[SE] mud free zone

Lily She lets the Ascended lead her in the moves, trained to follow a man’s direction on the dance floor - she may not know what a tango is, but under Amun’s firm hand, she hardly ever steps on his toes. And at some point, it’s almost as if she stops thinking and just moves, hearing the music in their hips and arms and in the imaginary heels she’s now wearing, elevating herself to adjust to the smaller steps and alternating staccato - smooth rhythm of the dance. A soft shriek of laughter slips out as he dips her, breaking the spell. “What kind of dance is this?” she demands, properly scandalized by the sexuality and loving it, knowing she probably would have been imprisoned or hanged or burnt at the stake (worst case scenario) for this at home. “Like a mother,” Lily muses after his description. “Does she really look like how Bastien painted her?” Her eyes glance to the depiction above the temple’s altar (screw timey wimeys).  It was a beautiful work of art, reminiscent of the religious paintings of their world, with The Voice as the Virgin Mary or Jesus, or a saint. And would he actually paint all the Gods? That, it seems to her, is what would make him a true artist. Dedication to beauty, to the things that must be felt and loved and need so much more expression than just words. women are like tricks by sleight of hand which, to admire, we should not understand