There is pride, and arrogance.
Arrogance is earlier assumption being confirmed, and then crackling and hissing with blinding, aggressive sparks. It has unfounded elevation shoving one’s being up higher than the rest.
Pride is the gentle, playful bouncing on the balls of one’s feet. A bashful, humbled smile parting flushing cheeks, which have hiccupped in disbelief. It’s the momentum of success fondly sighing at the previous wobbling of anxious apprehension and fear. It settles in soft, comforting ribbons across the places where spears of doubt had jabbed at.
Pride tries to restrain giggles of relieved surprise in its newly assured stance, whilst arrogance smirks, snatches, and tips chins upwards.