Haya´s fingers reached to clasp around the wood of her cane, but there was no need to. Someone picked it up before her, and held it out for her to grab. There was confusion in Haya´s eyes when she glanced up, but there was no gaze to meet. Instead, she was faced with Cyrill´s profile, the artist’s expression like a thundercloud. The drudge was surprised to see the young woman’s fury was directed at Kovac, and even in her defense.
It was awkward though, to be the subject of this heated argument, and even though the artist’s intensions were charitable, Haya almost wished she could simply disappear from the scene.
Disappear she could not, but her resque came in the remarkable form of a young man, seemingly unfazed by the current happenings. He asked her to dance, dance of all things with a smile so disarming it confused her. Haya’s mind was blank when she nodded, accepting his invitation by shoving her cane back under the table -where it would not bother anyone- and reaching for his arms for support. There was no time to express her gratitude to Cyrill, and she could only steal a quick glance at Kovac’s retreating form over her newfound dance partner’s shoulder before both Avora dissappeared from view.
It was only after a few breaths of silence that Haya fully started to realise what she’d gotten herself into, and as a result she tensed up a little. “Eh. So...” she started, her eyes focussing on the man’s collarbones rather than his face. “What were you thinking? Let’s ask the most clumsy for a dance, for she’ll be too desperate to refuse?”
It was a little painfull, each step that they made in unison, and she leaned heavily on the young man’s left arm for support, hoping he would forgive her for it.
It was awkward though, to be the subject of this heated argument, and even though the artist’s intensions were charitable, Haya almost wished she could simply disappear from the scene.
Disappear she could not, but her resque came in the remarkable form of a young man, seemingly unfazed by the current happenings. He asked her to dance, dance of all things with a smile so disarming it confused her. Haya’s mind was blank when she nodded, accepting his invitation by shoving her cane back under the table -where it would not bother anyone- and reaching for his arms for support. There was no time to express her gratitude to Cyrill, and she could only steal a quick glance at Kovac’s retreating form over her newfound dance partner’s shoulder before both Avora dissappeared from view.
It was only after a few breaths of silence that Haya fully started to realise what she’d gotten herself into, and as a result she tensed up a little. “Eh. So...” she started, her eyes focussing on the man’s collarbones rather than his face. “What were you thinking? Let’s ask the most clumsy for a dance, for she’ll be too desperate to refuse?”
It was a little painfull, each step that they made in unison, and she leaned heavily on the young man’s left arm for support, hoping he would forgive her for it.