[He starts out tentative at first - it's been what, two years now? hard to believe - but the repetition and practice of his youth comes back to him gradually, all muscle memory and more confidence in his ability to move with and touch her than he'd had back then. It takes less time for him to lift his gaze and focus on her, rather than their shifting feet, less time to smile and relax as they flow through each stage of the dance. Where once he was nervous and stumbling over directions, now his shoulders are lifted, his back straight, his hands gliding easily from one position to another against her. Where once he couldn't decide where to rest his eyes and darted them uncertainly around, now he watches her move, echoing her body language, her joy. Where once he was sad and quiet, carrying the heavy burden of a fallen kingdom, now he is settled into the path he's meant to take, living in his borrowed time as happily as he's able. Rather than a lesson, this feels more like a true representation of what the dance would be like, ceremonially and emotionally, between two bonded partners. They've come a long way, and even he recognizes it.
He spins her out towards each corner, his arms opening up to welcome her back each time before he sends her out once more. They turn, they circle, dancing to a tune heard only in their minds. When they reach the finale, he needs no permission from her this time: his hands touch her waist and raise her up, turning them about in a full circle, before he lowers her into the one-handed dip, the other raised up towards the sun. He poses, he waits, he breathes.
The disturbed snow at their feet paints the vague silhouette of a flower, with the two perfectly centered.]
no subject
He spins her out towards each corner, his arms opening up to welcome her back each time before he sends her out once more. They turn, they circle, dancing to a tune heard only in their minds. When they reach the finale, he needs no permission from her this time: his hands touch her waist and raise her up, turning them about in a full circle, before he lowers her into the one-handed dip, the other raised up towards the sun. He poses, he waits, he breathes.
The disturbed snow at their feet paints the vague silhouette of a flower, with the two perfectly centered.]