seloria cassul ; dancer (mesmerist) wrote in emillion, |
“You are too kind.” Juliette tried not to be too surprised; she heard so very often the many ways in which she was not an appropriate lady at all that such a comment seemed almost unfathomably inaccurate to her. Still, she could take a compliment with relative grace and humility. The next question, however, had her realizing all at once that she had seen this long, white-blond hair before after all; she was so shocked by the realization that she fumbled her steps, and trod on her partner’s foot, which had all of her false composure unraveling. She was stammering and her cheeks were flushed painfully hot. “I… I am so sorry, I…” She managed, somehow, to wrangle her feet back into the proper patterns of the dance, though the same could not be accomplished with her words quite so easily. “I only just realized,” she was finally able to say. “Your performance that night was... very beautiful.” And now it would seem as though Juliette had not found it memorable, and oh, if she could simply sink through the floor right on the spot, she certainly would. Trampling a Dancer’s feet, honestly! ---------- The sudden fumbling wasn't something Seloria was expecting, especially not at her question. The feel of the girl's foot upon her own made her adjust her step. Then the girl was red again and apologizing. It took a moment, but Seloria realized what she was trying to say. "In your defense," she started, before taking a pause to nurse her wounded pride, "I was wearing much much less during that performance and the lighting was not very helpful." She managed to smile politely, at least. The style wasn't everyone's cup of tea, so she couldn't be wholly offended that she hadn't left an impression on the girl. ---------- “It was still very impressive.” There was no way to salvage her blunder, Juliette thought, so now the only option was to plough through and hope she might be forgiven. She was really not leaving a positive impression tonight, between her awkwardness and her inability to string together a grammatically correct sentence. “The costume was quite… unique.” She tried to imagine, for a moment, wearing something similar. Unfathomable, not to mention the fact that Lady Demiel really might lock her up until her (hastily arranged) wedding, then. “The style of dance was quite unique, also,” she added, recovering from her momentary and vaguely horrifying daydream. “Is it native to a particular region?” At least she was remembering details now -- perhaps enough that Lady Cassul would realize it was only Juliette’s stupidity at not recognizing her under the circumstances and not lack of impression made. ---------- "A product of years of training and refinement," she said slowly. It was an attempt to soften her tone, whether she succeeded or not was beyond her. "The style is Ordallian in origin. I am not aware of what part, but the dance itself has been passed down through the women of my family. The style of dress is also Ordallian in origin. It is to emphasize the curves of the woman and allow you to see the work she has put into her body. There are very detailed movements that cannot be seen when the body is covered." Her tone had slipped into an instructive one by the time she'd finished explaining everything. "If could teach you one day, if you wish," she said before coming to a stop. The song had swung into another one and she'd easily maneuvered Juliette to the edge of the dance floor. |