Oh, so she was wrong. [i]This[/i] is what it feels like to fly.

Yue shivers, and it has nothing to do with the evening chill. What was that? What [i]was[/i] that? What is this? She only had it for a second, just the length of a simple spin (and even that was with Hyra doing everything for her), but still! But... still. She spun and her legs went this way and her hips went that way and her arms lifted else way and she did it all while holding a sword and that meant, it meant, she was transformed into a heroine out of a beautiful song. And that's the most powerful magic that she's felt all night.

It makes her want to laugh. It makes her want to drink. It makes her want to twirl some more, just to feel the dance moving through her body a little bit more. She settles for letting another tingly shiver of pleasure ripples up her spine and grinning breathlessly instead. She's a good girl, not moving except where those warm (and strong. and soft...) hands guide her. And of course, never letting go of her sword. She could do anything in this moment. A single one of those fingers pressed atop her lips would be enough to turn her mute until it lifted.

And isn't it funny, the way this isn't a dream come true? To live your dreams you have to dream them first, and even Yue's wishing heart didn't dare imagine her first adventure could feel so soft. Or smell so nice, gosh. Or, um! Wr-wrap around her l-like, that is, the feeling of two strong arms taking her trembling ones in hand and pulling her in from behind so that the whole world turns to soft skin and softer pillows and leather. She is a puppet. If she strained, if she struggled, if she even wanted to she couldn't budge herself an inch in a direction or a manner that Hyra didn't tell her to. 

The chill of the air glides across her skin and pricks through her dress like a series of sewing needles until her whole body is abuzz with tingling, prickling, tickling, bubbling feelings that she's not smart enough or fast enough to capture and label them all on her own. But if she had to try, she'd probably compare it to biting into honeycomb, or maybe bathing in the great Terraced Lake in the deepest part of the night, where just hours ago a thousand feet had passed but now no eyes were there to see you lifting yourself from the warm, shallow waters even if they strained to try. She'd call it... mmm, safety maybe. Or comfort. No, she'd call it 'strength', or maybe all of these things wrapped up into a ball, except that they're a physical thing she feels in her skin and her muscles and her bones and inside her mind and heart, not flavors or ideas. Even the subtle movements of her dress burst across her sensitive body like sunspots in this moment. 

She has to force her eyes to stay open when she wants so badly to let them close and just trust everything to Hyra, but she can't afford to, not right now, she doesn't dare let herself miss a moment of her very first dance. Because, if it's her last one too she'd never forgive herself for missing even a single insignificant detail. Her heart is throbbing and for some reason her silly lake-blue eyes are lake-wet too, and every last stitch of her soul is trembling with want to whisper I love you and I love you and I love you, and shyly ask how long she would be allowed to have this, and if she really is so special then how much of herself would she need to pay to make that answer be forever?

But she doesn't do [i]that![/i] Of course she doesn't, are you silly? There's another question that steals out from her lips, and maybe that's the reason for the wetness in her eyes. 

"Does that mean that... princesses can't see how beautiful they are? That's too sad. That's... I would never want to, I, I don't think..." she swallows and continues, and her fever spreads, "Does... does that mean that you don't know how beautiful [i]you[/i] are?"