#─ 𝐴𝐵 𝐼𝑁𝑇𝑅𝐴 𓍢 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 / KATARINA.

[umitvar]

𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: PAÇO IMPERIAL PALACE, RUSSIAN CHAMBERS 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌: TSAR YURA STASOV 𝐓𝐎: TSARINA KATARINA STASOV ( @thenxghtwemxt )

a book underneath their arm, it's late enough in the night that yura is very careful with their steps, not wanting to wake anyone up if they are asleep. knows that most of their siblings wouldn't mind, however, they cannot say the same for the tsarina, and exert more caution as they walk past her door, moving toward katarina's chambers. yura cannot be sure if she is awake, though wants to take their chances. the flickering of candlelight reflecting through the bottom of the door is a good indication, and yura gently turns the doorknob and steps inside, closing it behind them to make no noise. turning on their heel- the sight is enough to make them freeze. "kat? are you... dancing?" and not only dancing in silence, but with an imaginary partner? yura wonders if they are dreaming.

[umitvar]

𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: TWIN SOUL COURTYARD, MYSTERIES OF OSIRIS GALA 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌: PRINCE FELIX EMILIANO ORTIZ 𝐓𝐎: TSARINA KATARINA STASOV ( @thenxghtwemxt )

although felix is not a fan of most political events, even he has to admit this is a very exciting one. a meteor shower, ancient traditions, and a lot of drinking and dancing? that sounds like a good night if you ask felix. he is donning his ballroom suit, one that his sisters tell him looks good on him, the black fabric embroidered with tiny red flowers. he has a drink in one hand as he strolls amongst the crowds, greeting and chatting, before he dances a bit, and repeats the same motions. it's during the respite that he cannot help but spot the russian tsarina, and as time passes and she still sits there without any attempt to dance, he makes it as a mission of his own to change that. both intrigued and determined, once he is next to her, he gives her one of his more dashing smiles. "hello, i'm felix —" he greets, and while he knows who she is, he is certain they haven't met in any capacity so far. "don't tell me you have more exciting events back home?" truth be told, he knows nothing about russia, though this seems like a good conversation starter. "but dancing under a meteor shower surely isn't that common." another grin, he cannot help but ask. "would you like to dance? i swear, i am better at it than i look."

[umitvar]

𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: PAÇO IMPERIAL, THE INFIRMARY 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌: TSAR YURA STASOV 𝐓𝐎: TSARINA KATARINA STASOV ( @thenxghtwemxt )

it has been a whirlwind: first, the events of the pre-tribunal, and then the chaos that followed. it happened so quickly that yura cannot put together the details, all they remember is the bone-chilling panic, the ringing in their ears, how so much noise rendered them incapable. then, there was a hand holding their arm, pulling them away, and the color red that would not leave their mind. the lines of their sister's face, twisting in agony, their own hands hovering over her figure, trying to figure out where she was hurt. the time between then and now is a haze, and they find themself sitting on one of the chairs next to her bed, fingers on top of their knees, nails digging into the fabric. despite knowing her injuries aren't serious, and that the doctors have told them she will be alright — the guilt chokes them. digs into the sides of their throat, threatening to pull them under. the tears have dried and started again as they hang their head down, breath hitching before they speak. "мне жаль. мне очень жаль." if only they'd told them before- then they'd know, and she wouldn't have had to get hurt like this. it's your fault, the voice rings in their ears, and they know it to be right.

[umitvar]

𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: PAÇO IMPERIAL, RUSSIAN CHAMBERS 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌: PRINCE FELIX EMILIANO ORTIZ 𝐓𝐎: TSARINA KATARINA STASOV ( @thenxghtwemxt )

news travels fast, especially after something as terrible as the events in the past days. once felix hears of katarina's injury, it's all he can think about, and it does not take him long until he arranges a visit under the guise of political courtesy, if anyone dares to ask. no one seems to dig into the reasons why, and it's not like felix cares about their opinions much as he makes his way to the russian chambers. the guards let him through, even if they do a double take at the small flower bouquet in his hand and the box with a ribbon tied around it. he knocks on her door and waits to hear her voice allowing him in before pushing it open. once he sees her in person, some of the panic and the terror ebbs away, though the peaking bandages make his heart stutter again, face twisting back into worry. "katarina- hey-" the prince begins, making his way further into the room. "i heard... what happened. i hope you are feeling better." the flowers and the box of chocolates are still in his hands, and he moves to gently set them on the table. "wanted to- bring something as well."

