[ Hamel and Marco are going to have sex one day while doing their best not to talk about it and it's going to be incredibly magical, probably. For us, the players.
But she frowns sympathetically as she watches him, hesitating for a moment before carefully raising a hand to press her palm against his back. Solidarity. ]
This wasn't your fault. I think if something similar had happened to me, you would have done much the same.
[ Her frown flattens a bit, into a straighter line. ]
I don't really consider you to be someone I have to tap into my patience for, Marco. You are trying to help me, even as you panicked.
[ the touch startles him, his hand dropping back down to his side. his eyes snag on the unhappy line of her lips, and he realizes with a pang what he's doing. constance would get on his case about it all the time. get your head out of your ass, adriano. understand the world doesn't revolve around your pity party.
he draws in a deep breath. smothers it in the same second. he can't help the fresh stab of guilt over thinking about connie while he's technically on a date with someone else, but that's been his entire experience here, hasn't it? ]
It seems to have subsided, at least. Whatever it is.
[ still. despite all her understanding, he'll always feel bad for infringing on her privacy like that. willingly or not! ]
—Those double doors look promising. [ he gestures with his chin a little further down the hall. ] Right there. Should we take a look?
[ Hamel nods her acquiescence and they'll proceed down the hall until they reach those mysterious double doors. They look a lot heavier than they feel, moving forward beneath her palm when she tests the seam between them, and it gives way into...
Well, what could be some kind of room for parties? There's an empty stage in the corner and the floor looks well-kept, but there aren't any other indicators as to what manner of room this is supposed to be. ]
I think this... could work? [ She glances over at Marco, inquisitively, then glances down at herself. ]
[ marco doesn't know jack shit about dancing, but what he sees upon entering is a wide, open space. certainly, if dancing were to happen anywhere, it would be there? but it's not as if he knows what kind of dancing hamel does (there had been, of course, that brief moment in their first meeting he had unfairly assumed she was an exotic dancer) so when she turns to him for his opinion, he can do little else but give her a mildly wide-eyed and helpless sort of look. the shrug is all but confirmation of how out of his depth he is, but as for the tablecloth... well. he can give a more definitive answer with that, at least. ]
Yes, I... think it should be fine.
[ he Does Not Think It'll Be Fine, actually, but he doesn't want the cloth to be cumbersome to her movements. he resolves in that moment to simply suck it up if it happens again — or just keep looking to her face, honestly. it feels a little dishonest, but he can cross that bridge when he gets there.
[ Give Hamel a moment to unknot the tablecloth and place it on the stage, higher up so neither of them slips on it. Because that would be a bit of a mood-killer if they go toppling during this. With that accomplished, she turns back to him, and the quiet, shy demeanor she tends to wrap herself up in similarly falls away.
Well, she's still quiet, but there's a decisiveness in the way she faces Marco, reaching for his hand to clasp and directing his other arm to have that one rest at her waist. It could also rest at her back, but this gives them at least a little space, in the event he needs it. Her free hand moves to his shoulder. ]
I'll lead. For a step I move forward, you'll move back. My right will be your left. And so on. I promise, it's rather simple.
[ it's a rock and a hard place, isn't it? opt for the hand on the back, you risk being Too Close. settle for the hand on the waist, and you're left to sit with the fact your hand can almost entirely span the width of her waist from thumb to pinky.
he forces himself to focus on her steady voice, on this new veil of confidence rippling over her like lace. ]
[ Hamel offers him a smile, taps her foot lightly against the floor--
And it's as though the room itself has vanished. The air is no longer still, a warm breeze flowing between them. The sky (and there is a sky, most suddenly) is awash with oranges, pinks, and yellows, fading slowly into a deeper purple and a softer blue towards the horizon. That warmth feels as though it could very easily seep into one's skin, and more strangely (though this is probably all a bit unusual), there's music out of nowhere.
