Pedro Pascal Character Imagines

Learning to Let Go (Oberyn as Dionysus)

Summary: Brigid hates clubs, but then she meets a man who changes her mind.

Brigid glanced around the room at the people around her. She hadn't wanted to come to the club, but her friends refused to leave her at home so she went along anyway.

She'd had several men try to hit on her, but she brushed them off. She wasn't interested in hooking up tonight. In fact, she was more likely to go home alone because her friends would find someone to hook up with.

But then he walked in.

The atmosphere in the club completely changed. It felt thicker, like a fog had taken over everyone in the room.

The man approached Brigid. He was sharply dressed in a mustard yellow suit jacket with a matching waistcoat. The tie (which he wore with a white dress shirt) and pants he wore were black.

Brigid thought it was odd attire for a night out, much less a club. Maybe he was a business man on his way home from work and he wanted a drink. But still, it was an odd color for a suit.

He had olive skin and dark brown hair, with the eyes to match. His mustache and beard were neatly trimmed, adding to the business man look. "Why are you sitting over here all alone?" he asked, taking a sip from a crystal glass of blood red wine that appeared in his hand.

"How did you get that wine?"

This bar didn't serve red wine. Red wine was reserved for fancy restaurants.

"You're very perceptive for a mortal."

Brigid thought his phrasing was weird, but she didn't question it.

The man wiggled his fingers and said, "Magic."

Brigid sipped her drink.

"You haven't answered my question. What's a pretty girl doing sitting here all her lonesome. You should out on the dance-floor having fun."

"I don't like clubs," she told him.

The man laughed. His smile would make any woman melt. "What's wrong with clubs?"

"People just come here to get drunk and hook up."

"You can still have fun." He held a hand out to her as another song started. "May I have this dance?"

Brigid considered it for a moment before she placed her hand in his. She slid off the bar-stool and the man led them to the dance-floor.

They stopped in the middle and the man turned her away from him so her back was pressed his front.

Brigid blushed. She jumped when the man's lips brushed her ear.

"Just let go. Let the music guide you. Focus on that." He put his hands on her hips and pulled her flush against his body.

Brigid felt a fog enter her mind. She forgot about the people around her and focused solely on the man's hands holding her hips.

It was like nothing else existed.

She let the music take her away and dictate how she moved. Her hands moved independently of her mind and grabbed the back of the man's head.

The man chuckled darkly in her ear, sending a shiver down Brigid's spine. Brigid's whole body felt like it was on fire and it was hard to breathe. But she kept dancing.

The song ended too soon.

When the man's hands left her body, it was like a cold bucket of water had been dumped on her. She was aware of the people around them and the sweat dripping down her back.

Had it really only been a couple minutes?

Brigid felt like she had been dancing for hours. Her limbs ached and she was parched. She wanted him to touch her again. Dancing with him felt like a drug and she needed another hit. Brigid turned to face him now, committing every curve and line of his face to memory.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Brigid."

The man smiled and Brigid felt her heart skip a beat. "Like the ancient Celtic Goddess?"

Brigid shrugged. "I imagine my parents just like the name."

"Then you and I are more alike than you think." The man stepped back from her and kissed her cheek. "Farewell, fair Brigid. May we meet again." He turned and disappeared into the sea of bodies, leaving Brigid alone on the dance-floor.

When her friends invited her out again, she'd go along. But only with the hope she'd meet her mystery man again. She needed to dance with him again.

To feel that complete freedom for just another second.

And if she didn't, she'd remember him every time she heard that song or drank red wine.