Private Tales Trapped Inside One's Mind

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
He moved quickly to put all the food and drink down before he dropped any of it. His grin nearly shattered when he looked at her expectantly and noticed the food off to the sign. When had that gotten there?

Still, her story made him laugh as he popped another bottle of wine and took his own swig. Wow, that really was good stuff.

"I've heard a lot of excuses for what wine makes people do, but falling out windows might have to be up near the top...I guess will have to stay on the bottom floor tonight."

Those emotions ran across her face, and he could recognize the confusion in her aura. These were the same looks soldiers had right after a battle when they were drowning themselves in ale. It masked surprise and confusion at surviving a battle where many thought they would not return. Then came the relief that washed over such emotions, but also could not fully sweep them away.

"Well then, we will have to have quite the night."

Katja
 
Katja snorted softly at his joke, the wine already warming her throat as she took another slow sip. The way he looked at the tray of food she'd originally brought didn’t go unnoticed, and she smirked slightly, tilting the bottle toward him in a mock toast.

Her fingers traced absently along the neck of the bottle, her gaze flickering toward the window as the snowfall continued outside. "Not a bad plan," she admitted, leaning her head back against the chair, her body finally sinking into something resembling relaxation. "Though, in my defense, the window was open. I just thought… if I got a good enough running start, I could make it."

Her lips pressed together, amusement fading slightly as she considered what she’d just said. That version of herself—the one who thought her best shot at freedom had been a drunken leap into the unknown—felt distant now. She wasn’t sure if she pitied or admired her.

Her gaze found Alistair again, and she studied him for a moment. He had the look of someone who had seen too many battles but still somehow managed to grin through them. He wasn’t just drinking to celebrate, that much was clear. She knew that look too well—the kind of relief that didn’t quite fit, like a shirt tailored for someone else...

Her fingers drummed lightly against the bottle in her hands before she exhaled through her nose, pushing the thoughts aside.

"Quite the night, huh?" she murmured, raising a brow as she took another sip. "Alright then, Dreadlord. Shut the windows, and show me how they drink in Vel Anir."

The people of Neus were a hardy breed, their survival forged in the heart of brutal winters and unrelenting cold. They endured with resilience, with sharp wit, and—perhaps most importantly—with the aid of strong drink. Alcohol was as much a part of their culture as the snow itself, woven into their traditions, their celebrations, their way of making it through the long, unforgiving months of ice and darkness.

But Katja had never truly been a part of that.

She had missed out on that experience—on many experiences—trapped within the walls of the manor while the rest of the world carried on without her. And if there was one thing she was learning very quickly tonight, it was that she could not handle her liquor.

The warmth had spread through her far too quickly, seeping into her limbs, making her head feel light, her skin flushed. She shifted in her chair, blinking a few times, her grip tightening around the bottle in an attempt to anchor herself. The wine was too good, too smooth, and she had underestimated just how much she had already had.

Still, the feeling wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

She looked over at Alistair, watching him through slightly hazy eyes, her lips quirking as she tilted her head. "So, what’s it actually like?" she asked, her voice looser now, her usual edge softened by the drink. "Vel Anir, I mean. Not the Academy, I’m not sure I want to hear more about that just yet."

Her fingers absently traced the rim of the bottle, her thoughts wandering before she spoke again. "You make it sound so grand. A huge city, a noble family, a house big enough to put up strays like me." She smirked slightly. "Are all Dreadlords like you?" she asked, curiously. She had seen him fight, had watched in awe of his power, and yet he didn't frighten her the way her own imagination did whenever she considered Dreadlords.

"I thought they'd have been.. Well, terrifying. I'm not terrified of you.. but maybe that's my mistake." she laughed against the back of her hand.
 
Alistair hoped she was joking about the windows thing, but just in case he may lock them up with magic later. It would not do for Katja to die breaking her neck a day after she was freed from slavery.

Katja said:
"Alright then, Dreadlord. Shut the windows, and show me how they drink in Vel Anir."
Click to expand...

The comment made Alistair choke on his own wine as a memory began to bubble up that he had not thought about in years. In it, Alistair woke up shirtless in some tavern with several other initiates who were also relatively unclothed. He remembered they had taken over the night before and eventually drank most of the population out of the establishment.

So the answer to how do they drink in Vel Anir was very very poorly.

Of course, the next question she was asking was going to make him drink even more. He took several long gulps from his bottle before he paused to gain his thoughts.

