An indiscernible, fingerless grip keeps her upright. Cloud-like and almost cool to touch. Where she's inclined to expect Tavion's hands, deftly breaking her fall to the trilling beat of stringed instruments and vocals, her partner reveals otherwise. Steps back with hands miraculously raised, begging the question; who is holding her upright?

And more simply; how?

Her bark-brown eyes widen. Her neck cranes to ogle the ground she should, according to the rules of physics, have collided with five seconds ago. Ripley's eyes find Tavion then, who smiles warmly and with aplomb.

"Magic?" She puzzles.

_{(I gave it a listen for this reply; what an excellent vibe! Here, I'll toss mine at'cha! This one's fun especially for this moment.)}