The sound of metal clanking filled the air in the courtyard. Sword meeting rapier, boots scuffing against the dirt. A fierce match was being held.
Guila held her ground against Jericho, sweat dripping down her brow, adrenaline pumping through her.
For her, being in the training grounds brought well needed relief. Amidst all the grief and anxiety over the ever-looming war, she could exhale her worries away by focusing elsewhere- on harmless combat, disconnecting from everything around her.
She sensed each motion she made with her rapier, each step and movement she took, the way her muscles strained. Honing in on herself and her opponent to sharpen her skills; it was exactly the kind of rush she needed to clear her mind.
It helped that her sparring partner was someone so formidable. Jericho gave her the exact kind of challenge Guila craved, and she made training that much more fun. Even though they'd train with real weapons, they both knew the other would never seriously hurt them if she could help it. That level of risk and trust was something Guila cherished.
Not to mention, it certainly didn't hurt that Jericho was so pleasing on the eyes. Guila loved watching her move. She found much to respect about Jericho's form, besides the obvious. The movements Jericho made were quick and precise, and there was this overhanging essence of beauty over her in the way she exerted her power. Guila often wondered if that was something only she saw.
That beauty was something she was particularly distracted by today, watching her with intrigue as they clashed weapons.
Jericho suddenly thrust her short-sword forward, aiming to knock her in the side. Guila hardly had time to think. Moving on instinct alone, she caught Jericho's weapon in a parry, warding off the attack. Jericho had an advantage with her sword, and she quickly began to over-power Guila. Not intending to give up, she braced her rapier with her other hand, holding it against the blade to stabilize it against Jericho's sword. The two girls held each other off with equal strength, both pushing their weapons against each other, waiting for the other to slip.
Jericho clearly wasn't going to give up: She strained against the force of Guila's resistance, her face gradually growing more intense as she focused. That expression looked pretty on her, and Guila couldn't help but notice it when they were this close. The way her brows furrowed, and how she pushed her plump lips out. When she met her eyes, they were dead-set on her, practically burning through her. It was enough to make her heart thrum, ever so slightly.
A dull ache began to spread in her arms from withstanding their position. She knew if she didn't act soon, Jericho would win this battle of endurance. For a moment, Guila thought about letting her weapon slip from her hands intentionally. Would she crash into Jericho, or would Jericho lunge forward to catch her before she fell too hard on to the ground? Neither sounded terribly bad- if she wasn't so competitive, perhaps she'd try a stunt like that.
Shaking away her playful thoughts, she suddenly surged forward, breaking free from the parry. The force of her defensive move shifted Jericho's balance, and she tripped over her ankles. In that split second of weakness, Guila lunged into action, knocking Jericho completely off her feet; Jericho's sword clanged against pavement. Even though Guila had likely won already, she pushed Jericho's sword out of arm's-reach with the tip of her boot. She was familiarized with her partner well enough to know how much she liked to try and pull fast ones on her. It wouldn't be the first time she feigned a loss to gain the upperhand. So Guila wouldn't be taking any chances; even if they were just practice matches, the two of them liked to play for real.
But now Guila had won for sure, and triumph surged through her veins.
She dusted some stray dirt off of the white of her uniform, coming down from her adrenaline-fueled high. As the rush subsided, she slowly became aware to her exhaustion, and the slight burning in her lungs. Both girls stayed stagnant for a moment as they tried to catch their breaths.
"Damn, another win goes to you," Jericho said with a sigh as she began to rise from the ground on her knees.
Guila reached her arm out to assist her, firmly grasping Jericho's armor-clad hand to help her up. It was a simple kind of intimacy, but even just the feeling turned her lips up. "If it's any consolation, I only made it out by the skin of my teeth," she replied.
Jericho steadied herself back on her feet. Guila had expected her to move her hand, but Jericho let them linger together for just a moment. She only wished her gauntlets weren't on, so that she could feel her warmth. Guila chided herself- she has had too many desperate, embarrassing thoughts about her partner today. But it was so hard not to.
Jericho smiled as their hands separated far too soon. "But still, I'd like to beat you one of these days," she answered honestly, playfulness slipping into her tone. "I mean… how can I get better if I keep losing?"
