Garreg Mach Ballroom - Late Afternoon - Clear
Sorcha Blaiddyd
Sorcha sighed, smoothing down the skirt of her dress. It was a pale ivory color, with subtle silver embroidery, and something she had in fact already owned. Not that this mattered for present purposes; it wasn't like anyone would be judging her for wearing the same thing twice here. It met the requirements of formality, and female competitors were in fact required to wear dresses of some sort, so she was at least happy to have been able to choose her own. It was a high-collared thing, with fitted sleeves and a corseted bodice—nothing extremely tight, but close-fit and tied with pretty ribbons in the back.
The reason she'd chosen it was for the skirt, which was a little more ruffled than most things she typically wore and flowed a lot when she moved, letting the embroidery catch the light. Hopefully, it would be a nice effect when they were dancing. Her hair, she'd asked Senka to help her pin up in a slightly neater style than usual, but still out of the way of her motions and things.
She was probably too early, honestly; the judges weren't even here yet, and the audience had only just begun to file in. Professor Cyril took a seat near the front, giving her an encouraging wave. Her partner, and the other dancers, were not yet in evidence.
Senka arrived after and took a seat next to the professor. She waved slightly in Sorcha's direction, offering her smile before she turned to the professor, perhaps to talk to him about something. It was only a moment later when Mercer showed up, and he grinned when he spotted her. He was dressed in loose black pants, perhaps so that he wouldn't be too restricted in his movement. He also wore an emerald green sleeveless waistcoat with a band collar with a white, long-sleeved shirt underneath it. He looked dressed to dance, and it seemed to fit for all of the dances they would be participating in.
“Hey, Sor, check this out. It's my good luck ring," he stated, lifting his hand to show her a silver band on his ring finger with what looked to be inlaid with part of the geode they found. It was certainly the same color, and the mineral looked to be just about right. “Do you think it'll actually work?" he asked, grinning at her, still.
Sylvi had arrived at that point, as well, looking around, perhaps, for Devon. Deirdre appeared not to much longer with Sofia, and she gave them a curious glance.
“No," she said bluntly, folding her arms over her chest. “What's going to work is the practice we put in." Her eyes fell to the band, though, and she pressed her lips together, trying not to think too hard about it. “Also I told you to make that into something else."
A ring of all things. Really. She could feel her ears starting to heat. Ugh—why was she like this? It wasn't like she'd known him long, not really. Mostly just the eight months they'd been here. Before didn't count, because they were kids and she'd somehow managed to forget most of it. So why?
She pointedly turned her eyes away, noting that Vivi and Thea had appeared. Her stepbrother was wearing a nice waistcoat of his own, though that wasn't entirely unusual. He appeared to have elected for white and gold as a color scheme. Devon rushed in, looking mildly panicked in a slightly ill-fitting formal jacket that had probably been borrowed from someone taller and a bit broader. At some point Reynard had appeared in the audience, now settled on the Professor's other side, and Maneula and Lyanna had already taken their places at the judges' table. Apparently Hanneman had somehow been roped into being the emcee for the proceedings; even he looked quite nice. Not that he usually dressed badly, but the heavy coat was... a statement. It was absent today, though.
Thea seemed to be matching Vivi's colors; a white dress trimmed in gold around the waist. It was, surprisingly sleeveless, but still nice enough for the waltz. Her hair had been pulled up into a tight bun, perhaps to keep it out of her way, though her bangs were left loose and curled. Mercer, however, pursed his lips at Sorcha.
“But I made it into a ring. It's harder to lose this way," he stated, grinning as he waggled his fingers at her. “Also, you are right; hard work will help us, but it wouldn't hurt to add a little luck, right? Come on, let's go stand in our spots," he stated, grabbing her hand and leading her towards the floor where everyone else was gathering.
“Ladies and gentleman!" Hanneman began, clearing his throat a bit awkwardly as he gazed out into the audience. “Apologies for the wait, thank you for gathering here today to witness the academy-wide dance competition. Welcome to the White Heron Cup!" he continued; a few people in the audience clapped. “The competition will be judged by myself," he stated, lifting a hand to actually point to himself before motioning towards Manuela, “the acclaimed former songstress of the Mittelfrank Opera Company, Manuela Casagranda!"
