[ ...dancing through the night, he says, and her eyes widen, and then narrow, and her head tilts— more like snaps, really— in his direction, and for a moment he'll see the bright coloration of her cheeks, and a brand-new hint of fury behind her purple-yellow eyes before they soften again in the next beat, replaced by apologetic realization before she ducks her head again.
Either she's been spending too much time with his estranged brother, or she's entirely too physically compromised right now— or perhaps both— but in the time they've spent here, she's come to know him better than to assume the worst of his phrases, even when they're laden with accidental innuendo. Without a doubt, Diluc actually meant dance, nothing else.
She takes a breath, and then nods. There are words on her tongue, confirmation, but he's talking still, telling her that he can see her both as water and ice, and he's doing nothing to ease the flush on her cheeks. ]
...Dance is one of the few customs of my clan I maintain. [ The words are spoken softly, with a near-hesitance far unlike the bold statements he's probably already used to from her. ] Growing up, it was something I enjoyed... more than etiquette lessons, anyway. It's not something I really have time for anymore, so... I found a way to combine it with my bladework. That might be what you have heard about.
[ With that said, she falls silent again to let him talk too. The focus on his issues is— nice might be the wrong word, but it's enough time that it helps the color of her cheeks fade, that she can look up at him once more, her head canting to the side as she listens, eyes searching his.
Imagine, she thinks, feeling overly idolized! There's almost a slight smile on her lips at the thought— not of wistful yearning, but of amusement, because they truly come from such different worlds, don't they? And yet despite that, despite everything they've done that is so different... is there not something about their situations that marks them as being the same?
It's now that one of her arms uncurls from where it's wrapped around him, her gloved hand coming up to rest on his shoulder instead. A gesture of comfort, perhaps, one similar to the type she would give to Amber, or perhaps one of camaraderie— either way, now unthinkingly bestowed upon him. ]
You do a lot, [ and she's sure she doesn't even know all of it, either ] and I have no doubt that everyone is grateful for that. But— I understand what you mean. It is easy for people to see you not as who you are, but as what you represent.
[ And despite experiencing the negative effects of that for herself, hasn't she been guilty of doing the same to him? ]
no subject
Either she's been spending too much time with his estranged brother, or she's entirely too physically compromised right now— or perhaps both— but in the time they've spent here, she's come to know him better than to assume the worst of his phrases, even when they're laden with accidental innuendo. Without a doubt, Diluc actually meant dance, nothing else.
She takes a breath, and then nods. There are words on her tongue, confirmation, but he's talking still, telling her that he can see her both as water and ice, and he's doing nothing to ease the flush on her cheeks. ]
...Dance is one of the few customs of my clan I maintain. [ The words are spoken softly, with a near-hesitance far unlike the bold statements he's probably already used to from her. ] Growing up, it was something I enjoyed... more than etiquette lessons, anyway. It's not something I really have time for anymore, so... I found a way to combine it with my bladework. That might be what you have heard about.
[ With that said, she falls silent again to let him talk too. The focus on his issues is— nice might be the wrong word, but it's enough time that it helps the color of her cheeks fade, that she can look up at him once more, her head canting to the side as she listens, eyes searching his.
Imagine, she thinks, feeling overly idolized! There's almost a slight smile on her lips at the thought— not of wistful yearning, but of amusement, because they truly come from such different worlds, don't they? And yet despite that, despite everything they've done that is so different... is there not something about their situations that marks them as being the same?
It's now that one of her arms uncurls from where it's wrapped around him, her gloved hand coming up to rest on his shoulder instead. A gesture of comfort, perhaps, one similar to the type she would give to Amber, or perhaps one of camaraderie— either way, now unthinkingly bestowed upon him. ]
You do a lot, [ and she's sure she doesn't even know all of it, either ] and I have no doubt that everyone is grateful for that. But— I understand what you mean. It is easy for people to see you not as who you are, but as what you represent.
[ And despite experiencing the negative effects of that for herself, hasn't she been guilty of doing the same to him? ]