offers easy flattery: "It should be simple enough for someone who's danced in front of half the warcamps, I think."
no subject
(Or maybe she’s simply feeling a little territorial.)
The queen helps herself to a cup of wine — orange again — and settles back onto the settee to watch this ceremony, this mock courtship, this cultural exchange that she understands is for her benefit first and foremost. Her education.
Sky-Blue’s smile widens, showing teeth, and she places her bare right hand in Verso’s. Palm to palm. Casual, confident, clearly a woman who feels easy ownership over her presence and her affection. Unlike Jasnah, she does not guard it jealously like a finite resource.
“—What manner of music should I imagine, good sir?”
no subject
"I'll take care of the music," he says, shooting his partner a grin back. It's been a long time since he's felt the warmth of another person's fingers against his, and he has to admit that the sensation is nice, even when coming from a near-stranger. "Just put your hands here—"
Patiently, he walks her through the stance—left arm draped across his right arm, right hand clasped in his left—and the basic steps, before humming Blue Danube again as he steps forward, to the side, back. He was right: although it's been ages since he's had cause to do this, the steps come back easily once he starts, like riding a bicycle.
It's sort of fun, actually. Makes him feel a bit like he used to feel, back when things were simple and easy and his greatest concern was whether he'd get to dance with the prettiest girl at the party. It's not strictly accurate to the waltz, but he lifts his arm and twirls Sky-Blue around before pulling her back in, showing off.
no subject
Meanwhile, the scribe wearing sky blue seems to light up in Verso's arms. His attention for her us reflected back in a dazzling grin and an energetic, cooperative nature. She may have danced before, but this dance is still new to her and her steps are clumsy.
Sky-Blue (or whatever her name actually is, Jasnah thinks she's related to the Sebarial house) doesn't seem to mind her own clumsiness. When she misses a step, she laughs and lets her momentum crash against Verso. Not in an over provocation — simply joyful and heedless. A far, far cry from the queen who deliberates every word.
Her friends cheer her on. And as cantankerous as Jasnah can be, she at least appreciates what it means to witness this sliver of peace in otherwise dreary times.
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tosses u a midnight before bed tag.......
delightful.
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