She could sense the playfulness quickly dissipate in those final words. Guila felt worry pulling her down. Making Jericho feel inadequate hurt; she'd never want that. Though, she knew Jericho wouldn't resent her, or hold her accountable. Jericho could often be childish, but even when Guila could sense some envy from her, it was never malicious.
She thought deeply about the right thing to say. Something Guila herself would find uplifting. "Training has its benefits, whether you win or lose," she stated simply. "I can tell you're getting better. Like I told you, it takes a lot of effort to win against you."
"I- I'm sorry, I'm not blaming you," Jericho replied hurriedly, fiddling with her hands. "The pressure of the war… it's just really getting to me. Everyone can feel it coming. I don't want to be underprepared."
Guila sighed. That was a fear she knew all too well. "I wish that I could say everything will be alright... but I can't be certain." She tugged nervously at the hems of her uniform. "Truthfully, I'm terrified. So many bad outcomes have been going through my head."
Being so direct with her emotions wasn't something Guila did often. They made her feel unbearably vulnerable and weak. But it felt easy to open up to Jericho, something so unfamiliar and new.
Thought it came with guilt, she often even hid her feelings from Zeal, out of fear. She couldn't be weak around him; she's supposed to protect him, and make him feel safe. The same way her father would. It's shameful, but she just can't ever bring herself to admit them to him. However, Jericho brought so much comfort, and she felt she could tell her anything. Even in her worst moments, that reassurance filled her with warmth.
Jericho said nothing, giving her the opportunity to continue. Guila looked off to the side, away from Jericho's face. "I just- I just can't handle anymore death," she finished.
Turning her gaze back towards Jericho, Guila saw a heavy look on her face- one of complete understanding. Sadly, the grief of loss was something the two of them had in common. After Gustaf, Guila would hate to see Jericho lose anyone else.
"Me either. I can't stop thinking about losing people," Jericho replied, looking more composed. Stern, almost. "Losing Ban, or losing you. I hate this."
Guila knew she was one of the people her friend deeply cared for, but it still came as a shock to hear that. So often did she feel the need to disregard her own safety, willing to die if it served the greater good of those she cared for; but the reminders that people would miss her if she were gone, that she'd only be further hurting them… it made her rethink things. It grounded her.
That was something Veronica had taught her, that she had to live for the people she loved, not die for them. Guila tried to hold it to heart. She always struggled against such suicidal urges, but she couldn't leave Zeal behind, or Veronica. Or Jericho.
With that in mind, her fear began to vanish a bit. Even if nobody could predict the outcome of the war, she couldn't let herself or Jericho be defeated before it even began.
She watched the tense look on Jericho's face, and her heart weighed heavily with worry. Slowly, she out-stretched her hand, resting it against Jericho's forearm.
"I won't die on you, Jericho," she said, her voice as gentle and soft as possible, yet still with an edge of gravitas. She wanted to make sure Jericho knew she meant it, to set it in stone. "I promise you that."
The expression that befell Jericho's face was almost entirely unreadable; she blinked twice, her eyes wide, like she had been stunned. It felt strange, out of the ordinary for her. Jericho was an open-book, not nearly as disguised as she thought she was, but Guila couldn't imagine what she was thinking. Surely her response wasn't too unexpected- what else would she have said?
...Perhaps she had set the tone a little too melodramatic. That had to be it.
Jericho brought her hand to her mouth, awkwardly clearing her throat. Her cheeks tinged with the softest red. "Y-yeah, of course," she said, a smile just barely peeking out from behind her knuckles. "How else would I get the chance to beat you?"
She must've simply embarrassed her, but something still felt strange. Guila knew Jericho was prone to embarrassment over acts of care, yet such an obvious response couldn't have hit with that kind of initial impact. There had to be something else in the mix. More than just the words themselves.
It often seemed a little obvious that Jericho may return her feelings. However, she just as often flip-flopped between certainty and doubt. She wanted to believe so badly, and that desire seeped into all her actions.
And knowing she embarrassed Jericho like that...
Maybe she was just thinking too hard. Guila cocked her head slightly to the side, giving a smile in return, and Jericho quickly broke eye-contact. Guila realized she was still resting her hand against Jericho's arm, and slowly released her grip.
She felt a tangible warmth between them as their spirits lifted.
"I won't go easy on you," Guila promised once more.
All this talking was making her thirsty. She turned to make way for the pitcher of water they had brought out before practice, her friend following steadfast beside her.