But Hamel squeezes Marco's hand and she's off and swooping into the dance, guiding him into a lively series of movements. It might have been better to start with something slower, but she's leading; she won't let him stumble.
This is what her impression of him translates to. This warm, comforting scene that inspires enough energy to step lightly--this feels like Marco to her. ]
[ of all the pace they might have taken, a fast, upbeat one was not one marco would have even considered to be in the top three. he's surprised by it, certainly — almost as surprised as he was by the illusions themselves, the way it wafts over him and blends in with the air around them so seamlessly. to marco, they are outside, in some wonderful field of colors that stretches on beyond what the eye can see. beneath their feet he doesn't hear the hollow sounds of a near-empty ballroom, ears too filled by the music seeming to come from everywhere.
honestly, it's a lot for the mind to even comprehend. and so, perhaps wisely, he decides not to think at all.
(perhaps if he had, he might have realized how the instinctive way his body responds to the push and pull of her leading is not unlike the way hunters were taught to monitor and predict their enemies' movements. that he can follow along almost seamlessly because his body has only ever known that quick reactions guaranteed survival. no, it's best he doesn't stop to consider that at all.)
before he knows it, his lips have spread into a wide smile. it's a dizzying thing, dancing like this, but he tethers himself to the fierce light in her eyes and the assured way she holds onto him, guiding him along. if he's breathless at all, it's not out of exertion, but from sheer surprise at how delightful dancing can be. ]
[ It's really all she could hope for. Marco's initial surprise she'd expected, but he doesn't seem to be opposed to it, and she thinks maybe, what she can offer is a bit of a reprieve from their reality. Contained to a dance, yes, which means it's momentary.
But his smile is a warm, delighted thing and she's relieved at the sight of it. He doesn't require much guiding, as she'd thought; whatever life experiences he's had, they've molded him into someone who can follow her movements closely.
It's... fun, Hamel realizes, that same warmth brightening her smile as she meets his eyes, spinning them both. It really is a different kind of experience, isn't it? Dancing with a partner. ]
right up until that moment she smiles at him, gives him that gentle encouragement. like a switch his brain turns itself off, and it's as if his mind kicks into overdrive to try and make up for those few brief minutes it'd been off. he's all too aware, then, where his hands are, what his feet are doing, the spins and the twirls and the beat thumping away in his head—
he missteps. or rather, he steps on her, and no matter how much of a professional she is there's just no easy recovery when a 200+ pound man smashes your toes with his big clumsy feet. he all but collides against her a second later, but fortunately manages to side-step enough that he doesn't crush even more of her toes.
[ Yeah, sadly even Hamel cannot recover gracefully from getting her toes stepped on. She's already stepping with a little bit of a hop (the nicest way to not just mention how much that hurts in the moment) to avoid further mishap, coming to a stop.
Thankfully for the moment, the illusion remains, though the music has softened in volume. ]
It's all right. [ Resettling on both feet, a little gingerly. ] I should be the one apologizing... I must have startled you.
[ He'd probably been focused on any other thing; she can't possibly fault him for her words jarring him out of it. ]
[ Well. Maybe it's a little bruised, she amends (to herself), after testing the weight. The illusions shimmer briefly around them and then they're back in the ballroom, near that low stage. That's probably good enough, she thinks, nodding towards that. ]
[ his hands are, perhaps surprisingly, gentle as he eases her shoe off and sets it down on the ground. gentle still as he lifts her foot just high enough to inspect. some redness, and even the beginning signs of some bruising, but fortunately little else.
BIG SIGH OF RELIEF ALL AROUND that he has not damaged the house's greatest treasure!! ]
All things considered, I'm sure it could have been much worse. Let me know if it starts to really bother you.
[ he'll just gently slip her shoe back on, fingers light along her ankle and calf. ]
I will, but it truly isn't anything I would deem a problem.
