Juniper had been afraid of Maryelle when the two were backstage. Not afraid in the way one fears a ravenous animal, but afraid in how one fears a mighty king. Maryelle, for all her charm and beauty, radiates the power and intellect of a goddess. Whether that goddess is Artemis or Athena Juniper can’t tell, but it wouldn’t matter. She admires her all the same. She didn’t even feel worthy to utter so much as a yes or no in her presence, but she spoke all the same. Never in objection, though. She would have laid her head on the chopping block if Maryelle had asked. She did come close, though, when Maryelle had asked Juniper to lead.
“What?” She had asked, frightened by the sudden shift of power, “Why me? I just showed up here! If anything, I ought to be learning from you.”
Maryelle’s voice glistened in her ears like spring water. “We can learn from each other. And you just arrived, you know? I know I would have wanted to lead my first show.”
And so it was done. Juniper didn’t protest anymore.
The two agreed upon a simple routine, just to make sure Juniper would be comfortable in the high silks of the tent. The two would start on separate silks, then slowly switch to the same one, and the finale would involve Juniper catching Maryelle. Again, Juniper did not protest. She did not believe herself able to accomplish such a feat, but it would be useless to make that known.
The two made their way to the rafters alongside Ikimono. Juniper found herself stunned when Maryelle stopped to talk to them. Maryelle, such a high being, stooping to converse with a corpse? She had hung back away from them in annoyance.
Juniper can’t tell what it is exactly that she despises about Ikimono. Whatever it is, though, it slowly crawls about and prickles her ribs like urchins when she looks at them. If it is jealousy, it would burn at her feet. If it is annoyance, it would creep up from the tips of her wings and into her neck. No, this is just hatred, pure and bitter. Hatred at this pitiful creature, so spineless they can’t even stand without a hunch.
When the two finally reached the rafters, they sat comfortably in the cradles of silk from which they will have to hang from. Juniper didn’t talk to her. Maryelle had told her there would be no talking in the rafters, after all, but rather just looked. The fine china of her bare arms glimmers in the dim light. In the silence, her eyelids quietly clink when she blinks. It occurred to Juniper that she didn’t even know what color her eyes were. Perhaps they’re blue like the little leaves painted on her hands and lower arms. Perhaps they’re green like the little emerald studs in her ears. Maybe they’re red like her lips, delicately lined by the crack that separates her jaw from her head. If she got the chance to look, she decided, she would. Of course, so as long as her gold, flaxen hair didn’t get in the way of her face.
When Sunshine calls for them and drops them into the stage, she decides that this will be her goal.
The routine starts off as normal, and goes without a hitch. Juniper keeps her focus towards her own patch of silk. She keeps one loop of fabric around her arm, and from the audience, one wouldn’t notice her holding onto anything. She lifts one leg and one arm, gesturing out to darkness, then drawing herself back in to begin her tumbling. She rolls about the fabric like a leaf floating about the breeze, gently swinging the loose silk back and forth with every movement. She stretches and splits midair, still managing to hold herself perfectly steady with only one arm. She continues her bout of carefulness for a moment, but when she notices Maryelle start to grow in energy, she decides to match her partner.
She starts to swing ever slightly more furiously, carefully beating her wings to propel her back and forth. She slowly lets go of her one arm grip and falls from her seat on the silk, catching herself just under her arms by her shoulders. Keeping her legs straightened doesn’t even come across as a thought to her. By now, it is just as much of an instinct as it is to walk or sleep. She continues to swing, and slowly the silk behind her starts to flow down from the rafters, lowering her in preparation for Maryelle’s reception. For the first time in this performance, she opens her eyes.
When Juniper looks out, she doesn’t feel the warm glow of eyes watching her. The gaze of the audience’s stands is cold, lifeless. It doesn’t disturb or frighten, but it leaves a rather cold sheen on her fur. She stares out into the abyss ahead of her, trying to find a set of eyes to lock on to. Despite the ocean of eyes staring back at her, she can’t find a single point of focus. The harder she strains her eyes, the harder it is for her to maintain her grip on the silk. She squints harder and harder. The eyes get blurrier. She squints harder.
Suddenly, she slips from the silk. Maryelle loses her grip on Juniper and starts to plummet to the ground. In a sharp moment of lucidity, Juniper wraps herself in a loose thread and rolls herself down to Maryelle. She grabs her by the wrist, and to her relief, Maryelle grabs back. The silk is a python around her waist, but she doesn’t care. Maryelle is safe.
The two swing back and forth, slowly climbing their way back up the silk. A slow wave of applause quickly takes over the stage as they make their way back up to the rafters. Juniper’s shock at her own negligence only hits her when her feet are on solid ground. Before she can even open her mouth to apologize, though, she finds herself in Maryelle’s arms.
