Late afternoon had just claimed cerulean skies allowing the brightest star to hang overhead. Elongated rays stretched outward, in an effort to embrace a tired little world below. Some relished in its light as others strayed from it and then there were some like the pale maiden who could only tolerate so much of it. A soft, pink pastel-colored parasol rested against her right shoulder, both hands gripping its handle to assure a firm – or as firm as she could make it – hold. Her cheeks were already flushed a rosette hue from the morning escapades of menial errand running. “We should be startin’ to head back, Avvie.” Came a rough-aged concern by the elder senior. Hands were shoved in either pocket while ice-colored sights looked to a nearly cloudless sky. “Only gonna get hotter out ‘n you’re lookin’ a little more pink.” A lazy albeit apologetic grin tugged rugged features of the chauffer when he glanced down to the much smaller maiden at his side. 

Shoulders rose and fell following a girlish huff as she twisted her wrist in the grip of her parasol. “I am perfectly fine, Ira-Gula.” Came the soft retort. Her expression remained it usual illegible stoicism despite the evident wear the day had made. Early on, the elder had learned that arguing with the albino maiden never worked. She was just as stubborn as her mother, if not more so. He couldn’t fault her. Her health was never the strongest and there were some days that were better than others. “A’ight then, suit yuhself.” He mused, scratching his silver-blond beard. “But I think the cook is makin’ yuh favorite dish tonight – the one with the salmon.” He would cast a side long glance to garder her expression, Avarice slowing her walk for a moment her pale brows furrowing as she stared down at her shoes for a moment.

Ira-Gula fought back the urge to laugh, knowing well enough that would have won her over. “Oh, um… well then..” her cheeks flushed. “Just for a little while longer and then we’ll return home then.” He couldn’t tell if her cheeks and ears were reddening from the sun or of that bashful demure humility that he knew to steer her back home – safely. 

The duo continued, passing by a house or, was this a building in the way the windows were in display, allowing for all to see inside. The languid movement behind glass walls caught her attention causing her to come to an abrupt halt. “Look at them, Ira.” she hummed with genuine awe. “It’s like they’re floating.”

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It was like watching a live performance within one of those grand theatrical houses but along the sidelines. Ira-Gula came up behind Avarice to get a better look, always amused by her odd little curiosities. This was not the usual route they would take home so neither of them were familiar of this building. “A dance studio,” the elder mentioned with a smile. Avarice turned abruptly to him causing her long albino curls to swirl in her movements. Would you like to learn how to float? Avarice was about to respond to Ira-Gula until another voice captured the moment.

They were met with a young woman – perhaps somewhere similar in age to Avarice as well. Cherry blossom eyes blinked while her usual blank expression made it difficult to read her features or even thoughts. It was possible to learn how to move like those women did in the window? First lesson is on the house. Avarice could feel herself begin to hesitate despite the friendly gesture by this stranger. In turn she looked to Ira-Gula as if searching for a response to give instead of herself. He nodded his head as if coaxing her to go inside. “Why not? Need to get yah out of the sun anyway.” He cast a friendly, appreciative nod towards the woman while Avarice considered her options.

“Oh, I don’t know..” New things were a hit or miss but cold feet was not as uncommon as one may think. Her palms twisting into the handle of her parasol, lowering her gaze to her boots. And for free? All she did was just simply pass by the building in chance. Though she would have been lying if she said she wasn’t the least bit intrigued. “If it is not too much trouble for you, but I do not wish to leave you empty-handed.” She looked to the woman then back to Ira-Gula, back to the woman once again, seeking for her reply.

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A gnawing sense of doubt festered at her nerves. Like mother like daughter, or so the saying goes if anyone decided to take a dive into the family tree. Or – perhaps not to save her from the scrutiny of others. While Avarice was secretly prying into the threshold of daring adventures, much to her care-takers worried digressions, there were moments when the opportunity provided itself that took her off guard. Was it truly alright, she wondered? Something – something wanted to whisper otherwise. Force an apology from the pale maidens’ lips for troubling the owners’ time and to move on about her way despite Ira-Gula’s assurance. Twenty-five crescents for this first lesson. Not a cent more.