[umitvar]

the music comes to an end, and so does their movement. a part of felix wishes it would go on, and they would sway to the rhythm of the songs all night long. but all good things do come to an end, and he slowly lets go of her hand and her waist. surprise fluttering over his expression, he nods. "thank you, katarina." cannot find it in himself to move away, not just yet, too greedy to let the moment stop. the comment about the praise, the honesty, added to the honesty in those words, make him smile even wider, the flush of his cheeks redder than before. a stuttering breath, he is just as genuine when he thanks her again. "i am a lucky one, then." this, he truly believes. and then, the moment has to end, and he nods quickly, smile faltering a little, not knowing if there will be a second time. the question is what makes relief wash across him and felix is back to beaming again. "of course! of course, i will find you. i promise."

She's a woman of words. The art of wordsmithing, the power of a well-articulated argument. Katarina knows what to say and how to say it, when it comes to court. This, however, is well beyond her purview. Yet for all that her tongue twists and missteps, she finds a way of speaking to her dance partner. Even when there are few words. Something intuitive, almost unspoken. There is an uncharacteristic smile that lights up her face. "Katarina." She corrects quickly. She's all for monikers and chain of command. But the great Tsarina did not raise her children to glom onto the formality of a title. "And-" Rare, once more, is her ability to laugh at herself. If only for a moment. "You would be right about that. I do not praise anything easily." Which makes Felix's very presence; light-hearted, gleeful, and sweet all the more curious. When was she the kind to fall into a thrall so easily?

"I should find my way back..." The hour is late, and her glass slipper will disappear by midnight if she does not bid away. Her eyes meet his, in a rare moment of boldness. "Will you save me a dance at the next ball?"

[umitvar]

a less-seen expression on yura's face, frustration mixes with anger, and they quickly get up from the chair, and plop down to sit next to her. those are not her words, at least, they don't believe them to be. they paint another picture, of tsarina uttering those when one of them is out of line, or stubbing down their interest in anything that's not practical, by painting it foolery, or silliness. they take her hands in their own, and look into her eyes. "don't- speak it into the world. not when it's not true. being happy- and excited over something- is not you being a fool. no matter- no matter how-" this, they let it trail off, still afraid to speak that into existence. they believe katarina to understand them nonetheless. they turn her hands upwards, the palms facing them, and trace the lines. "i... i don't think there is one right way to start. if he is the right one- then it will all fall into place. you can't... you can't plan things like this." something more sorrowful, shifts, and they hold onto her hands, brown eyes meeting hers. "i know- but- that doesn't mean we can't find it nonetheless. as long as we let good things happen to us- i believe we will learn eventually. despite... everything."

"Why not? At least it is consistent of me..." If Katarina was so quick to pass judgement on others, why not the same for herself? Yet they snuff out her bitterness, for a realization that gives her pause. "Untroubled." When was the last time anyone in their household felt such a thing? Their mother ensured they always remained busy, consumed with work. But Yura, the youngest and the least stuck in their ways, sees it. Despite herself, Katarina offers a hesitant smile. "You always had a way of seeing people." A skill she severely lacked, that she's now thankful to be on the receiving end of. "I wouldn't know where to start." She admits in earnest. "When I am in his company, I make a fool of myself. My heart is in my throat. My palms sweaty." Shaking her head, she turns to Yura, desperately. "I might deserve happiness, but neither of us have been taught how to be happy."

[umitvar]

his hands are cautious and gentle, one on her waist, the other holding onto her hand. there is the stress that comes with, 'oh, no, i think my palms are sweating', though he knows there would be nothing to fix that now. it's all the more shocking that she utters something similar as those thoughts are passing through his mind, and he cannot help but laugh, quickly shaking his head. the coldness, to the heat of his own touch, is welcome, and if he dares to look deeper- it will bring a hotter flush to his cheeks. "it's all good, they are just fine." they are, and as they continue to move, the hold he has on her grows more confident, knowing that he is not stepping a line. even when there is the danger of her almost stepping on his foot, there is no panic, but a sort of glee, happiness that she has agreed to do this with him. and again, at those small mistakes, felix is quick to reassure, and aim them towards the right steps instead. the minutes pass so quickly, it feels like mere seconds have passed since they stepped foot into this private corner of the courtyard. it's only apparent through this new rhythm they have found within one another, that the dancing has turned from a training session, to one that does not need much practice at all. the compliment is enough to make him beam, and it only amplifies when she clarifies she does not mean the dance. the surprise is shadowed by the joy that brings, and the bout of bashfulness that is rare to see in him. "i —" there are a lot of ways he could tell her she is being too kind, but he doesn't want to. chooses to accept it instead. "thank you, tsarina. that's great praise coming from you." there is little teasing and more truth in these next words. "i have never been called enigmatic before." and her gratitude is unnecessary, for felix has enjoyed this so much, it feels ridiculous to be thanked for this moment. "no, don't thank me, please. it was my pleasure. i mean that."