Maneula beamed at the round of applause. “Thank you!" she said, loud enough that the audience could easily hear. “Oh, and it should go without saying, but I swear to show no bias towards students from my own house." She arched a brow playfully in Mercer's direction, then nodded at Sofi and Deirdre.
He held his hand out towards Lyanna, next. “And lastly, we have the ever lovely, Miss Lyanna von Kreuz, right-hand to the archbishop herself. The three of us swear on our honor to judge the following proceedings with utmost impartiality and fairness. With that," he paused to glance out into the dance floor, “will the participants please make their way to the stage. We will be judging based on the three dances you will be demonstrating today. The first will be the waltz. When you are all settled onto the stage, we will begin the music."
Mercer turned to grin at Sorcha, and offered her his hand. “You ready, Sor?"
Sorcha took a moment to inhale, pushing down the sudden feeling of nervousness. She'd rarely felt quite as exposed as she did now, and the design of her gown had nothing to do with it at all. Still, there was no way she was backing down now, and so she slipped her hand into Mercer's, letting him lead her out onto the floor alongside the other couples.
The waltz was a close dance, if nothing at all like the tango. It was actually the one she had the most confidence in, since the both of them had been well-versed in it to begin with. She could see the others taking up their positions as well from the corner of her eye, but as soon as the music began, that would cease to matter. So would all the eyes she could feel on her back. They would have to.
Setting one hand carefully on Mercer's shoulder, she folded her other into his and stepped into close position, taking another breath and holding it, this time until the music started.
The piece they'd chosen was a faster one, which was good because that was mostly what they'd practiced for. Sorcha took a step back with Mercer's forward motion, swinging gently to the side, and then they were off.
She tried not to think about how easy it was, how smooth and natural, or how solid and warm he felt under her hands. But the dance all but forced eye contact, and it was a losing battle from the start. She knew, somehow, even with incomplete memories, that she'd always had a fondness for Mercer's eyes—green with just a touch of blue, a color that reminded her, somehow, of summertime, which in Faerghus was a short, treasured season.
Perhaps... perhaps this would be like that. This strange hitch in time where they were in the same place, doing the same things, for just a little while. Before cold reality came sweeping back in from over the mountains.
But the way he looked at her was warm and affectionate. The smile on his face wasn't at all forced, or mischievous; it was the same as the way he was looking at her. It was warm and affectionate, and his eyes never left hers. It looked like all he was focused on was her and nothing else in the hall, mattered.
“You look really nice, by the way," he spoke softly, but just loud enough so that she could hear him over the music. “Did you pick the dress yourself?" he asked, his eyes still locked with hers.
“I, um." Sorcha startled a bit, almost missing a step, but recovered automatically, swallowing thickly. She shifted her eyes, trying to find somewhere near his face that wasn't quite so distracting. At first she lowered them a little, but looking at his lips was not helping, and she quickly darted them back up to somewhere around his temple. “I did," she managed. “A couple years ago. I wore it to my uncle's birthday party last year, too. Don't tell anyone." She managed a smile, trying to keep herself centered with a bit of levity.
She knew, of course, that Mercer wouldn't care about such a 'faux pas' as wearing an out-of-date dress to a second event. She suspected some of the Imperial students might be judging her, though, for the fact that it wasn't current to fashion. She hardly had a thought to spare.
“You do too, though," she murmured, almost unintentionally. “Look nice, I mean. You always do, I guess." It was casual, and downplayed, but it wasn't hard to tell that Mercer had a real sense for style. Not that he needed it; he'd be handsome even if—she stopped the though hard, flushing lightly.
Mercer huffed lightly, but didn't seem to falter in their steps. “Why would I tell anyone? Even if it's a second time, you still look lovely in it," he stated, as if it were the easiest thing to say for him. “And that's not true. You've seen my sleeping habits. I always look terrible, then," he grinned lightly at that.
“But it's alright. You're the only one who gets to see me like that. Well, Sen, too, since she was there and all, but only that once. No second time for her, only you," he continued, grinning just a little wider.
Sorcha's eyes went wide; she very nearly fell out of the dance steps entirely. Probably would have, were it one she knew any less well. “I—you—I'm sure everyone's seen you sleeping in class," she hissed, unable to come up with any better way to retaliate than that.