Jericho smiled wider, scratching the back of her head. "You better not! Beating a war hero fair-and-square would really boost my confidence."
A war hero… now Jericho was just flattering her. The tables had turned, and now she was the one feeling embarrassed. However, unlike with Jericho, it wouldn't show on her face.
"You'll be one too, don't forget," Guila gracefully dodged as she unclasped her gauntlets. With free hands, she poured herself and Jericho a glass. "They'll be cheering for all of us. Raising toasts in celebration."
On cue, the two of them toasted their ownglasses before downing them, both chuckling a bit. The water was cold and refreshing, just what Guila needed. Feeling relieved, she set her glass back to the ground.
Jericho soon followed suit. But half-way from standing back up-right, her face lit up. She awkwardly jolted to full height, smacking her fist into the palm of her hand. "Celebration! Do you think the kingdom will have a festival when we all come back from the war?"
It seemed like Jericho's worries were completely behind her for now, and Guila felt filled with accomplishment. There was little better than cheering up someone that you cared about. Sure, they were only distracting themselves with fantasies, getting excited over a party that technically isn't assured, but seeing Jericho put it so matter-of-factly raised Guila's confidence as well.
A party sounded nice.
Guila thoughtfully brought her finger to her lips. "Hmm, I don't see why we wouldn't have a festival. A big win warrants a big celebration."
"That's what I was saying! It'll be so great to bring everyone together again, after all of this," Jericho replied excitedly. "Everyone cheering and drinking. Honoring those heroes who may be lost." She paused suddenly, like she was stuck on her words. After a moment, she quickly finished: "And… uh, dancing."
There was an indiscernible tense look on Jericho's face as she hung on those last words. It struck Guila as bizarre, but she put it aside.
Dancing… that's something she'd never gotten the time for.
"A festival would be good fun. Even if I'm not much of drinker, and never learned how to dance. But the atmosphere of people enjoying themselves is… nice," Guila said. "I hope we'll be able to have one after all this."
'Since I couldn't enjoy the last one, not technically,' she finished in her head.
Jericho tilted her head, looking puzzled. "You've never danced before?" She asked.
"Well, I've danced, just not properly," she explained. "I've twirled Zeal around the living room, but not much more than that."
"Huh. Even I've danced before." Jericho teased, resting on hand on her hip.
Curiosity bit at her. "Who have you danced with?" Guila asked, hoping her motives weren't too obvious in her tone.
Jericho suddenly deflated, and glanced off to the side. She gave a limp smile. "Gustaf… we learned together. It was some kind of... preparation, for uppity communal events, or whatever. To keep up our family's image," she explained. Slowly, she exhaled through her nose, and came back into eye contact. "I never ended up dancing with anyone besides him, though."
Her face was sunk like she was in pain, yet she didn't look sad. There was a warmth coming from her. Guila could only guess it had to be nostalgia. These were happy memories.
The bittersweet mood quickly edged away once Jericho snapped back into focus. Looking frazzled, she awkwardly shifted the topic back on track: "But, um, anyways. I'm surprised you of all people have never danced before."
"Why me specifically?" Guila asked, intrigued by the strange comment. The way Jericho was drawing out the conversation piqued her interest. Jericho became so quickly fixated on dancing; specifically, on her dancing. It was only natural that she couldn't help but wonder what she was getting at.
Then a thought crept into her head, of her and Jericho dancing. The two of them, somewhere out of sight, dancing in each other's arms. In her mind, she'd be leading Jericho. Guiding her around the room and taking her breath away. But she can't even dance, she knew it'd have to be Jericho. Her hand resting on Guila's waist, the distance closing between them…
That sounded just as exciting.
The usual bold side of her wanted to use this chance to ask if she could try with her, but anxiety held her back. She feared that might be too forward.
"I- I mean, you're… graceful," Jericho stammered. "You just seem like someone who would know how to dance, I can picture it perfectly..."
She suddenly stopped in her tracks, like she had said too much.
Guila chuckled. "Oh, really?"
Her palms were sweating, but she kept her expression straight. In that moment, she wished so badly to be able to see inside Jericho's mind.
But almost as instantaneous as the thought came, she noticed just how tense Jericho was. Her face was burnt red, so much that it almost looked as if she was going to explode.
A short silence fell between them, before Jericho finally broke it:
"I could… I could teach you, if you wanted," she said, fiddling with her hands.
