Re: Wandering: Hannah/Fiach
Where Hannah was empty handed, Fiach had between his fingers a glass of wine. Churning it around and around with no intentions of drinking it. It didn't smell of wine, not what he was used to, where the berries were so sweet one could taste it bursting upon the tongue. This, well, it smelled of chemical and preserves, scents unfamiliar to him and not like wine at all. He had learned his lesson at the previous function he attended. Drinks like this did not make one lighter and joyful, no, they made mad men out of any who drank upon them, and he didn't like it.
He wasn't lost in thought, but longing perhaps. Longing for a home that was no longer his and that? That made him simmer below the surface red hot and denied. Banishment did not suit him well and his reflection showed it. His clothing, his stance, even his appearance. Scoffing, he turned his back to the mirrors and looked up to see someone there.
Oh, her eyes. If she was here to dance he was uncertain, but it seemed she was dancing already somewhere far and away. Not lost, just waltzing through something unseen. And that? Was far more familiar to him than anything so far. "...ah, hello." He bent at the waist, habit, unaware it was a rather archaic expression, but it was swift and with his free hand behind his back it was--well, it was as natural as breathing.
She was pretty, indeed. Stars in the eyes where the dancing played out. He didn't know her, no, but the untouched wine was set to the side by the mirror and he was straight as rod once more.
Fingers extended in silent offer, head tilting much like that of a raven, and a raven he was velvet hair curling against his forehead and sharp proud brows that managed to soften upon the site of a stranger. Dancing he knew, dancing was familiar, and to dance with a stranger wasn't so strange at all.