Perhaps fortunately, the waltz ended there, and the pairs made their way off the floor for a short break so scores could be tabulated before they moved on to the next bit. Sorcha went immediately for the water that had been made available, glowering at Mercer a little.
Mercer chuckled lowly as he grabbed a cup of water. He drank it slowly before turning his attention towards her. “It's not quite the same, Sor. I was at least fully dressed in class," he stated, arching a brow in her direction. “When you saw me sleeping, I was half-naked. I mean, I don't mind, really," he spoke, taking another drink from his cup. He disposed of it when he was finished, and held out his hand to her as Hanneman announced they would be doing the gavotte, next.
“Shall we show them how well you've trained me for this?" he stated, a strange smile forming on his lips.
“I hate you," she told him matter-of-factly, glad for the fact that the water had cooled her blush just a little. Also glad that the gavotte was next, as she didn't think she could quite have handled the intimacy of a tango right now—that was a problem for Sorcha fifteen minutes from now. The current one could barely look out for herself, never mind the future.
Unlike Senka, Sorcha didn't completely hate the gavotte. It was the kind of thing that could be easily danced with a friend or relative, and the leads and follows did exactly the same things. It also didn't make talking easy, for the fact that they weren't close enough to do it over the music without being heard by others as well.
She was sure he'd have some sort of retort by the time the gavotte ended, and this time left the floor almost reluctantly.
When they'd left the dance floor for the small break, Mercer was actually fairly quiet. He was still smiling, but not quite as if he were up to something. He merely crossed his arms against his chest and regarded her with an even stare. It was as if he were trying to figure something out, but couldn't quite do so. He pushed a sigh through his nose, though, and shook his head.
“Are you sure you'll be up for the next one, Sor?" he asked, tilting his head in an inquisitive manner. “I know you weren't all too comfortable doing the tango when we practiced, and if you're uncomfortable, I wouldn't mind throwing in the white flag," he stated in an even tone.
“All you have to do is say the word, and we'll have come this far, already. I think that's a victory in itself, yeah?"
Sorcha considered this, giving the question what it was due. It was true that he... affected her, especially as close as they got during the tango and as... well, as sensual as it was. That was not a word that Sorcha would ever use to describe herself, but she thought she'd gotten pretty good at faking it. It was also pretty clear that it didn't get to Mercer the way it got to her, which was uncomfortable for other reasons, but... none of that was a good reason to throw away all of their hard work now. She'd found ways to deal with her one-sided attraction in practice, and if it didn't bother him, obvious as it probably was, then...she wasn't going to squander all that work just because it was challenging.
So she shook her head emphatically. “Now's no time to quit. I'm up for this if you are." Squaring her shoulders, she straightened her posture and extended her hand out towards him this time, just as the dancers were called back to the floor.
Mercer smiled softly at her, then, something warm, before it was gone. “That's what I like to hear," he stated as he took her hand to lead her out towards the dance floor. He placed one of his hands around her waist, and pulled the other one up. “It's all or nothing, Sor. Remember not to think much about it. Just feel it. Feel me, and only me. Move with me, and only me," he continued, his eyes taking on a rather serious light. His eyes bore into hers, as if he were trying to find something hidden behind.
“Because I know I'll be doing the same. We're in this... together," he stated as the music began, and he moved just as he'd moved in practice.
Sorcha's breath caught; she swallowed, thickly because there was some kind of new lump in her throat, to go right along with the shiver down her spine and the furious fluttering in her stomach, like someone had let an entire flock of butterflies loose in there, and all they wanted was out.
If he was concerned she'd be able to pay attention to anything other than him, he needn't be. It felt like her attention was always oriented towards him first. She entered a room and scanned it for him, always found herself gravitating towards him when he was nearby, like there was some kind of magnetic pull that yanked her towards him whether she wanted to go there or not.
He moved, and she flowed with. The music wasn't exactly the same as they'd practiced with, but it didn't matter because she couldn't hear it anyway, not over the swish of her heart in her ears, the dim ringing that might have been some kind of internal warning to get away before it was too late. But that was absurd, because too late had come and gone a long time ago, somewhere between when an exhausted Mercer had dragged himself out of bed to go practice shooting with her and, well, now. She didn't think about it, either, just felt—lifted her eyes to his and held that contact, only breaking it when she needed to turn or be lifted in a way that forced it.
