THE DANCE

The applause of the audience and their fellows on the floor died down as Azmia and Philip zoned out the stares they received. At last, after the tantalizing pause, the partners, the master and the lady, took their places and waited for the soft flow of the music to begin.

The music was of an ancient origin, which years ago Philip himself had taught the orchestra that performed, it was a tone that lingered on the brink of sadness and tragedy but at the same, let loose rays of hope.

Once it started, they both took a step forward and bowed, circling each other, their gaze remained locked as the onlookers held their breaths without knowing. Philip placed his hand gracefully on Azmia's back, her hand on his shoulder. Together, they danced to the music, their feet in perfect sync to the beating of a constant heart. As the song progressed a feeling of relaxation enveloped the room and allowed a small smile to form on the lips of many including Azmia. Philip's motion was perfect.

Azmia gently danced along with Philip, as he held her hand in his.

Philip's age lent grace to his motion as they glided over the floor, following the rhythm of the light music that enveloped the space.

The contrast in their appearance and their age generated a colorfully mesmerizing view, their dance simple, flowing in a manner divine.

Their gentle motion brought out Azmia's beauty and Philip's grace.

It felt like a father and his daughter had taken the stage and such was their bond.

Philip's presence lent, if possible, even more prestige to Azmia.

As they danced, Azmia's dress flowed, it was a black gown that had a splendid silver pattern embroidered upon it. The pattern flowed from around her neck which supported a laced delicate top, the silver flowed down around her, like a snake coiled. It suggestively flowed around her chest, the pattern generating a longing in the viewer, the beauty stunning. The design made its way to her waist diminishing like autumn leaves.

Philip's motion invoked the onlookers further as his presence was so well suited. his motion hid Azmia and revealed her like wave washing against the beech. His own dressing simple, he wore a complementing black attire that contrasted with his grey hair and fair skin.

He turned elegantly, his body in tune with the slow music. Yet, there was a sort of firmness to him, that signaled his own nature, someone who shouldn't be underestimated, someone who had been battered and knew the bitterness of life. It was this faint feeling that much didn't quite care for at that moment. Azmia knew him better than most, from the day they met, Philip had been like a guide, like a father, and like a friend.

The warmth between them grew more powerful by the second. The audience was in awe. Their heartbeats growing steadily along with it.

The dance was perfect; everything from their breathing to how their feet moved, stayed in harmony. Mesmerized by motion, the audience's senses escaped time, frozen with their eyes glued to the spectacle of grace and beauty, of excellence and elegance, of warmth and memories. The dance entrancing them as each one of them delved into their own past, their own sad happy memories as their eyes remained fixated.

The music seized, and the room was silent, many had tears in their eyes without their own knowledge. It was a few moments later that the hall erupted in applause, led by Azul. The Philp's captains, and guests along with all others present clapped celebrating the wonder that had just unfolded in front of their own eyes.

As both Philip and Azmia made their way back to their seats, talking politely amongst themselves, the dance started again, livelier with everyone participating. As Azul stood beside his master once more, nodding and smiling, truly Philip was the man worthy of being his leader, he smiled to himself again reaffirming his past decisions.

Philip sat and with him sat Azmia, as she sighed lightly.

"I am tired, Philip." she began, of the attendees, she was the only one who addressed the master directly by his name.

"A little dance and you lose breath. you are losing your touch my dear," the answer in Philip's soothing voice was coated with sarcasm.

"No, no! this was nothing," Azmia answered oblivious to sarcasm as she was, "it's just this... this thing you call life."

she turned her gaze from the dancers to look at Philip whose lips were decorated with a smile.

"What is it that you find tiring?" he questioned his voice barely above a whisper.

"I am tired of the same routine, Philip, I am tired, I feel like I am trapped all over again, nothing provokes me," she answered delving in words to express herself.

"Life my friend, is indeed a prison. For us humans especially," Philip answered, "we don't know when we might die, how we might die, where we might die. It should be exciting, right? but it is not," Philip continued.

"We in our fickle existence surpass time, we think of ourselves as eternal, and strive for the world as such," Philip paused, "Life as I said is a prison indeed, we are trapped by circumstances, we are bound by relations, we are restricted by thought. and yet... life is beautiful if you think about it."

"How so", Azmia asked.

"You say it's all mundane right?" Philip inquired and continuing without an answer, "and here we just had this wonderful dance, life has so many treats... it's just that we lose ourselves in the bigger picture. Here is an exercise for you my dear. focus on the little things, relish them and when you have, tell me again how mundane life is."

"Do you have something in mind?"

"I just might, you know of Kai?" Philip asked his eye fixated on the shoes of one of the dancers.

"That boy of yours? Yes," Azmia answered, still looking at him.

"He should be joining you soon."

"Ah delightful," she smiled as well.

"Indeed, look out for him, won't you?"

"Of course,"

...