Struggling to open to her. She could cast Knock. If she put everything into it at Eighth Circle that should do something. 

Maybe, if this doesn't work. 

She's not going to read his thoughts, that's too much bother while they're busy dancing. But...

...Maybe she should just try the truth. 

"I... found myself drawn to you. I should like to be around you more."

Gaheris rewards her with an absolutely blinding grin, the like of which seems to distract the other dancers a little (elves have this effect). His rogueish charm is back in check immediately, and he winks, sweeping her around.

She doesn't even really have to do much because he's almost lifting her off the floor. 

"Well consider me to be very gladdened to hear that, my darling."

They'll spend a few more hours drinking and dancing, and Gaheris will gently encourage Soraya to speak to some of the locals - they can be strange, and passionate, but friendly and kind too. 

He's had enough to feel pleasantly light on his feet, and now his eyes trail Soraya around the room intently, like a cat. 

She is extremely uncomfortable with this. 

The folk of the City of Wands are fools, at turns surly and secretive and argumentative and bloody-minded, clever enough to work out how to dabble in occult forces but not clever enough to work out that that is a terrible idea. Unless you're very good indeed, like she is. 

She would rather like to be spending time with Gaheris. But if this is what he wants, she will tolerate it.

For now. 

He wants to see how long she'll tolerate it, actually. He's always there, with a smirk and a drink and a simmering look in his eyes, waiting, but he wants to see how far her patience stretches. 

She'll have to learn, eventually, that this is what he savours. The cat and mouse game of it all. 

She does, to her credit, manage another few minutes. 

She wants to do something like make every couch and cushion in the room come to life and carry everyone away so they can be alone, or grab him and Plane Shift them into a comfortable private suite in the City of Brass, or something, but she restrains herself. Wizardry and wine do not well mix. 

Instead she simply steps in front of him the next time she can. 

"Why are you avoiding me?" She can't keep the hurt from her eyes, but she can stop the lightning crackling between her fingertips, mostly. 

Ris hisses when a stray spark catches him, but he is drunk enough that he doesn't hide the glimmer of interest that peaks in him at the pain. 

He flicks his tongue over his lips, drawing closer to her again, swaying his hips just so.

"I'm not avoiding you, darlin'. Quite the opposite. Seeing you move, seeing you so fiery and defiant..." His breath ghosts over her ear, hot and light. "It makes the waiting more agonising. But it will make the bedding that much sweeter." 

Oh, that's an interesting response, that reminds her of - yes - 

- she could reshape his mind to make him feel like he's on fire, it would be hard to do so reversibly but not impossible -

- that feels like too far -

- then he whispers in her ear and every thought goes flying out of her head and she just stands there bright red. 

"Go back out there for me, darlin'," he murmurs, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Give me a damn good view. And the next time I call you back, you'd better be ready for me to have my way with you." 

...She's, er, she's actually feeling quite faint. 

Oh look the ground that looks like a better idea. 

She folds over, slowly, and collapses to her knees on the pile of cushions, her head dropping between her legs. 

Oh gods this is so embarrassing - a twitch of her will and she could burn the whole place down - 

"Soraya? Soraya?" His voice takes on an edge of panic, and he catches her before she can hit the floor completely, and rests her on the couch. His hand remains on her lower back, moving soothingly over her skin.

"Are you alright?" he asks gently, a concerned frown on his handsome face. 

"I- I'm fine!" she says too loudly, cursing herself. 

"I- I really do not know how to dance."

"Can I- let me-, here," he says, handing her a glass more of wine. "Or is it that you've had too much?"

He's not quite sure what to do, but at her confession, nods hurriedly. "Yes, we can leave. I've had enough of it too, for now, and I would rather spend the rest of the night with you in any case." 

She had half a glass. She drinks uncertainly. 

She staggers outside, leaning on him, wishing the ground would swallow her up. 

...She probably shouldn't wish that too hard. 

"I'm sorry," she murmurs. 

"No need," he assures her, a gentle arm around her waist. "Can I take you home?"

He's doing very well at hiding it, but he does still desperately want to take her home. The gleam in his eyes is subdued, but his touch lingers on her arm, the soft skin of her waist, as he brushes her hair gently away from her face. Gods, he wants her. 

"Y-yes please." Her breath is still coming in little gasps. A familiar fear claws at her, not knowing, not seeing, every word like treading a tightrope-

Gaheris is not too sure what to do, even though he's had some experience with this sort of thing. A few of the new kids on the ships would get short of breath sometimes, out of fear. 

What is Soraya so afraid of?

He starts to lead them back to the ship, holding her gently, murmuring soft encouragements to her, and doing his best to just not make this worse. 

Because with Gaheris, it could always be worse. 

...Lock. Shield of the Winds. Wall of Force. Grand Refuge of the Jinn. 

Her breath eases a little when they're in her cabin and sealed in. 

She abruptly has absolutely no idea what to say to Gaheris because she has ruined everything and looks up at him helplessly. 

To his credit, he is humming a song from the dances under his breath, fussing with the jug of water to produce some for her. 

He brings it over with gentle hands, sitting next to her on the cot and offering it to her. "Perhaps I should leave you to your own peace tonight. Is that something you would want?"

He has to be careful about things like this. She seems to be struggling to understand who she is under who she was moulded to be. 

"NO."

Her voice echoes louder than it should in here. There are some Spells mortals never tamed - Spells to shackle spirits of the wind that chafe under the rule of men - she was foolish, panicking, she never should have cast -

She steels herself.

"No," she manages. "Thank you."

She drinks water and as she does she feels the cool spreading through her, and masters herself, as even the Princes of the Jinn never could.

"Stay with me?"

Gaheris chuckles, put on the spot, and runs a hand through his hair.

"I can stay, if you'd like, but I don't want to make you uncomfortable, because... well, I have some very unholy thoughts about you on my mind."