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Poetry Of The Foot

Sometime, men can be awfully hard to drag onto a dance floor. Zadryn, being of Cicero's mindset on the whole matter, is one of the original holdouts. Naturally, Linara decided to take matters in hand, if only to make Sabella happier.

(OOC: There was another scene before this, which I'll get up sometime with more basic stuff in it.)

---| Storage Caverns |---------------------------------------| Ierne Weyr |---
     A series of incredibly huge, gaping caverns in the belly of the Weyr, the Storage Caverns are the home of limitless treasures. They are filled to the brim, yet there is still an almost infinite amount of space, and they contain everything the Weyr could ever need or want. Food, tables and chairs, glowbaskets, and all manner of clothes are just a small sampling of the 'items' to be found within these caverns. A thousand little nooks and crannies dot the cavern walls, whilst the never-ending stacks of barrels and boxes, and the lengthy aisles of upright shelves cover the floor, they themselves packed tight with everything down to the most insignificant-seeming objects. Unless one knows what one is looking for -- and exactly where it is -- it may take one forever to locate, extract, and deliver said item; a small child or unwitting adult might even find himself lost within the extensive caverns!
      The autumn night cools beneath clouds of white that smudge the otherwise perfection of the sky.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
eople:      Linara Zadryn
Obvious exits:
Living Cavern

It's been a few sevendays since Linara's started giving Zadryn dance lessons and for the most, they've been quite easy to handle, especially the basic bits. They've gone through the basic steps for a few dances until he's likely dreamt of them, and as a treat for good behavior - and yes, she smirked evilly when she said it - she promised to show him something more advanced this time around. So, with that in mind she's down in the wine cellar again, coat clutched firmly around her and a pair of nice, strappy sandals on her feet so that she can get used to them again.

Oh, no. Something more advanced! Zadryn's been an apt pupil at the least, his balance fairly good as she surmised the first time in mentioning the way one has to walk upon a boat-- his brain gets in the way more than his feet, really, but he's been getting better all the time at the basics. Down, down to the wine cellar he goes, rubbing sleep from his eyes at this early hour, sandals slapping against the stone floor, head bereft of hat. "Morning, 'nara," he offers with a wry smile, walking her way, "So what torments d'you have planned for me t'day?"

Linara turns to watch him move down the stairs, and she nods briskly at his greeting. "Morning, Zadryn. I thought we'd start in on the emotion of a dance now that you've mastered most of the steps, and your muscles have learnt them well enough to walk them, even when your brain's not on them." She suspects his brain capacity around Sabella, in any case. "An awful lot of the deeper stuff in dancing is the feeling behind it. You feel good being in your partner's arms, or holding the one you like. Sometimes though, especially if you're some hoity-toity ranking rider, you're going to have to dance with people you don't like, and do it well. Now, do you have a problem with skin?"

Zadryn's hand works at the nape of his neck in a brief kneading there, then falls down to rest at his side; head tilting a bit, brow furrowing at the question. "Makes sense-- not that I'm ever going t'be some hoity-toity ranked anything, but. What d'you mean, skin?"

"Skin," Linara states again, before explaining a bit more. "Bared skin." She undoes the long jacket and takes it off to bare a simple enough two-piece outfit, a tight top ending a little above the midriff and a long skirt starting a little below it. The coat gets tossed over a stand and she steps closer, shoes clicking over the stone of the cellar. It's not even a lot of skin; perhaps she didn't want to toss him into the sea to learn swimming, so to speak. Then again, as she moves there's a flash of leg and thigh too. Perhaps she really just is an evil wherry.

"Well, I--" Then, off goes the jacket, and for a moment or two so does the brain. Blink, blink. Zadryn manages to recover after that surprise for a moment, clearing his throat a bit and allowing carefully, "Um. No, I mean, people wear less than that swimming..." Zadryn, her eyes are up there. That's her thigh.

Linara is wearing a dangerous little smirk. "Right, so we're going to have to take the long way with this. See, the idea with a dress is to attract people -- men, mostly. You don't just bare all, you just hint, and it works. But you can't just stare like that - up here, Zadryn, where my eyes are - or they'll know that you're leering, and you definitely don't want leering either, just polite appreciation." She stops polite dancing distance away from him and looks up the scant inch between them, now that she's got the shoes on. "Take my waist." It's not a request, that.

At the mention of eyes, Zadryn's cheeks bloom with colour briefly as his gaze jerks up. "Sorry," he coughs; briefly moistening his lips with the tip of his tongue, nose wrinkling a bit, "Just, uh, didn't expect-- right, okay." Hesitance, and then he reaches out to carefully rest his hand on her waist, just like they'd been doing every time they've practiced. There's just a little more skin under his hand this time, is all! Surely that can't be too bad.

