Dance with me.

"Dance with me," she said, her eyes fire and ice--and they danced.
Blades whirring, they spun in time to the clash of metal upon metal. The sound echoed throughout the empty ballroom, bouncing off the walls.
Was it a fight, or was it a dance? The danger was so thick in the air that the two almost seemed to slice it with their blades. Eyes locked, concentration on both faces, their feet moved of their own accord as the clashes continued.
Gracefully they stepped, and gracefully they fought. There were two options in question, to live or to die. Only one dancer could leave the room.
Faster and faster they spun. Faster and faster their swords connected. Now they were sweating, the drops rolling down their faces as they continued the dance. The rhythm of their blades kept time.
Now a new sound rang out; this was the sound of desperation. Furniture was carelessly knocked over in order to escape the pursuer. Nothing would deter her. Her eyes were fixed on her target.
Her blade flicked sideways; her opponent's sword clattered to the other side of the room. There was no more rhythm to the dance. The end was soon.
Her eyes hardened. No mercy would be given this night.
The stroke was quick and clean.
Finale.
- - -
"Dance with me," she said, her eyes promising--and they danced.
The steps were slow and sultry. Swaying back and forth to the sound of the orchestra, the partners whirled across the ballroom floor. The other dancers parted ways for them--they knew the importance of this dance.
It was smooth, graceful, full of motion. Eyes locked on each other, each gazed deep into the other's soul. This night would decide much for both of them.
Would they leave alone, or together? The question hung in the air between them, and they seemed to slice it with the intensity of their gazes. Nothing could break their concentration.
The seductive music changed now. The steps became complicated as the music sped up. Focused, the two refused to look away as they perfectly executed the complex dance. Sweat dripped from each; it traced little white lines down her face. Still they danced.
Spinning, twirling, the other took the lead. She let herself be led, but resisted just the slightest bit, so that it was noticeable. She would not let her partner take complete control of her.
Then the power passed to her. She led her partner strongly, firmly, but not too much so. Each took note of how the other treated control.
The music rose to a climax. Both had to work together--and they did.
Faster and faster they danced, and then--
Chests heaving, they stopped, frozen in time.
Finale.
---------
It's amazing what I think of at work. Actually, the prompt for this whole thing was my random thought, "dance with me, you son of a motherless goat." Not sure where that came from, but I like where it apparently lead.
I've been working for an inordinate amount of time on what was supposed to be a romance novella but accidentally turned into something much more. I might end up posting it, if my followers think they might be interested in that sort of thing...?
Ah, well. Feels nice to be blogging again, even if only for a bit. I hope I'll see you guys around :)
~~Zoë Wingfeather