For a moment, Hazel Valentine Fletcher wavers. The Dark Dragon stabs to his heart, and he knows he deserves it. He screwed up. She hates him. She hates the world. She hates herself. He’s getting a bad grade in helping her. He’s getting a bad grade in being the ocean, which he didn’t even realize he was supposed to be, but he definitely should’ve, if he’d just thought harder about it. Idiot. Stupid. Failure.

And then the beat steals his breath away.

What’s a song like that doing in a Thellamie like this? [i]How’s[/i] a song like that in a Thellamie like this?! The cuts. The effects. The hymn, ever-roaring. A song of selfishness, a song of fire, a song with a [i]flow[/i] to it. He is bobbing, bouncing, motion taking over him without thought. He glances

(Ha ha okay w ow)

at Sayanastia. Only at Sayanastia. Sayanastia is what he’s looking at. He’s looking. At Sayanastia.

(Okay. Ah. Hrm. Well? Well. Yuki. Had not mentioned. That Thellamie had also developed pole dancing. And. Um. Many dance styles! That he thought were only featured in music videos! Not! Performed exuberantly in the club! Castle! Crumbling club castle! And, no, just. Forget what he’s seeing in his peripheral vision. Yes peripheral vision really notices motion, that’s the whole point of it but it’s not particularly helpful right now!

Odd that nobody’s got glowsticks. This feels like a song for twirling glowsticks. Have they not gotten that far yet? Is pole dancing lower on the tech tree than Cascada?)

Sayanastia.

[i]this thing of becoming[/i]

Under spell, under starlight,

[i]this yearning, transformative spark of potential[/i]

under curse, under pulsing, heady beat,

[i]this water-man who takes the shape of anything he is poured into[/i]

there stood Sayanastia.

Alone.

[hr]

[b]Sayanastia![/b]

The Golden Fawn leaps across the stars before you.

He lands, one foot driving into the cracked stones, finding a scrap of purchase, and he leaps again. Momentum twists him, and he does not fight it, his long sleeves whipping a graceful arc through the air. One two! On his feet. One two! Bend and pose. One two! One two! Dun-dun! Dun-dun! Du-du-du-du-du-du-du-dun! 

First, the kicking and wheeling of the huntress’ battle-dance, orbiting a new star. Reach, and retreat, and clutch to his chest, and spin with the one-two-three-four of a maid knight far from home. Then sway. Sway. And stomp. Sway. And stomp. A wave passed from a princess someplace far, far away. But faster now. Faster now. Faster now! The music picks up, and so does he, and though some of his hip swishes look a little more like flailing, a pair of [i]ashiqs[/i] would be proud he hasn’t forgotten to look at his audience.

The music falls, settling into a bridge. Hazel stops, one-two-step. Hand out. Hand open. Hand steady. 

Just like a knight of Kel.

It’s not a dance. It’s a bunch of dances smushed together, not bothering to pretend at being a coherent dance, much less a good one. But that’s okay. A show doesn’t need to be a dance. A show can be a pile of loves, bound together with joy and delight, all for the simple thrill of body moving to beat.

It’s a show for Sayanastia. It’s a show for you.

“I’m sorry!” He declares, catching his breath. “I don’t actually know how to ask someone to dance!”

Your curse flickers on the palm of his hand. Perhaps hate blinded you to its full truth. Perhaps music reveals it.

When water is cold, when water is biting, it takes no form but the one it fell into. It holds it, stubbornly, until it shatters. But when water is warm, when water is welcoming, it can take any form you pour it into. It can accept any part of you. It can embrace you, all of you, without shying away.

What does the water-man shape himself for, if not for love?

Hazel wants to dance with you. Hazel would be honored to dance with you. It is a dream beyond imagining that Hazel should have a chance to dance with you. Here and now. As you are. For this little step of your story.

What does Hazel perform for, if not for love?

Your curse flickers on the palm of his hand. Offered as freely as the dance.

Well?

If you hate this curse so much, why not give him a better one?

[Rolling to Entice Sayanastia, by the power of rhythm games: 3 + 5 - 1 + 1 = [b]8[/b]]