Random Waltz - Jitterbug
The siren of cicadas emanated from the forest just outside the walls of the city, bouncing about the buildings like a Goug city gunfight. The town plaza was almost empty, yet a few dissolute travelers still camped out on the corners, and then there were the sibling nobles who had chosen the abandoned lot for an impromptu waltz. A cone of light shone down on the pair from the looming streetlamp, enveloping them in a glow like fire and mist. It was a theater spotlight for the two alone, a performance art show for anyone lucky enough to raise their eyes to their radiance.
Alma's smile shone through the night as Ramza led her though the twists and turns, her skirt swishing about her calves. Her hand grazed the nape of his neck, and she could feel his fingers alight on her hip, causing her to blush at how intimately they danced together. Their hands remained intertwined, and Ramza squeezed them together as he gazed confidently at her, imparting all the strength that his knight training had given him. The face that Alma knew so well seemed to glow in the gentle light, giving her brother the appearance of a glorious angel straight from the gospels.
He must've noticed her change in mood, for he tilted his head to look at her more carefully. "Something wrong, Alma?" Ramza asked, a flash of familial concern drifting into his gentlemanly demeanor.
Alma reddened up again, acutely aware of Ramza's warm breath upon her in the cool evening. Illogically, she wondered if he was privy to any of her thoughts at that particular moment. "Brother, I was wondering if we might try something more robust," she said instead, offering up a sheepish smile as she let her mind wander to all the things she might do with Ramza on a romantic evening.
"Are you sure you're up to that?" he prodded her, though his hand was delicate as he drew back her bangs. "You've had a harrowing experience recently, and I don't want to exhaust you."
"I'm okay now." Alma gave him a comforting smile. "Only, I thought...perhaps...yes!" The girl's eyes widened with new-found inspiration, and she nearly stepped on Ramza's toes in her zeal. "Brother, let's dance as they do in Dorter! A dance of the common-folk, for the lives we now live."
Ramza's eyes widened as well, only his were tinted with amusement. "A bit daring for my dear little sister?" he rejoined with a smirk, turning her about in a gentle twirl. "Haven't the most scandalous of Dancers hailed from Dorter?"
"Oh, don't tease!" she hissed, pinching his cheek even as she held him close. "I was thinking of dear Delita and Teta, how they enjoyed themselves so much more than the Igros nobles."
Bringing up memories of the Hyral siblings with her brother was a gambit, as the tragedy at Fort Zeakden clouded them still. But Ramza's eyes held clouds of a different sort, and Alma knew he remembered what she remembered, a time before Zeakden, and even his own enlistment in the army. A time when dinner and dancing filled the halls of Igros, a celebration of the end of the Fifty Years War. When girls like Alma shone like shooting stars, but none shone more brightly than Teta...
It was a cool October night some four years ago, when Ramza and Alma were living in the Igros province with their little family still intact. A grand ball on the castle veranda had been rained out, leaving the prominent families to retreat back to their manors for a game of baccarat in lieu of the waltz. The adopted wards of the Beoulves, Delita and Teta Hyral, were not so deterred, and persuaded Ramza and Alma to dance with them in the abandoned hall while the rest of the castle slept. After all, Delita had promised Tera her first dance on a harvest moon, to show her off as a woman worthy of even the most discerning noble.
"There is none that could compare to you on this night, my sister," Delita was saying as he delicately pinned a flower to his sister's dress.
"Delita, you flatter me!" Teta's pale complexion sported a rosy red flush as she averted her eyes from his intense gaze. "I only wanted a dance, not to be pampered so!"
"A brother's job is to take care of his sister first, before any lass." Pulling aside a lock of coal-black hair, Delita kissed her on the cheek as the young girl giggled. As Delita continued to prep his sister for her dance (even combing her hair for her), Tera stood straight with nary a fidget, clearly enjoying her brother's attentions. Sitting aside each other at the hearth, Alma turned to Ramza with an expectant look, her eyes glistening with good humor as she arranged her skirt absently on the ledge. Ramza blushed mightily, but scooted closer and gave her a kiss as well, drawing a slightly smug expression from her.
