[She does, ultimately, end up with her feet atop his — just the tips of her toes — but not because she needs it so much as because she wants it. She wants to, wants this, wants to be close to him as much as she can, and it's such a small and affectionate little thing, to step surreptitiously up onto the tops of his shoes and let him carry her around the dance floor.
It's a risk, because everything is a risk. But there's a stubborn, selfish recklessness in her over it, too. Let them see that she belongs here, she thinks fiercely. Let them see how loved she is.
She realizes too late how much it must make him resemble his father, in the eyes of the old ones who remember.]
This is nice.
[She says it softly, pressed up against him, for no one's ears but his own.]
no subject
It's a risk, because everything is a risk. But there's a stubborn, selfish recklessness in her over it, too. Let them see that she belongs here, she thinks fiercely. Let them see how loved she is.
She realizes too late how much it must make him resemble his father, in the eyes of the old ones who remember.]
This is nice.
[She says it softly, pressed up against him, for no one's ears but his own.]
I like dancing, if it lets us be like this.