I think of you;

friends from the war — the other nohrian children, then. but do the consequences of her path haunt him, too? with her gone, is it all for him to bear alone, and meet faces of aunts and uncles that find remnants of her failure in him? it is easy to hide pain in the melodic sway of word, to let the song of laughter muddle truth—

so azura, despite the bile in her throat, opens her eyes. the world is blinding when she does, but a spin shifts her away from the direct glare of firelight, instead putting shigure where she stood.

beyond how he has grown since she last saw him ( and had she ever seen him in formalwear like this? no, oh; ), there's something amiss about the smile plastered onto his face. and it's then when she tries to shut her eyes again, but they are forced open by her own worry as it reminds her why she needs it always.

"i'm glad. i'm sure i'll find them later on." she swallows as her steps falter, falling just behind the beat for a few moments before she catches herself.

a breath. how much has he seen?

...

azura is watching.

the realization sinks into him as soon as she steps out of line. for though they both know how to veil their emotions with laughter and song, this dance, of all the ones on offer tonight, calls for complete honesty. in the same breath as his realization, however, he forgives her, lets it go---because the mother he remembers had also never been afraid to look, to stare into the depths and wait for them to gaze back.

hadn't it been shigure, instead, who was afraid? watching mother stand by the precipice, knowing she must eventually fall? now, he spins azura away from him, searching for a sliver of crumbling resolve.

what's important now is that he mustn't let it show, not to this woman, who had already suffered so much cruelty. she cannot know that those same depths had eventually claimed him, too. her words settle it in stone, renders the fact as clear as shattering glass----that she is not the mother he had loved, but she is still a woman who loves him.

so though he doesn't believe her words, can't imagine any version of himself that truly would, he lets his smile fall as he knows it ought to. "I... thank you, mother. I can't say it's been easy, but I've missed you a great deal."

clasping her hands as the music draws to a close, he asks, eyes still closed, "would you like to join me for one more dance?"

The sword is entirely ceremonial, but it feels right to have it in his hands. Righter, still, to find Shigure for it—a means to get even, considering the man had teased him first.

This dance, from what he's seen, isn't offered with a hand or a bow. Instead, it starts as a knight pledging himself to his lady—and so Siegbert bends low, offering the thin sword to his chosen partner with a smile. "What say you, Shigure? To ensure that I'll continue to keep my cool."

"I…"

… by the first dragons, he can't help it; a laugh punches out of him, simple and pure. "of course you're more confident with a sword in your hand," he manages, shoulders shaking with mirth. "don't you think that's cheating a little, though?"

taking the blade by the hilt, shigure taps his friend gently on both epaulets with the flat edge, before returning it to the proffered hand. "but it's good that you're confident. dance partners like that." he smiles back, fond. "I'm sure you'll master it someday."

he's not one to turn someone down their time of need, anyway. pressing his arm along the blade, he settles into a curtsy, closes his eyes---and listens for the start of the music.

The music swells to a start, a stately thing with strings and lutes. After some of the more foreign dances that required much livelier motions than he's accustomed to, he's all too glad to return to something a little more familiar. He leads in precise steps as they circle around the hall, Shigure the sun, Siegbert caught in his orbit, a miniature cosmos all on their own.

It is, in the end, as much a show of skill as it is of honor; of grace, as is it is devotion. Perhaps it's fitting, for what they've been through—for someone who sought to be a lone star burning and bursting into nothing, turning to find entire constellations forming at his side. They come together briefly for slow spins; again, for gentle twirls. And through it all, Siegbert doesn't miss a single step, ever the loyal satellite as Ostia demands.

When the dance concludes with their synchronized bows, he looks unmistakably pleased. Confident, even, for that is what dance partners apparently like.

What happened to the awkward, stuttering mess that never knew where to put his hands? Or, even, to the high-strung noble who had to blink three times before he could keep his cool in mere tango hold? But Siegbert, now, leads the dance like he would an army; like he knows exactly where he wants Shigure to be.

