[She wishes she had more time to take it all in. To memorize the taste and feel of the kiss before he vanishes into the shadows, and she has to turn her back to him, not even getting the chance to watch him leave, and to make sure he gets away safely. She trusts that he did because as her handmaiden arrives with a couple of masked men who were clearly searching for her, they show no signs of suspicion save for the way the woman stares down at her swollen lips, and Tifa's fingers grazing over them, the buzz and hum of his kiss still lingering.
"Art thou good, my lady? Thou beholds a lack of air."
Tifa hadn't realized her breathing had quickened to a dangerous pace that it shows even in the dimmest light, but besides the shake of her head, she says nothing else about it. Clearly, she's already drawn more attention than needed.]
I'm fine. What do you need?
[The woman's eyes narrow, but she only sighs in response to whatever doubts she might bear and gestures to the two gentleman on either side of her.
"'tis time for thee to choose thine partner for a dance."
... But she's already chosen, and already had that dance, and her impatience and frustration shine through in the way she looks at her choices, neither of them what she wants. Who she wants. The one that she does has already vanished into the shadows and is likely gone that he probably won't see her walk past them towards the castle again. He probably won't see that she would rather choose no dance than one without him at all...
... ]
I'm tired. I'm going to go rest for a while, back in my room.
["But Lady Juliet—!"
With a tired smile and sigh at the handmaiden, she leaves them behind, heading back to the castle where the party awaits her return. A return that will be a fleeting one before she ascends to her room to get out of this stuffy dress, and away from this even stuffier party. She'll miss the duels and the fights, and Paris calling out for her to "give him another chance to prove himself!" or whatever the lines are.
🎀
"Art thou good, my lady? Thou beholds a lack of air."
Tifa hadn't realized her breathing had quickened to a dangerous pace that it shows even in the dimmest light, but besides the shake of her head, she says nothing else about it. Clearly, she's already drawn more attention than needed.]
I'm fine. What do you need?
[The woman's eyes narrow, but she only sighs in response to whatever doubts she might bear and gestures to the two gentleman on either side of her.
"'tis time for thee to choose thine partner for a dance."
... But she's already chosen, and already had that dance, and her impatience and frustration shine through in the way she looks at her choices, neither of them what she wants. Who she wants. The one that she does has already vanished into the shadows and is likely gone that he probably won't see her walk past them towards the castle again. He probably won't see that she would rather choose no dance than one without him at all...
... ]
I'm tired. I'm going to go rest for a while, back in my room.
["But Lady Juliet—!"
With a tired smile and sigh at the handmaiden, she leaves them behind, heading back to the castle where the party awaits her return. A return that will be a fleeting one before she ascends to her room to get out of this stuffy dress, and away from this even stuffier party. She'll miss the duels and the fights, and Paris calling out for her to "give him another chance to prove himself!" or whatever the lines are.
She needs some time alone, to think...]