His eyes stayed on her, though, as she moved and when she was turned or lifted. When he brought her back in to him, he kept her close and flush, moving in the ways that they'd practiced. His arm occasionally slid down hers, leaving light trails until the parts he had to let go completely. When the music began to whirl, and their moves became more hurried and fast, it came to an end, and Mercer had her tilted in his arms. His face was close to hers, his nose brushing against hers as he smiled at her.
There was something in his eyes, though. They seemed darker, almost more emerald than the jade they usually were. His face leaned closer to hers till he was just a hairs breadth away from her lips. His brow was pressed to hers; the ringing in her ears had become a roar. She wouldn't have been able to tell if the whole building was falling down, right now. Her heart hammered in her chest, a staccato beat matching the pace of her thoughts.
kissmekissmekissmekissme—
But then he pulled back suddenly, shaking his head and helping her to an upright position, but keeping hold of one of her hands. The applause was loud as most of the people clapped. She recognized, distantly, that they'd done well, but all she could feel in the moment was a crushing disappointment. For a moment, when his eyes were like that, she'd almost thought—
Goddess, but she was an idiot. How many times did she have to put herself through this before she got it through her thick skull that he was her friend, and that was all he'd ever be?
“Not bad, Sor. You did really well, congratulations," he stated, smiling at her as he took the hand he still held, and placed a kiss on the back of it. “Let's go see how we did," he stated as he lead her towards the others that were gathering. Hanneman clapped as he approached, a large smile on his face.
“Splendid work!" he began, smiling even more, “All of you were fantastic. Alas, only one of you can be the winner. Let us hear what the judges have to say..." He turned towards Manuela, first.
“Thank you, Hanneman," Manuela said with a nod. “As some of you probably know, I am the one who chose the inclusion of the tango in this year's White Heron Cup, and I have to say that I'm very glad I did. Those were some fantastic routines, and there was a great deal of skill involved. That said—Hanneman's right. I think the pair with the best tango, and the best overall dances, is Mercer and Sorcha." She smiled at them, a glint of mischief in her amber-colored eyes.
“There are professionals who do that with less skill and feeling. You should be proud of yourselves."
That passed comments to Lady Lyanna, who smiled warmly at them all. “I, too, am very impressed by the skill on display here. I've judged this competition for many years now, and I can say with great confidence that this is by far the most talented group of contestants we've ever had. I've written more detailed notes for you, of course, but as far as an overall winner, I must concur with my colleague. Congratulations, Lord Riegan, Princess."
“Without further delay, then, I shall announce the winners!" Hanneman started, but paused, perhaps to give an effect of sorts. “Princess Sorcha, and Lord von Riegan!" he stated, clapping after he'd made the announcement. The applause lit up again, and Mercer smiled at her. It was tinged with a hint of melancholy, though, and he held up her hand as if he were trying to show her off.
“Would you look at that; all of our hard work paid off, Sor. We won," he spoke softly to her, bringing her hand back down so that he could place it against his chest. She could feel his heart beating rather erratically, though that might have been due to exertion. They'd just danced a tango, after all.
“We did," she replied, just as quietly. She shut her eyes for a moment, wrestling her feelings under control. When she opened them again, she was able to smile, just a little, the practiced sort of one appropriate to a situation like this, which she should be happy about. Gently, she pulled her hand away, resettling it at her own side.
“Congratulations, again. We'll have to commemorate this joyous occasion!" Hanneman shouted, but cleared his throat awkwardly as he took a step back.
“Yes, well... there are prizes," Manuela said, looking a little amused at Hanneman's demeanor. “Small ones, but nevertheless." She grinned as Lyanna brought forward two elegant chalices, simple silver and with a heron engraved on their faces. "Your trophies are usable, at least."
Sorcha accepted hers with a little smile, inclining her head graciously to Lyanna. “Thank you," she said. “I'll treasure the memory."
Probably more than she should.
