P a n g a e a
we could worry about them what ifs
'til the world stops turnin'
or i could kiss you what if you liked it
The last week had been like trying to nail a screw into a rock with nothing but a piece of paper. She was really starting to worry that she'd been reading so much of the tensions wrong. That it really was one sided. That what she felt for him, the ache; was just on her side. That he really only saw the saurian woman as his patient, not . . . Not his woman. Even curled up under the stars, he never failed to prove he was such a perfect, candidate for a freaking angel, absolute celibate gentleman.
She wasn't flirting with a rock, she was flirting with a glacier. So cold she could burn herself on it. But when she felt just a little bit of a give in the armor, she dived in as quickly as she could, desperate to prove to him what was between them.
But tonight the air was alive with laughter. He'd managed his tent, even as she explored the stalls, keeping close enough to rush back to his side when the crowds became too much. But as the day darkened, as the bonfire was built, as the coming dance was called, she playfully trotted to his medic's tent, the sweet scent of wine on her muzzle as she dipped her muzzle over Gareth's back, nibbling on the bound locks of his mane.
She'd stopped obeying their careful distance a week ago, and in that same amount of time, she willingly reached out to him in such ease, that she was noticeably more relaxed. "The dance will be starting soon! Should I save you a dance, handsome?" The slightly tipsy maiden asks as she pulls herself from him. "I'll see you at the bonfire!" She promises, before sliding past him and out the tent.
She doesn't head straight for the fire, however, having been told about a small shop with clothing available for the dance. She enters slowly, looking over the shawls, veils, and scarves. It doesn't take her long, golden, slightly sheer scarves tied around the bindings in her hair, the jingle of the bells sewn into the fabric chiming. A shawl that flickers like fire is draped over her back, around her wings. She spins in the mirror and smiles at the way the fabric swirls around her, tiny anklets with bells in her limbs making each step chime in tune with the bells in her hair.
She eagerly heads to the bonfire, already hearing the barda having start up in song. Her gaze glances around, and she frowns to note Gareth isn't here yet, but she chooses not to focus on that, already swaying the the music. Her talons scrape along the laid out stone to keep the meadow protected from the fire, and some of the dancers give her a little more space.
She hardly notices, swaying and spinning, sometimes on two legs usually on all four. Sparks kick up in time with the bells, the fabrics draping her body floating around her, a playful smile on her face as she dances with the sparks
what if I was made for you and you were made for me
"Speech"
Thoughts
@Gareth
Notes: <3
what if this is it what if it's meant to be
what if i ain't one of them fools just playin' some game
what if i just pulled you close what if i leaned in
and the stars line up and it's our last first kiss
what if one of these days baby i'd go and change your name
what if i loved all these what ifs away
