So he decided to take the bait.
Sophia's smile turned a touch conspirational, and she marveled at the reliability of a rakish man to enable her post-performance lark. Wedding band on his finger or not, they were all the same, weren't they? So much so that she hadn't even waited to hear his affirmative response; she already glanced back to digest all the information needed to slowly move into position.
As long as Sophia could remember, she experienced this feeling after every performance: euphoria, numbness, and hours of heady energy to burn. That feeling addicted her to dance. Burning in place, though, proved to be more self-destructive as of late. Better to burn like a bright comet instead, at least out here, for all to enjoy (and maybe even reward).
"Goodness, raised by poets? That must have been very difficult for you," she furrowed her brow in playful concern. With a gesture to look down to their feet with her drink-free hand, Sophia indicated the beginning of her little parlor trick. "Very well, I hope to receive your review of my performance in iambic pentameter. Now are you watching closely?" The ballerina had gone up to the balls of her feet, and with practiced grace even in flat slippers, moved to the very tips of her toes. The effect was a single long line that surely looked like an ankle about to break. Taking many small and delicate steps in place, not unlike the flutter of a bird's wing, produced the on-stage effect of seemingly floating.
"There are no magical props affixed to the dancers, of course," she explained, arms gracefully maneuvering about her like a swan. "Depending on the country, we're prohibited from even having our wands on stage. Not that we need to. A dancer's body is very finely tuned, their mettle measured by endurance, poise, and impeccable timing."
So delicate was her next movement that many only noticed Sophia's gentle pitch forward once her left foot was already in flight behind her. Gently, her drink-free hand opened back towards the raised left foot, which continued its ascent until it was well overhead in a second position arabesque. Though how strange it might seem to her lone witness - not many around them seemed to notice. Why?
Perhaps her next move held a clue? Keeping impressively still balance, evidenced by the drink in hand that hardly stirred, the woman turned out her floating foot. It drifted dangerously close to the back of a patron's head. A particularly strong wizard might sense the whisper of magical energy that drifted from her slender fingertips in that direction.
Tap. Her raised foot nudged the brim of the patron's hat, and tapped it a second time, finally a third, before the man's hat popped off his head altogether. Bizarrely, he and his companion continued their conversation undisturbed. The tophat, on the other hand, rolled smoothly from its perch down her ankle, before her fingers beckoned its rolling to continue into her hand. The woman deftly lowered her leg into a low curtsy, placing the tophat on her head. A smattering of applause and giggles emerged from around them, while most others simply glanced around, not quite sure what they missed.
"There you have it. Now you can say you've had a close encounter with a dancer," she laughed as she came back to a stand, adjusting the too-big hat to sit further back on her head. "I wonder how long until he notices?"
Sophia's smile turned a touch conspirational, and she marveled at the reliability of a rakish man to enable her post-performance lark. Wedding band on his finger or not, they were all the same, weren't they? So much so that she hadn't even waited to hear his affirmative response; she already glanced back to digest all the information needed to slowly move into position.
As long as Sophia could remember, she experienced this feeling after every performance: euphoria, numbness, and hours of heady energy to burn. That feeling addicted her to dance. Burning in place, though, proved to be more self-destructive as of late. Better to burn like a bright comet instead, at least out here, for all to enjoy (and maybe even reward).
"Goodness, raised by poets? That must have been very difficult for you," she furrowed her brow in playful concern. With a gesture to look down to their feet with her drink-free hand, Sophia indicated the beginning of her little parlor trick. "Very well, I hope to receive your review of my performance in iambic pentameter. Now are you watching closely?" The ballerina had gone up to the balls of her feet, and with practiced grace even in flat slippers, moved to the very tips of her toes. The effect was a single long line that surely looked like an ankle about to break. Taking many small and delicate steps in place, not unlike the flutter of a bird's wing, produced the on-stage effect of seemingly floating.
"There are no magical props affixed to the dancers, of course," she explained, arms gracefully maneuvering about her like a swan. "Depending on the country, we're prohibited from even having our wands on stage. Not that we need to. A dancer's body is very finely tuned, their mettle measured by endurance, poise, and impeccable timing."
So delicate was her next movement that many only noticed Sophia's gentle pitch forward once her left foot was already in flight behind her. Gently, her drink-free hand opened back towards the raised left foot, which continued its ascent until it was well overhead in a second position arabesque. Though how strange it might seem to her lone witness - not many around them seemed to notice. Why?
Perhaps her next move held a clue? Keeping impressively still balance, evidenced by the drink in hand that hardly stirred, the woman turned out her floating foot. It drifted dangerously close to the back of a patron's head. A particularly strong wizard might sense the whisper of magical energy that drifted from her slender fingertips in that direction.
Tap. Her raised foot nudged the brim of the patron's hat, and tapped it a second time, finally a third, before the man's hat popped off his head altogether. Bizarrely, he and his companion continued their conversation undisturbed. The tophat, on the other hand, rolled smoothly from its perch down her ankle, before her fingers beckoned its rolling to continue into her hand. The woman deftly lowered her leg into a low curtsy, placing the tophat on her head. A smattering of applause and giggles emerged from around them, while most others simply glanced around, not quite sure what they missed.
"There you have it. Now you can say you've had a close encounter with a dancer," she laughed as she came back to a stand, adjusting the too-big hat to sit further back on her head. "I wonder how long until he notices?"
![[Image: bwQbAnd.png]](https://i.imgur.com/bwQbAnd.png)
thank you gin for the set<3
![[Image: event.png]](https://www.tickerfactory.com/ezt/d/4;10402;442/st/20240612/e/scandal+is+due/dt/0/k/92a8/event.png)