Private Demons Are a Girl's Best Friend

[Darth Garoul]

Continued from...

A smirk tugged at the corner of Sarlow's lips as Fevris mentioned that the books she owned were far from casual reading. The hint of challenge in her voice was not lost on him, and he responded with a playful gleam in his sapphire eyes. "Then I shall endeavor to begin work on such a fine craft," he replied with a touch of teasing in his tone. "No doubt, you'll require something of great quality to hold such esteemed tomes."

As they strolled through the corridors of the palace, the sounds of music from the grand ballroom grew nearer, filling the air with a light and elegant melody. The hallways, lit with warm amber light, created a glowing path that seemed to guide them back to where their evening had begun. The polished floors reflected the chandeliers above, making the entire palace feel like a shimmering dream. Sarlow, with his hands clasped behind his back, walked in step with Fevris, listening intently as she spoke. Her words, measured and thoughtful, carried a sense of grounding that intrigued him, and yet there was an undeniable energy between them—something far from mundane.

When she voiced her thoughts about keeping their feet safely on the ground, Sarlow couldn't help but smile wider. There was something about her practical nature, balanced with curiosity, that drew him in even more. Then came her question—no, a soft wonder—whether his offer to dance was still there.

The moment her words reached him, a spark of warmth bloomed in his chest. There was a certain magic in this night, one that made him feel as though they had stepped into a world where time itself held its breath. He turned to her, his gaze softening with an emotion he hadn't felt in some time—something more than admiration, something deeper. "Absolutely," he replied, his voice rich with sincerity as he dipped into a graceful bow. "It would be my honor."

He straightened and offered his arm, his heart quickening just slightly as he awaited her response. "Shall we?" he asked, the simple question carrying with it a promise of something more—a dance that might just be the beginning of a new rhythm in both their lives.

As she took his arm, Sarlow guided her toward the grand ballroom. The light from the chandeliers spilled out into the corridor, welcoming them back into the heart of the gala. The orchestra played a waltz, and the air buzzed with the quiet hum of conversations and the soft rustle of gowns sweeping the floor. Yet, as they stepped into the ballroom together, it felt as though the world had shifted ever so slightly, just enough to draw them closer.

With one hand resting gently at the small of her back and the other holding hers, Sarlow led Fevris onto the dance floor. The moment their feet moved in unison, he felt something stir within him—a sense of belonging that he hadn't realized he'd been missing. The music swelled around them, but it was the connection between them that truly carried the dance forward. In that moment, Sarlow knew that this night would linger in his memory long after the final notes had faded away.

His eyes remained fixed on Fevris as they moved gracefully together across the polished floor, the world around them blurring into the soft glow of chandeliers and the lilting melody of the orchestra. The touch of her hand in his, the gentle pressure of her presence beside him—it was a moment he wished to preserve, to stretch into eternity. Yet, as the dance carried on, reality nudged at the edges of his thoughts, reminding him that even the most beautiful moments had to end.

"Perhaps," Sarlow began, his voice low and intimate, barely audible above the swirl of music. He hesitated for the briefest of moments, savoring the anticipation that hung between them. The warmth in her eyes, the soft curve of her lips, it all spoke of something more, something just beyond reach. He let the music settle into the spaces between his words, a soft, harmonious backdrop to his thoughts. "We can see each other again?"

There was a vulnerability in his question, a quiet hope that she might feel the same tug of connection that had sparked within him. Sarlow, for all his strength and poise, felt the slightest flutter of nerves as he waited for her response.

Fevris Derzelas ​

 

[Fevris Derzelas]

Tagging: Darth Garoul

​

As the waltz swept them gracefully across the ballroom floor, Fevris felt a sense of contentment and ease she hadn't anticipated. Each step with Sarlow felt light, almost effortless, as though they had been dancing together far longer than just this night. His hands guided her with an elegance and care that spoke of a side to him she hadn't expected to uncover—a softer, quieter part of a man otherwise steeped in power and authority.

Her gaze flitted up to meet his, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow around them. The glittering chandeliers above, the whispers of gowns swaying around them, and the gentle hum of the orchestra all melted away. It was just the two of them, connected in a dance that felt like an unspoken conversation—curious, cautious, yet undeniably drawn to one another.

When Sarlow's voice broke the tender silence, Fevris found herself caught off guard by the vulnerability in his words. It was a simple question, yet it carried with it the weight of possibility, of something more than just this evening. His sapphire eyes, once gleaming with playful wit, now held a quiet sincerity that tugged at something within her.

For a moment, she hesitated, not out of uncertainty, but because of the sudden depth of feeling his question stirred. Fevris had grown accustomed to shielding herself, to keeping others at a distance, especially in a world where power and alliances often took precedence over genuine connection. But tonight, in Sarlow's presence, that shield had begun to lower, if only slightly.

A soft smile curved her lips as she looked up at him, warmth radiating from her gaze. "I would very much like that," she replied, her voice quiet but steady, each word imbued with a sincerity that mirrored his own. "In fact, I think I'd be disappointed if we didn't."

The words hung between them, laced with promise and perhaps even a touch of excitement at the thought of what might come next. She allowed herself to savor the moment, the gentle rhythm of their dance still carrying them.

Fevris' hand tightened ever so slightly in his, her fingers soft yet resolute as she let herself lean into the delicate anticipation of what their next meeting might hold. She was a woman of reason and science, always planning her next step with precision, but this—whatever it was—felt refreshingly different. Less calculated, more instinctual. And she found herself welcoming that change.

"Besides," she added with a teasing glint in her eye, "I believe I'd still be owed a discussion on recipes and a proper bookshelf for all my serious reading." The lightness in her tone was unmistakable, but beneath it was a subtle acknowledgment that she wanted to know more, to continue peeling back the layers of this man who had, so effortlessly, intrigued her tonight.

As the dance began to wind down, Fevris felt a quiet sense of anticipation settle in her chest. This moment, this connection, it wasn't something she often allowed herself, but with Sarlow, it felt like a risk worth taking.

For once, Fevris was content to let the future unfold, trusting that this night would only be the beginning of something far more interesting than either of them had expected.