disclaimer— tales of vesperia © namco/namco tales studio
.
.
.
There she was again; Estellise Sidos Heurassein. The pretty pink-headed little thing was dancing around the colly old tavern with Flynn, her frilly skirt bouncing around as she tried to hold it up with one hand and dance with her free arm locked with Flynn's. Hungry, drunken eyes lingered on her chemisette as if waiting for something to fly out. Though Yuri wasn't too expectant on that happening, he wouldn't mind knocking some heads together over her.
To say Yuri was interested in Estellise was an understatement.
Estellise was pure nobility. Residing in, quite literally, the highest room of the tallest tower of Zaphias Castle, Yuri couldn't help but wonder why a girl like her would come down to the Lower Quarter every other week to prance around a room full of drunken perverts until sunrise. Especially with Flynn.
To say Yuri was jealous of Flynn was right on point.
The blond was a lucky dog, that's for sure. Estellise had this way about her that was winsome and innocent, but still had the men drooling over her nonetheless; probably because she wasn't like the tavern wenches that practically threw themselves out there in unadulterated desperation. No, not at all. She was alluring in her own natural way, and had Yuri becoming far too curious about her in the months he'd been watching her come and go without a word.
Not that he had a problem with that, even if all he was was a lower class citizen who wasted too much time in the tavern, and she was princess-status.
Yuri was nearly caught by surprise when he noticed Flynn was no longer by Estellise's side, for he was making his way to the bar and a drunk man already commenced hitting on the "lonely" girl. Something bubbled deep within him that he couldn't care to address properly, and it took him no more than four quick strides across the room to reach the petite pinkette and practically sweep her off her feet, asking with suave disposition, "care to dance, Estelle?" as he just avoided a rather harsh sucker punch.
Long, eggplant-colored locks swayed freely as he moved in step to the fast-paced rhythm of the bouzoukis and chalice drums, chuckling at the angry look on the drunkard's red face. He barely noticed the blush forming on Estellise's porcelain cheeks until he pulled her to his chest one moment and sent her away the next, wondering if he was maybe acting just a bit too similar to the blond soldier watching from the sidelines.