#HERE. at the end of my queue ahshsjsj i’m just posting it now good morning

[scionshtola]

slow-dancing in the living room, for cori and whoever you feel deserves to dance with them most 😌

ty azia! 💗 i went with corishtola because. well. i have the brainrot.

7. slow-dancing in the living room || 932 words || no spoilers but set during the SB patches. also sorry in advance 😌

Corisande flipped idly through the pages of their book, hardly reading the words written on them. Beside her, Y’shtola had been staring at the same spot in her book the last few times they had glanced over. The two of them had pored over their books in the solar of the Rising Stones for so long that the moon had risen high in the sky while the fire had burned low several times over.

She shut her book with a sigh, and glanced around the room for anything that would shake off the fatigue. Her gaze alighted on the orchestrion in the corner of the room, still playing after all these hours, though they did not know when they had last paid any attention to the music. They glanced at Y’shtola once more, and the faraway expression with which she stared down at her book made Corisande’s decision for them.

“I think we have earned ourselves a break,” they declared, pushing themself up from the table.

Y’shtola, pulled from her stupor, blinked up at them. She gestured at the books spread across the table with a frown. “I have no need for rest yet, Corisande. There are still many books we have yet to read—”

“Mayhaps you do not need a break, but I cannot read another word,” Corisande said. “Just for a moment, Shtola. Then we will get right back to it.”

Y’shtola did not rise from her chair as they had hoped, but they sensed her will to continue reading wavering even so. She offered her hand to Y’shtola with a smile. “Please?”

She sighed, then placed her hand in Corisande’s. They pulled her to her feet and into the center of the solar, leading her into a twirl as they went. They spun, twirling and twisting, hand in hand, hardly bothering to keep in time with the lively music. Corisande’s skirt swirled about their legs, and Y’shtola stood on her toes so they could duck under her arm. Her laughter was a sweet melody in Corisande’s ears, lovelier than anything the orchestrion could play.

The song began to slow, growing soft and almost melancholic. Y’shtola drew away, fingers slipping from their grasp, but they tightened their grip before she could slip free entirely. She paused her retreat, tilting her head in confusion as she looked back at them.

“Just until the end of the song,” they said, pulling her back toward them. She came easily enough, though she opened her mouth to protest. Corisande put a hand on her waist and she stilled under the touch. “I promise.”

Y’shtola was still long enough that they nearly stepped back themself, apology on the tip of their tongue. Before they could move, she rested her hand on their shoulder.

“I suppose it will not hurt,” she said, the beginnings of a smile forming on her lips. Corisande grinned down at her, pleased at their success, and pulled her closer. After a moment, Y’shtola turned her head, resting her cheek on their chest as they turned in a slow circle.

It was comforting to have her in their arms, soft and warm against them. What seemed these days to be a perpetual weight on Corisande’s chest was eased by the knowledge that Y’shtola was safe and happy, even for just a moment. She hardly dared to hope for more than just a moment anymore—it never seemed to work in her favor.

Y’shtola cleared her throat, pulling Corisande from her thoughts. “’Twould seem the song has ended.”

Corisande blinked. They had not even noticed the orchestrion falling silent, and briefly wondered how long it had been over before Y’shtola had spoken up. She looked down at Y’shtola, who appeared slightly breathless, lips parted and cheeks still pink from their earlier exertion.

“Corisande,” Y’shtola started, leaning closer. Her hand slid across their shoulder to rest on their neck. “I...”

They were strangely aware of all the ways they were touching—Y’shtola’s hand in hers, their hand clutching her waist, her body pressed against theirs, her fingers light on the side of their neck. She did not know what to make of any of it, least of all the soft but hesitant way that Y’shtola was looking at her.

And then she was stepping back, fingers slipping through Corisande’s grasp. “Mayhaps we have worked enough for one evening. ‘Tis far too late to read anymore—I shall never remember any of it come the morning.”

Corisande swallowed, stepping toward her. “I didn’t mean to bring our work to an end. I’m certain we can finish the ones we’ve started—”

She waved them off, glancing at them just long enough for a quick smile. “No, no, you were quite right to suggest a break, and now that we have had it, I find that I am not so keen to return to the work tonight as I thought. Reading is not as easy for me these days as it once was, you know.”

“Shtola—” They kept themself from reaching for her, just watched as she tucked the book she had been reading under her arm. She paused on her way to the door and rested a gentle hand on Corisande’s elbow.

“I will see you in the morning,” she said quietly. With a soft smile, she added, “’Tis only a few short hours away.”

And then she was gone, the solar doors swinging shut behind her. Corisande was rooted to the floor in the center of the room, cold and confused, and wondering if a moment might not be enough, after all.