Now her intentions were clear.
Guila felt her heart skip a few beats, and then it lit up entirely. "Teach me?" She asked.
Jericho now looked significantly more flustered. She was staring dead-set at the ground, her face bright red. "Yeah, you know… dancing," she muttered, chewing the inside of her lip.
"Well, I wouldn't mind," Guila answered honestly, her words remaining cool in spite of her excitement.
She watched as Jericho exhaled, long and slow, all her tension relieving itself. Seeing her so worked up over something like this was nothing short of endearing.
Composure gradually returned to Jericho, but a prominent blush remained. Without a word, Jericho furrowed her brows, and began to strip herself of her gauntlets. She dropped them to the ground with a thud, scattering some of the dust on the cobble. That seemed to give Jericho the excuse to stare down at the floor, where she avoided Guila's eyes.
In that short moment, the atmosphere suddenly tensed. Though certainly not in a bad way.
Guila smiled sweet, attempting to brush away the awkward silence. "It'll be good to learn. I've wanted to for a long time, so thank you," she reassured. "No need to be so tense, it's just me."
That seemed to have helped things, as Jericho met her face again. "Yeah, it's… just you." Her voice was trembling. She stepped a little closer. "Just never lead a dance before," she finished, trying to smooth things.
She felt charmed, in the least, that Jericho was so concerned with this. But she didn't want the conversation to keep dragging along. Guila just wanted to get to the dancing. She kept replaying Jericho's proposal in her head, and it felt so exhilarating. Surely this couldn't just be a gesture of friendship.
"Then it'll be good practice for the both of us," Guila said simply. "Now then, what, um… what should I do?"
She caught her words fumbling, like her excitement was trying to jump out of hiding. It made her flush with sudden embarrassment. Jericho seemed to pick up on the hint of it, as she smirked ever so slightly, almost unnoticeable.
Jericho took a deep breath.
"Okay, to start, I'm going to need your, um," Jericho paused, suddenly looking confused. She squinted her eyes, flexing her left hand as she stared off for a second, like she was deep in thought. "I'm going to need your right hand," she quickly finished.
How cute she was, even when she couldn't remember her left from her right. "Understood," Guila replied, pressing her hand against Jericho's.
The moment she felt Jericho intertwine their fingers together, a pleasant warmth spread through her entire body. Jericho's hands were so soft and smooth- perhaps a bit sweaty as well, but Guila felt okay with that. She stood there patiently, her hand locked with Jericho's as she awaited the next instruction. However, Jericho said nothing, simply moving their arms into what Guila assumed to be the optimal position; she watched curiously and let herself be guided. Jericho slightly pushed their arms out from their bodies, allowing enough room to still bend sharply at the elbows; she moved their hands slightly, aligning them with the height of Guila's shoulder. It felt even more comfortable than Guila had anticipated.
Jericho sighed, cheeks burning. "This feels so awkward."
Disappointment stung in her chest. "We can stop, if you'd like," Guila said gently.
"No, no! I don't want to stop," Jericho replied frantically. "I- I was just saying. It's not you or anything, I just don't want to mess up my… demonstration." She inched her free arm forward, snaking it around Guila; her hand anchored gently against her mid-back, just below her shoulder-blades. "Um, is that comfortable?"
Guila rested her hand gently over Jericho's bicep. "Yes, very."
Without a word, Jericho stepped to stand offset to her, positioning her right foot between Guila, and her's in return. Once Jericho glanced back up to face her, she quickly broke her eyes away. Guila on the other hand was not so bashful. She kept her gaze steady on Jericho as she waited for her next instruction. Following from her soft cheeks into those deep amber eyes, though they still did not meet her. Guila sighed affectionately, and bore her eyes into the stone castle wall far behind them.
Carefully, she began gently swaying them where they stood. As if getting a feel, Jericho kept that on repeat for a few moments, slowly lifting her gaze from the floor and just past Guila's shoulder. She ebbed Guila into motion with gentle tugs on her hand, guiding her steps to the left as they rocked side-to-side. Guila glanced down at her feet; the steps seemed easy to follow, but the last thing she wanted was to trip over herself.
"See, it's… it's not too hard," Jericho said clumsily, almost as if reading her mind. "You just sort of do this, and then…"
She turned Guila to the right, leading their pattern into slow turns and circles in the small space of the court they occupied. "Just... keep moving like this," she finished in a low whisper.
