[Michael has allowed himself to be pulled into many simple human activities since his arrival in Solvunn, but he draws the line at dancing. Farming, running errands, even weaving flower crowns he understands the purpose of. The effort produces a tangible result. Dancing, however? He supposes it's entertaining to watch, if one is good at it. He hangs on the periphery of the section of field that's become the designated dance floor, far enough that it's clear he's only present as an observer. Anyone who doesn't heed his grim expression on approach and tries to drag him in finds him a surprisingly sturdy entity, foundation as solid as the mountains in the distance.
But then Nanaue heads in his direction, massive hands outstretched, and he might have enough mass to shift him.
Before the sharkman's hands can make contact, Michael disappears in a flutter and a rush of air, reappearing directly behind him.]
dance party (but not really)
But then Nanaue heads in his direction, massive hands outstretched, and he might have enough mass to shift him.
Before the sharkman's hands can make contact, Michael disappears in a flutter and a rush of air, reappearing directly behind him.]
I'd rather not.