In the end, the answer is right before Shigure's eyes, as most answers are. It's the slope of his friend's shoulders, unerringly pointed in his direction; it's his steps keeping pace, never spacing them further than arm's length apart. For when Shigure sings, he sings for just one person. And when Siegbert dances—really dances, without reservations—his world narrows to just him and his partner alone.

… It's a foolish, heart-on-your-sleeve kind of allure. But it'll do just fine, won't it?

So when Siegbert throws his taunt back at him, Shigure can do nothing but shake his head, charmed. "For a test I didn’t even realize I was giving, you’ve passed with flying colors. The ballroom is yours to conquer, my friend.”

and just as he makes the realization, so too does she. the timbre is undeniable, even if it is lower than she remembers. the softness to his voice, the gentility is still there — but she thinks it is more worn than what he sounded like before she died. when she spins under shigure's arm, her throat tightens. her eyes squeeze themselves shut until colors bloom beneath her lids.

he sounds healthy, well, happy. and really, when did he grow so tall? her trembling hand finds his shoulder, gentle in its touch. "of course, shigure." words stable and light, despite the sudden weight that found itself rooted in her heart. "i would love nothing more."

is this what the leader had meant by test of faith? if so, then he is performing admirably, isn't he? shigure lets the smile set on his face, an invisible veneer. may this lie last for a moment longer.

...now she has to wonder if Soleil is just enacting a plea for help. That is a far less amusing thought.

Mitama sighs dramatically. Her weight is allowed to shift sideways until it is stopped by her head resting against Shigure's arm. She has already claimed one of his flowers, but it still makes for something to fidget with as she watches the others who mingle around the ball. "You are plenty, first of all, and you should be proud to be such. Anyone who claims that you should be other is an idiot."

"...but of course, i'd love to," he promises, making to follow. to find a corner of the dance floor, where there's not too many supplicants vying for attention or recruiters on the hunt for talent. "any of the dances should be easy enough to start with, except maybe the one involving fire. or the one with the flips. or the one with the ceremonial swords, now that i think about it...."

Shigure could afford to be sympathetic, of course. He had never been on the receiving end of Soleil's attentions, not in the same way that Mitama and other women had been. It was all well and good that Soleil found them beautiful or charming or whatever other compliment suited her creativity best that day. That did not mean that receiving that compliment, knowing already that it could be shared with a hundred other hearts, made it very sweet to listen to.

"You?" She turns to inspect her friend. Well...perhaps he could play the heel. He is pretty, but not in the way she suspects would drive girls to the jealousy that Soleil longs for.

As she listens to him speak, the corners of her lips twitch. No, if Shigure is to properly play the role that Soleil wanted of him, it would have been with that heart of his instead.

is anyone giving soleil dating advice? somebody should, probably. but it might only encourage her to repeat her failed overtures, and that's not going to end well for anyone.

as for his own plans tonight... "I don't mind," shigure repeats easily, meaning it. "i can't always be what people want me to be. but soleil's one of my friends, right? and I should try to make my friends happy."

"...oh. so she did ask you," he echoes, wincing. it's soleil's own fault, of course, but even so, he doesn't envy being on the receiving end of mitama's rather blunt remarks. whether it be with poetry or prose, the shrine maiden has a way with words that cut deeper than most blades do.

"still..." he hedges, twirling his pencil in thought, "you know soleil means it, though, when she asks people out. did I tell you, she... she roped me into playing the heel, for one of her grand romantic gestures?" he lets out an an embarrassed cough, unwilling to really elaborate any further. "i mean, i also think it's crazy, but she really does consider every woman she meets beautiful. it's kind of hard to watch her fail when she's trying so hard."

he sighs, running a hand over the paper. "maybe i'll try to find her later---i wouldn't mind sharing a dance or two when it's not so crowded out there."