Lion Head Mesa That's a fine looking high horse

They spun and danced and sang! Or at the very least gyrated drunkenly together. And breath would be caught with mouthfuls of more wine. Legend is a beautiful dancer, like a goddess Neith, the way her raven-fur ripples in the smoke, and eyes like the full moons always watching wherever she turns, this way and that. The fellahin pirouettes clumsily into her arms, nipping her cheek playfully before spinning herself away, laughing all the while.

“Sethhhhhhh,” she hisses his name, like a witches howl on her tongue. “Yourrrrrrr ssssshadow? Myyy, wha big feet! He hasss!!” She keels off into the wall with laughter. The wine spills across the tiles.

“Oh gods sh-” There are tears in Legend’s eyes.

“Oh,” she breathes and gathers the mazoi up into her arms. “Heyyyy… hey. They’re the foollsss. HE’S the fool tooo miss thissss, alll of yoooouu, right here, in front of him! Ok? Hear me? You’reee so…pretty an an well a little kooky I’m gonnnnna admit but, I am likin' that.” She rocks her, or at least, smushes her face into her chest as some barest attempt at a soothing song bubbles at her slurring lips.

“Ok….ok maybe WE are foolsss too, Legenn. But, y’knowwww what!?” She sways, using the other girl mostly to keep herself righted now.

She holds her hand up over her mouth, lips pressing in over Legend's ear, “I’m gonna be a fool in the pool!”

Out into the hall she shoots, paws beating down the stone at a jagged gallop, “You coming???”

Rivulets of drunken laughter.