His family and the city were grand...now. Until recently, his family had been noble in name only and lived closer to crime lords than as functioning members of society. The city itself was great...for the right people. Then there were the slums where his work often took him. That was where the forgotten tended to try and make out whatever living they could salvage.

"Vel Anir is...tough. That is being put to the test as of late. A recent revolution has altered much of life in the city, but the people are resilient. Everyone does what they must to keep going. That can be ugly, but it's also beautiful in its own way."

That answer was certainly political, but also the truth in Alistair's eyes. The city had some bad parts as all places did, but the important bit was that there were people out there trying to do something about it.

"As for the Dreadlords...no, I am an outlier. Maybe it is because I was not gifted with the more natural abilities that some had, but many in my class were made into monsters...Not literally, they tried their best, but the things they could do were astounding. Some could toss around the fire like it was their plaything. Others could bend metal to their will and transform it into millions of shapes. One even sucked the life out of those around him...All of them monsters, but we were all monsters in some ways and that's what made us friends."

Alistair had always wondered when his class scattered to the winds after their graduation, some had managed to stick together and others became closer. Maybe the reason Alistair had not followed them was he wasn't enough like them. Something did not break that should have.

"Maybe that's a better description, Dreadlords can be frightening, but when in danger, there is no one I would rather see crest over a hill coming to help me."

Katja
 
Alistair's words painted a picture of a world both brutal and beautiful, where strength and survival intertwined with camaraderie. Katja listened, watching him closely, noting the way his otherworldly gaze flickered with memory, with something deeper.

She smiled as he spoke of his fellow Dreadlords, despite how frightening their power sounded. He spoke of monsters, but she could hear the admiration laced in his words, the thread of something almost like longing.

She smirked, leaning back in her chair, the bottle dangling loosely from her fingers. “Or me. Obviously.” She tossed him a playful glance before dropping her gaze, grinning into the lip of her bottle.

The wine loosened her tongue, made her bolder than she might’ve been otherwise. It made the words slip out before she could consider holding them back.

“My only friend was a thatcher’s son called Tobias, who swore up and down he’d marry me one day.” She chuckled, shaking her head. She took another drink, the warmth catching at her throat, forcing her to cough into her wrist. “I’m quite sure he’ll have moved on by now, though.”

She said it lightly, but the words sat strangely in her chest. How much had she missed? How many lives had carried on while hers had been frozen in place?

Her fingers tightened slightly around the bottle as she glanced at Alistair, searching his face.

“It must be nice,” she said, softer now. “The belonging.”

She didn’t mean the city, or the noble name, or the revolution. She meant them—his friends, the ones who had shaped him, the ones he still spoke of with something close to fondness despite the weight of what they had been made into.

It was something she’d never known.

The thought unsettled her, so she took another long swig, as if the wine might quiet the strange pull in her chest. She winced slightly as it burned down her throat and let her head loll back against the chair, exhaling a slow breath.

Fuck she sounded pathetic. Her head shook at the thought, her hand dragging down her face.

“I should sell this place and whatever is left of it, go find my family and take them some place warm,” she sighed. “Maybe Oban,” she smirked, looking down her her half empty bottle with a quiet hiccup. “They do have good wine.”
 
Katja said:
“Or me. Obviously.”
Click to expand...

"You do certainly have a knack for timing." Alistair happily admitted as he continued to drink his own bottle. Without any runes supporting his system, Alistair was not the heaviest of individuals and could feel the warmth from the beverage finally spreading through him.

He could sense the next topic was far more sensitive just from the story itself and sadly Al had no way of making this subject feel any better.

"Time waits for no one. All we can do is just keep trying to catch up."

He could not begin to imagine how it would feel to be locked up here with nothing else to aim for or no other connections. Even at the Academy, while it had felt like a prison, they at least had been working towards something. But Katja, she had been isolated from the world and time stopped, and now it was all spinning again.

Katja said:
“It must be nice,” she said, softer now. “The belonging.”
Click to expand...

That made him wince, how could she possibly know about how that was such a sore subject for him?

"It can...but it can also hurt. The more you get used to having something, the worse it is when it is taken away."

Alistair remembered that first year after graduation. Half of the class disappeared and scattered to the winds, some even joining up with Gilram. The ones left all scattered, each one psychologically or physically damaged from that day. Alistair had been so angry. Angry at Gilram, the school, his friends, Vel Anir, and himself. It had taken time to even begin to accept some of that betrayal, and such wounds still weren't fully healed.