She's used to assessing competition, or inferring cues from those in the court of justice. But she's caught at a loss in looking upon him; the apples of his cheeks are red, there's an excitable twitch in his fingers. And his arms, strong and sturdy, are almost alarmingly warm. "Apologies. My hands are cold." It's the Russian in her - perpetually frozen hands, made warm by his own. Despite her distraction, her eyes find focus on their feet. Listening to Felix's instruction, as she steps. One, then another, with only a small scrape of her shoe against his. "Oof," she bemoans, but Katarina's stubborn nature shines through. That - and a wish to see this time with him through. By almost half an hour's time, they move together as one. Stepping as he does, twisting and twirling in his arms.

"You're good at this." Katarina notes, after their fourth go-around. Moving faster through the motions, allowing her to meet his eyes again. Comfortable, even if her skin burns with newfound heat. "Not the dancing, although you are very skilled." He taught her, of all people. "But with people, I mean. You are-" She pauses, thoughtful when she looks into his eyes. That rush of excitement calming, if only slightly, enough that she may speak without a flurry. "You're enigmatic." Katarina concludes, with a wisp of a smile. "You see people. You understand." She carries on, shrugging as the music begins to wind down. "You saw me tonight... So, thank you, Felix."

[umitvar]

the cruel words aimed at herself make yura frown deeper, the lines of their face twisting, mouth curling downwards. "hey... don't speak about yourself like that." and those are nowhere close to the words that went through their mind when they saw her dancing. "i meant... happy. or carefree or- untroubled." those states of emotion are incredibly rare to see in the stasov house. all which yura would do anything to see on their siblings' faces, which they thought to be nearly impossible until they saw katarina dancing with that expression on her face. then, once they are both seated, she continues to explain herself, and yura's eyes widen. "oh." recognition sets in that they cannot voice out loud, not wanting to upset katarina with those assumptions just yet. "there's- nothing wrong with that, sestra." the tsarina might not agree, though yura firmly believes what they are saying. "just- get to know him. we can all do with friends who are not from home. don't put so much pressure on yourself. you deserve happiness, in whichever form it comes."

In a family as bombasting and loud as theirs, it is easy to come to a defense. But Yura - the youngest, the most understanding - finds a way to defang her. Softening slightly, she adds; "I would have done the same." Katarina admits. Taunting is the language of love in the Stasov household. Blinking, she furrowed a brow. "Like what? A fool? A silly school girl?" Isn't that what she was acting like, twirling about her bedchamber without a care. Katarina takes a seat on the edge of her bed, gesturing to the seat across from her. "I haven't a clue." She admits, rare for her given all her pride. "I just know that I have never met anyone like him. He is... Sunshine and intuition, wrapped into one. And when he smiles-" Katarina's eyes jump back at Yuri's, searching for wisdom. "We are here to work. But all I can think of is him."

[umitvar]

felix chokes on thin air. spluttering as he tries to take in the words that she utters as if it's an everyday ordeal. the flush of her cheeks that makes his heart beat faster in his chest, does not go hand in hand with the straightword words that make him blush instead. "i- i mean —-" the prince stammers, a hand almost going up to his face again, before he stops it midway. "it- it's still part of us, right? so i- find it a compliment nonetheless." this is quite awkward, though he soldiers on, hoping to ease some of the embarrassment from her expression, he manages to embarrass himself in return. "despite the uh- biological consequences." laughter shakes his frame at that, his face red, and he nods. "me neither." finding comfort in mutual embarrassment. "yes, it seems to be the favorite nowadays, and simpler than most spanish dances. slower." only when she sets her hand on his shoulder, he moves to put a hand on her waist. then, their hands meet. the touch threatens to make him shiver, and he needs a second to compose his thoughts. it's fine- he is just teaching her to dance. so that she can join in on the fun. that's all. a hum at her words, he also looks down at their feet. "like you said- one step at a time. we will do a small circle. to the side, you can follow my steps." the prince demonstrates it slowly, taking a step to his left, waiting for her to follow. "then i will move back, and you'll put your feet where mine was." felix raises his head to look at her expression, wanting to ease some of the tension. "and don't worry- you can step on my feet, it's fine."