[ And she tries to sound as gently reassuring as she can, because it's obvious he feels bad about it. While also sounding a little distracted, because his touch feels nice. She's not surprised by the gentleness of his hands, not when she's starting to get a better grasp of his personality beyond her initial observation of him. ]
So please don't worry, Marco. I would happily dance with you again, whenever you like.
[ She's not anyone's greatest treasure! She's just a dancer!! ]
[ he rises back up to stand, but quickly takes a seat (a respectable distance!) beside her if only so she doesn't feel the need to stand back up before she's ready. his hands lace over his lap, a wry smile on his lips. ]
I was getting the hang of it, until the very end. A couple more times and I think I could probably do it without much issue.
[ he looks around the expansive room, missing the colors of her illusions already. ]
It's easier when I dance. If I don't have a specific image in mind, like I might for an audience, I just allow my thoughts of my dance partner to define what the illusion will look like.
[ He's too smart, she would have definitely hopped down if he hadn't sat down beside her, so as not to keep him waiting. Now forced to relax a little, Hamel gazes in front of her. ]
Sometimes the illusions will still appear, even when I'm not dancing, but... they're more like memories or manifested fears.
... But I'm glad, that you weren't uncomfortable with... all of this.
[ he thinks about that for a moment — just a moment, because any longer and he might not like where his thoughts take him — about the vast open field and the blooming colors of the sky. is that what she thinks of him? or was she just filling in the blanks for what she might think her audience — in this case it would be him, wouldn't it? — would like? ]
I wasn't sure what to expect.
[ admittedly, there had been a part of him worried about it, especially after falling victim to the house's own brand of "illusion." there certainly isn't anything like this where he's from, and the more guarded part of him hated the idea of being at the mercy of someone else's whims... but it was just as he thought — hamel didn't seek to hurt or humiliate him. and he'd actually had fun. ]
I don't think I mind it.
[ the calloused parts of his thumbs trace over the line of his interlaced fingers, a corner of his lips turning up just so. ]
[ Her eyes flick back to his face, visibly surprised. From how he words it, it's not anything unusual at first. Of course he wouldn't know what to expect. Illusions, the things Hamel had seen, how she could bring others into those feelings and intentions given life in all but reality... it's not very natural. He hadn't needed to agree to this, especially if he hadn't known what to expect.
But he had said if it was her...
She draws in a quiet breath. Because it's her, he doesn't mind it? ]
No, Miss Hamel. I should be thanking you for that.
[ dancing is a partnership, isn't it? that's the main difference between a dance and a fight. in a fight, you are at odds, meant to overpower the other. but in a dance, the two must work together to create something beautiful. and in order to be partners, the trust must go both ways.
marco trusting hamel to create something beautiful is no feat. it's a given, honestly. but hamel trusting he would be capable of doing so in turn? that's a far greater ask than she realizes... but of course she wouldn't think so, when she hasn't yet known all the ugly that can come from his hands.
he stands, finally. the time for illusions is over. ]
[ She doesn't want to make him feel obligated to escort her, but it also feels as though he would feel bad if she turned him down, so there's really no winning here. Hamel pauses, then offers him a smile and her hand. ]
If you wouldn't mind. I hope we'll be able to share another dance soon.
[ She'd happily share a moment like that with him again. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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But she frowns sympathetically as she watches him, hesitating for a moment before carefully raising a hand to press her palm against his back. Solidarity. ]
This wasn't your fault. I think if something similar had happened to me, you would have done much the same.
[ Her frown flattens a bit, into a straighter line. ]
I don't really consider you to be someone I have to tap into my patience for, Marco. You are trying to help me, even as you panicked.
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he draws in a deep breath. smothers it in the same second. he can't help the fresh stab of guilt over thinking about connie while he's technically on a date with someone else, but that's been his entire experience here, hasn't it? ]
It seems to have subsided, at least. Whatever it is.
[ still. despite all her understanding, he'll always feel bad for infringing on her privacy like that. willingly or not! ]
—Those double doors look promising. [ he gestures with his chin a little further down the hall. ] Right there. Should we take a look?
