#irelia: no ♥️

[deathdxnces]

irelia: i'm a warm and caring person

also irelia: will make it feel like you're talking to a wall if she's not interested in talking to you for whatever reason

[phalanxus]

Irelia ♥️

[deathdxnces]

' here . catch . ' tosses her a water bottle . break time for the widdle dancers !!

— @windchaser

Music continues to fill the studio, and despite the agreement for a pause, Irelia's mind continues much too absorbed in the rhythm, envisioning the choreography to the beat of the song (caught up in what would work best, what could be changed or replaced). Yone's voice breaks that trance, a surprised glance finding him through the mirror even before she turns — just in time to catch the bottle, more reflection than being prepared for it.

"Thank you, Yone," Gratitude offered with a smile, she takes a sip from the water, only then realizing how thirsty she had been. With a graceful dip, she sits on the ground, taking the time to rearrange long locks that had fallen from her bun.

"I was thinking," Irelia starts, looking at her companion for a reaction. "What do you think about the choreography? I feel like something needs adjusting..." But she couldn't figure out what, exactly — and Irelia trusted his insight, if he had suggestions to offer.

[deathdxnces]

It is OBNOXIOUSLY loud, Kayn thinks idly as he sits himself next to the dancer. Cold too— the tiles of the roof they occupy retaining little warmth. There's some kind of festival going on in the streets beneath them, though neither of them can participate unfortunately— both of them draw far too much attention ( and not always the GOOD kind, in Kayn's case ). But that's fine, if Irelia is naïve enough to continue entertaining his double-edge affections, then he's SELFISH enough to allow it.

❝ You asked why I call you Princess once, didn't you...? ❞ he asks, uncomfortable sitting in too much noise that doesn't involve his own voice. ❝ It was only a taunt at first— ❞ And maybe it'd be better for him if it had STAYED that way, if he had kept thinking she was some pretty figurehead, raised to sit high on a throne without having to get her own hands dirty or give any real care to her people. It'd be easier to ignore her if that were the case. But would he be HALF as happy then (even knowing he doesn't deserve it )? ❝ Now I just like watching the way you blush so hard when I call you that. ❞

» — ⌜ 𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑴  ♥️ ⌟  , 

— @deathfxnds

The glance she directs at the festivities beneath is one filled with the deep-seated 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 of one who would have been there, once, in a life so distant it feels death itself separates who she had been then from who she was now. She loved festivals as a child, and none so much as the one to celebrate the coming of spring, when she'd watch Zinneia dance at the Placidium.

Both her teacher and that stage have lost its shine, now, no matter how fervently she had wished to occupy it once.

Bitterly, she thinks her wish was granted, in a way; she did dance at the Placidium, in a performance so remarkable as to make her known throughout all of Ionia. It just hadn't been pretty. Instead, it had been desperate and vicious and 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐘 and —

Irelia is grateful the thoughts are cut off by the sound of Kayn's voice, attention fully turning to him, instead. Her palms rest upon the cold tiles of the roof they occupy, shoulder almost touching his; the warmth of closeness would be welcome, the dancer thinks, as the wind continues to blow icily — yet no effort is made to bridge that gap, not yet. Likely to not remain that way for too long, she reckons; Irelia is self-aware enough to acknowledge how fond she is of being much too 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄 to someone who could hurt her in so many ways beyond just the body.

A simple nod in confirmation at the question, gaze turning curious as he suggests that question would finally be answered. A snort follows the all too predictable revelation it had been but a taunt at first, despite the lack of bite in his tone even then. There had been no other plausible reason; a provocation, directed at one he believed a fragile sort of ruler, fit for a throne that he likely expected she wanted, as if she had ever 𝑾𝑨𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑫 to be seen as anything special at all. He wasn't the first to expect her to be like that, though; and likely not the last, either.

Light laughter follows the second part of the answer, a glance away before she can look back at him, half amused and half embarrassed that it's so easy for him to get her flustered ( that he enjoys it is no secret, even if Kayn hadn't said that before; that had always been plain enough to see ). Irelia leans to the side, shoulder bumping against his arm lightly in would-be protest or some form of half-hearted complaint that isn't sincerely meant at all.

It's nice, to have someone who doesn't see her as a pretty figure on a pedestal anymore and is instead close enough to make her 𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍 and see her flawed and find amusement in how she blushes at a single word, provocation turned into an endearment of sorts. She loves him for it. She loves him for many reasons, really.

❝ Maybe I should find a nickname for you, ❞ The half smile tinges her tone, naught of serious in her words, any previous anguish forgotten for the time being. It is always so easy to be carefree and happy, in these moments they steal and make 𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑰𝑹𝑺. ❝ Something silly that would make you flustered instead. I don't get to see that often enough. ❞