“Thanks!" Mercer stated happily enough as he accepted his trophy. He grinned at Sorcha, then, and held the trophy up to his face. “Let's go rub this in Vi's face, yeah?" he stated, his eyes scanning for Vivi, it seemed. “Oh, and show the others, I guess," he added, though he didn't really seem too concerned about it.
She huffed a vague laugh. “Okay, but don't be too mean. Thea's his partner after all—and she's still very new to this."
The reason she'd chosen it was for the skirt, which was a little more ruffled than most things she typically wore and flowed a lot when she moved, letting the embroidery catch the light. Hopefully, it would be a nice effect when they were dancing. Her hair, she'd asked Senka to help her pin up in a slightly neater style than usual, but still out of the way of her motions and things.
She was probably too early, honestly; the judges weren't even here yet, and the audience had only just begun to file in. Professor Cyril took a seat near the front, giving her an encouraging wave. Her partner, and the other dancers, were not yet in evidence.
Senka arrived after and took a seat next to the professor. She waved slightly in Sorcha's direction, offering her smile before she turned to the professor, perhaps to talk to him about something. It was only a moment later when Mercer showed up, and he grinned when he spotted her. He was dressed in loose black pants, perhaps so that he wouldn't be too restricted in his movement. He also wore an emerald green sleeveless waistcoat with a band collar with a white, long-sleeved shirt underneath it. He looked dressed to dance, and it seemed to fit for all of the dances they would be participating in.
“Hey, Sor, check this out. It's my good luck ring," he stated, lifting his hand to show her a silver band on his ring finger with what looked to be inlaid with part of the geode they found. It was certainly the same color, and the mineral looked to be just about right. “Do you think it'll actually work?" he asked, grinning at her, still.
Sylvi had arrived at that point, as well, looking around, perhaps, for Devon. Deirdre appeared not to much longer with Sofia, and she gave them a curious glance.
“No," she said bluntly, folding her arms over her chest. “What's going to work is the practice we put in." Her eyes fell to the band, though, and she pressed her lips together, trying not to think too hard about it. “Also I told you to make that into something else."
A ring of all things. Really. She could feel her ears starting to heat. Ugh—why was she like this? It wasn't like she'd known him long, not really. Mostly just the eight months they'd been here. Before didn't count, because they were kids and she'd somehow managed to forget most of it. So why?
She pointedly turned her eyes away, noting that Vivi and Thea had appeared. Her stepbrother was wearing a nice waistcoat of his own, though that wasn't entirely unusual. He appeared to have elected for white and gold as a color scheme. Devon rushed in, looking mildly panicked in a slightly ill-fitting formal jacket that had probably been borrowed from someone taller and a bit broader. At some point Reynard had appeared in the audience, now settled on the Professor's other side, and Maneula and Lyanna had already taken their places at the judges' table. Apparently Hanneman had somehow been roped into being the emcee for the proceedings; even he looked quite nice. Not that he usually dressed badly, but the heavy coat was... a statement. It was absent today, though.
Thea seemed to be matching Vivi's colors; a white dress trimmed in gold around the waist. It was, surprisingly sleeveless, but still nice enough for the waltz. Her hair had been pulled up into a tight bun, perhaps to keep it out of her way, though her bangs were left loose and curled. Mercer, however, pursed his lips at Sorcha.
“But I made it into a ring. It's harder to lose this way," he stated, grinning as he waggled his fingers at her. “Also, you are right; hard work will help us, but it wouldn't hurt to add a little luck, right? Come on, let's go stand in our spots," he stated, grabbing her hand and leading her towards the floor where everyone else was gathering.
“Ladies and gentleman!" Hanneman began, clearing his throat a bit awkwardly as he gazed out into the audience. “Apologies for the wait, thank you for gathering here today to witness the academy-wide dance competition. Welcome to the White Heron Cup!" he continued; a few people in the audience clapped. “The competition will be judged by myself," he stated, lifting a hand to actually point to himself before motioning towards Manuela, “the acclaimed former songstress of the Mittelfrank Opera Company, Manuela Casagranda!"
Maneula beamed at the round of applause. “Thank you!" she said, loud enough that the audience could easily hear. “Oh, and it should go without saying, but I swear to show no bias towards students from my own house." She arched a brow playfully in Mercer's direction, then nodded at Sofi and Deirdre.