"It is warm there, but Oban's not the only place with good wine."

Katja
 
Katja nodded, her gaze settling on his face, steady and understanding. She knew what it was to lose something.. The warmth of belonging, the sting of its absence.

"Loss means you had something worth grieving," she murmured, tilting her head slightly. "I think that's both a curse and a kindness. But, I would rather have something to lose than have nothing..”

She let the thought linger between them, let the weight of it settle before exhaling sharply and shaking her head.

"But this is supposed to be a celebration and we are being so miserable," she declared, straightening.

She raised the bottle in mock toast. "So, tell me—where can I go to drink the best wine if not Oban? Maybe I’ll travel all over, taste every fine bottle I can find. Music. I want music too. And art.” she sighed in wonder.

She grinned at him then, sharp and full of challenge, before taking another long drink from the bottle, draining the last of it.
 
She was right, of course. Alistair was totally killing the mood for no good reason. He turned his bottle upwards as he finished the rest of his own to keep pace with Katja. A smile now spreading across his lips.

"There are a lot of really unique places out there. Allirian wine is nice and the art is beautiful, but it's a little to pompous in my opinion. Tyr is a pretty strict island nation, but its wine is unique because of all the volcanic ash. Elbion wine is basic and the Empire's wine is ok, but the climate makes it difficult to grow. I'm partial to Anirian wine, but if you are looking for art then Vel Anir has some pretty amazing things to see...You would get along with my little sister. She loves art."

The more he spoke about all these places and their cultures, the more amazed Alistair was when he realized just how far he had traveled. He had been to nearly every corner of their world, except for Malakath. Even the frozen north was impressive, although they seemed like the types to prefer ale over wine.

"Honestly, wine is best depending on the atmosphere around it, so just go looking for that."

Katja
 
Katja listened intently, nodding along as though committing each place to memory, as though she could ever hope to see them all. The sheer breadth of the world he had traveled left her momentarily awed, and a strange feeling settled in her chest—something between longing and disbelief. How had she spent so many years without ever setting foot beyond these walls?

But when he spoke of art, she practically melted. "Oh, I would love that," she sighed, her expression softening.

She had books upon books of sketches, pages filled with imagined faces, distant landscapes she had never seen, and places she had only read about. Every line, every smudge of charcoal was a reflection of a world she had never touched. The thought of finally seeing those places, of painting something real instead of something conjured from her mind, made her dizzy.

And the more she thought about it, the more she realised just how much she had yet to do.

"Gods," she breathed, pushing herself up to grab another bottle. "I have so much to do." The cork came loose with a pop, and she took a long drink before turning back to him, eyes bright with sudden purpose.

"Can you swim?" she asked abruptly, clearly bolstered by wine. "I’d like to try," she said, as if adding it to some ever-growing list in her mind. And then, as if the thought had only just struck her—"Food. Gods, I have so much food to try"

She grinned, but her thoughts had already leaped ahead. "Have you ever seen a dragon? Evander said there’s a place across the sea where they live among people. He was planning to go in the summer."

"Hot," she declared, as though making the most important decision of her life. "I want to go somewhere hot first." she nodded, her heart racing as she paced.
 
Katja's antics had Alistair laughing drunkenly as she darted from idea to idea. He couldn't remember the last time he so casually laughed like this, but he would admit it was nice.

She was right, there was a lot to do in the world, but if you tried to do it all at once it could get a little overwhelming. Although, that might be a bit hypocritical if he said that given all of the things he was involved in.

"Yes, I can swim. We all have to learn it at the Academy. It's not that hard, so you should be able to learn it easy enough."

He wasn't even finishing his sentence before she was rushing off to new topics, that smirk still sat on his face.

"As for dragons, I've seen one from a distance...Even had a friend that killed one. I think the place Evander was referring to was Malakath which I have not gotten to visit yet."

From what Alistair knew, there were talks in Vel Anir about the idea of sending a colonization team out to the same island as Malakath to try and create a permanent settlement. The idea was fantastic, but his kingdom would eventually have dragons and he was sure that would not be met with pleasure from the locals.

"If it's heat you are looking for then when you travel to Neus, make a stop in the Empire. It is almost all sand and incredibly hot during the day."

Katja
 
Katja stopped abruptly, as though his words had physically struck her. One hand settled over her chest, fingers pressing lightly against the fabric of her shirt.

“Killed one? Oh my. How sad.”