Linara must have awfully good circulation, because the skin is quite pleasantly warm and ridiculously smooth. "Right," she says crisply, and slips one hand onto his shoulder, then holds out the other for his other. "Dancing etiquette number one. Anything between where you are now and about a hand higher is fair territory for people you don't know at all. Dip below that and either you need to know the person well enough to know they're not going to slap you, or you're going to get slapped. Don't hold too tightly either; although a bit of firm guidance is nice around a turn, you don't want to bruise the poor thing's side either. Ready?" She's gone beyond telling him which dance she'll start out with, leaving it up to him to pick and choose.

Zadryn's fingers shift briefly against her side, fisherman's calluses ever so slightly rough against smooth skin, before he steadies with a breath and offers her a rueful smile. "You're a terrible woman," he murmurs to that, reaching out to clasp her hand, fingers weaving through hers, "I hope you know that, 'nara."

"I am probably the worst woman you're ever going to meet," Linara affirms as she begins the step back. "The reason I wore this though... well, you'll get the idea in a minute or two." She's referring to the way bare skin flexes underneath the hand, of course, as she moves her legs and hips. It's a totally different sensation from material, even if it is just a small bit of bared flesh, so to speak, because it's much easier to feel the muscles there pull and shift and stretch, especially when they move through a turn or a dip. "Dancing etiquette number two... hm. How well do you lie?"

"I try not to, when I can help it," Zadryn replies, moving after her with a step of one foot after hers, then one to the side in practiced instinct; there's a touch of hesitation that hasn't been there for a few lessons, and he's steadfastly keeping his gaze on her face now, but it's not too bad. "Why?"

"Because," she assures him as she whirls out and back in, "you're going to have to learn how, at least if you want to be a really good dancer. I mean lying with your body, of course. Not many people realise precisely how much they're saying even when their mouths are firmly shut. Hm. Let me try and show you. Just... don't collapse or something." There's not a marked shift between the two stances, but there's a new pliability as she dances closer, the difference between merely dancing and melting in someone's arms, and the way she's looking up at him with that tiny smile should really be illegal. She might still be superbly balanced, but at least she's giving off the vibe that she's totally dependent on him for balance and guidance.

Hey, is that a touch of colour in his cheeks again? Zadryn does his best to ignore it, however, even as the dancer's embrace tightens ever so slightly as if helping and guiding her, for a change. There's just a hint of uncertainty in his gaze as he looks down to her, moving through the steps of the dance with familiarity as they move across the floor of the wine cellar, a smile tugging up ever so slightly at one corner of his lips. "Definately," he murmurs barely audibly, "Terrible."

Linara laughs at that, and nods as she returns to 'normal' between one step and the next. "The thing is, I know you don't like me in that way, and I don't like you in that way. Dancing, where both the parties admire and want each other, is an explosive thing. Here, the next time I twirl out, pull me back a little harder. Not /too/ hard enough, just a tad."

"Mmhm." A subtle shake of Zadryn's head at her words, lips twisting in a rueful half-smile as he repeats, "Terrible." His chin dips in a nod, and then he lets her twirl out free of his hand, his other gripping hers firmly-- and then he pulls her in harder, as demanded, a half-step taken as he reels her in towards his chest. Hey, reeling in, he can do. He fishes.

Linara spins back in and thuds most pleasantly against his chest; even though she's slight, there's still enough warm curves to make an impact on him, the bare leg automatically bracing against his hip. There's even a small, hitched gasp right next to his ear, and she stays like that for a few moments before she whispers right into it, breath warm, "Imagine if that were Sabella."

Zadryn's hand claps back against her side as she's reeled in, sliding a few inches along her back as she thumps against his leanly muscled chest; the feel of her warm body against his and that bare thigh braced against his side causing a catch in his own breath for a moment as he stills against her. After a moment, he tips his head just a bit, cheek brushing hers as he murmurs in response beside her lobe, "Who said I was thinking about her?"

"You're not that good a liar yet," Linara whispers back, but her laugh is wholly amused as she steps back and inclines her head in a short dip. "Although you might have more talent for it than I thought. But you get my general drift, I take it. When you can do that with fat Ladies Holder, with those you would rather walk on than dance with and with people you'd not even piss on, even if they were on fire, then you'll be an excellent dancer." Crude, but it gets her point across. She starts leading him backwards again, motions more fluid now that she knows he'll not pass out on her. "That's not to say that dancing shouldn't be about what's truly in you. On the contrary, that's the best kind there is. Anger. Love. Lust. Pride. All kinds of emotions. Dance from the fire they create in you."

