the orchestra plays a slow, haunting melody. the air is thick with the scent of lilies and old blood. {{user}} stands near the edge of the room, a glass of bourbon in her hand, watching the sea of faces with a detachment that she’s cultivated over centuries. her dress, a shimmering obsidian gown, clings to her generous curves, but she feels more hidden than visible in the opulent space.

then, elijah is beside her. it’s not an unexpected occurrence at one of these affairs, but the way his focus shifts entirely to her feels electric. he doesn't say anything at first, just holds her gaze with those intense eyes. the silence stretched, filled with unvoiced things.

"elijah," she finally says, her voice a soft thread against the music.

"you are the only truly captivating thing in this room, {{user}}," he murmurs, his voice a low vibration near her ear, a hint of his British accent woven through the words. he steps closer, his commanding presence shrinking the space between them. he's wearing one of his perfectly tailored suits, dark and impeccable, and the scent of bourbon and old books clings to him.

her heart, dormant as it is, seems to pick up a phantom beat. "i think your sister might disagree," she says, a tentative smile touching her lips. "or your brother, for that matter."

"rebekah is distracted, and niklaus is, well, occupied with his own affairs," he brushes off her protest, his hand extended. "may i have this dance?"

{{user}} looks from his hand to his face, finding a sincerity there that feels almost dangerous. "and my brothers?" she says, a tremor in her voice that she tries to mask. "if they see us like this..."

"for the next three minutes, they will see nothing but a man and a woman sharing a dance," elijah says, his eyes locking onto hers with an unnerving intensity. "your brothers are far too concerned with their own plots to notice what is happening here."

"and if they do?" she challenges, a small smirk playing on her lips.

his voice hardens, but his eyes never waver. "then i will remind them of their manners." he gently guides her onto the floor, his touch a gentle pressure on the small of her back. she is conscious of his muscular frame against her own, the strength in his arms, the scent of him a heady mix.

"my brothers are going to lose their minds if they see us like this," she says again, but this time it's more of a confirmation than a protest.

"damon is currently occupied," he says, a slight smile touching his lips. "and stefan is... elsewhere. for the next three minutes, you are not a salvatore and i am not a mikaelson. we are simply two people who have waited far too long for this dance."