Her lips parted slightly, her brow furrowing as she stared at him, as though he’d just admitted to witnessing something truly tragic. For a moment, the buzz of excitement dimmed in her eyes, replaced by something softer, more sorrowful.

Then, just as quickly as she had paused, she let out a breath and shook her head, as if shaking off the thought entirely.

“Still,” she murmured, before taking another sip from the bottle. “I’d rather see one alive. Maybe even touch one, if it wouldn’t eat me. It probably would, I’m imagine. Oh well.”

And just like that, she was off again, spinning forward into the next thought before he could dwell on the last.

“Neus,” she repeated, testing the name on her tongue. “And the Empire. All sand, you say? Gods, I can’t imagine how that would feel—hot wind, sand between my toes...” She trailed off, eyes distant, as though she could already see it.

“Maybe I’ll join a troupe of gypsies. Have you ever seen those? I have. One time. They were camped not far away, I could hear their music from my window. Danced to it for hours.”

A breath of laughter left her lips as she spun where she stood.

She swayed slightly as she turned back to him, an impish glint in her eye. “I’m talking a lot, aren’t I?..”

“Gods, I have so much to do,” she said again, more to herself than to him. And yet, for the first time, it didn’t feel overwhelming—it felt exciting.

“I should be excited, shouldn’t I?.. As opposed to utterly terrified I mean. Can I be both? I think I’m both. Fuck, hell, gods I’m still talking.” Her face fell into her hands with a muffled “Sorry.”
 
Sad? Well, he doubted it was sad when they had lived likely only because they had managed to kill the creature. Some dragons were intelligent, but just as many were nothing more than overpowered wild beasts that sometimes needed to be put down.

"I'm sure you can find one, and if you meet the right one they might even let you touch it."

Alistair had never desired to touch a dragon as he was not the best with animals, and he was not looking to get his arm bitten off.

Wait, Katja was now talking about gypsies? How were those things connected? He had stopped paying attention for only a few seconds. "Um, I've met a few...They can be a little too loose for my tastes." He admitted with a shrug. A lot of the gypsies that made their way into Vel Anir were not treated well, and that often meant they resorted to crime. It was unfortunate for them, but equally as unfortunate was when they tried to steal with him around.

Even Katja had begun to realize she was bouncing from idea to idea, but that only made him laugh at her embarrassment from it all.

"Nothing to apologize for, you have a lot of things you want to do that you have been saving up. I can't blame you for wanting to talk about it...And yes, being excited and terrified is the most natural combination for this moment."

Katja
 
She plopped down beside him with a dramatic huff, taking another swig from the bottle before passing it back. "Hm." She nodded as if reassuring herself. "Thanks. I'll be fine. I think." A small, lopsided smile tugged at her lips as she drew in a deep, steadying breath.

Her gaze lingered on him for a moment, head tilting slightly as if seeing him in a new light. "Your hair is unfairly pretty," she mused, her tone caught somewhere between admiration and playful accusation.

Then, as if the thought had never happened, she straightened. "Feel like snooping?"
 
He followed her swig with a swig of his own but nearly coughed up his drink at the unexpected compliment that followed shortly after. Where had that come from? Doing his best to fighting off the coughing fit that followed, he finally caught his breath.

"Uh, thanks, it's all about the root care...and silk bed sheets. Your hair is nice too." He admitted while hastily adding a compliment.

Alistair was not used to freehanded compliments, so Katja's words were essentially a confirmation that she was now drunk. Of course, that just meant one of them was closer to actually having fun, he just needed to follow.

"Of course, I can never say no to snooping."

Katja
 
Katja's cheeks burned at the compliment, her fingers instinctively reaching up to twist a damp strand of golden hair. "Hm." She shrugged, trying to play it off, though the flustered way she studied the floor betrayed her. "Silk bed sheets...Fancy." she echoed thoughtfully with a bob of her head..

Shaking off the moment, she pushed herself to her feet and flashed him a grin before reaching for his hand. "Alright. Let's go."

She led him through dimly lit hallways, hand wrapped around his as she moved with quiet purpose. The sconces flickered to life as they passed, responding to the rune magic woven into her fingertips—an effortless trick. The air grew heavier the further they went, the scent of aged parchment and candle wax lingering in the corridors.

Katja had never been allowed beyond certain doors, but if Evander's runes had died with him, then nothing was stopping her now. Her curiosity prickled, insatiable.