He held his hand out towards Lyanna, next. “And lastly, we have the ever lovely, Miss Lyanna von Kreuz, right-hand to the archbishop herself. The three of us swear on our honor to judge the following proceedings with utmost impartiality and fairness. With that," he paused to glance out into the dance floor, “will the participants please make their way to the stage. We will be judging based on the three dances you will be demonstrating today. The first will be the waltz. When you are all settled onto the stage, we will begin the music."
Mercer turned to grin at Sorcha, and offered her his hand. “You ready, Sor?"
Sorcha took a moment to inhale, pushing down the sudden feeling of nervousness. She'd rarely felt quite as exposed as she did now, and the design of her gown had nothing to do with it at all. Still, there was no way she was backing down now, and so she slipped her hand into Mercer's, letting him lead her out onto the floor alongside the other couples.
The waltz was a close dance, if nothing at all like the tango. It was actually the one she had the most confidence in, since the both of them had been well-versed in it to begin with. She could see the others taking up their positions as well from the corner of her eye, but as soon as the music began, that would cease to matter. So would all the eyes she could feel on her back. They would have to.
Setting one hand carefully on Mercer's shoulder, she folded her other into his and stepped into close position, taking another breath and holding it, this time until the music started.
The piece they'd chosen was a faster one, which was good because that was mostly what they'd practiced for. Sorcha took a step back with Mercer's forward motion, swinging gently to the side, and then they were off.
She tried not to think about how easy it was, how smooth and natural, or how solid and warm he felt under her hands. But the dance all but forced eye contact, and it was a losing battle from the start. She knew, somehow, even with incomplete memories, that she'd always had a fondness for Mercer's eyes—green with just a touch of blue, a color that reminded her, somehow, of summertime, which in Faerghus was a short, treasured season.
Perhaps... perhaps this would be like that. This strange hitch in time where they were in the same place, doing the same things, for just a little while. Before cold reality came sweeping back in from over the mountains.
But the way he looked at her was warm and affectionate. The smile on his face wasn't at all forced, or mischievous; it was the same as the way he was looking at her. It was warm and affectionate, and his eyes never left hers. It looked like all he was focused on was her and nothing else in the hall, mattered.
“You look really nice, by the way," he spoke softly, but just loud enough so that she could hear him over the music. “Did you pick the dress yourself?" he asked, his eyes still locked with hers.
“I, um." Sorcha startled a bit, almost missing a step, but recovered automatically, swallowing thickly. She shifted her eyes, trying to find somewhere near his face that wasn't quite so distracting. At first she lowered them a little, but looking at his lips was not helping, and she quickly darted them back up to somewhere around his temple. “I did," she managed. “A couple years ago. I wore it to my uncle's birthday party last year, too. Don't tell anyone." She managed a smile, trying to keep herself centered with a bit of levity.
She knew, of course, that Mercer wouldn't care about such a 'faux pas' as wearing an out-of-date dress to a second event. She suspected some of the Imperial students might be judging her, though, for the fact that it wasn't current to fashion. She hardly had a thought to spare.
“You do too, though," she murmured, almost unintentionally. “Look nice, I mean. You always do, I guess." It was casual, and downplayed, but it wasn't hard to tell that Mercer had a real sense for style. Not that he needed it; he'd be handsome even if—she stopped the though hard, flushing lightly.
Mercer huffed lightly, but didn't seem to falter in their steps. “Why would I tell anyone? Even if it's a second time, you still look lovely in it," he stated, as if it were the easiest thing to say for him. “And that's not true. You've seen my sleeping habits. I always look terrible, then," he grinned lightly at that.
“But it's alright. You're the only one who gets to see me like that. Well, Sen, too, since she was there and all, but only that once. No second time for her, only you," he continued, grinning just a little wider.
Sorcha's eyes went wide; she very nearly fell out of the dance steps entirely. Probably would have, were it one she knew any less well. “I—you—I'm sure everyone's seen you sleeping in class," she hissed, unable to come up with any better way to retaliate than that.
Perhaps fortunately, the waltz ended there, and the pairs made their way off the floor for a short break so scores could be tabulated before they moved on to the next bit. Sorcha went immediately for the water that had been made available, glowering at Mercer a little.
