There was a great deal about this evening that posed novelty for Isabela. It’d been a long time since she’d gone to a real, proper dance, and the ones here were different than those she’d been to back in Thedas. She’d never gotten to help her beautiful Bethany find a fancy outfit to wear, which was certainly something worth some excitement. (Especially given how utterly spectacular her lovely friend had looked in her chosen garment.) Her situation with Athos, and the uneven footing it had her in inwardly, was new as well. She half-regretted talking to Hawke about it even now, and had sworn him to secrecy again in a private moment at their dinner beforehand. But she’d needed to get the words out, to explain them to herself as well, even if it’d meant suffering the annoying self-consciousness that had come with a conversation of a more serious nature.
Choosing a dress had been an ordeal, because Isabela’s instinct was a shininess that really didn’t work well for her in the more modern format. What she’d ultimately settled on had felt like a compromise -- something a little classier, but not quite. The plunging neckline and short length made her feel like herself, even if the rest of it was surprisingly simple.
After dinner, she’d felt more herself, the drinks in her system working wonders to make her even more her usual comfortable, content self. She arrived at the ballroom a bit late, an apologetic expression on her face as she caught sight of Athos, who wouldn’t have been allowed in without his date (given the apparent rules). “Forgive me, love. I blame my friends,” she said, offering a smile. And really, she shouldn’t have given him as much of a once over as she did, but it couldn’t be helped. He almost didn’t look like himself, but he was still Athos. “Oh, you look so dashing. Very modern..”
Athos turned at the sound of her voice and smiled; and to his credit his eyes stayed on her face. "I had help," he responded, offering a leg in a bit of a bow to his date. Whereas she had been running a little late, he had arrived rather early because he was Athos and that's just how he is. She didn't need to know that, though, and he didn't think it important enough to mention. Once she'd moved a little closer, he stepped out from under the awning where he'd been waiting and unclasped a small umbrella that he'd secured to his belt like a comfortable sword. With a quick motion, he extended it and held it out for her so that she could at least have a moment or two without snowfall landing on her hair and face.
"If you're cold, we can head in now," he offered, realizing that she had opted to wear something that showed a lot of skin (which was very Isabela). He figured he would wait to offer his arm until she confirmed she was ready to head in to the dance, which sounded like it was already off to a fair start.
Isabela noticed his very pointed gaze and the way he kept it focused on her face, and it brought amusement into her smile. “I’m sure you did. I can’t imagine Aramis and Porthos resisting an opportunity to get their hands on you,” she said, nodding a bow of her own at his. She was grateful for the umbrella, because she was notably terrible with the foul coldness in the air and very certainly wasn’t warm enough. She’d been fine before, and the alcohol in her system helped a little, but she was definitely ready to move indoors.
“Please, lets. I’m very close to becoming an ice cube, and no one wants that,” she said. “I’m still protesting the concept of trousers, but I may almost consider it if this awful snow keeps up.”
With that, Athos offered his arm and escorted his date inside. He dropped the umbrella at the coat check area before taking a moment to look around the room. It was nothing like what he expected. It was as if they'd gone outside somewhere else - somewhere that was not mid-winter, but actually late spring. The ground was comfortable grass, with a few patches of dirt here and there where people had kicked it up a bit in their enjoyment. And the outside of the dance floor was lined with a few catering trucks, offering different styles of food and drink.
"It looks like you dressed appropriately for the weather after all," he offered, looking sideways at Isabela. "Dance floor first, or would you like to try the food?”
Once inside, Isabela could immediately feel the chill leaving her, and her expression turned utterly delighted at the spring vibes that ran throughout the ballroom. While she preferred the sea and the salt, she could certainly settle for a bit of grass and warmth. It made her regret the amount of skin she was showing far less, which was a much better place for her mentally -- Isabela never much cared to regret her wardrobe choices, after all.
“I think you may be right, and I’m thankful for that,” she replied, returning his glance with a smile. “I’ve just come from dinner, so let’s dance. I’m eager to see what you’ve got up your sleeve -- the bonfire only gave me a little to go on, and swordsmen are usually light on their feet.”