Through his study and down a winding spiral staircase, they entered a cellar that, at first glance, seemed unremarkable—just a few empty barrels and crates stacked against the stone walls. To anyone else, it would look like nothing. But Katja knew better.

Evander had called this place the vault.

"Watch," she said smugly, letting go of Alistair’s hand. Stepping forward, she pressed against a single brick in the wall.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a low, echoing clunk, the stone sank inward like a hidden lever, and the narrow section of the wall shifted with a deep, grinding groan. Dust trickled from the edges as the hidden door unlatched, creaking open to reveal the dark passage beyond.

She shot Alistair a triumphant look.
 
Alistair was yanked to his feet as he let himself once again be pulled through the halls of this now-empty estate. He had already planned on inspecting the entire abode to find anything of use, but he had expected such treasures to be hidden in studies or laboratories. Their excursion to a simple cellar was not what he had expected, but Katja must have just been hoping to find more fine wine. If they kept drinking at this place, then they really would have to lock up the windows.

During this little trip, Alistair's eyes caught the subtle way Katja connected to the runes of the building and that brought a large grin to his face. In his experience, there were a rare few who were trained in the arts of runic magic, and few who could use it in such a subtle manner. Maybe they could exchange some of their experiences in that field.

Of course, none of that mattered, when they entered the cellar. It was completely bereft of magic as far as he could see, the only aura coming off of himself and Katja, that was until she opened the secret wall.

Almost instantly, a magical energy seeped in from this hidden room lighting this previously lonely cellar like a candle before Al's eyes.

"Woah..."

These hidden rooms stood juxtaposed against the dank cellar that hid it, as the 'vault' while well hidden was lavishly decorated and kept in pristine condition. Alistair's eyes first picked up on what looked to be magical amulets, weapons, and science experiments, but the entire room was a horde of wealth. There were magnificent pieces of artistic tapestries, masterwork musical instruments, naturally grown gemstones, and more. And, the most magnificent part to Alistair, every piece had at least some magical connection.

Katja
 
Katja stood in the entrance to the vault, her eyes wide with awe. It was like stepping into a different world altogether. Her usually sharp, calculating gaze softened, drinking in the sight of the treasures that filled the space. She had only heard snippets of the vault's contents, but nothing had prepared her for the sheer magnitude of it all.

Her breath caught as she admired the tapestries lining the walls—each one a masterpiece, woven with threads that almost seemed to shimmer with magic. Her fingers itched to touch them, but she quickly remembered the consequences of touching Evander's precious artifacts.

Her eyes flicked to a collection of carefully preserved musical instruments, and her heart skipped a beat.

"Of course he'd keep it all hidden down here..." she muttered bitterly to herself, a slur to her voice that she couldn't entirely hide.

She laughed to herself, still scanning the room. Something in the back of her mind recognised some of the items—magical trinkets she'd seen during one of her trips with Evander. She'd even nearly died trying to secure one of them once. The memory was hazy, a blur of near-death and narrow escapes, but the trinket had been worth it... apparently.

Her eyes landed on a crystal decanter filled with amber liquid, glowing faintly in the dim light of the vault. She poured herself a glass out of spite. Without hesitation, she brought the glass to her lips and took a swig, her face contorting instantly from the burning strength of it and she sputtered, gasping for air as she coughed violently.

"Gods! What is this?!" she wheezed

As she recovered, something else caught her eye—an old enchanted music player, something with a large, horn shaped thing with intricate runes etched into the base. With a drunken grin spreading across her face, she wandered over to it, a quick rune drawn by her fingers in the air before she watched in fascination as the device hummed to life, soft notes filling the air.

Katja closed her eyes, swaying slightly to the melody, before her feet started moving on their own. "It's like there's a tiiiiiny little band of musicians playing, right in there.." she grinned.

With that, she spun in a circle, just like those loose gypsies had.. The magic in the room seemed to hum with her, the jewels and treasures glinting in time with her uncoordinated, but joyful dance. She laughed freely, her body moving with abandon, the wine and the horrible burning alcohol making her forget for a moment about the weight of the world, and simply revel in the magic of the moment.

"You can snoop. I'll just dance. I'm qualified."
 
Alistair stepped into the room in an almost trance-like state. Every time he found an aura to focus on and follow, another one appeared to distract him. It was overwhelming but in the best way. There were arcane mirrors clearly made by the fae, even a book on the northern lycanthropy strands. He was pretty sure that one of the scrolls had a complete diorama of Sky Whale.

