scatteredsteps:
It was always like this before a show, or at least before she was called to take her place on the stage. Electric jitters ran up and down her spine as she spared a few glances at herself in the mirror. Why was she nervous? Hadnât she practiced enough? A feathered ear flicking to the sound of a mandolin entering the throes of its final verse, combing long clawed fingers through her hair. âMhir, you done yet? Youâre almost on.â Came a knocking gently at her makeshift dressing room. âYeah, yeah, yeah.â She breathed a sighed reply, sucking her teeth as she did so. One last glance at herself, and a quick adjustment of her costume, a pull here and there. She stepped out of her room to greet the festivities just outside the Quicksand. Pale green eyes scanning from the current range of dancers finishing their set to the band that was playing for them, and then to the crowd itself. Bouncing from face to face to gauge what sort of energy sheâd be contending with tonight. The mood seemed well enough, happy drunks slurring the words to a well loved song, others dancing and cheering along, and then some just sitting or standing around prattling to one another. As the song came to a close and the crowd roared its applause for the three small Miqoâte women, they gave their bows and waved to the crowd as they stepped away from their little built up stage. Walking by the Vieran woman, who rested nonchalantly against the stone railing of the steps. She gave them a passing smile, waving them off with a nod of her head before turning away as her expression dropped to bored indifference. Then came the announcerâs voice as the band resettled and the crowd quieted. âWeâve a real treat for you this eveâ, Thavnairian story of a woman who wished for the wings of a bird, but found they came with a steep price.â Mhirâs nose wrinkled slightly at the telling. âA gem performed by a gemâ The emphasis might have been lost on the crowd, but not on her as she snorted derisively. Good thoughts, Mhir, good thoughts. âUlâdah, may I have the pleasure to introduce you to Miss Mhir Iryut.â There was a jangle from her jewelry as she stepped catlike from the stairs in the back and  barefooted to the stage. Peacock feathers adorning her green tinged, flowy dress and the fans she kept a light grip on. Now that she was front and center those keen eyes could sweep the crowd once more, a proud look on her painted face as the first note began and with it came a leaping step that curled into a twirl as she unfurled her fans. Eyes catching sight of a figure that in the quickness of her turns, she didnât exactly know what to make of. Man? Possibly? They were hard to place, their back firmly planted against a pole. They seemed to be watching, as her eyes scanned for them once, twice, oh come now Mhir, a third time and you might actually seem desperately interested, but they were so out of place from the lively crowd. People who didnât hide their bodies and faces with hoods and cloaks. What were they hiding? Sheâd make a note to herself to maybe look for that one after her performance, body swaying in time to the beat as if second nature. And as the final chord was struck, so too did her last step with a loud jingle from her ankle bracelets, posing elegantly as the crowd erupted once again with cheers, she smiled and bowed, taking the time to once again search the crowd for that mysterious figure, heart thrumming in chest from the expended energy. She cleared off from the stage after one more final bow, waiting a while for the crowd to settle back in for the performance after herâs, sheâd snake her way around the cluster, hoping with a bit of goodluck whoever they were would still be in the same spot. Ah ha, her brows rose and a smirk pulled at her lip, there they were. âEnjoying the show?â Enjoying MY show? More like.
He didnât particularly consider himself a man of culture. First there had been the simple life in the Jungle, then everything else that hadnât really afforded opportunities to enjoy the finer things in life. Now, though? Well, he could if he so desired, at least to an extent. He still couldnât call himself rich; quite a few things remained out of his budget, but street performances like this one? Heâd seen some by now. However, the Ulâdahn dancers heâd had the pleasure of watching before were so very... Eorzean. And there was nothing wrong with that, certainly, but wasnât it fun to have a bit of variety in life every now and then? Or all the time? This provided that quite well. He didnât cheer along with the crowd, but he did join in on every applause, mouth drawn into an easy smile as he enjoyed the performances. And he did enjoy them, well and truly. Mightâve been fun to try something like that himself... Alas, he hardly had the skillset, nor did he know an instructor who could have taught him. Ah well. Perhaps one day. And though Xandrianâs attention was already firmly on the show, it only turned more rapt when the next dancer was introduced. That dancer was Viera, was why. A graceful woman was who padded onto the stage. Mhir Iryut, huh? And what was more, her skin tone easily marked her as a Rava. Well now. Wasnât this a pleasant surprise. All the more so when she began her performance. Her skill was apparent, her movements fluid and easy, appearing so natural to the last. He had to admit it was a pleasure to witness, the same as all the others who had already graced the stage. Sure, he wasnât the most educated critic of these things, but wasnât his enjoyment what personally needed to matter to him, anyway? He didnât need to care if someone else could have pointed out a thousand mistakes. Did he get a few looks from her too, or was he imagining that? Eh, likely imagining. Surely she was focused on her dance and little else. Based on the cheer of the crowd upon her finish, he wasnât the only one who had enjoyed her show. Once again Xandrianâs voice failed to join the downright festive mood, but he clapped his approvalâ And then settled to watch the next performer, quite assured the world would continue to ignore him. He was wrong. One of his hidden ears twitched when a womanâs voice spoke up, close enough to him that Xandrian glanced in its direction to make sure he wasnât the one being addressed. Except, considering she was looking straight at him, it appeared he was indeed the one the words were aimed at. And who else was it but the Viera dancer from moments ago. If that wasnât unexpected, big time. Xandrian hid his surprise behind an easy smile and a small laugh that heralded an outright grin that narrowed his eyes and wrinkled their corners. âAbsolutely. You have some damned skilled performers in your group. Donât see something like this every day.â His gaze flicked briefly back to the stage before returning to her, head canting slightly. Unsurprisingly she was a bit taller than him despite his stature being on the larger side for his gender, and her clothing... If the contrast to his simple garb wasnât stark, he didnât know what was. In his defense, it was his free time; no need for his armor. The simple browns of his attire blended well with his skin tone and the black strands of lengthy hair that escaped the confines of his hood, and while he didnât look so cheap as to not belong in this part of town, nor was his clothing in any way flashy. âSo, what brings you my way?â he asked after the briefest momentâs consideration, smile still firmly etched on his features, lopsided and relaxed. Curiosity was written in his dark eyes even if he didnât go further in voicing it.
