rakuen | (no subject)

Characters: Euphemia and you~
Format: prose, action
This log is: open!
Location: The gym!
Summary: Euphemia realizes she's forgotten how to dance.
Warnings: Will update as necessary!

Euphemia is walking up and down the gymnasium, looking quite lost. On her feet are a pair of ballet slippers. She seems to start to do something before falling back, unsure and dazed. This goes on for quite a while, the girl sighing quietly to herself with every try.

"Ah… how strange…" she says to herself. Though she figures it isn't that strange. After all, bigger chunks of her memories are missing. Euphie frowns, and tries to focus. She closes her eyes, slowly steps forwards. Yes, try to-- to rely on muscle memory, rather than brain memory.

She moves to stand on her toes, taking a few light steps, uneasy and legs quivering. But that ends itself rather quick as she topples over-- possibly onto you! Or the floor, depending, and she falls hard, letting out a squeak of surprise as she does it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Think nothing of it," he says absently. It takes him a moment to really look at her, and another moment after that to set her on her feet again.

She adjusts herself, flustered.

"Thank you," she tells him, smiling. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

He frowns and briefly loses focus again as he answers, "Neither was I."

Whatever is troubling him, it seems to pass after that; he returns her smile, friendly enough if a little late. "So I think we can call that one a draw."

She laughs lightly. "Yes, a draw... it's nice to meet you. I'm Euphie. What's your name?"

"Sherlock Holmes. Euphemia or Euphrosyne?"

"Euphemia," she laughs again. "Sherlock is a lovely name."

"Thank you. Yours is equally lovely. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Euphemia."

"Thank you," she says slowly, smiling. "It's a shame our meeting wasn't more... well," Euphie laughs. "Less clumsy."

"It turned out all right in the end," he observes with a shrug. "Were you dancing?"

"I was trying, but I can't quite remember how... I think it's one of the things they took from me."

Sherlock nods.

"I lost the feeling of playing the violin. I can still produce music, but afterward the only part I remember clearly is the sound."

"The violin! How wonderful," she says. "It's a beautiful instrument... I'm sorry you lost that. Were you passionate?"

"I suppose you could say that, yes. I still practise every chance I get." Whimsically, he adds, "When you remember how to dance, I'll play for you."

It has not honestly occurred to him that this line of conversation might be considered flirting.

"That would be lovely," she says, smiling wide. "I wouldn't mind hearing you play any other time as well... it's such a difficult instrument, but you seem like you have it down just right."

And Euphemia is equally as oblivious.

"I would be delighted."

Really. No idea.

"Wonderful! Do you usually play in any specific place and time?"

"My dormitory room, whenever I am there."

This statement is the next thing to literally true.

"I do not exactly keep to a schedule."

At all, in anything, meals and sleep included. It's a recent problem.

"Which one is that?" The dorm, she means.

"White 1-B."

"I think I'll stop by sometime, then."

"In which case, I look forward to seeing you."