He was so focused that he nearly jumped out of his clothes in surprise when the room was suddenly filled with music. He turned to find her dancing alone beside the music box, and Alistair could only freeze.

It was clear he was thinking of something, but his mouth was forming the correct words as if it still could not make up its mind.

"Sorry, I'm not much of a dancer."

He had unfortunately been forced to prove that time and again and he almost always embarrassed himself. Whether it was with Kristen, that princess from Tyr, hell even that dance instructor the Academy had brought in that one time.

It was doubly unfortunate because Katja was an amazing dancer which was surprising given her history. It was obvious there was no formal training, but the joy and other emotions she gave off were clear and unashamed.

Rather than embarrass himself again, Alistair tried to slink away and find some artifact or book that he could busy himself with.

Katja
 
Katja cast a quick glance toward Alistair, her smile flickering for just a moment before she turned away, spinning on her toes. “That’s alright, spoil sport… I’m used to being alone anyway,” she murmured with a shrug, lifting her arms as the melody carried her into another twirl. Her voice was light, teasing, but there was a hint of something else beneath it—something a little too close to the truth.

She laughed to herself, the sound breathy and soft as she swayed, the alcohol guiding her as much as the music did. “At least this time, I have real music and don’t have to sing,” she mused, tilting her head back as the enchanted player filled the vault with its haunting tune. “You do not want to hear me singing.”

Katja threw him a playful smirk over her shoulder, though the slight pink on her cheeks wasn’t just from the drink. “I promise you, Alistair-the-Dreadlord-teacher-who-can't-dance, it would be the worst thing you’ve ever heard.”

She let out another laugh, twirling again, “But I’ll spare you the suffering, don’t worry,” she added dramatically, grinning as she closed her eyes and let the music wash over her until she had spun one-too-many times and flopped dizzily onto a plush chaise longue with a huff.

"Find anything fun..?"
 
Alistair inwardly winced at her words as he could feel that hidden sting of loneliness that she was just recently freed from. He should not have said that, or more he should have just...

A book nearly slipped from a pile that he was carrying, so he hastily placed them on a table not wanting to damage any of them before he got a chance to read them.

"Fun? For me yes, any sane person, likely no."

He smirked as she explicitly detailed her horrendous singing voice. She must have been really bad, but she was sure he had found someone who had to give her a run for her money. After all, the Academy had plenty of muscle heads that would not know a musical note from a carriage crashing.

That guilt froze him for a moment before he quickly turned on his heels and walked over to her before his brain could catch up with him. He held out his hand to her and smiled,

"May I have the honor of this dance?"

Katja
 
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Katja simply stared for a moment, her brows lifting as she studied him as if searching for any hint of mockery. When she found none, her lips curled in amusement, something knowing flickering behind her eyes.

Feeling guilty, was he?

She hesitated only a moment before her face lit, and she beamed up at him with a quick nod in response.

“Alright,” she said, her hand slipping into his as she let him pull her to her feet. Without missing a beat, she tugged him toward the centre of the rug, spinning slightly as she settled a hand on his shoulder.

The warmth of the alcohol softened her edges, but it was also heightening her emotions and they bled into her eyes, making them a little too glassy, but she didn’t look away.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her smile softer now, tinged with something quieter. “You’re the first person to ask me to dance… you didn’t have to.”

Her thumb brushed absently over the back of his hand as she let out a small, breathy laugh. “I know you were just feeling bad for me.” The words were light, teasing, but the way her fingers curled a little tighter around his said she didn’t mind. “I promise I won’t step on your toes—or make you dance to more than one song. Then you can do all the snooping you want.”

Her grin sharpened slightly.
 
Was it that obvious? What was he thinking, of course it was obvious. Yet, as she took his hand and her glowing smile lit up her face, his reasoning really did not matter. At that moment, she needed to dance with someone, and he was there.

Al did his best to hold her properly, one hand still holding her own while the other found her back. This was the only dancing style that he knew coming from the myriad of social events he had been required to attend over the years.

"You're right, but I wanted to, so it makes this easier."

He allowed a warm smile to split onto his own face as he came to terms with doing this and focusing on enjoying the moment.

"You can step on my toes all you want, but you may need to help me out a bit."

Katja
 
Katja’s felt the heat creep into her cheeks at what she assumed was a lie. She felt somewhat foolish, but it was a small thing, but she let herself believe it for the moment. She had learned long ago that sometimes, it was better to believe the small, kind things.

