At the time (and well into the future, perhaps always?) it seemed to him there was nothing more important than showing how strongly and terribly he loved Isra. There was no end to it, no single action to secure this sentiment now and forever more; it was a feeling that persisted-- no, that grew, wild and urgent, until he almost did not recognize the face behind the lovesick mask.
Little did he know, he would have no need for dancing in order to keep her attention or display the depth of his love. But he was a man of action when there was a cause worthy of rising to, and what cause is more worthy than love? On a more practical note, dance lessons seemed a better use of his time than moping around Solterra. He had nothing to lose except his pride, which he was careful to maintain and minimize wherever possible.
Mesnyi steps back, he steps forward. She steps forward, he steps back. The steps come easier than he expected. Although by no means a natural, he was a fast learner. He did not get swept away in the song, not in the way he had heard it described by others, but now and then he could feel how the music was driving the steps and the steps the music; and in those moments he saw very clearly the difference between movement and dance.
But then he would inevitably kick Mesnyi's shin or step forward with the wrong foot, and the beautiful truth would dissolve just before he could internalize it. "Sorry," he mutters after one such event. Despite the sincerity of his apology he does not have the spare focus to curl his lips up into a smile. In his mind, thanks to his magic, he can see so very clearly the dream, the dream, and it helps him to understand the movements but gods it takes a lot of concentration to dance and think. Sweat begins to break across his skin.
Eik tries to feel the story in the song and dance, the message encoded in the step to the left and the violin's mournful slide. "It's a sad ending?" This is entirely guesswork, based more on an understanding of star-crossed lovers than the dance he mimics with poor but growing skill.
"The color of god is a stain
shaped to you like a grief not yet to come"
art by Pherigo
@Mesnyi <3
Time makes fools of us all