"A fair reason for being late," countered Athos, smirking at the dancing comment. "Though I do expect you to take lead on any dances you know that I do not." He took her hand and led her out onto the grassy area before lifting their joined hands above their heads to start into an allemande. It was certainly more suitable for an actual ballroom (and generally more people doing the same), but he had always enjoyed the timing involved.
As he paced the music and began to lead into the steps, he started slowly to try and show her each of the steps before slowly speeding up to the full double meter. It was an energetic dance, to be sure, but he was sure she would be able to keep up.
“Mm, yes. Hawke and Fenris elected to skip, despite my attempts to convince them otherwise. I love when they get dressed up,” she said. At his request, she laughed. “I assure you, we’ll likely be on very even footing. My knowledge of dancing is fairly limited to what happens in taverns and a heavy flow of alcohol. I don’t know the ones with names. If nothing else, I’m sure we’re both smart enough to muddle through and figure it out.”
Isabela, for her love of distraction and frivolity, was a quick study. She was careful to listen as he instructed, smiling as she followed along and ready for the extra challenge as they sped up. Her technique wasn’t perfect, but it was certainly enthusiastic.
Enthusiasm was three-quarters of dancing, as far as Athos was concerned. Once they'd conquered the allemande, he happily led her through a number of other baroque dances that he remembered from a different time in his life. Rust from lack of use managed to fall away with ease and honestly, if he got something in the wrong order, he doubted anyone would notice enough to care. The important part was that he was having fun.
After the fourth or fifth (it was hard to remember with the laughing and spinning and stomping and spinning after a while), he stepped back and gave a curt bow. "Your turn," he said through a smile, indicating that she needed to show him one of these tavern dances she'd spoke of.
Ever a creature driven by the pursuit of fun, Isabela was utterly delighted not only by the dancing but by the laughter and joy that seemed to be emanating off of Athos as well. It was contagious, and she was just as quick to smile and laugh along with him.
“Mine are far less delicate, I hope you’re prepared,” she said, and that much was true. Where his dances had been all about steps and footwork and order, hers were far more about the beats in the music and improvisation. Hers were less elegant and more robust, and she led him through them, making them up as she went along. “Look at you, you’re a natural at pirate tavern dancing.”
"What it lacks in form, it certainly makes up for in creativity," laughed Athos, grateful for his long days of training (and, sadly, war) to make him able to keep up with such an energetic pace without getting winded. He thought that description could apply to Isabela, too, so it made a certain amount of sense. She hadn't even broken a sweat either, or at least not that he could tell. It wouldn't surprise him to know that she could even make sweating look good.
"I think I've worked up a bit of thirst," he noted, turning slightly towards where some of the drinks were being served. "Care to join me for a drink? We'll have to be careful, knowing Atlantis and its predilection for enchanted food and drink. I'll watch your back if you watch mine?"
“I’m glad you like it! We tavern folk love a good reckless dance,” she said, her breathing a little heavier from the exertion. She was far too delighted by his laughter to do anything but grin, though. He was so handsome when he smiled like that.
“Oh yes, me too,” she agreed. “I promise to watch yours, absolutely. But I’m open to whatever Atlantis has to throw at me, even the awkward bits.” She was playful then, and wove her hand into his arm, against his elbow. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”
"Hard not to," he confided, dipping his head in greeting at someone as they passed. "Lovely night, apparently creatures at the base causing extra good feelings, a night of dancing, and beautiful company would make me a dour man indeed if I could still frown."
Athos led Isabela to the nearest drink table and picked up one of the flutes labeled Raspberry Fizz. "To good friends and the future?" he asked, lifting the glass to wait for her to toast as well.
“You absolute charmer,” she responded, laughing again, though it was certainly a different sort of laughter than the joyful one from dancing. This matched the confiding he’d done, and she continued the playful streak with a raised eyebrow. “I think you may be the only one here who’d describe the effects of those creatures as causing ‘extra good feelings.’ I’ve heard far more descriptive and lewd terms used more frequently.” She shrugged a shoulder. “Your version is far more you, though.”
She took a flute herself, as well as one of the marshmallows. “And to whatever nonsense these snacks encourage.”