FATA CERVA.

astonishment follows the realization that they aren’t attached to the headscarf, but instead appear to be real appendages unlike anything she’s ever seen—or at least, not in real life, and only as part of costumes that performers pranced around in onstage.

"...hm? oh!" when the woman turns to her again, dorothea straightens with a smile. any mention of her new observation goes unspoken, and instead she watches on with newfound fascination as the stranger allows her a better look at the accessory. "sort of! i used to be a diva. that's behind me now, but it'd be a shame to let old skills grow rusty, don't you think? it never hurts to know when to plaster on a smile at the right time."

"that's very nice of you to say!" she beams with a soft laugh. "if people really liked it that much, maybe i wouldn't have to worry about fitting in. i got along pretty well with everyone at the academy back home that i went to, but that was so much smaller than here."

and a completely different kind of place, to say the least.

"And if you plan on going on any of the monastery's expeditions? Ship travel will be inevitable at some point."

On that point, he would have asked if she was faculty or student, were it not for her question. A string of words that seemed innocuous, and probably were on her part, but still so incredibly weighted.

The years of war and mutual bloodshed, the glorification of conquering and taking by force—centuries of values so deeply ingrained into Brodia's being, that some days, it felt like he would never be able to change it all for the better.

But he would, even if it took his entire life. Simple as that. "Well... they're going. The country has recently come out of a war, so there is much in the way of restoration to be done. But Brodia's hardships have made the people strong and resilient, so the process has been moving along."

she's just a stranger though, asking out of the blue. so probably for the best.

"oh, that's very admirable. i hope you take a lot back to your people then." if he really did learn anything, and if that was really why he was here. a lot of people with power said they did, but it was never about the things that really mattered, nor did that ' learning ' lead to anything more than token change to appease whoever was upset. none of this reflects in her tone and expression, neutral and polite with a cheerful touch.

either way, it's not any of her business. she's stuck around long enough when all she'd done was mistake him for someone else, so she offers a little curtsy and lets him get back to it. "well, thank you for your kind offer, your majesty. and sorry again about the misunderstanding. i hope you have a great night."

as she takes her leave, it's with a certain wake of grief hidden from casual eyes, though maybe that word is too strong for what's ultimately just a snare in her heart, a kind of regret and resentment, a tangle of guilt and loss. would rusty have grown up looking just like that king did if he'd been raised like every other royalty? talking and standing like he did? even now, it's so uncomfortable to think. . . the rusty she'd known——

was someone who'd never really existed at all. ⠀

It's weird to be attending a ball like this and be a guest and not someone on duty like her. Being in this close of proximity and told helpful points like this really settles it in in a way none of her previous encounters in these events have.

“Oh, it's all good! If people like the hydrangeas so much, I can take something else. I'm not picky,” Lapis reassures. “I think I found the perfect thing just now anyway.”

Flower language is yet another aspect of flowers that seems so beyond her, but with helpful little placards written by one enthusiastic student for the flower workshop, Lapis reads it over and makes a decision.

Bundling some canterbury bells with one of her orchids, Lapis makes a small bouquet and holds it out to Ananke.

Canterbury bells — gratitude, sincerity.

for her? at first, she's so caught off guard by that alone that the rest is slow to register. it's only as she reaches out to accept the little bundle that ears belatedly pick up on what they'd heard about bears and crops, making her look at the guest a second time. she looked so cute and elegant. . . but she wasn't a noble?

it's not that she hadn't thought no one would be more like her at this academy——there's ronan after all, working here like her——but it's still a breath of fresh air after everything of the last few days and so far this evening. and she'd thought only people with a lot of influence attended as students. without realizing she'd held any tension, her posture and expression relax, her smile a little different. "wow, thank you. . . i didn't think i'd be getting any flowers tonight. this is very thoughtful of you."

it just goes to show that common folk really were the ones who knew how to care about others the most.

an orchid, probably one of the flowers handed out at the front. and the others, canterbury bells. . . "hmm. patience. . . are you trying to tell me that i'll be out of here soon?" expression alights with a smile, light and friendly. good things will come to you ; you'll make it through. had she picked these knowing their meaning? they're definitely on the nose, that's for sure, more than she might realize.

she's just about to pivot and use the opportunity to ask if the other was competing in the white heron cup, when——

"final calls for sign-up for the white heron cup! the heron's garland goes to the best pair of dancers in the hall tonight!" ——a man's voice booms over the crystalline ballroom as if reading her mind, no doubt amplified by some magic. "if you haven't signed up already, this is your last chance!"

she's struck by a whim. why not?