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Well, what could be some kind of room for parties? There's an empty stage in the corner and the floor looks well-kept, but there aren't any other indicators as to what manner of room this is supposed to be. ]
I think this... could work? [ She glances over at Marco, inquisitively, then glances down at herself. ]
... Is it all right to remove this?
[ He did say it subsided, right? ]
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Yes, I... think it should be fine.
[ he Does Not Think It'll Be Fine, actually, but he doesn't want the cloth to be cumbersome to her movements. he resolves in that moment to simply suck it up if it happens again — or just keep looking to her face, honestly. it feels a little dishonest, but he can cross that bridge when he gets there.
he stands 🧍♂️ waiting. ]
What should I do...?
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Well, she's still quiet, but there's a decisiveness in the way she faces Marco, reaching for his hand to clasp and directing his other arm to have that one rest at her waist. It could also rest at her back, but this gives them at least a little space, in the event he needs it. Her free hand moves to his shoulder. ]
I'll lead. For a step I move forward, you'll move back. My right will be your left. And so on. I promise, it's rather simple.
[ Her eyes meet his, searching. ]
Are you ready?
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he forces himself to focus on her steady voice, on this new veil of confidence rippling over her like lace. ]
As I'll ever be, I think.
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And it's as though the room itself has vanished. The air is no longer still, a warm breeze flowing between them. The sky (and there is a sky, most suddenly) is awash with oranges, pinks, and yellows, fading slowly into a deeper purple and a softer blue towards the horizon. That warmth feels as though it could very easily seep into one's skin, and more strangely (though this is probably all a bit unusual), there's music out of nowhere.
But Hamel squeezes Marco's hand and she's off and swooping into the dance, guiding him into a lively series of movements. It might have been better to start with something slower, but she's leading; she won't let him stumble.
This is what her impression of him translates to. This warm, comforting scene that inspires enough energy to step lightly--this feels like Marco to her. ]
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honestly, it's a lot for the mind to even comprehend. and so, perhaps wisely, he decides not to think at all.
(perhaps if he had, he might have realized how the instinctive way his body responds to the push and pull of her leading is not unlike the way hunters were taught to monitor and predict their enemies' movements. that he can follow along almost seamlessly because his body has only ever known that quick reactions guaranteed survival. no, it's best he doesn't stop to consider that at all.)
before he knows it, his lips have spread into a wide smile. it's a dizzying thing, dancing like this, but he tethers himself to the fierce light in her eyes and the assured way she holds onto him, guiding him along. if he's breathless at all, it's not out of exertion, but from sheer surprise at how delightful dancing can be. ]
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But his smile is a warm, delighted thing and she's relieved at the sight of it. He doesn't require much guiding, as she'd thought; whatever life experiences he's had, they've molded him into someone who can follow her movements closely.
It's... fun, Hamel realizes, that same warmth brightening her smile as she meets his eyes, spinning them both. It really is a different kind of experience, isn't it? Dancing with a partner. ]
See?
[ A gentle murmur. ]
You're doing just fine.
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he was doing just fine.
right up until that moment she smiles at him, gives him that gentle encouragement. like a switch his brain turns itself off, and it's as if his mind kicks into overdrive to try and make up for those few brief minutes it'd been off. he's all too aware, then, where his hands are, what his feet are doing, the spins and the twirls and the beat thumping away in his head—
he missteps. or rather, he steps on her, and no matter how much of a professional she is there's just no easy recovery when a 200+ pound man smashes your toes with his big clumsy feet. he all but collides against her a second later, but fortunately manages to side-step enough that he doesn't crush even more of her toes.
ah... and he'd been doing so well. ]
S-Sorry...
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Thankfully for the moment, the illusion remains, though the music has softened in volume. ]
It's all right. [ Resettling on both feet, a little gingerly. ] I should be the one apologizing... I must have startled you.
