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A ball was… not quite something Legs expected when he came to the Academy.
Danger? A hundred percent! Dragons? Yep, got that memo. Corruption? He'd seen it, so really he'd have been a fool not to at the least expect it. Really, darkness, death, and misery where to be anticipated.
Formal events notably were not beneath that umbrella.
Graecie had… invited him, as her date. It made his heart do all sorts of flips and swooshes even just thinking about it. In theory, he was fully aware that she might have meant for him to be her date as her friend.
Given the sweet little smile and the half-giggled 'well, what do you think?' she had sent his way when he worked up the courage required to ask about the nature of their pairing, he doubted it.
That girl truly could be a menace, sometimes. Sausage would be proud.
His formal wear might have been considered a little bit too casual for the event, but he didn't quite care. Some sneaking suspicion told him some others would also not be quite so put-together.
His outfit was simple, but functional and, at the least, appropriate—a white button-up dress shirt, paired with a deep yet vibrant blue waistcoat and neat brown dress pants. His boots were the same, though Drift had insisted very strongly that they should be cleaned, and so they were.
There was very little jewelry, most of it borrowed; a gifted golden armlet from Zam, a beaded bracelet from Juniper, a necklace that was just an iron key hanging on a leather cord—that one was a gift from Graecie.
His fingers twisted at said key nervously as he waited in the 'ballroom'—the main cafeteria-library-amalgamation which had been cleared of most furniture. Bookshelves were pressed to the walls, an impressive feat in and of itself, because he had to assume that those were heavy.
Legs wanted to walk with Graecie, but Sausage and Shelby had loudly protested, with Sausage volunteering himself to be her chauffeur instead.
As the alchemist was nervously twisting his head this way and that, as if expecting his date to somehow appear from thin air, Juniper materialized in front of him instead.
She smiled in that way she did, soft with an edge. Her garb was similar to his only in the waistcoat department—it was green and embroidered in florals, which she told him was hand-threaded by Drift with the biggest grin on her face. Pathetic, but so was he, so…
She pressed her fingers onto his hand and squeezed, giving him a reassuring yet teasing look. "Have fun, loverboy."
He must have been beet red, because Juniper then laughed, before moving on to go dance with Megii.
It was a few more minutes before his date walked in. Sausage preceded her, dressed in a dashing suit with a golden sun-shaped brooch, but his glory was swept away by the absolute angel who followed.
The first thing that he noticed was, naturally, her outfit, because it was extravagant and yet somehow simple—a white skirt with elegant and intricate lace details trailing all the way down, a swirl of cloth that turned this way and that and fanned out all around her like a firework or maybe a flower when she spun, which, because she was Graecie, was often.
The waist was accented with a thick stripe of red, like a belt, and Legs could just barely see that the fabric was tied into a bow behind her. Her top was pure white, a similar color to her regular dress, and plain save for the ruffles at the top and the short sleeves. Around her neck was her red ribbon, typical for her. Her hair was done up half-up and half-down, with a small ponytail and a swirl of white bangs curtaining her face.
His heart just about stopped beating.
As soon as she caught sight of him, Graecie's face lit up like the Moon. With a wave and shouted goodbye to Sausage, she ditched him entirely and beelined for her date. She raised both arms and slammed into him in a somehow gently crushing hug.
When she finally pulled away and allowed Legs to relieve his lungs by taking an actual breath, her smile glowed again, and he remembered that tonight was a very special occasion for more reasons than this.
Before they could get too swept up in dreaded social interactions, he grabbed her by the arm and dragged her outside as fast as he could without ruining her outfit. It was not very fast, really, but Graecie got the message and began to walk alongside him instead.
Graecie opened her mouth with a confused but lighthearted lilt, brushing one moonlight stained curl out of her face, but Legs cut her off with a grin of his own. He pointed skyward, to the place where the brittle and delicate silver light of the Moon would spin.
The hue of the color, normally such a soft and purifying blank white, unassuming and innocent much like the girl who stood before him, was now different. It was now a blood orange shade, reminding him of rust, because of course it did.
"It's a lunar eclipse," He told Graecie, only barely keeping the excitement out of his voice. Back at Thistle Hill, the eclipse was a little bit of a bigger deal—it involved a small bonfire, a competition between the smallest children on who could find the best stick to hang the various ornaments, chimes, and bells from, and a little bit of dessert, such a rarity for a simple apprentice like himself.
She had her mouth split in a wide grin, and quickly turned to him, clasping both of his hands in hers and ignoring how it turned him into a blushing mess. "What does that mean? Why's it red?" And, God, her voice was full of such wonder that the answer spilled out of his mouth unbidden.
"Every now and again, the Earth will block the Sun's light from reflecting on the Moon, and because of the way the wavelengths bend, it goes from white to red— they call them Blood Moons in some places, but honestly nowadays they just remind me of you and your red ribbons—"
He was unceremoniously cut off by the feeling of lips on his, and it was over just as fast, a sudden peck. Graecie was beaming like she hadn't just broken his brain.
"That's so cool," She gushed, squeezing his hands again.