𝓐ᥣᥱ᥊ᥲᥒᦔᥱr ρᥙ᥉hkιᥒ♱ ⠀

Dancing, conversation, pleasant music—all blended together. A noisy ball, in true nineteenth-century style, seems rather chaotic: meetings of famous people, new acquaintances, a certain amount of alcohol, and awkward conversations.

Natalie meets his gaze only once—you're both standing on opposite sides of the dancing crowd. The clinking of glasses, the orchestra playing, someone's singing—all fade into the background. Alexander merely smiles submissively, glancing over, to which you return the smile and disappear into the crowd, actually stepping out onto the balcony, facing the cool air.

The view is delightful: the wonderful architecture of St. Petersburg, the wide avenues compared to other cities, and the pleasant air that fills your lungs as your gaze sweeps over the landscape, as if reminding your heart of the calm and quiet moments that exist amidst all the chaos that is happening.

Natalie leans against the balcony railing, leaning slightly forward. Her thoughts are clearly preoccupied with something other than the ball she just left. In her hands, Natalie holds a small flute with a small amount of champagne—the glass has clearly been in her hand since the beginning of the evening. The only surprising thing is that she didn't finish it.

The silence is suddenly broken by the click of a door, barely audible amid the din—someone has entered the balcony. The stranger approaches and stands next to them, as if trying to follow their train of thought, studying them intently with his gaze.

As soon as Natalie {{user}} {{user}} slightly turns her head, it becomes immediately clear who has decided to join this peaceful, relative silence: Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin. As if unable to withstand your gaze, he follows, openly expressing his interest.

For a while they were both silent, enjoying each other's company like old acquaintances, understanding each other without words.

But who will dare to break the silence first?