[ Whether or not he sees the mark, Legolas doesn't let on much. Her attire alone is enough to throw him for a loop of wonder and confusion, enough to drown him in unfamiliarity like so many other things in this court; her attitude, so, so direct and more in the way of the dwarves, perhaps, or some of the hobbits he had known. And to think the elf prince had already considered himself relatively well versed in the oddities of the world, in the comparably short time he travelled beyond the borders of his home, known as Mirkwood at the time, but this isn't Arda and it brings a slew of wholly new things to see. A feast for insatiable curiosity, a trial for the way elves crave change slow or none at all.

Beyond most subtle changes in expression, a twitch of an eyelid, a tremble of a lip or the corner of the mouth, he upkeeps the easy composure, as if unperturbed, as if never moved by anything.

As they walk, he spares last glances at the couples already twirling on the floor, having watched them already before and familiarised himself with the motions. If out of nothing but curiosity for customs that were different and strange to him. The music, at least, is soft and pleasant on the ear, if entirely foreign. ]

The summons came so suddenly, it is no wonder that none of us were prepared for what lay ahead. [ He rests a hand on the small of her back, warm and gentle, arm curled around a narrow waist. A subtle, kind smile on his lips at the introduction, which he returns. ] A star shines upon the hour of our meeting, Isabelle. I am Legolas.

[ Unhurried, Legolas waits for Isabelle to give a sign she's ready. ]