Alina is frozen in time. One foot forward, one hand out, halfway through a normal stride and either not daring or not able to finish it and follow through to the next one. The look of relief on her face got halfway to manic before it stuck there, probably forever, so now she's just sort of grinning like a complete buffoon. Her blush is a near perfect match to Rita's, for whatever that's worth. 

Ourania above, why doesn't [i]anything ever[/i] go the way she plans it? 

Somebody coughs. Tick tock, the spell unravels; time resumes. Alina squeaks and she hops and nnnf! Rhyza! Rhyyyyzaaaaaa! Give her back that cloack, Rhyza! Give it give it give it! But every twist and graceful leap is defeated by the skill and speed that makes Rhyza such a great mercenary. Also, the extremely unfair fact that her arms can reach unfairly high. Alina lands, cloakless, spins on the balls of her feet and... notices Rita. She smiles.

Alina's dance tonight is a mix of Illuminan ballet and Jedadi belly dancing. Most of her audience has seen the latter already and she can't afford to look stale now can she? So she twirls and she rises onto the points of her toes as she stretches her leg all the way over her head before bending back down like water over rocks, and sensually rocking her hips. Step, step, shimmy. She rolls her petite princess tummy all for her Rita before she pivots, turns, step one two and step one two and pose!

Her foot snakes out and up, slowly lifting her smooth, bare leg up and closer, closer, closer to Rita, toward her stomach, and then... oh so gently... nudges her love into a chair. She makes a show of bending down to pick up a silk scarf that hasn't made its way into the evening's activities yet, and wraps it around her shoulders. She shimmies and she waves the scarf almost like her battle ribbon, but always pulls it close against her again and lets it kiss every inch of exposed skin bit by bit. She circles around behind Rita's chair, wraps the scarf around her, and pulls. Snug and safe and gentle, across her stomach, over her chest, tickling her chin, draping over her eyes. 

Alina bends impossibly over the chair and sets herself neatly in Rita's lap, reaching up with one hand to run fingers through her girlfriend's hair while the other sensually traces the line of her jaw. She leans in and kisses her softly, right on the lips, then leans out again and lets her fingers tease their way across Rita's face once more. 

"Rita?" she purrs, "My heart, my light, my summer song, my pretty little kitty? O sweet end of my rainbow, my darling sunbeam, dearest love of my life? I see that you're... busy, but may I pleeeeeeeaaaase borrow a change of clothes? I was hoping to properly introduce you to my friend tonight~"

Dearly gathered princesses (and Desert Queens), I ask you: is there any sight in the world more beautiful, more precious, or indeed more dangerous than the look of a princess trying to charm the pants off of her lover? Or, for that matter, onto herself?