"Oh alright. Just one song, then," she sighed, her tone playfully suggesting that he had insisted upon it himself and she was obligated to acquiesce.
Without awaiting further objection, she slid the palm that still held his arm so that she could take him gently but insistently by the hand and lead him in to the adjoining room of the tent where the ice had been hollowed and molded into a nearly abstract tangle of flutes and pipes that draped from the ceiling and walls like shimmering lace. A sourceless light pulsed behind them, casting the room in shifting color reminsicent of the aurora borealis.
She lifted his hand and allowed herself a twirl underneath it, a soft breath of wind sighing around them to catch her dress and send the low hum of a pleasant chord through the room. As she settled she released him; if her tenacity irked him, she did not appear remotely concerned about it. The blues of her eyes scanned his face, and something softened in her smile. If there was one thing she knew, it was that people changed. But still, it saddened her to see him so removed.
"Any requests? Or should I choose something for you? You know, flames dance for the wind." This last was said teasingly, in the hopes of garnering a reaction. Anything would be preferable to the mechanical stoicism with which he operated now.