It's as if Prince Felix is the sun itself. A lethal combination of light, laughter, and lushness that Katarina, in all her cynicism, should find off-putting. Instead, she goes flush with bright red fury. "Can't say that was any of my doing. Or yours. Symmetry is genetic. Luck of biology." She could end it there, but the weight of Felix's gaze has her rambling on. "It's meant to make someone visually appealing, for purposes of procreation." Now her cheeks go as deep red as borscht, a flush of realization. "Not that I am saying I wish to procreate with you." She's only just met the man, and most of that time has been spent dissecting the colors of brown present in those big, emotive eyes. "I do not know what I am saying." Katarina finally surrenders, in her tongue-tied desperation.

Fortunately, Felix gives her something else to focus on. In the quiet of their corner, she looks at his open hands. The idea of being touched by them weighing on her mind, though she attempts to hide her girlish laughter with a pseudo-intellectual quirk of her brow. "The waltz, yes?" Careful to nod, she provides her consent by being the first to touch him. Her hand resting on his shoulder, coming closer until the scent of him overwhelms the senses. Biology, she reminds herself. That's all it is. "One step at a time." She says, more to herself, finding comfort in looking down at her feet instead of Felix's eyes. "What's next?"

[umitvar]

her embarrassment is clear to see, even before the snapping words and the squeeze of their hand. they try to school their expression to not upset her further, before shaking their head quickly. "sorry — sorry, katarina, i was just... surprised." they try to purse their lips around the wide smile, reaching out with their other hand too, to hold onto hers in between theirs. "i apologize for teasing." this, they mean with their heart. "i just- i liked seeing you like that." happy? carefree? it would be difficult to pick the right word, and they hope she won't make them. though, the explanation is more than enough to pique their interest further. "oh? although i am quite sure you did not..." a pause, squinting briefly. "you... care about the opinion of this prince then?" yura found she usually didn't care about things like this, which is why they cannot help but push.

She's the color of crimson, with burning cheeks and a nervous tick to her movement. A proud woman, a serious woman, the notion of being embarrassingly frivolous is unheard of. Yura's laughter only adds to her embarrassment, prompting Katarina to squeeze their hand reprimanding. "Are you about done, Yura?" She snaps impatiently. "It is not funny!" In the clarity of the morning after, she could concede - it was funny. "What? So you can laugh some more?" Even in her state, she knows Yura's heart. No malice there, where they might be with Isaak or Nik. "I aim to be half-decent at anything of import." She tries to explain, dancing around the query. What is she, if not the master of law and justice? "Clearly, it is a skill set necessary at court. I made a joke of myself at the last ball, in front of the Spanish Prince."

[umitvar]

the compliment is so shocking to hear that felix freezes on the spot. mouth parted in a half-sentence, looking at her expression for any further clues. well, he thinks it to be a compliment, although the quickness with which she explains herself makes it questionable, both of those statements do feel like flattering remarks. when he decides to go with that, a light flush spreads across his cheeks, and he smiles wider down at her. "that's — very- kind of you, tsarina. so is yours- it's- incredibly symmetrical." now that is also quite awkward, maybe they can pretend to brush over it together. this one feels less like a compliment, but felix still decides to take it as one nonetheless. "again, thank you- that is too kind, is this also something russia excels at?" asks cheekily, and shakes his head to reassure. "of course you won't look foolish. not that i mean it's possible- i am sure you won't." and the spanish prince is almost sure she will reject him for sure now, before she manages to surprise him yet again. "oh—" falling into step behind her, his long legs make it easy to catch up in a few strides. "yes! it will be fun, i promise." once they make it to a more private area without any of the eyes looking at them, with music still close enough to hear, he cannot help but feel a bit nervous. masks it with a grin nonetheless. "so- you will need to put one hand on my shoulder. and i will put one hand on your waist — is that alright?"

There are the things the Prince says. A steam of words, running a mile a minute. Each as energetic and certain as the last. And Katarina, a lover of words and their precise meanings, can only fixate on his grin. The white of his teeth. The boyish twinkle in his eye. "Almost as remarkable a combination as your smile, with that face." She says, too quick and abrupt to be considered slick. Instead, it is said awkwardly - with something sounding vaguely like a snort. "Your face. It is symmetrical, is what I mean, Prince Felix." Yes, imposing his title. That would surely soften her embarrassment.