"I doubt any lady holder'd ever want t'dance with me, but..." As she steps back, Zadryn's hand settles back to her hip; watching her a moment before stepping after her in the dance, hesitance gone now as he returns to the more familiar movements of recent lessons, feet moving through practiced steps in tune with her own. "So lie -and- tell th'truth? Sounds like politics."

Linara laughs merrily at that, genuinely amused. "Exactly. It just depends on what your mission for the evening is. If it's diplomacy, lie through your teeth and hands. If it's seduction or simple enjoyment, feel free to enjoy yourself as much as you want to. Now, do you feel confident enough in what we're doing so that I can show you how to dip someone, or make them lean against you?"

Zadryn smirks just a bit at that, allowing easily, "I think I'll manage. Teach away, o teacher of th'terrible arts..." A wink's offered over, even as they navigate together through a turn.

"Right-o. We'll have to slow down for that." She does so until they're standing again, and she bumps his left leg with her right. "First lesson. Never dip the lady so far that you both end up losing balance. I would suggest that you practice this with your partner in increments until you find a happy height, and it generally works best just after a turn. So... let's turn, then dip me slowly until I say stop."

"I s'pose that it wouldn't be a very successful dance ending with everyone in a pile on th'floor," observes Zadryn in wry tones as he draws to a halt there before her, head tilting just a bit to one side in his usual attentive posture. A bit of a nod, and then he moves with her-- taking a turn unhurriedly, hand sliding from hip to the small of her back and body leaning slowly at the waist as he moves to dip her in his arms. At least until she says stop.

Linara is concentrating more on her own balance than his this time; she has one foot beneath her that's bearing most of the weight, and when she feels the balance just right over his hand she nods. "Right there," she mutters, looking past him at the stone ceiling. "It depends on weight, strength, flexibility, height... can you feel it? My body should be creating pressure on the palm of your hand, and equally so. A little too much either way, and you're unbalanced."

At her words, he stills; holding her dipped down in his supportive embrace, feet shifting ever so slightly to maintain his own balance in the precarious lean. "Then the aforementioned pile," he murmurs his agreement, eyes closing and head tilting forward a bit, "Not too different from reeling in a big one, really. All about balance and angle..."

Linara turns her head to smile at him, wide and happy. "That's it precisely! See, I told you fishermen would be good at dancing. Now, when you pull me back up it should be just as smooth as the dip down. If you're feeling adventurous, you can then add a lean to that. What that means is that you'll lean backwards a bit and the lady forwards, with your body there as a brace for her, or you can pull her back a little hard if you want so that she thuds against you, like we did earlier." Her hands tighten against him, and she orders, "Up now. Slowly and surely."

Zadryn's chin bobs in a slight nod of acknowledgement, and he takes a brief breath before leaning back - slowly - fingers and palms pressing against her back as he brings her back up to her feet and an upright position once more. A twitch of a smile, and that lean is a bit sudden, drawing her suddenly and swiftly up the last few inches and towards his lean back.

Linara doesn't quite fall onto him, she's graceful enough for that. "Excellent," she pronounces. "You're about at the stage where it'll be difficult to teach you much more without a harper to provide music. From here it's just repetition, repetition, repetition, and adding in your own little flourishes here and there." Her own lips twitch, and her eyes glint devilishly. "Also, don't try that with Sabella at first, she's short enough that you'll pull her entirely off her feet if you take it too far." She slowly glides back and gives a little curtsey, stomach moving rapidly with the intensity of the exercise. "Any questions?"

Zadryn draws back as well, resting a hand against his midriff and delving into a short bow in response to her curtsey. "Other than how you became such a terrible fiend of a woman," he teases, a grin twitching to his own lips as he straightens and pushes his fingers back through his hair, "No, I don't think so."

Linara grins as she struts back to her jacket. She knows he's looking and she knows he doesn't mean anything, so she has no problem putting a little sway in it. "All in the name of retaliation, I assure you. Besides, Keivan might have been old and fond of the switch, but he could dance like greased lightning too. Said his wife had made him learn. I saw them dance together once. They're /still/ way better than I can manage." Her coat goes back on and she buckles it loosely. "Besides, now I'll have the enjoyment of seeing you take Sabella out for a spin, right?"

Zadryn does watch for a few moments, before with a shake of his head and an exhalation of breath he turns; looking back over towards the exit from the wine cellar, arms folding over his chest as he admits, "I s'pose so, eventually. Jus' hope I won't make a complete dimglow out've myself..."

"You're already a complete dimglow," Linara teases as she turns and lightly runs up the stairs. "I wouldn't let that keep you back." Wench always has to have the last word as well, because there she goes, humming happily.

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