Valdr mentioned eyeliner, or rather ‘guyliner’. Which in a way was regional, albeit to House Ushus of
Thagretis. Not that he could have known, seeing as she had decided to forego her ceremonial paint for far more subtle make-up this evening. Granted, Killian was handsome, but still. If his personality was actually
likable, then perhaps he would not have to focus entirely on appearance, she mused. It might have worked if she were younger and more foolish.
But she wasn’t.
Nor was Jacob ill, on closer inspection. His hands still felt a touch cold to her, but that might be for plenty of other reasons. Nor was he pale, he was of a similar shade than her, albeit a different hue. At least he had requested her inquiry – she was far too polite to make such comments unprompted. Still, the idea of accusing him sat unwell with her, even if he explicitly desired such. At least he was not taken too far aback by her concern.
“Perhaps it is cḩilly in here.” Azlat replied, stepping in tandem with Jacob as he guided her around by the hand of his outstretched arm. She’d seen others do this, and felt confident she could emulate it without too much difficulty. Flowing robes billowed as she twirled, returning to her dancing position once three footsteps had her spun around. She hoped she had executed the maneuver properly – she had to admit it was rather fun.
Jacob looked to her, and she returned his gaze with a friendly but sheepish smile. That a generous amount of wine had her blood flowing, and her skin warm to the touch might have been a further contribution. It could well just be
her, she had not danced with any others to draw comparison.
“Dear, I won’t lie; much puz̕zles me up north. I'm far more used to a des͡ert climate, you kn̶ow.” She explained, while the two continued to dance.
