Maea
I feel it in the wind, my dear
The sun is gonna reappear
The sun is gonna reappear
"Maybe all of them," she giggled, entertained by the mental image of Danta trying to play every instrument at once using both hands, toes and the tail too.
"Hmm?" Looking over to see what caused the scoff, her eyes widened at the outstretched hand. For a moment she sat paralyzed, numbed by doubts and hesitation; but the urging smacked of a challenge, and she was far too stubborn to pass up on that. "Uuuh... alright."
Rising too quickly and smacking a hip into the edge of the table, she tried and failed at gracefully wriggling out of the booth. Taking Danta's hand, it struck her that that was the most connection they'd had, like, ever, possibly excluding that time where she had patched up his arrow-wound. Doubtlessly she was making too big a deal out of it. But she was also intensely aware of the living, breathing being that began at the edge of her palm - warm and big and a little bit sticky from cheese and meat and spilled liquor. Or maybe that was her fingers, Maea couldn't quite tell.
The dance floor seemed a completely different world from the booth. Looking at it from the outside had nothing on being there in the midst of it. Suddenly people had erased any semblance of personal space and kept brushing past her shoulders, grazing her back, nudging briefly an elbow or a knee. Perfume and incense and the scents of food and alcohol bombarded her senses - without realizing it her grip had tightened convulsively around Danta's fingers, overwhelm threatening to take the fun out of this before it had started. It wasn't even close to the ordered affair of the ball, and none of the rules she had picked up on seemed to apply here.
"Uhm, how..?" Turning to the Maverick, the sheer size of him this close up had her caught between confusion and laughter - the normal thing was to put a hand on his shoulder, but Maea didn't think she'd be able to reach without a ladder.
"Hmm?" Looking over to see what caused the scoff, her eyes widened at the outstretched hand. For a moment she sat paralyzed, numbed by doubts and hesitation; but the urging smacked of a challenge, and she was far too stubborn to pass up on that. "Uuuh... alright."
Rising too quickly and smacking a hip into the edge of the table, she tried and failed at gracefully wriggling out of the booth. Taking Danta's hand, it struck her that that was the most connection they'd had, like, ever, possibly excluding that time where she had patched up his arrow-wound. Doubtlessly she was making too big a deal out of it. But she was also intensely aware of the living, breathing being that began at the edge of her palm - warm and big and a little bit sticky from cheese and meat and spilled liquor. Or maybe that was her fingers, Maea couldn't quite tell.
The dance floor seemed a completely different world from the booth. Looking at it from the outside had nothing on being there in the midst of it. Suddenly people had erased any semblance of personal space and kept brushing past her shoulders, grazing her back, nudging briefly an elbow or a knee. Perfume and incense and the scents of food and alcohol bombarded her senses - without realizing it her grip had tightened convulsively around Danta's fingers, overwhelm threatening to take the fun out of this before it had started. It wasn't even close to the ordered affair of the ball, and none of the rules she had picked up on seemed to apply here.
"Uhm, how..?" Turning to the Maverick, the sheer size of him this close up had her caught between confusion and laughter - the normal thing was to put a hand on his shoulder, but Maea didn't think she'd be able to reach without a ladder.
Good days are gonna come along
Hold on, hold on!
Hold on, hold on!