"did you sign up already?" she asks ; and, without waiting for an answer: "if you haven't, want to compete together? i used to dance sometimes ; not to brag, but people where i come from are pretty good at it. i won't disappoint you." or at least she hoped she wouldn't. if ' lord crane dance ', as petra put it, was the caliber they were looking at, she thought she could manage at least that. "come on! it'll just be for fun."

The cleric bites her lip, mildly puzzled. Is it nerves, at the size of the crowd, or at the complexity of the dance they had chosen? Is it doubt at Silque's own mediocre skills? But the cleric had made no effort to feign otherwise, not for any of their previous preparations. And she'd thought… she'd thought…

No. They had already danced a thousand steps together tonight, and Silque had cherished each and every one. Whatever the outcome, she had promised to never let Ninian fall.

So she ties the sash around her eyes, places her hope in frigid hands to guide her in the dark. When those same hands fumble in alarm, Silque only holds on tighter, willing Mila's blessing to grace them both. And now, as for Silque's own scores: nine in style, one in technique, three in choreo---

---oh, Silque will readily admit it, she's not really listening. Instead she's busy supporting Ninian's weight, as to relieve the strain on her ankle; wishing that the dancer would instead lift her chin, because hadn't it been her stubborn, quiet pride that drove her to continue dancing through the the pain?

It must have been beautiful. Silque wishes she could have seen.

Slowly, the cleric shakes her head with a gentle smile. "There's no need to be ashamed," she replies. "Not when it is you who carried us this far in the first place. Even I know that much!" A quiet laugh, and then, "In fact, I… I should thank you, Ninian, for teaching me."

Now, to get the poor girl to a healer! Ever so carefully, they step off the stage together, arms linked... making way for the final competitors to take the spotlight.

"their scores aren't that impressive." compared to their final competitors, who looked like they might fall off their feet any second——something ananke couldn't blame them for ; she was tuckered out too and she hadn't even been the one dancing this whole time! petra was a fighter though, she'd said earlier. and that stamina definitely showed.

hands give the girl's shoulders one last squeeze as the audience claps politely for the preceding act and the announcer takes the stage to call out their names as the final performance. ' waltz ' was the last round's theme, which she's sure was supposed to mean that they'd dance together this time. but something about it had seemed like a bad idea——call her superstitious, but she didn't want to break the streak that'd been working so far.

so instead they'd had just enough time to alter petra's dance into a three-beat rhythm instead of the free-flowing thing it'd been before. "it's more structured this way, but the thing about structure is that once you really know it, then you can play around with the rules."

she's not sure if they'd accomplished that ; the call for the start of the final round had interrupted their brief preparation time before she'd felt confident. but every round had been like this: putting together something under pressure, mostly imperfect, a lesson in trust in a nearly-complete stranger. at this point, there wasn't anything else she could tell petra or try to teach her, and anyway she'd never been a dance instructor or even anything professional.

luckily as well, estel has always been quick on her feet. she is quick enough to adjust, sidestepping before they can collide then resuming their usual steps.

“oh, i’m fine,” she’s quick to assure when he apologizes. a little surprised, maybe, but hardly hurt. “i’ve hunted boars almost twice your size before. something like that isn’t enough to hurt me.”

her ears slope forward a little as her head tilts to the side. “but you apologize a lot, don’t you? you really don’t have to. here, if you want to try something different...” adjusting her grip to make it easier to move their arms, she smiles up at him. “when the strings start up again, do a quarter turn to the right and then we can spin together to the other end of the dance floor, okay?”

their scores for this round probably won’t be all that great, but estel tries her best not to let her disappointment show on her face as she counts under her breath to keep the timing of her steps right. it’s not her partner’s fault, after all, and he’s already apologized to her so many times tonight.

besides, it’s not over until the song and dance are done. so she’ll give it her all until then!

"you should do something more like your first dance," she'd said, as truthful as she could bring herself to be. "there was so much power there. i felt like i could feel the emotion you wanted to express. that girl we talked to was right ; you were like a griffon! do more of that."

but if someone asked her, she wasn't actually sure if she was right. and what if she was wrong? what if petra ended up getting an even lower score this time? she might never listen to her again.

applause dwindles ; the audience falls hush again. petra leaves her one more time to head out onto the stage, and ananke tracks her every step, not sure if the nerves she felt were petra's or her own, not even aware of how invested she'd become compared to the beginning when she'd insisted it was all just for fun. only a few pairs remained——she'd noticed all the other single contestants had lost already, leaving only hers.

her forest and all its beauty was long gone. the nine-horned had long been driven from notia. but still she puts up a whisper to elnias reflexively as petra takes her place in front of the judges.