[ He'd probably been focused on any other thing; she can't possibly fault him for her words jarring him out of it. ]
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You were lovely and encouraging. I got too in my head about it, that's all.
[ she will soon find (or perhaps she's already there) that this is a very prominent flaw of his. ]
Do you want to sit? I can help you to a seat...
[ er, if he can even find one. ]
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[ Well. Maybe it's a little bruised, she amends (to herself), after testing the weight. The illusions shimmer briefly around them and then they're back in the ballroom, near that low stage. That's probably good enough, she thinks, nodding towards that. ]
... Would that work? The edge?
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How's this?
[ once she's sat down, he moves to stand before her, dropping down to a knee. he doesn't reach yet for her foot, but the intent is clear. ]
Should I take a look...?
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Thankfully, yes. Nothing broken. Maybe there's some very faint bruising, some redness.
She's going to be fine!! ]
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BIG SIGH OF RELIEF ALL AROUND that he has not damaged the house's greatest treasure!! ]
All things considered, I'm sure it could have been much worse. Let me know if it starts to really bother you.
[ he'll just gently slip her shoe back on, fingers light along her ankle and calf. ]
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[ And she tries to sound as gently reassuring as she can, because it's obvious he feels bad about it. While also sounding a little distracted, because his touch feels nice. She's not surprised by the gentleness of his hands, not when she's starting to get a better grasp of his personality beyond her initial observation of him. ]
So please don't worry, Marco. I would happily dance with you again, whenever you like.
[ She's not anyone's greatest treasure! She's just a dancer!! ]
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I was getting the hang of it, until the very end. A couple more times and I think I could probably do it without much issue.
[ he looks around the expansive room, missing the colors of her illusions already. ]
It's a nice way to pass the time, for sure.
[ glancing over, he tips his head a little. ]
Is it much work, casting your illusions?
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[ He's too smart, she would have definitely hopped down if he hadn't sat down beside her, so as not to keep him waiting. Now forced to relax a little, Hamel gazes in front of her. ]
Sometimes the illusions will still appear, even when I'm not dancing, but... they're more like memories or manifested fears.
... But I'm glad, that you weren't uncomfortable with... all of this.
[ Normal people don't make illusions. ]
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I wasn't sure what to expect.
[ admittedly, there had been a part of him worried about it, especially after falling victim to the house's own brand of "illusion." there certainly isn't anything like this where he's from, and the more guarded part of him hated the idea of being at the mercy of someone else's whims... but it was just as he thought — hamel didn't seek to hurt or humiliate him. and he'd actually had fun. ]
I don't think I mind it.
[ the calloused parts of his thumbs trace over the line of his interlaced fingers, a corner of his lips turning up just so. ]
If it's Miss Hamel, I don't mind it at all.
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[ Her eyes flick back to his face, visibly surprised. From how he words it, it's not anything unusual at first. Of course he wouldn't know what to expect. Illusions, the things Hamel had seen, how she could bring others into those feelings and intentions given life in all but reality... it's not very natural. He hadn't needed to agree to this, especially if he hadn't known what to expect.
But he had said if it was her...
She draws in a quiet breath. Because it's her, he doesn't mind it? ]
Thank you...
... For being willing to trust me.
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No, Miss Hamel. I should be thanking you for that.
[ dancing is a partnership, isn't it? that's the main difference between a dance and a fight. in a fight, you are at odds, meant to overpower the other. but in a dance, the two must work together to create something beautiful. and in order to be partners, the trust must go both ways.
marco trusting hamel to create something beautiful is no feat. it's a given, honestly. but hamel trusting he would be capable of doing so in turn? that's a far greater ask than she realizes... but of course she wouldn't think so, when she hasn't yet known all the ugly that can come from his hands.
he stands, finally. the time for illusions is over. ]
Can I escort you back to your room?
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If you wouldn't mind. I hope we'll be able to share another dance soon.
[ She'd happily share a moment like that with him again. ]