seloria cassul ; dancer (mesmerist) wrote in emillion, |
To say the shock of blonde-white hair sweeping across the dance floor had caught her attention would be an understatement. The first instance in which it had caught the corner of Aspel’s eye, her gaze had instantly darted after it, following and the smith had to put her own heart in check as it skipped a beat, and leapt into her throat. There was no need for such nonsense, there was no point in allowing herself to be so inappropriately worked up over simply seeing her younger sister. Admittedly, the sight of the younger woman still made her nervous, still made Aspel wonder where or how she may go wrong when speaking with the other. It had been years, and it was all the older Cassul’s fault. Aspel would accept no less blame. However, the songs came and went, and after a bit of eyes seeking out that oh-so-obvious hair, and a lull in a song seeming to happen in the perfect moment, Aspel finally summed up what little courage she thought she might have and made her way towards the younger Cassul. What would she say? What was there to do? How would they manage to bridge the gap that the smith had so clearly built after all these years of trouble? And then a few notes trickled in on the beginning of a new song. Clearing her throat, a hand was offered for the other woman to take and Aspel steeled herself. “Pardon my intrusion,” Aspel pushed a smile, hoping it wouldn’t look completely disingenuous. “May I have this dance?” -- The accent was unmistakable, but the voice was not fully recognizable. So when the girl turned to regard whoever it was that was addressing her, her eyes widened a moment in surprise. They'd been skating around each other for quite some time. She did not have to wait for Aspel. She too could have engaged her, especially after the illness. Especially during the illness. The guilt nestled in the pit of her stomach like a rock. But her sister was smiling. She was smiling and it twisted something inside of her. Seloria couldn't help but smile back. Then there was the request to dance and she was surprised again. "Of course," she said quickly. Possibly too quickly. "Of course," she repeated, with more certainty. -- A slight bow of her head would be offered in response to the answer, a hand rising to take the other smaller woman’s hand within her own. “I believe the dance floor may suit us best, no?” This time, the nervousness had abated some, and what was left was a hesitant, yet tender smile. Something tinged with remorse, and hope at all once. As long as Seloria did not object, the smith would shift - leading them easily to the dance floor before stepping up, and moving to place a hand so that her palm cupped the other woman’s shoulder blade. “Ready?” The response was breathed out, a smile barely pulling at the corners of her lips before assuring their posture was just barely offset to help compensate for any potential problems dancing together. -- Seloria felt silly with the way she reacted to seeing the woman’s hand extended to her. She slowly slipped her hand into Aspel’s palm before nodding and allowing herself to be guided to the floor. She’d never been filled with so much trepidation as she did in the hands of her sister. The dance floor and the stage were homes to her, places of refuge, but how long had it been since she’d shared a dance with the sentinel? It was forever ago that she’d danced around the floor with her feet resting atop her older sister’s, not even needing to actually know the steps. She was too old for that now. Her body was drawn closer as she slipped into the familiar pose of the follower. “Always,” was her response to whether she was ready. Aspel only needed to begin. |