"Really?" This time, it's a snort of derision. At least in arrogance, Katarina feels at ease. "You look like you could uphold all the entertainment in a room." She's reminded of Antonina - the talent, the dazzler. Except her sister did not spur a nervousness in her. Nor could she convince her to take stock of the offer. Her eyes actually bouncing around Felix's, in consideration. "I do not like being foolish. I never am." No fun, either, but she's fun in her own way. Isn't she? But she's avoiding, Felix's hand is extended, and inevitably... "Fine." Katarina agrees, before her senses bring her back to the ground. "But only because it seems to be a requirement in these royal courts." It is Katarina who takes the lead; stepping away from the bustling crown, out onto the star-soaked courtyard. Rubbing her damp palms along her skirt, she feign a confidence. "We should begin."

[umitvar]

the urgency in her movement makes him take another involuntary step forward, hands raising up, palms towards her, as if to motion her to stop. "no, no — don't- don't move. i'd hate for you got hurt more-" the words fall from his lips, and then reach his own ears. the amount of concern and doting in them makes the tips of his ears flush red, a hand going to the back of his neck, which feels much warmer than it should have. a tentative smile on his lips, he wonders what he should do with his hands. in his pockets? no, that would look too casual. cross them in front of himself? too closed-off. he cannot decide and ends up letting them awkwardly hang by his sides. however, the reassurance by katarina, is enough to avert his attention, leading to the pursing of his smile, the furrowing of his eyebrows. "are you sure you are alright?" and something in her statement makes the worry in his chest rise even more. "what do you mean — did anything else happen to you?" it's highly likely she means the chaos of the last few days, though the spanish prince cannot help but ask either way. then it's her attention that gets distracted by the gifts, and he is quick to nod. "mhm, yes — hope you'll like them. picked some of my faves." her gasp is surprising, though felix assumes she hasn't had this kind of chocolate before. that must be why. "do let me know, once you try."

It's with punishing rigor that she busies herself; with testimonies, with pages of text. Katarina had failed her mother, the Tsarina. A fact that is reiterated by her mother's notable absence from the infirmary, then her bedchamber. So she works; head down, eyes laser focused. Something to pull from the lingering pain to her arm, or the torment of the very real secrets her siblings keep. But for all the business of her mind... She thinks of him. She saw him, from afar, and Katarina has to control herself to ask about Prince Felix of Spain.

A silly crush has no place in a Tribunal.

But he comes, anyways, and Katarina hurriedly jumps out of her bed. Desperate hands untangling the knots of her hair, before her fingers lift to her cheeks to pinch some color into her wan figure. "Felix." She says his name like it is a comfort. Her attention first paid to her breathing, rapid yet relieved. He was still in one piece. "I'm--" She glances down at her arm, shrugging sheepishly. "If my injuries are the worst thing that happened, I'd be fine." Wounds can heal. But the uncertainty? She sighs, only for her lips to quirk into a tight-lipped smile. "I never..." The Stasov's never received a gift they didn't earn, and her fingers ghost over the petals. "Is this chocolate?" She marvels with a gasp, grasping at the box, thereby flinching in the process. Could she be blamed? The last time she tasted chocolate, she was a girl. Not a young woman, in the presence of a Prince.

[umitvar]

she makes a sound of pain, and yura feels it reverberate in their chest. a jagged dagger of guilt, pushes deeper into where it's buried, twisting. they wish to take away the pain from their sister, yet knows it is impossible. nails dig deeper to the skin of their upper thighs through the fabric, and all they can do is shake their head. "it's- it's not—" the words are broken through the tears, and they wait for the physician to finish wrapping up the rest of her wounds. they cannot look away from the white bandages, the specs of red, and how she cannot move her wrist. "you are not fine-" they start, and cut themselves short again, eyes moving to the physician once more, who straightens up and tells them what to do. yura listens it carefully, nodding a few times, a hand going to angrily wipe the tears away from their eyes, irritating the skin a redder hue. only when the physician leaves, they try again. "you don't- you don't get it — there's something i have to tell you. then you'll get it and i am —" terrified. of her reaction, of their other siblings, of the tsarina's. their eyes have welled up with tears again as they shake their head. "i'm so sorry, katarina- i-i will tell you why- but you have to promise not to tell anyone. please."

She's caught in the storm of her own making. A front row seat as law and order fail, to make room for chaos and injustice. Amidst the scrolls and ink, Katarina is caught in the middle of it all. Her eyes rushing to each of her siblings, attempting to take comfort in their brass knuckles and sensibilities. But one was missing, and Katarina found them in the center of Brazilian guards and loud perpetrators. When her voice fails, she crosses the threshold, and Katarina can only vaguely remember the following events when she sees blood.