Regardless, once Zephia and Rafal leave, the floor is otherwise cleared for the next contestants. The crowd is silenced, and there is a beat before the music starts up again, slow at first, steady, like the first licks of a wave upon untouched shores.

Then enter the next pair.

"don't worry about it! it doesn't have to follow the steps exactly. what's more important is letting your style come out. like that jump you did. don't go so far off that you lose the whole thing, but don't be afraid to improvise either."

was it just her, or did petra look even more nervous than before? well, they had made it farther than she'd thought they would given they'd entered the competition just for fun, so maybe she couldn't blame her.

a warm, encouraging smile tries to soothe those performance butterflies. "come on. we've already done great just getting past the first round. we've already hit the goal. everything else is just frosting."

as they say in notia.

"it's almost your turn. let's get up there."

the final minutes waiting backstage before going on for a show are some of the worst that time can offer. she stays close by and behind petra, hands squeezing the younger girl's surprisingly muscular shoulders in wordless support. out there, the two stepping back and forth look more like weighted nesting dolls wobbling and bonking against each other than a dancing pair, and are they talking during it too or is she just seeing things? is that supposed to be part of it?

Huh. Come to think of it, when did that list get so long? She stops herself before she risks getting completely lost in her own recollection.

that's not too far off from the answer to the question, actually. "oh, it's not a dance that was made for two people. petra has such a unique style, don't you think? i really wanted to make it shine." the girl had called her like a griffon, after all——which, unlike cranes, she had gotten to meet for the first time at the stables during her grounds tour——which makes her feel as proud as if she'd been the one to get the compliment. "if i tried to muddy it up by being in there, it wouldn't have been half as good. and we just didn't have the time."

And then she hears them call for her, and as though by their own volition her legs hurry her off to the front of the stage.

The girl gives a quick but deep bow to the judges, and they nod back at her in acknowledgement before the music begins. She had come up with this one herself, after years of watching the other students around her dance with her own awestruck eyes. It is, by all objective measures, an odd choreography, a patchwork of pieces she had admired from afar. Steps from here and there and everywhere, there is something about it that almost comes across as gluttonous, assembled without restraint or thought for the fact that centerpieces only shine when given room to breathe.

But: she doesn't trip.

No stumbles, no misplaced feet or unnecessary movements. From start to finish she carries herself without a partner to catch her. When the music concludes, there she stands, chest rising and falling with healthy exertion, sweat in her eyes stinging, and all she can compare the feeling to is her first time flying without being flanked by her mentors, free in the air.

She had not fallen then, and she had not fallen here, either.

The girl watches the judges raise their cards one by one. A 2 in style stings—but in post, she recognizes she'd been so nervous the whole way through she hardly remembers what she did. A 2 in choreography seals the deal—she's lost. Exceptional work by her standards was unremarkable to the rest of the world. She had been prepared to accept defeat from the start, and she's prepared for the final card to reflect how far she has left to go, too.

But the final card raises, the one that represents technique, and it's a 10.

For a moment, she stands stock still while it sinks in. Then she bows, thanking them in as composed a manner she can manage, before hurrying offstage.

"They—they gave me a ten in technique!!" She exclaims once she is once again backstage, In spite of her lackluster score, she seems elated to the point of tears, erupting into a flurry of giggles. Klutzy, absentminded Emma practicing hard enough to get a ten in technique. "Can you believe it? A ten out of ten!"

and there it is——a showstopping ten, just like she'd thought. the other two come up, and they're not as impressive, but they're not terrible either. four was only a little underwhelming.

she'd take it for how slapdash it was, definitely.

"hey! you did so great." her voice is a whisper-shout as she waves the girl over, quickly replaced by another who's rushing to take the stage for the next performance. ananke watches her out of the corner of her eye as she puts an arm around petra's sweaty shoulders to give a supportive pat. "what was that jump you pulled out of nowhere? i didn't show you that." but she'd leaped like elnias itself had possessed her, no worse than the best of the best from back home. it actually makes a little nostalgic, but she's not going to say anything about that.

the last performance of the first round doesn't go on for long, and she's clapping politely with the rest of them when the girl strikes her final pose——quietly, since they're backstage. she doesn't see from here what the scores are, but when the girl runs toward them to take her exit, she's exhilarated as if she'd already won the trophy.