"You needed lessons for this?" Guila jested, cocking her brow.
Jericho snorted. "Says the one who asked me to teach her."
"Oh? I didn't ask. You offered," Guila reminded.
Jericho awkwardly cleared her throat. "...That's true."
The two exchanged brief smiles, and the eye contact was just long enough to feel so intimate. Jericho held steady, her face so pleasant and warm that it was practically glowing. To Guila, it felt loving; it never failed to light up her insides when Jericho was so affectionate to her like that, and she was feeling the brunt of it, to the point she worried if maybe she let it show on her face. When Jericho looked away, there was no sense of embarrassment. It wasn't abrupt. Perhaps it was just natural to her, that despite the overhanging tension, Jericho for once didn't seem to be jumping away from it. So comfortable, that maybe she wasn't even thinking about it.
That, more than anything else, made Guila combust, and she glanced to the floor.
Quickly, they found themselves twirling further and further out into the courtyard, and the soft sound of their shuffling feet followed in tune. Not too fast, but not too slow. Guila didn't even have to think about the steps anymore, they came naturally, and she lost herself in the atmosphere; she took a deep breath, completely at peace in their shared silence.
Her arm faintly burned as she strained to keep it held out. But there was a much more comfortable warmth where their hands clasped, and where Jericho held stern against her back. Guila looked down past her shoulder, staring half-focused at nothing in particular. Occasionally, she'd let her eyes wander back to the crook of Jericho's neck; her head was just beyond Guila's line of sight, blurry and indiscernible from the corner of her eye. She couldn't help but wonder what expression laid on her face.
Jericho gradually slowed their tempo until they were gliding across the same small space. In tune, the arm holding up her and Guila's hands began getting slack; it fell and tucked more inwards, and Guila wondered if it was even guiding anything anymore. It's not like it would need to anyways, given how little they were moving; their dance had reduced to what was mostly swaying, no longer striding across any distance. Back and forth in a tight-knit area, just enough for a few steps around. Their hands simply rested just about between their bodies, but neither let go.
Guila could've been imagining things, but she swore it felt like they were moving closer and closer together. She slightly cocked her head to finally get a look at Jericho's expression; Jericho's eyes weren't even open anymore. Her face was at peace. There wasn't a single line of tension in her brows, or in her mouth. Almost like she was sleeping. Jericho's breaths were slow and deep; they crept out and barely made a noise.
It was when Guila felt Jericho's breath flicking against her collar that she realized they had been moving closer together; as if Jericho had gravitated into her. Not close enough to press against one another, but space was growing minimal. Guila certainly didn't mind it.
They stayed like that for a few moments, their limbs growing more limp as they melded into the position. Then suddenly, Guila felt Jericho's hand drifting down her body, where it stopped to hold her closely around the waist.
A chill ran up her spine.
Guila's heart was surprisingly calm; she settled into Jericho's touch with deep breaths. She felt Jericho's fingers flexing against her, so slight it was almost unnoticeable. Jericho's embrace was sturdy and comforting. It wasn't often that Guila received physical attention like that. She wanted nothing more than pull Jericho against her and close the space.
Testing the waters, Guila carefully slid her hand off of Jericho's bicep and snaked it up under her arm. She ran her fingers in light circles as she trailed her way to Jericho's shoulder-blades, where she gently gripped her. Relief slowly crept up her arm, grateful for the much more comfortable position. Guila couldn't take the tension anymore. She made the jump, leading Jericho in to rest closer to her; their bodies just barely brushed against one another, as light as a feather. Jericho took a deep, slow breath, and eased tighter into her embrace.
Perhaps she needed this comfort as badly as Guila did.
They swayed back and forth, side to side, barely moving anymore. Jericho still clung desperately to Guila's hand, despite their closeness almost making it feel uncomfortable. But Guila didn't mind, she could stay like this forever. All her worries felt as if they were melting away; so much tenderness washed over her.
Though, she had the sudden realization of how exposed they were. Out in the open, anyone in the castle could easily stumble upon them; she wondered how many people may had seen them. Perhaps a maid, or a knight who came to train, but then awkwardly bowed out. But she paid it no mind; her thoughts were fogged over with more important feelings.
Jericho suddenly sighed, breaking apart the silence; her throat had caught as she exhaled, almost like a soft, curt whimper.