The soft laughter that bubbled up from her was quiet, almost shy. “Well, now that you’ve offered,” she teased lightly, “I suppose I’ll have to help you.”

As they began to move together, Katja could feel the pulse of the music, the way the melody flowed through the air and vibrated in her chest. It wasn’t hard to listen to it; the music spoke a language all its own. She let it guide her movements. Her hands stayed steady on him, guiding him as they slowly swayed into a more familiar rhythm, despite her unsteady footing. The alcohol made her feel lighter, her movements a little looser, but it didn’t matter— she was still dancing, even if the wine made her a little clumsy.

She helped him with his steps, lightly adjusting his pace when he faltered, showing him how to bend slightly with the music, how to follow its flow. The dance became a series of gentle back and forth, a slow weaving of that seemed to sync despite her swirling mind.

She laughed and apologised as she stepped on his toes once or twice. At one point, she lifted his arm before spinning underneath it. Her laughter warm as she returned to him and her smile was wide and bright as she caught her breath.

The song slowly wound itself to an end, and as promised, she stopped before another piece began.

“See,” she said with a soft grin, “that wasn't at all terrible, was it?.”
 
For all of Alistair's negative self-description, Katja would soon be able to realize that his sense of rhythm was not all that terrible, one of the benefits of being a fighter accustomed to the cadence counts of a drill sergeant. No, Al's problem with dancing was rather simple...

The man danced like he had a stick shoved up his ass.

He was just so tense and stiff that any movement seemed difficult, even when she knew that Al could move as gracefully as a swan on a lake when he needed to kill someone.

Such stiffness meant the first part of the dance was rather difficult for Al, as he was the cause of stumbling several times over, but as the dance wore on, the music, Katja's skill, and most importantly, Katja's enjoyment slowing began to melt away at the iceberg that was Alistair Krixus.

The only shame was that just as Alistair was beginning to loosen up and enjoy the dance, and by extension not completely suck, was when the music came to and end and they were both left standing there. Alistair had not even realized it, but during the dance, a wide grin spread onto his face.

"No, no it wasn't."

Katja
 
Katja hadn’t been sure what to expect from him, but seeing him relax—enjoying himself, even for just a moment—was enough to make her own smile grow brighter. For all his grumbling and stiff movements, the man had a certain charm about him when he let go, even just a little.

She felt a flush creep up her neck as she caught herself staring at his grinning face just a little longer than she should have, her thoughts swirling, mixing with the alcohol and the warmth in the room. "If I didn't know any better I'd say you even enjoyed it." she laughed quietly.

It was then that she remembered her promise—one dance. She had said it, and while it felt so tempting to stay, to let the moment last just a little longer, she had to keep her word.

Still, as the dance came to an end, she hid her disappointment behind a hesitant smile before, in an impulsive moment, Katja rose onto her tiptoes, closing the small distance between them. Her lips brushed against his cheek in a soft, fleeting kiss—a thank you, unspoken but felt.

She pulled away quickly, cheeks pink from the proximity, and avoided his gaze, a teasing glint in her eye as she smirked.

“Well, " she said, gesturing to the trove of wonders that was Evander's vault. ”As promised." she said, her voice a little breathless. “Knock yourself out.”

Her smile was playful, but there was a softness in it too, one that was all for him.
 
  • Melting
Reactions: Alistair Krixus
The smile fell, settling into a relaxed grin as Katja smiled back up at him—the blush from her embarrassment mixed with the blush already on her face from their brief dance. It was rare to see someone look flustered and completely relaxed at the same time. He knew that he tended to become a spastic mess when he got flustered.

"Don't go telling anyone." He joked and would have continued to joke if not for the interruption that froze him to the spot as Katja left the lightest of kisses on his cheek.

He did not know if he was blushing, but that very same cheek suddenly felt like it was on fire as if what the young woman had planted on him was a slap and not a kiss.

Even if he wanted that moment to last longer, it was gonna as quickly as it had arrived with her pulling away.

"Oh, right...um, yes."

Alistair turned back to keep looking at all of the wonderful items in the room, but none of them held a candle in his mind to the moment that had just occurred. Reaching out for anything to do before his brain blew a gasket, he imitated the magic he had seen her do as the music box began playing a different song.

"Oh, would you look at that...It knows more songs."

Katja
 
  • Ctuhlu senpai
Reactions: Katja
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