Mercer chuckled lowly as he grabbed a cup of water. He drank it slowly before turning his attention towards her. “It's not quite the same, Sor. I was at least fully dressed in class," he stated, arching a brow in her direction. “When you saw me sleeping, I was half-naked. I mean, I don't mind, really," he spoke, taking another drink from his cup. He disposed of it when he was finished, and held out his hand to her as Hanneman announced they would be doing the gavotte, next.
“Shall we show them how well you've trained me for this?" he stated, a strange smile forming on his lips.
“I hate you," she told him matter-of-factly, glad for the fact that the water had cooled her blush just a little. Also glad that the gavotte was next, as she didn't think she could quite have handled the intimacy of a tango right now—that was a problem for Sorcha fifteen minutes from now. The current one could barely look out for herself, never mind the future.
Unlike Senka, Sorcha didn't completely hate the gavotte. It was the kind of thing that could be easily danced with a friend or relative, and the leads and follows did exactly the same things. It also didn't make talking easy, for the fact that they weren't close enough to do it over the music without being heard by others as well.
She was sure he'd have some sort of retort by the time the gavotte ended, and this time left the floor almost reluctantly.
When they'd left the dance floor for the small break, Mercer was actually fairly quiet. He was still smiling, but not quite as if he were up to something. He merely crossed his arms against his chest and regarded her with an even stare. It was as if he were trying to figure something out, but couldn't quite do so. He pushed a sigh through his nose, though, and shook his head.
“Are you sure you'll be up for the next one, Sor?" he asked, tilting his head in an inquisitive manner. “I know you weren't all too comfortable doing the tango when we practiced, and if you're uncomfortable, I wouldn't mind throwing in the white flag," he stated in an even tone.
“All you have to do is say the word, and we'll have come this far, already. I think that's a victory in itself, yeah?"
Sorcha considered this, giving the question what it was due. It was true that he... affected her, especially as close as they got during the tango and as... well, as sensual as it was. That was not a word that Sorcha would ever use to describe herself, but she thought she'd gotten pretty good at faking it. It was also pretty clear that it didn't get to Mercer the way it got to her, which was uncomfortable for other reasons, but... none of that was a good reason to throw away all of their hard work now. She'd found ways to deal with her one-sided attraction in practice, and if it didn't bother him, obvious as it probably was, then...she wasn't going to squander all that work just because it was challenging.
So she shook her head emphatically. “Now's no time to quit. I'm up for this if you are." Squaring her shoulders, she straightened her posture and extended her hand out towards him this time, just as the dancers were called back to the floor.
Mercer smiled softly at her, then, something warm, before it was gone. “That's what I like to hear," he stated as he took her hand to lead her out towards the dance floor. He placed one of his hands around her waist, and pulled the other one up. “It's all or nothing, Sor. Remember not to think much about it. Just feel it. Feel me, and only me. Move with me, and only me," he continued, his eyes taking on a rather serious light. His eyes bore into hers, as if he were trying to find something hidden behind.
“Because I know I'll be doing the same. We're in this... together," he stated as the music began, and he moved just as he'd moved in practice.
Sorcha's breath caught; she swallowed, thickly because there was some kind of new lump in her throat, to go right along with the shiver down her spine and the furious fluttering in her stomach, like someone had let an entire flock of butterflies loose in there, and all they wanted was out.
If he was concerned she'd be able to pay attention to anything other than him, he needn't be. It felt like her attention was always oriented towards him first. She entered a room and scanned it for him, always found herself gravitating towards him when he was nearby, like there was some kind of magnetic pull that yanked her towards him whether she wanted to go there or not.
He moved, and she flowed with. The music wasn't exactly the same as they'd practiced with, but it didn't matter because she couldn't hear it anyway, not over the swish of her heart in her ears, the dim ringing that might have been some kind of internal warning to get away before it was too late. But that was absurd, because too late had come and gone a long time ago, somewhere between when an exhausted Mercer had dragged himself out of bed to go practice shooting with her and, well, now. She didn't think about it, either, just felt—lifted her eyes to his and held that contact, only breaking it when she needed to turn or be lifted in a way that forced it.