Pale features were drawn to a perplexing blank until Ira-Gula had gently nudged her back to the present. “O-oh—” her cheeks flushed. “Of course,” she then began to shuffle search for the small satchel which carried her allowance. The elder was nothing but amused as he tugged on the strap which had – this entire time – been resting on her left shoulder. Avarice huffed when she finally retrieved the currency, extending a slender arm to offer the payment. “Do you really think I can do that too?” she asked the woman while pointing to the class within the window. Avarice had never danced before. She knew what it was – but as far as the bare basics, was beyond her. Most days, depending on how she felt weather permitting was either confined to her room or accompanied more than likely with Ira-Gula for daily errands.

Only recently did she brazenly take her horse Envy out to the wilds without word of her departure. Sometimes it grew rather tiring to constantly have watchful eyes even if intentions were meant out of concern.


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Self-criticism and doubt were ugly little creatures that would fester without word or warning. It could have easily been the nerves in the way she hesitated. Ira-Gula had simply assured and suggested she take that theoretical leap, in order to grow a little more, to blossom a little brighter – it could be good for her, for all he knew. For all, either of them knew. Avarice inquired of the routine the dancers moved to, wondering if she too could potentially learn something of the sort, or of any dance really. Humble laughter befell the stranger then with further reassurance as if there could be any more to give. With a little practice, I bet you can do better than that. Avarice’s cheeks flushed a rosette hue hands clasped together, resting against the skirt of her dress, while shoulders rolled upward in sheepish demeanor. “Oh,” Came the only quiet sound. Eyes casting downward, shyly.

The bells tolled in the agitation of opening doors, entering into what felt of an entirely different world. Movement swept upon the well-polished floors within the light hums of gossip rang from the sidelines. Earl gray was the first scent to waft by. A comfortable, inviting scent that was enough to provoke skin to crawl. Hints of phantom fruits underlaying the tea and accommodating other sweets heightened the aroma. The lighting was dimmed which provoked an ambiance of starlight. Ira-Gula did not hesitate to scavenge for the sweets though dared not linger too far from the albino.

My name is Ethel, by the way. Ethel Markai. Avarice tuned her focus on the woman, the owner of the dancers boutique. Taking in all of everything at once was proving to be overwhelming for the pale maiden though she dare not make a fuss. Expression remaining unchanged. Have you ever danced before, miss…? It was then it dawned on her that she hadn’t given her name. “Ah—” she stumbled over her words briefly. “Avarice.” Throat cleared. “My name is Avarice Rue, my apologies.” Avarice sighed, digits digging into her fabrics as if to brace for some kind of invisible forced contact for her carelessness.

“And, no.” Answering the following question. “I—I do not know how to dance, admittingly.” She almost sounded ashamed, embarrassed even to admit. “I am rather clumsy.” Avarice would then tuck a stray loose strand of her alabaster hair behind her ear before returning her hand to clasps over the other and rest at her waistline. “It’s rather pretty in here I think, from what I can see. My sight isn’t the most reliable.” She mused half-hearted. Though that was with anywhere, regardless of the lighting.


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Ethel Markai. A feminine name that sounded all the more powerful given the face that possessed it. Yet, Avarice’s focus loomed over the interior decoration of the studio. The dimly lit lights that hung from the ceilings looked as if the very stars were stolen from the skies and brought here to live. And while mesmerizing it may be, Avarice would have been lying if she had said she wasn’t the slightest overwhelmed. Distant whispers crawled along her ears of that festering doubt and the misplacement of her being present – as if she shouldn’t be here in this lovely studio. You can’t be much worse than the brutes I get from time to time.

The pale maiden returned her attention to the curly-haired brunette; They’re barn animals in suits. It was a figure of speech to most but to Avarice she simply would lean to the side slightly to look past Ethel as if to observe herself firsthand that these people were truly these barn animals she acclaimed them to be. When all she could see were the practicing dancers and the occasional socializers, Ethel's remark simply made her all the more confused. So, did she also teach…barn animals to dance also?

It’s proper etiquette to being the dance with a quiet introduction. She wasn’t able to ask the lingering question and instead, the lesson began. Men will bow while a lady curtsies. If they’re more intimate, though, he’ll take her hand and give her knuckles a kiss. Avarice watched Ethel with attentiveness. She watched the fold of the skirt of her dress rise and expand, her upper torso bend slightly in unison of arching legs. Avarice looked to her own dress, hands digging into the fabrics, “Like this?” she hoped to follow along with the curtsy.



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