[ breaking the ruse of the masquerade is just fine with percy. to feel the soft tickle of her hair and of her mask just beneath his chest causes a flash of warmth to spread through his chest, an affection that brings the hand on her back to press her even closer as they dance. he can feel the brush of ankles as they move closely, steps finding one another perfectly.

percy often finds himself at times to be too scientific to believe in something like "soulmates" or what have you.

but this is. very close to it. precisely it. he doesn't breathe a word of it, but somewhere inside he knows that this must be what it feels like, truly. ] I hope that you never feel as though you're anchored to the ground ever again. [ vex was meant to fly, stolen broom or not. she took to the air unafraid, fall after fall, unwilling to let gravity keep her flat-footed.

but there is the quiet fear that he prays and hopes he will never hold her back, either. he knows that she won't let him, but he wants to be certain. if he could be certain. he decides not to ruin the moment. it is more than enough, after all, and buries his face into the warmth of her dark hair, letting the hand on her back crawl up and curl at the nape of her neck to hold her as they sway. ] You were meant for brilliance, you know that, right?