Amelie's eyes take on a sparkle not at all unlike the snowflakes that fall through the Shroud's canopy and into the Starlight Stalls' clearing to mark the time of year. For a moment, she's somewhere else. Some-when-else.
An ungloved hand -- perhaps not her most pragmatic moment, going ungloved in the snow -- reaches out to catch a few of those snowflakes on the tips of fingers that are as long and as elegant as one might expect an Elezen noblewoman's to be, despite that they're somehow also as honest as anyone's that have ever worked the earth. She watches the crystalline precipitation collect, shimmer, and melt upon her skin.
Her enchantment is by some few degrees muted when a familiar voice reaches her delicately tipped ears from some yalms ahead of her. Still, the Starlight sparkle is fixed in her icy irises, and there's a pleasant rose flush in her ivory cheeks that's equal parts the weather and the festivities. The aesthete in her begs her not to pull her hand in from her collection of melting snowflakes just yet. It takes her a few long-legged strides' worth of closing the space between she and the entourage she lingers behind to find the will.
Adapted from a recent RP outing with friends to the Starlight Stalls. Happy Starlight Celebration, FFXIV fam.
