Hilda allowed herself to be led to the dance floor. How charming! The art of asking strangers to dance, for no reason other than the pure enjoyment of moving to the ebb and flow of the orchestral music, was a lost one, in her humble opinion.

"Hilda," she introduced as she settled her hands into position. He was taller than her, but not uncomfortably so; she did not find herself straining herself to meet the proper form.

The current song was one of faster pace, perhaps best suited to a quickstep or foxtrot. Her head tilted upwards to meet his gaze. "Are you going to lead?" The Or shall I? was unspoken.

Zihark wasn't much of a dancer, or one at all really. He was quick on his feet and could keep up with someone else's pace, of course. But he had never taken to it, as an adult or a child.

But since they at a ball after all... perhaps he shall give it a shot.

He takes a knee before the girl, gently taking her small hand into his own, "Care for a dance, milady?" Charming as ever, he gives her a friendly smile, "I'll even offer this trinket of mine once it is done with," A string of pearls that he wasn't quite sure what to do with, hung awkwardly around a sword that he couldn't bear to part from, "If you'll give me a dance and yours in exchange."

Hilda was no stranger to men falling at her feet, but it never failed to bring a smile about her face, especially at such an occasion as the Ethereal Ball. She offered a deliberately demure smile and bobbed into a curtsy.