you! Is this the only way I can see you? You never call, you never write—”
“Would you answer me if I had?” she asked pointedly. “Besides, the last time I saw you, I was thirteen and you were describing me to Mom and Dad as “your grubby little virago—’”
“And so you were.” Nierin waggled his eyebrows at her. “You seem to be finishing out rather nicely, though. Cleaner, certainly.”
She rolled her eyes. She’d been dazzled by Nierin when they first met, of course. Fortunately she’d had her parents around to keep her from making a complete fool of herself. “Come on,” she said shortly. “Let’s dance.”
Naturally Nierin was an excellent dancer. What was most amusing to VeeVee was that the other dancers—even those who should have known better—took him for an illusion. It amused him too, and when Tomas finally swaggered across the dance floor to her, ignoring Nierin, the Sidhe grinned at her and faded into invisibility as if he really had been an illusion.
“Yo, VeeVee,” Tomas said. “Wanna dance?”
“I was dancing,” she retorted sharply.
He smirked, saying nothing. Just at that moment the band started another song, with just enough of a Latin rhythm she decided it was about time to lay down a challenge.
The shine footwork—and hipwork—she did was salsa… but the challenge in her eyes and her steps were pure flamenco.
Bring it.
Tomas’s eyes widened, then narrowed. His “reply” was half salsa, half hip-hop. VeeVee followed, shadowing what Tomas did one beat behind him and adding some flourishes of her own for good measure.
Anything you can do, I can do better.
She evaded his hands, and noticed out of the corner of her eye that the dance floor was clearing around them. The band had picked up on that too, and instead of breaking for the next song, they bridged right into it.
Tomas was sweating. So was she, and her hair had come undone; she made use of that by tossing her head to punctuate her movements. By this point, their dancing was part-sparring and part-flirting; Tomas had a grin on his face and kept trying to capture her hands, while VeeVee knew her eyes were dangerously alight and there was no way he was going to touch her unless she let him.
The band gave out first. VeeVee sensed they were going to end with the third song rather than bridge to a fourth, and she spun out of reach and hit a challenge-pose on the last note.
Then, as some of the kids broke into whistles and applause, she ducked out and headed for the drink-table, searching for the magical signature that was Nierin. Tomas stayed on the dance floor, wearing that smirk, acknowledging the applause.
Nierin was gone of course. She sighed, and shook her head. Elves.
She downed a water, then ducked into the girls’ washroom to put her hair back up. When she came back out again, the sound system had taken over while the band took a break, and Brian and Megan were in the center of the floor, engaged in a playful version of a Magician’s Duel. Their avatars were mostly illusion, and it was pretty much the magical version of a video game. In fact, the glowing figures between them, battling it out, bore suspicious resemblance to certain Immortal Konflict toons…
VeeVee tucked herself up to the side of the room and invoked Shadow to give herself a little time to breathe. She didn’t want Tomas to come looking for her just yet. This wasn’t quite the spell that would make people’s eyes slide right past you; this was more as if you were sitting in a very deeply shadowed corner of the sort so beloved of fantasy writers. People would register someone was there, but not really know who you were unless you spoke.
“…dunno, he doesn’t do anything for me.” Lalage Chisolm and Jamilla Adams drifted within hearing range, fresh sodas in their hands. Jamilla was the one talking, and it was pretty clear from her next words who it was she was talking about. “That whole Latino macho attitude makes me want
“Would you answer me if I had?” she asked pointedly. “Besides, the last time I saw you, I was thirteen and you were describing me to Mom and Dad as “your grubby little virago—’”
“And so you were.” Nierin waggled his eyebrows at her. “You seem to be finishing out rather nicely, though. Cleaner, certainly.”
She rolled her eyes. She’d been dazzled by Nierin when they first met, of course. Fortunately she’d had her parents around to keep her from making a complete fool of herself. “Come on,” she said shortly. “Let’s dance.”
Naturally Nierin was an excellent dancer. What was most amusing to VeeVee was that the other dancers—even those who should have known better—took him for an illusion. It amused him too, and when Tomas finally swaggered across the dance floor to her, ignoring Nierin, the Sidhe grinned at her and faded into invisibility as if he really had been an illusion.
“Yo, VeeVee,” Tomas said. “Wanna dance?”
“I was dancing,” she retorted sharply.
He smirked, saying nothing. Just at that moment the band started another song, with just enough of a Latin rhythm she decided it was about time to lay down a challenge.
The shine footwork—and hipwork—she did was salsa… but the challenge in her eyes and her steps were pure flamenco.
Bring it.
Tomas’s eyes widened, then narrowed. His “reply” was half salsa, half hip-hop. VeeVee followed, shadowing what Tomas did one beat behind him and adding some flourishes of her own for good measure.
Anything you can do, I can do better.
She evaded his hands, and noticed out of the corner of her eye that the dance floor was clearing around them. The band had picked up on that too, and instead of breaking for the next song, they bridged right into it.
Tomas was sweating. So was she, and her hair had come undone; she made use of that by tossing her head to punctuate her movements. By this point, their dancing was part-sparring and part-flirting; Tomas had a grin on his face and kept trying to capture her hands, while VeeVee knew her eyes were dangerously alight and there was no way he was going to touch her unless she let him.
The band gave out first. VeeVee sensed they were going to end with the third song rather than bridge to a fourth, and she spun out of reach and hit a challenge-pose on the last note.
Then, as some of the kids broke into whistles and applause, she ducked out and headed for the drink-table, searching for the magical signature that was Nierin. Tomas stayed on the dance floor, wearing that smirk, acknowledging the applause.
Nierin was gone of course. She sighed, and shook her head. Elves.
She downed a water, then ducked into the girls’ washroom to put her hair back up. When she came back out again, the sound system had taken over while the band took a break, and Brian and Megan were in the center of the floor, engaged in a playful version of a Magician’s Duel. Their avatars were mostly illusion, and it was pretty much the magical version of a video game. In fact, the glowing figures between them, battling it out, bore suspicious resemblance to certain Immortal Konflict toons…
VeeVee tucked herself up to the side of the room and invoked Shadow to give herself a little time to breathe. She didn’t want Tomas to come looking for her just yet. This wasn’t quite the spell that would make people’s eyes slide right past you; this was more as if you were sitting in a very deeply shadowed corner of the sort so beloved of fantasy writers. People would register someone was there, but not really know who you were unless you spoke.
“…dunno, he doesn’t do anything for me.” Lalage Chisolm and Jamilla Adams drifted within hearing range, fresh sodas in their hands. Jamilla was the one talking, and it was pretty clear from her next words who it was she was talking about. “That whole Latino macho attitude makes me want
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