His eyes stayed on her, though, as she moved and when she was turned or lifted. When he brought her back in to him, he kept her close and flush, moving in the ways that they'd practiced. His arm occasionally slid down hers, leaving light trails until the parts he had to let go completely. When the music began to whirl, and their moves became more hurried and fast, it came to an end, and Mercer had her tilted in his arms. His face was close to hers, his nose brushing against hers as he smiled at her.
There was something in his eyes, though. They seemed darker, almost more emerald than the jade they usually were. His face leaned closer to hers till he was just a hairs breadth away from her lips. His brow was pressed to hers; the ringing in her ears had become a roar. She wouldn't have been able to tell if the whole building was falling down, right now. Her heart hammered in her chest, a staccato beat matching the pace of her thoughts.
kissmekissmekissmekissme—
But then he pulled back suddenly, shaking his head and helping her to an upright position, but keeping hold of one of her hands. The applause was loud as most of the people clapped. She recognized, distantly, that they'd done well, but all she could feel in the moment was a crushing disappointment. For a moment, when his eyes were like that, she'd almost thought—
Goddess, but she was an idiot. How many times did she have to put herself through this before she got it through her thick skull that he was her friend, and that was all he'd ever be?
“Not bad, Sor. You did really well, congratulations," he stated, smiling at her as he took the hand he still held, and placed a kiss on the back of it. “Let's go see how we did," he stated as he lead her towards the others that were gathering. Hanneman clapped as he approached, a large smile on his face.
“Splendid work!" he began, smiling even more, “All of you were fantastic. Alas, only one of you can be the winner. Let us hear what the judges have to say..." He turned towards Manuela, first.
“Thank you, Hanneman," Manuela said with a nod. “As some of you probably know, I am the one who chose the inclusion of the tango in this year's White Heron Cup, and I have to say that I'm very glad I did. Those were some fantastic routines, and there was a great deal of skill involved. That said—Hanneman's right. I think the pair with the best tango, and the best overall dances, is Mercer and Sorcha." She smiled at them, a glint of mischief in her amber-colored eyes.
“There are professionals who do that with less skill and feeling. You should be proud of yourselves."
That passed comments to Lady Lyanna, who smiled warmly at them all. “I, too, am very impressed by the skill on display here. I've judged this competition for many years now, and I can say with great confidence that this is by far the most talented group of contestants we've ever had. I've written more detailed notes for you, of course, but as far as an overall winner, I must concur with my colleague. Congratulations, Lord Riegan, Princess."
“Without further delay, then, I shall announce the winners!" Hanneman started, but paused, perhaps to give an effect of sorts. “Princess Sorcha, and Lord von Riegan!" he stated, clapping after he'd made the announcement. The applause lit up again, and Mercer smiled at her. It was tinged with a hint of melancholy, though, and he held up her hand as if he were trying to show her off.
“Would you look at that; all of our hard work paid off, Sor. We won," he spoke softly to her, bringing her hand back down so that he could place it against his chest. She could feel his heart beating rather erratically, though that might have been due to exertion. They'd just danced a tango, after all.
“We did," she replied, just as quietly. She shut her eyes for a moment, wrestling her feelings under control. When she opened them again, she was able to smile, just a little, the practiced sort of one appropriate to a situation like this, which she should be happy about. Gently, she pulled her hand away, resettling it at her own side.
“Congratulations, again. We'll have to commemorate this joyous occasion!" Hanneman shouted, but cleared his throat awkwardly as he took a step back.
“Yes, well... there are prizes," Manuela said, looking a little amused at Hanneman's demeanor. “Small ones, but nevertheless." She grinned as Lyanna brought forward two elegant chalices, simple silver and with a heron engraved on their faces. "Your trophies are usable, at least."
Sorcha accepted hers with a little smile, inclining her head graciously to Lyanna. “Thank you," she said. “I'll treasure the memory."
Probably more than she should.
“Thanks!" Mercer stated happily enough as he accepted his trophy. He grinned at Sorcha, then, and held the trophy up to his face. “Let's go rub this in Vi's face, yeah?" he stated, his eyes scanning for Vivi, it seemed. “Oh, and show the others, I guess," he added, though he didn't really seem too concerned about it.
She huffed a vague laugh. “Okay, but don't be too mean. Thea's his partner after all—and she's still very new to this."