"they gave me a ten in technique! can you believe it? a ten out of ten!"

ananke doesn't know who she's saying it to——no one looks to be rushing up to greet and congratulate her——but she grins anyway since she's standing there, the joy and pride radiating off her for her own performance palpable and more than a little infectious.

it was a tall order.

but, like she'd said before: new people had to stick together, right? petra was a student, so she should be the one to take the lead and watch out for her. as a teacher⠀(⠀sort of⠀) ,⠀her job was to lift up the students and make sure they could shine, right?

"trust me. you've got a special style. it's not like any of the other dancing i've seen here tonight. if we just make sure to bring that out, that's the best we can do."

she has a feeling this little competition might actually matter a lot to petra, so she flashes a cheerful smile to try and lift her spirits——and because she feels a little bad now just grabbing her to do it together without thinking ; she hadn't thought it'd be that serious. "come on, it's just for fun!"

"next entrants: ananke and petra with ' the birds of paradise '!"

after the whole crane thing and the chicken comment, she'd thought going along with the bird scheme would be appropriate. besides, petra looked like one of those hidden forest birds herself, all dark magenta and gem-like green. and she was the centerpiece of it all.

"that's us! let's go!"　/　@macnaradhaigh ,⠀@shiningfalcon

but to her question about the ball: ananke glances out toward the rest of the huge space, all sparkling and glamorous. to the people milling and whirling, to a pair of friends making exaggerated pantomimes about something she couldn't hear, doubling over laughing next to the dessert spread.

as the cacophony of stomping starts up——sounding less like people learning a dance and more like a bunch of angry horses had shown up in the ballroom——she spots another girl also emerging from the same crowd and gives her a sympathetic smile. "not your kind of thing either, huh?" grabbing her lily bouquet from where she'd left it, a hand extends one naturally by way of acknowledgement.

no, it absolutely isn't—were she in the mood to get trampled on an evening as fine as this one, she'd have gone to the racetracks and stood in a horse's path instead.

the remark prompts a quirked brow, followed by a good-natured huff that quietly concedes defeat. to think that despite her attempts at politeness, a sudden departure had left enough of an impact to turn into small talk-!

"that obvious? i was hoping no one would notice."

it's hardly a loss when she much prefers to be in the company of another this way: conversing freely, with no strings tugging them one way or another. "maybe i'm not the actress i thought i was."

it sounded like she was asking about her outfit ; she catches something about beads, and ' beautiful '. gesturing for the girl to follow, ananke leads them away from the dance floor and closer to the seating area where attendees sit scattered throughout the tables with their drinks and appetizers. it's blessedly quieter over here.

"phew. finally can hear myself think," she sighs with a kindred smile when she turns around again. "sorry, i could barely hear what you were saying."

"i'm glad you like it! it's nice of you to notice when there's a lot fancier here. it's handmade." she tilts her head a little so the other can see said headpiece in question a little better, fingers touching to the tightly-woven beads along its top and bottom. "by someone who isn't here anymore. so you could say it's one of a kind."

To the girl's introduction, he hums, moving to take a hyacinth from his bouquet once she begins to reach for her own flowers. "A pleasure to meet you, Ananke. I'm Diamant, king of Brodia..." He trails off, carefully sifting through the flowers he'd collected by this point, until he finally manages to pluck out a hyacinth. "There we go."

anyway, she shouldn't keep him much longer in that case. but she couldn't not answer his question either.

"the carriage driver who brought me here said the same thing. i don't know where everyone else is coming from, but i haven't seen anyone i know yet." and that was definitely a good thing. it helped her breathe easier. caught between not knowing anyone and being alone, and being outed, well, the choice was pretty obvious if she wanted to live. "as for how far notia is. . . i had to sail for, a week and a half? it was pretty tough. i've never been on a ship before, to be honest."

Petra blinks, equal parts stunned by and grateful for the directness of the query. "... I do not know either." She examines the stranger. So much of her energy this evening has been spent guessing and second guessing unspoken social cues and unwritten rules. Someone coming out and just saying the thing immediately endears her to Petra.

She scans the group of dancers, landing on one particular gentleman who flaps his arms jerkily in what appears to be a creative rendition of the orchestra's time signature. His chest pops in and out as arms flap one after the other, concentration knit into his brow as he stares down his partner. Petra sends a silent prayer to Fódlan's goddess on the poor girl's behalf.

the comment about the chicken wins a snort, eyes following the girl's attention to the pair of dancers and catching the tail end of what must've prompted it.

"notia," comes the answer. "it's a little country pretty far overseas from here. i used to be a mercenary there, helping out with a group called the Monster Watch that tried to keep things safe."