Private Tales Sighing Shadows by the Light of the Moons

[Ciana]

Ciana let out a long, quiet sigh, her shoulders easing as his words settled over her. A small, genuine smile curved her lips, the kind that softened her usual careful composure. For once, she didn’t glance around for onlookers or worry about propriety. Instead, she reached for him without hesitation, lacing her fingers with his. Her heart skipped at the ease of it. Scandalous, she thought faintly. Reckless. Utterly unbecoming of a lady of her station. And yet she didn’t care. Nobody else around here seemed to, either.

She stepped closer until she stood against his chest. Tilting her face up, she studied him, the first time she'd seen him in sunlight, and the first time she’d felt it on her own skin in years.

“I think I’m still afraid of it,” she admitted softly, her voice trembling on the edge of a laugh. “Of everything.” Her lips parted in a rueful smile, eyes bright. “But you’re helping. And you’re right, it’ll take time. Thank you… for being patient.”

The last words came out quieter, her gaze dipping for a moment, because they both knew patience wasn’t all he’d shown her. It was restraint, understanding, kindness. Things she hadn’t known she’d needed until he offered them freely.

When she looked back up, her tone shifted, practical again though still tender. “You should spend what’s stored in those rubies. I’ve a feeling I'll be needing them soon enough, and I've already cracked one of them. They have their limits as I do, apparently.”

"Also I.. Was wondering perhaps if.. Well, I'm not entirely certain it's proper of me to ask but I think if you were to perhaps ask me to the dance that's happening tomorrow evening I might, say yes, to that.." she cleared her throat, heat rising in her cheeks.. Thank goodness for the warm sunlight..

 

[Galen]

He blinked owlishly down at her as she stood so close.

“The… dance.”

Yes, of course. The dance. The mage from the gutter knew all about dances. Grown up around loads of dances. Every weekend after a pint at the tavern.

Galen had never been to a dance in his life.

Oh, he heard all about them. It was just, well, people like him generally didn’t get invited to events like that. Maybe if he achieved a high enough station as a court wizard in some kingdom, but from what he’d seen of them they tended to just cling to the corners of rooms and brood and say ominous and cryptic warnings. He’d certainly never seen or heard of a court wizard dancing.

Maybe he would be the first.

“The dance.”

Of course he knew this dance. The one coming up. The one she was talking about.

Er.

He racked his brain for answers. Come on, Galen. He’d lived in Elbion all his life. Surely he knew what events were coming up soon in the city. The festivals. The dances. The m- oh.

“You mean the masquerade?”

Galen beamed.

As it happened, the common folk tended to take part in masquerades. That was all part of the fun. Not knowing who was who. Could be a pauper, could be a princess.

He covered his face with his collar then stepped back in an over exaggerated bow.

“Your most imperious eminence ladyship, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to the masquerade tomorrow night?” He held the bow, but peeked up with one eye through a curtain of his dark hair.

Ciana

 

[Ciana]

For a moment, Ciana’s heart sank. The way his eyes widened, the way he repeated the words as though they were completely foreign to him, she was ready to rescue him from his own uncertainty, to tell him never mind, that it had been a foolish notion after all. But then that boyish light broke across his face, and when he beamed at her like that, she couldn’t help but mirror it, laughter bubbling up before she could stop it.

“The masquerade,” she repeated softly, her pulse fluttering like the hem of her gown in a breeze. The very thought of it was intoxicating. And him, this handsome, entirely unrefined rogue, bowing low before her, dark hair falling into his eyes, pretending at courtly grace while still every inch himself.

“Oh heavens, stop,” she laughed, lifting her hand to fan her warm face as if that might cool the sudden flush of delight there. “You’ll make the ladies faint if you keep that up.”

She dipped in a graceful curtsy, chin lowered, the faintest smirk playing at her lips. “Why, my most charming lord,” she replied, voice rich with teasing formality, “I would be absolutely delighted to attend the masquerade with you.”

When she rose, her gaze caught his and lingered, her lips curved into something equal parts daring and sweet. “I’ve always wanted to dance with a handsome rogue.” she sighed, stumbling and reaching for him, a little light headed..

"I, should get out of the sun.."