As his Tenshi-ko descended the stairs, Apollo took the time to take in her attire. Her pale visage was covered by a simple, and yet radiant mask of multicoloured light, and her dainty feet were encased in crystal slippers with just the right amount of heel to make her about an inch taller than she truly was.
Most comely of all, however, was her gown. It fit her like a second skin, hugging her chest and creeping down in the most subtle way, managing to capture ones attention, and yet remain in proper elegancy. When it reached the level of her hips, the robe fell in sweeps of resplendent cloth, accentuating her slim waist. As she moved, with all the grace of a swan, shaking raindrops from her crystal tresses, the gown shifted in all the colours of the rainbow and beyond.
'So this is what she had meant! Goddess Iris of the rainbow, creatress of the pigments that gift our Star system.'
At this point, the benevolent angel was reaching the nethermost part of the staircase, and Apollo moved almost subconsciously, crossing the room in great strides. She raised her head and looked straight at him, their eyes meeting with sparking intensity. He stopped in the center of the dance floor, and she walked closer and closer, robes rustling with every step until at last they stood before the other.
Apollo noted the thin cord that held her mane back, and gingerly probed it with his mind, recoiling as he was mentally blown back, it was raw magick!
'Figures, that a creature as charming as she would be gifted in the spiritual and magickal arts.'
He caught her small hand in his as he swept into a deep bow and, placed a kiss on her knuckles. A teasing glint sprang to life in his eyes as he looked up at her and smirked, "Greetings, Milady Tengoku of-what was it-hidden lands?" She stained a deep rouge and peered at him through her eyelashes, "I apologize King, if it was deemed offensive of me not to state my origins, however as explained earlier, there are certain things that are not at my disclosure." Her alluring silver eyes gazed at Apollo, pleading for his understanding. Her eyes seemed to be lit from within, burning with a passionate flame, promising love, secrets, laughs, and just a spark of adventure.
He spoke, just as a lovely melody came on, "I understand, there is no need to explain yourself. Would you care to dance?" She gave no vocal response and simply accepted his offer with a smile and a regal nod. And so they swept off into the dance floor, milling about in the crowds of laughing nobles.
By the time the Ball was winding down, Apollo had learned much about his precious Tenshi. Like the fact that she was known for her dancing, and that she enjoyed singing, and at times, skating. Apollo learned that the Amethyst was Tenshi's favorite stone, and that although her mother believed that a diamond was more proper, she felt they were much too cold, devoid of the warmth an Amethyst possessed. Apollo learned that she loved to read and write, was fluent in many tongues, as well as quite a few dialects, and did quite well in Arithmancy. They shared tales of times when they were young, times of laughter and joy. Apollo found himself telling her things about himself, things that not even his Aunt Gelda knew. When he spoke of how he felt that all women ever wanted was his power, or his physical appearance, she answered with a sage nod and a, ''Tis the curse of the royals' and refused to elaborate.
When the guests had departed, and the servants were scrubbing the floor of last remaining traces of the Ball, he led her out onto the balcony and together they gazed at the stars and the moon. Apollo, however, found himself feasting his eyes on her, taking in her flushed state, bright eyes facing skyward, locks reflecting moonlight and pert rosy lips parting in a smile, and could not help but grin as well.
As though sensing his gaze, she turned and gave him a questioning glance, but he shook his head and drew her near, resting his chin on the top of her head. She looked up into his eyes and he was surprised to see such a vulnerable look in her silver orbs as she traced a pattern on the fogged window. He caught the end of a whispered phrase, riding on a current of wind, "Please, let this last.", and saw the words that her delicate fingers had traced,
'She Believed, He Lied.'