[center][color=royalblue][h3][i]Valentine/Edelessa of Luxième[/i][/h3][/color][/center]

Someone was talking to her.  Anton?  No, not Anton -- she couldn't rely on him here.  Someone else.  Her thoughts skittered over each other, insects thrown into chaos when someone overturned the log sheltering them.  She made a strangled noise when someone grabbed her hand, and yanked it away.  She couldn't let them find her.  If they caught her, she was dead.  She needed to hide, but she couldn't move.  Couldn't run, couldn't think, could hardly breathe.  When was the last time she'd inhaled?

[i]Start with breathing.[/i]

It was hard to do, but Val made herself suck in some air.  Someone was still trying to take her hand, and she tugged it free again, pulling it close to her chest.  With the breath a shred of logic penetrated the haze of terror.  She wasn't a child hiding in the palace ruins anymore.  She shouldn't be in any danger.  Emotion insisted, however, that if she took her back away from the wall they'd get her.

[i]Where are you?  Focus on the details.[/i]

A ballroom.  There was a curtain near her, and glass doors leading outside beyond that.  One of the wall held paintings.  And someone was with her, someone in a green suit who kept trying to take her hand.

Her hand.  She'd cut it.  It wasn't even a deep cut, and she'd totally panicked.  She'd managed to deal with worse -- but not while under so much stress.  Reminding herself of that detail didn't make her feel any better, and she lowered her head so that she couldn't see Prince Akio's face at all.  Finally some of what he was saying registered, and the offer of going outside earned him a small but earnest nod.  She pulled her hand away again, but this time took the kerchief with it and used her other hand to put pressure on her cut fingers.  She let Prince Akio lead her outside to a bench, but when he sat next to her she scooted away, squeezing herself against the arm and trying to make herself smaller.  At least she wasn't crying, though she felt like she might start at any moment.  She'd thoroughly botched the evening, and it had only just started.