With Antonina's firm insistence, she's eventually brought to a bed. Her person inspected for marrs and cuts, wrist specifically tended to and reset. Despite herself, Katarina let out a loud yelp of pain at the physician's steady hands. Turning from her seat, she can hear Yura distinctly. The softness of their voice. The guilt in their heart. Katarina knows her youngest sibling, better than most, and this guilt. It isn't natural. "It's a broken wrist and a wound stitch." Katarina states, matter of fact, attempting to ebb their guilt with evidence. "Yura," she softens, slightly. "Please. Do not cry. Mama-" She would not want to see her children in such a state. "I am fine."

[umitvar]

they are frozen as they stand, eyes wide, mouth half open. in all of their years living together, yura has never seen katarina like this — and once they are pulled further into the room, it takes a few seconds before they completely crack. bursting into laughter, a hand, going up to their mouth to hide it. there is an attempt not to make much noise, lest they wake anyone up, but the giggles can be heard through their hand. "oh my god — that was- that was-" grasping her hand in their own, shaking it up and down. "that was great- you should dance more often, sestra." yura does not mean to tease, though this most likely comes off as just that. a grin is on their face as they try again. "tell me what you are preparing for, please? and you could have asked me if you needed a partner to practice with."

On the evenings when Katarina chooses to burn the midnight oil, it is often to pour over pages of legal minutia or debate her arguments for the morning after. So rarely does she stay awake, dancing. The low hum of the song that echoes in her head coming from between her teeth, holding the makeshift figure. Practice makes perfect, and Katarina was determined to excel the next time. That is until - "Yura!" She admonishes them, almost immediately. Head whipping backwards, to catch them staring at her incredulously. "What are you doing here?" She hisses, tight grip on their wrist as she pulls them into the privacy of her bedroom. "You should be sleeping." Katarina argues, evading the question. Relenting, she exhales; "Nothing, it was nothing. A moment of foolishness."

[umitvar]

now her first words doesn't really make it seem like his attempt was all that successful. and if some form of disappointment shifts over his features, felix does a pretty decent job at hiding it. "accessible and practical? now that sounds like a stellar combination." the prince is mostly serious, despite what the grin on his face might signal, that's just how he usually is. a hum, pursing of his lips. wonders, if he is bothering her, then thinking that if he is, she doesn't seem to be the type to hold back from telling him to get lost. which fuels him to try again. "well, pleasure to meet you katarina of russia. i am felix of spain. i don't think i am responsible of upholding or carrying anything..." which isn't a great line, and he realizes it moments after it leaves his mouth. a hand, goes up to the back of his hair, messing up the curls there even more. "however, i do dance, and i can teach you how to if you'd like to. it might not seem accessible or practical, but it is fun, and- boosts morale, which is like practical in a sense, isn't it?" now, he really is grasping at straws, though he has another idea of how to make this easier. "if... you don't like the crowds all that much, we can practice at one of the smaller areas in the courtyard." his voice goes quieter, more genuine, this is not a joke or a tease. "might be easier for both of us when there is no one to see."

Katarina is righteous confidence, rules and regulations. Unmoving and entirely serious - about the law, about Russia, about herself. It should not bother her that her dress is embarrassingly simple, or that she's never been to an event with this much luxury before. Nor should she pay any mind to the fact that she had no one. No friends, outside of her family and Russia's tight-knit contingent. These people stood for everything she fought against, and yet... There is a part of her, curious and girl-like, that wonders what it's like to be revelry and thrill. From afar, she catches sight of the Spanish Prince. With his bright smile and brighter demeanor, gliding effortlessly through the room. She should despise men like him. In fact, she does.

So why can't she keep from staring at him? And why is her face, oft perpetually stoic, fighting an endeared laugh at his every movement?

Before long, he's beside her. Confidence that is different than her own, reflected in his smile. Forget the meteor shower - she's sure Prince Felix has absorbed the sun for himself. "We have more accessible and practical events back home." Katarina corrects objectively, like she hasn't been staring at him for the past hour. Obstinate even when she's taken. Finally, she acknowledges his hand. "You cannot be serious." She says, wincing. She doesn't know how to dance, and when her competence is challenged, Katarina only ever knows how to shake her head in dissatisfaction. "I am Katarina of Russia. I uphold laws, carry out Russia's justice system. I-" She blinks, almost losing her train of thought at those foolishly brown eyes. "I don't dance."