[ She doesn't respond right away. Her gaze falls to the ribbon still twined around her hand, suddenly hanging limp compared to how easily it flowed and fluttered before. It makes something itch at the back of her head, that irritating something-you-forgot impulse that can't even be called a memory but one she's learned not to chase unless she wants a thundering headache to follow. ]

I don't think I can take all the credit. [ Or any of it, her dry tone says, as she holds out the ribbon for Ballade to take from her. ] I definitely wouldn't be able to move like that without magic. ... though I suppose that goes for most of us.