"This feels a lot different than dancing with my brother," Jericho muttered, softly trailing off at the end.
"With how closely you're holding me, I would hope so."
"I…" Jericho stopped, at a loss for words. Like she had only just realized how much distance had closed between them. Or maybe she wasn't prepared to suddenly have to think about why.
Guila took mercy on her. "Was your arm also getting tired?"
"It- it… Yes," Jericho said, her voice quivering. She stepped back out of the embrace and slowly let go of Guila's hand; her own lingering at her waist for a few more moments. She seemed to have been frozen in place. Then she quietly released her grip, letting her hand fall slowly off of her.
Guila took the hint, that it was time to let the moment go. She had her own plans, however. A last second decision to redact her mercy. She wouldn't expect Jericho to verbally explain herself, but now her feelings were explicitly clear to Guila, even if Jericho was still too dense to realize. Naturally, Guila couldn't help herself.
For a moment, she thought about taking Jericho by the lips, and stealing that kiss she's wanted for so long. The scene was already set so romantic, it'd be perfect… But she knew it wasn't time for it, not yet at least.
With the slightest quirk of her lip, she dragged her hand all the way down the length of Jericho's body, where she let it rest against her waist; a simple enough gesture, but one she hoped would leave far more of an impact than simply letting her hand go.
"Thank you for the lesson," Guila said coolly; she felt Jericho lean into her hand before she finally let it slip off.
Jericho's jaw fell agape, and her body tensed reflexively. . "Y- Yeah… of course." She just barely managed to finish her sentence. Her hands fidgeted together, and she let out what was likely a well-needed breath of relief.
"It was fun," Jericho continued. She smiled fondly at the ground. "Even if I was a little… tired."
Guila giggled. Exhaustion, of course.
"What's so funny?" Jericho asked.
"Oh, nothing at all."
All Jericho could do was cock her brow, and then shake her head in defeat of herself. The two of them stepped farther apart, now completely in their own zones of personal space. Guila took the opportunity to stretch, bringing her arms up over her head; she felt her muscles burn all the way up her torso, bringing along the sound of her back popping just where she needed it. She settled back down and rested her hand on her hips.
She lost herself watching Jericho's attempt at collecting herself. Doing her own head-to-toe stretches, taking another drink of water, and re-adjusting her clothes. In one swift pull, she tore the ribbon out of her hair; beautiful lavender locks fluttered down around the curvature of her face. Her hair was little taught and messy from being tightly strung all day, and Jericho ran her fingers through it, almost neurotically. But at the same time, there was a stone calmness to Jericho's face- she seemed to be getting over it. Guila's senses began to blank out as she watched her, all the subtle sounds around them disappearing into white noise.
Guila loved her. Everyday, she loved her a little more. In that moment as she stared at her, that love was finally bubbling over inside of her. She needed to tell her, but she couldn't. Not yet, not now.
She took a long, deep breath. "Jericho, there's something I want to ask you when I get back," Guila stated matter-of-factly.
Jericho looked up with an inquisitive look on her face. "Why not just do it now?" She asked.
"It isn't the time, that's all."
Not seeming satisfied with that answer, Jericho pushed out her lips in a childish pout. "Now you're just making me curious..." She huffed.
Cute.
"Well, it'll give you something to look forward to, yes?" Guila tucked a hair behind her ear; one of her many nervous habits. She started to wonder if maybe she had backed herself into a corner.
She felt torn. If she died, she'd regret never telling her. But at the same time, she wouldn't want this moment to brew over the war; she knew that maybe Jericho wasn't fully ready to confront what she was feeling. It would only distract her. All that mattered now was that she set the first stone. Guila would have to make it home, so she could tell her.
But if she never made it back… Jericho would be wondering for the rest of her life…
Stop.
She couldn't let herself get caught in that mental cycle.
"Sheesh… you can be pretty strange, you know that?" Jericho scratched the back of her head and sighed. "But okay, fine… I can wait."
"Thank you." Guila smiled, and began gathering her belongings off of the ground.
They both casually made their way to the exit and exchanged pleasantries. Once they were about to part ways, stood beneath the shadows of the stone archway, Jericho turned to her. She clenched her jaw nervously, before speaking: "Maybe… save me a dance?"
Guila let out a half-laugh through her nose, curt and light. "Of course."