Prompt: Write About A Dance.
Spoilers from Journal Of Sabine Longtreader…Maybe? I don't have the faintest idea how it'll end yet, so I guess we'll see.
The ship smelled of rope and wet wood and salt.
Sabine loved it.
No more running and hiding, no more fighting every other day, no more dirty looks from suspicious soldiers. Just here and now: The Mending, a ship called Burnley II, and a dance, happy rabbits spiraling in lively circles. She wasn't participating in the dancing, of course. She wouldn't be caught dead doing that.
"Tired yet?" Whitbie Joveson appeared around the side of the crate she'd been leaning against, smirking.
"Nope."
"Will you dance with me, then?"
Sabine scowled. "Did you really just ask that question?"
"Yeah, I did. So are you gonna answer, or not?"
"No. I won't."
"You won't answer my question?"
"I won't dance with you."
"Why not?" Whit nudged her. "As far as I can tell, no one here hates you."
"Well, I know that, but I have this feeling that if we dance, people will get ideas." Sabine nudged back, a bit harder than necessary on purpose.
"You're kidding, right?" Whit sat down on top of the crate, dragging Sabine with him. "People already have ideas. Yesterday Mother asked me if you and I were 'More than friends.'"
Sabine stifled a laugh. "Well, we are, aren't we?"
She couldn't see Whit's face all that well in the dim light on the edge of the ship, past the strength of the hanging lanterns, but she would've bet anything he was blushing. "We are?"
Sabine punched him in the shoulder for the pure fun of it, because he was in too much of a good mood to get mad about it. "Of course we are. We're best friends."
"Oh. Yeah, that's totally what she meant."
"I'm kidding, Stupid. I know what she meant, and I know that she was right, too."
"I guess she was." In the darkness of the Natalian night, Sabine felt an arm wrap around her shoulders, and a head rest on top of hers. "So, I'll ask again, then." Whit's voice was a gentle whisper. "Will you dance with me?"
"Yeah, I will. Your feet won't thank me, though." Sabine took the hand he was offering her, and followed him into the dance circle, her ears perking up and her heart swelling as she recognized the song being played by the lively band, –one of the singers, she noticed, being Jo Shanks' adopted sister Maya– a melody from King Whitson's time. And as she allowed herself to be spun and swayed to the music, the lyrics filled her heart, as well as her head.
"We have sailed over endless seas,
That have somehow come to an end.
And we, having settled at home,
Have decided to sail out again.
Oh, what has gotten into our minds,
That we give up the life we had?
It can only be that we've caught the disease
Of the seas and we've all gone mad!
So, hie, and so, hey, we're sailing away,
On the tide, with a bride like a dream!
In her bosom we fly, under glorious skies,
We are wed to the ship of the seas.
We are bred for the ship of the seas.
We'll be dead on this ship of the seas.
What ya' said on this ship of the seas?
Said, 'We'll be dead on the ship of the seas!"