People gathered midst wide halls, danced to string play and piano echoes. Melodies of elegance could've been of her liking, if the loud steps of the crowd weren’t so unpleasant for her ears. A moment to dance with another alone, seemed actually like a sweet concept. But alas, the heels she wore- how could she dance if not even walking was performed properly? A sigh; as her teeth nibbled on lower lip. Best be done to hide this small irrelevant wish. However, her eyes spoke thousands of words.
collaborative zeal spectates the room, a witness of its own felicity. paramours frolic upon the arms of pretenders, courtesans, and philanthropists of the sort — like moths to a flame ignited by the majesty of wealth. the rapture of these women, buried beneath timidity or expressed upon painted lips, capers about the breadth of the hall’s flooring in natural waves. a vast, immaculate shimmer of euphoria follows union of limbs over laminate surface, both men and women groping at the presence of their lovers, evolving the jubilation of the atmosphere, and partaking in fluent sway of postures so as to dance in accord with the orchestra. such a tasteful ensemble, hand selected by the healer. whether or not his ‘ feminine consort ’ approves of this tune, a compatible variance of symphonies intended for her pleasure, falls to the celestial’s absence. ‘ tick tock , m’dear . you sneaky woman . is it not my brother who is guilty of being late ? i would not have expected this of you . perhaps you are picking up izunia’s habits —— aha … i doubt it . ’
though he was not the ‘ sovereign ’ of lucis, rather the chosen king of light, it was clear who possessed the title of his queen. for tiamate to retain such notoriety, latently shunned by the grandeur of the other gods ( expressly the draconian ), was gossip of the kingdom. ardyn, plausibly a suitor for the goddess, has yet to refute the conjecture. encouraging speculation was but a tendency unnamed, reserved and moderate of his indulgence. had rumor caught her ear? do the likes of their discrepancies bother her? nonsense. she abstains from any and all interaction unbefitting her lenience of man, as though a scar of her prior relation —— an authoritarian partiality from the deity bahamut. she does not speak of them; of him. ardyn’s curiosities and interpretations lie within the scripts of lore, a calligraphy of dubious sentiments. best not to regard such thoughts; not within such festivities.
the savior hovers alone nearest the refreshments, blithe comedy surfacing at his ear as a succession of inquisitors meet his graces and incite his manners. their persuasive interrogations, both prying and admirable, reflect within amber hues as appendages fiddle with the fabric of collar. as though the gesture upon the material baits his senses, a reminder of his lady’s esteem to be arriving within the hour, he is teased. how she tantalizes him; so torturously refine. the longer he does not see her, the more he is tormented; a whimsical desire — deferred until she arrives. in reality, tiamate has been here longer than he knows; hidden.
only as partition takes places within the crowd — a fractionate glimpse, an endearing revelation — does he spot her. innate magnetism fastens pupils to the marvel of her frame, a phenomenon of passion encasing his chest, motivating his heights, and rendering his fervor in glance. he is not without eagerness, yet for an eternity — a second — he cannot move. she wears the delicacies of glass, not in her gown or of her eyes, but in the dignity of her feet. a gift most ornate for her silver features, dusted by the cosmos and revered by the chosen. a platinum lover. the fragile garment is as affective as he presumed it would be, given the intimacy of his slipping them over her toes a night’s length before. peculiar how — albeit resistant — she dons his intentions as though a willing participant. this matrimonial affinity between them, filtered through the abundant whispers of those prancing about their proximity, seems to be taking root in her foundations. he will see to the growth of this tree, a sapling to be nurtured by his fidelity. thus, a seamless transition places him within the tides of her personage, negligent hesitation following candid tilt of spine as he lowers himself before her; a bow of apt respects.
“ it seems i am not the only one who is distracted by your beauty this evening —— ” eyes return up her figure from marble echoes of the floor, curvature of height allowing him to overlook the siren once more. it is rather comical, the angle between their gazes — how he towers and playfully frustrates — though he distracts her with suggestion to the eyes of their vicinity. truth be his words: several males’ jaws limp with view of her exteriors. as she turns, to discern for herself as opposed to accepting his word, the cosmos turns with her. a universe of suppression, emotion, and pain — in chorus with innocence, and artful longing — caresses her eyes; the healer recognizing it is not the men she looks to, but the women rejoicing in their partnered ballet. ‘ your lip is raw , ’ he gathers, mindful her yearn for the activities, ‘ how your humanity pleases me so —— aauh … you are beginning to change . ’
the healer vexes her balance in singular motion: stepping forth to emboss his posture with that of hers. she stumbles within his arms as chests unite — a merger of breaths in gesture’s wake — whilst he supports exposure of slender waist via poise of left hand. heels of glass engrave arch of boots as she is forced to step upon him, though the caelum remains unperturbed. tiamate had yet to experience the harmonies of dancing, let alone clad in a pair of such precarious slippers. one might say he planned this. it is only natural to rest her atop his feet, weightless as the currents of an idle lake, and guide her, teach her — adore her. mindful of her pride, a charitable instinct of their chosen king, he knew to avoid her appearing clumsy with such an assorted attention looming about them. hence, with the argent goddess featherlike atop his footwear, he shall conform to the composers’ melodies and guide her through the colorful experience; to begin painting one another with ‘ first times ’.
“ chin up , tia —— do not look to our feet . it is the eyes you want ( and your eyes i will keep ) . so look to me , and the movements will come more naturally . it’s all a pattern , really . i promise i will place you back on the floor when the time is right , but for now … i’m afraid i have stolen you for the night . ” her oceanic surges, a psychology of the aethers, are now his to persuade — and the night is very young.
as is their romance.
