Wisteria and roses. Painful familiarity. The soft, bewitching chime of ivory keys resonated throughout the halls of the parlour room as she sat next to her mother, learning the strokes and the placement of a little girl's clumsy hands. Hands that had no affinity for the piano - hands that, instead, favoured the delicate dedication of needle and cloth. Lace and plait alike eagerly crafted by her own design brushed against the sheer stockings obscuring her ankles. A dress she'd made to dance along with her mother's languished sonata. Songs whose pain she'd never understood until they became faint, distant memories.

Memories which Ethel recalled now as her soft fingers brushed against the sheer layer of fabric that alluded to an array of colour and texture. There was a melancholy in the way she smiled, in the way her eyes traced the outline of the wooden figure beneath the coral dress. No matter the finer gowns surrounding her along the shops' floor, Ethel could not bear to tear herself away from this specific article.

"Miss?" She'd not heard the call of the associate until the small woman leaned towards Ethel's vision and called out again.

"A-ah, yes, I'm sorry!" Ethel managed to stammer out while retracting the exploration of her ghosting fingertips - a swiftness as if the silk smouldered beneath her hand.

The woman simply nodded. "We've just received a fine selection of dresses from Anderstel that may be more to your liking."

Whether the woman was attempting a remark at her status, at the dagger on her hip and the man whose quiet stare trailed behind her, Ethel paid little mind.

"I'd like to try this one." Ethel hastily looked towards Dimitris from beyond the curve of her should, an apologetic look lingering behind the glance. Surely dress shopping wasn't the pentacle of excitement that a man of his profession expected. It wasn't something she'd ever imagined him willingly obliging, yet, there was no denying the delight which hummed throughout the flutter of her heart.

While the seamstress set to work disrobing the mannequin, Ethel reached for Dimitris' hand to lead him to the changing room - should he allow - where the woman awaited with the vibrant dress. It perfectly hugged every curve, every dip of her body as if it were made for her, moulded to slip over her silhouette, and from there, Ethel's heart could not be swayed. Love at first sight, as they say.

She exited the changing room, the new dress twirling around her ankles as she spun to get a sense of motion. "How's it look?" Pleading gaze sought his single eye, searching for any lie, any emotion, that may lurk behind it. "No fibbin'." Her jesting intone was followed with a coy wink.

A dancer thrived in the eyes of others. Roving stares watching their every calculated move, the delicate contortions of bodies tangled in a hypnotic waltz stepping to the beat of the rehearsed orchestra. To be in that revered spotlight where everything stilled except her feet and the leading steps of her partner. They needed that attention, the praise, the envy of their spectators. Why, then, did Ethel feel so openly exposed beneath the bold hold of his gaze? It was like their first meeting all over again - it was as if she stood naked before him.

Dimitris must have realized the extent of his open observations and hastily turned his head, flushed cheeks and all, and she couldn't help but offer an airy chuckle. Though he was feared by many in Sanctuary, Ethel couldn't help but to find him rather... endearing at times. When he was around, that is.

His stammering voice compelled her into playing with the hem of the dress, swaying it to and fro with delightful glee at his approval. Even the seamstress offered an agreeable nod. Ethel offered him a gracious smile before dipping back into the dressing room to exchange the dress for her more humble apparel. The seamstress gathered the gown in her hands when Ethel offered it back and smoothed out any wrinkles upon it.

"This is one of our more... delicate pieces. The flowers were hand embroidered and the lace was imported from overseas." Ethel's brows furrowed and her lips began to fall into a frown of knowing. The woman hadn't been entirely shy about the standards of her shop and the cost of the items within it. "It will run you at least 700 crescents."

Almost three weeks of lessons. Her heart sunk to her stomach and despite that initial wave of disappointment, she still smiled up at Dimitris while reaching for his elbow. While she did have the funds to afford it currently, those were in savings for something more... important.

"I'm sorry, miss. That's a little out of my budget, currently. Shall we get going, Dimitris?" Asking gaze reached for his face.