“It’s not even noon yet. I just want to remind you of that.” Itsara is part-amusement with the rest of her being a very critical bite. She watches her underling with an unmitigated scrutiny — Princess Chaehyun, who is as much a subordinate as one of the Great Dragon Lords could be, anyway.
“Your highness, that is.” She coughs nervously, shamelessly and obviously providing herself a very quick recovery with the apologetic dip of her head. “I want to remind you that it’s not even noon yet, your highness, and that — well, at this rate, do you even want to learn?” It’s probably a bit more confrontational than she means it to come across, reinforced by the way Itsara turns to face the princess, expression steeled by a visible confusion between mentor and inferior. “I mean — I mean that literally, by the way. As in, if you don’t want to learn, we don’t have to, but also, if you do want to learn, then you have to do this. Your highness, again. Sorry.”
A bit of an exaggeration on Itsara’s part, though she wasn’t sure how else to answer what the difference was between starting just before sunrise or starting when the rest of the nation was awake. The more she thought about it, the more she realized there was probably no difference at all. Chaehyun didn’t need to know that, though. What she did need to know was the second act in a play Itsara had loved as a child. It was the very memory that had compelled Itsara to join the theater troupe at Ember Island to begin with.
In a way, after much quiet and meticulous deliberating on her part, it was also why she was in the position she found herself in now. It hadn’t actually occurred to her that Chaehyun never once threatened any damning ultimatum for the discovery her highness had made that fateful day. In Itsara’s mind, the pendulum had started swinging the moment Chaehyun discovered her in costume. There was no better option than falling to her highness’ feet, pleading and drowning out what was (as she remembers it now) just her stunned silence.
“You’re at the best part, you know. Right before the lovers reunite beneath the stars, they dance. The dance is so beautiful, it lifts their very spirits to a shining brilliance above them in the middle of the night sky. They see that the color of their light is the same and they know without a doubt: they’re meant for each other.” It takes a lot to stifle an otherwise dreamy, indulgent sigh from leaving Itsara’s mouth. “Doesn’t that make you excited?! Imagine, dancing with someone like that! Come on!”
Insist as they might, and do they ever, Chaehyun has never quite believed her fellow highborn when they say there will come a day when the title your highness evokes anything in her besides a tumultuous wave of nausea. Twenty-three years in and, despite all efforts to the contrary, she still can’t quite keep her face from twisting into an uneasy grimace upon hearing those words put forth in her direction. Twenty-three years has been long enough for her to learn that not making a fuss over it is generally the greatest kindness she can do her people, as the fear of addressing a royal improperly pervades those who’ve seen the consequences enacted by those less generous than the empathetic princess — and yet, still she bristles.
“Hey, I’m deferring to your expertise here. If there was ever a time to drop the formalities and just call each other by name, I think this might be it. Especially since we have to do these lessons out in the great beyond where I can only imagine the map says ‘here be dragons.’ No one around to be scandalized.” The secluded corners of Ember Island aren’t truly so shrouded in mystery, even to Chaehyun, but she’s often inclined to rather creative hyperbole in order to get her point across. While she speaks, her arms lift vertically above her head in a stretch towards the skies, all the various ways in which a precise blade could be thrust between her ribs in that interval running through her head out of habit.
Set in her ways as she may be, she’s always gone to great lengths to prevent her elders from instilling in her the same parochial narrow-mindedness that seems to hold them each and every one in a vice grip. When her arms swing catawampus back down to her sides, she sighs in a momentary resignation, eyes slipping shut while she tries to envision the scene Itsara described in such brilliant, vibrant detail. Perhaps it’s due to her inexperience, never having even been in the vicinity of romantic love for another or an appreciator of the arts, that the beauty and wonder of it all is lost on her.
“If you ever see me going all gooey for someone like that I implore you to put me out of my misery.” A hand pushes her bangs aside as her eyes flutter open once more, shaking her head and managing to look at least a little bit apologetic. “I have no desire to make this any more difficult. It’s just - all this warm fuzzy romantic stuff doesn’t do anything for me. All well and good if it makes other people happy, but I always preferred stories with more... action. Why don’t they make more plays about war or adventures with dashing heroes saving the day? I could probably immerse myself or whatever you call it in a role like that.”
Chaehyun gives a shrug, realizing she’s rambled into complete irrelevance.
“But yeah, yeah, let’s get back to it. Promise I got all of today’s complaints out of my system.”