A moment later, the two couples were dancing across the Beoulve hall; Delita with Teta, and Ramza with Alma. The girls' purple and pink skirts were swaying like bells in a church steeple, their brothers' dull duds paling in comparison. Only, Teta's skirt was more like a flag in a autumn gale, as her brother took her through a routine much more invigorating than that of the Beoulves. Her petticoats were flying all over the place as Delita twirled her, pulled her under his legs, turned her upside down, in a manner reminiscent of the servant class at Dorter Trade City.
Alma gasped as she stared over Ramza's shoulder at the cavorting duo, just as Teta finished a particularly daring twirl that saw her hair flashing about like midnight flame. The once-demure young lass was now bursting with joy, the happiest Alma had ever seen her friend outside of choir. While swinging his sister to one side, Delita took a moment to shoot Ramza a devious glance. "Well, Ramza?" he taunted with Teta in tow. "Are you a man or mouse? Defeat us, if you can!"
To Alma's surprise, the blond boy scoffed at this. "A Beoulve never turns down a challenge!" Ramza declared, pulling his partner close to him. "Come on, Alma."
"Whaaa!" The girl gasped as she was carried away on her brother's whimsy. "Brother Ramza...!"
The wind blew briskly, sending the siblings' golden locks asunder as they basked in their mutual memories of a far gone Eden. After the death of Teta and the subsequent fallout, Alma was glad that Ramza could still smile at the other legacy the Hyrals had left for them At the time, her brother's pride couldn't let Delita outpace him, not if he were to live up to his father. But truly, it was his friend's renegade nature and easy love with his sister that Ramza wished to emulate back then; Alma knew this to be so.
Ramza edged closer and secured his hold on Alma's flank. "Shall we step to it, Alma?"
She grinned and nodded. "Verily, brother!"
Ramza took a moment to position them both, then whirled Alma about in a devilish spin, sending her skirt sailing almost to her waist. Alma gasped at the young man's daring drive (and the rush of air along her thighs), but soon felt nothing but joy as her brother flung her up, down, and around him in an explosion of color and movement. Her ponytail whipped around her neck as Ramza drew her close, then back out again, the periodic moments of contact making the young maiden that much more excited. A rush of adrenaline flowed through her, a releasing of spirit that the rich old families at Igros could hardly understand.
Ramza continued to spin Alma like a carnival ride, her pink skirt and white petticoats flying around like paint on a child's canvas. The girl flitted around deftly and kept up with the dance step-by-step, evidently encouraging the young man to try something more daring. As Delita once did, Ramza pulled his sister upside down in a flip over his back, her petticoats opening up like a flower blossom in early spring. Alma never lost her cool, however, and landed feet-first in a rustle of skirts, spinning around once more as she fell into her brother's arms for a finishing pose.
The two remained like this a minute more, then Ramza swiftly brought Alma back to her feet again. Alma was grinning widely as she wiped the sweat from her brow, her once pristine locks now a frazzled mop-top. She stared at Ramza to find a similar expression on his face, only his was tinged with the passion of a knight that had found his lady love at long last. Alma felt her heart jump as he pulled her against him, and instinctively closed her eyes as Ramza leaned forward to kiss her.
(CLAP CLAP CLAP!) The singular applause of an observant townie broke the moment between Ramza and Alma, and they separated from each other to stare at their audience. The old man had been watching them for quite some time, his messy beard offset only by his thick eyebrows. Those brows were currently raised in awe, and he grinned a snaggle-toothed grin in appreciation for the dancing duo. His smile was exceptionally wide for Alma herself, perhaps remembering the winsome women from years long past.
"Well, I'll be!" he crowed, continuing to clap. "What a delightful act! Handsomely done!"
Ramza smiled proudly. "This is how the common-folk do it," he asserted, securing his grip on his beloved sister.
"And the young lady's frillies were quite the show, too!" the old man added, winking and adding an "OK" sign for good measure.
Alma's face erupted in a hot flush, as she realized that the curious codger would've had quite the view of her knickers with her skirt tossing about. Ramza soon came to her rescue, and gave the old man a flick to the forehead. "This is also how the common-folk do it," he warned him, as the old man stammered his apologies.
Alma's expression softened with affection. "Truly, you're uncommon, Brother Ramza."