“That was amazing,” She whispers, “You really had them on the edge of their seats out there. I wouldn’t think you could catch me like that at first glance.”
Juniper’s ears and tail perk up in tandem. “Really?”
“Yes, of course!” She grins, “How long have you been dancing?”
“Uh,” Juniper stutters, “Since I was 6 or so.”
“No wonder, then. You’re really something, Juniper.”
Her heart flutters in her chest. “Gee, thanks. I couldn’t have done it without you, though.”
Maryelle smiles. “If you want, we can sit up here and watch the rest of the show. Sunshine won’t mind.”
Juniper laughs. “I think I'd rather be on solid ground for a while.”
And with that, the two beeline for the ladder down.
…
“I’m getting nauseous, Peony. I don’t know if I’ll be able to come on with you.”
Stolen novel; please report.
Peony halts her pacing and starts over towards Sebastian. She hops up on the crate next to the one he’s doubled over on and sits down. A wave of comfort washes over Sebastian as he hears the creak of the wood.
“Don’t talk like that, Seb,” She mutters, “You’ll be alright. You’re just nervous, that's all.”
“You’re probably right,” he groans.
“What do you think’s got you nervous? I’m sure we can work it out.”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’m worried about the song.”
“Oh, that’s the easy part. You’re good at coming up with rhymes and such on the fly. Worst case, you can fall back on something you like listening to. What are the odds that someone out there listens to Miracle Musical too?”
“I’ll mess up a lyric or something.”
“So? Just pause for a minute and start up again. You’ll be the only person who’ll know something’s wrong.”
“And you won’t?”
“My base assumption with you is that you know what you’re doing. You’ve never given me a reason to doubt that.”
Sebastian turns away from her for a moment. It’s dark, but he still aims to hide the pink on his face.
“But my voice,” Sebastian continues, “They’ll hear it and hate it.”
“Are you kidding? You think people who’ve tasted grapes think they’re sour?”
“They will, though. They’ll find something and tease me for it.”
Peony notices the muffling of his coat sleeve in his voice. She reaches down with her void arm and runs her fingers through his hair.
“They won’t tease you, Seb. If they do, I’ll hunt them down for you.”
“They’ll boo you off stage because I’m there with you.”
“Let them. If they don’t want me there because of you, then that’s on them. I’ll leave with you.”
Sebastian stays quiet for a minute or two. Peony knows better than to trust his calmness.
“You’re just afraid of being watched, aren’t you?”
He gives a little nervous laugh. “You see right through me.”
“I don’t mean to.”
“Oh, you’re alright. But I guess it’d just be easier if I were invisible.”
“No, it wouldn’t. How would I be able to see where you are? I don’t want to trip on you or anything.”
“Visible of you, of course. I mean invisible to everyone else.”
“Invisible to everyone else?” She murmurs.
Peony looks down at her free hand. She conjures a little bit of light and rolls it between her fingers. She knows a spell that might help him. There’s only one problem with it, and that’s that it only blocks the sight of one. He’ll still be seen, but he won’t be able to see anyone else. Nobody other than her, anyway. As much as she doesn’t want to lie to him, she wonders if she has any other choice.
She fiddles with the blue light, sneaking little glances at Sebastian. She supposes if it helps, it will be worth it.
“I have an idea,” she begins.
Sebastian perks his head up. “What?”
Peony stretches out her tentacles behind her. “I know a spell that will make you invisible to everyone except for me. There’s just one catch-”
“Do it, please.”
“But there’s one little thing you ought to know.”
“That is?”
“You won’t be able to see anything other than me.”
The thought looms between the two like mist in the air of a mountain. He looks at her, then out at the light in the hall.
“I don’t mind,” he replies, “Do it.”
Peony nods. She turns to sit up on her knees, and she sits her hands down atop her legs. A little shimmer of purple haze washes out from her tentacles, dripping from the tips into little puddles on the ground. Sebastian looks on in wonder as she focuses her spell. She closes her eyes, and at once the light grows brighter. Sebastian leans forward as though on instinct. With one small, fluid motion, she unfurls her tentacles and drapes them against his back, pulling him closer to her. She picks her hands up from her knees, and he finds her palms teeming with light. She puts them against his cheeks and gently caresses his face.
At once, a gentle, inky darkness washes over Sebastian’s sight. With every blink of his eyes, the silhouettes of the boxes, candles, and people fade away into the blackness until only the vivid colors of Peony remain. The nothingness frightens him for a moment, but when he remembers the feeling of the crate against his stomach, he takes a deep breath in relief.
Peony doesn’t let go of him. He isn’t entirely sure if she’s still working her magic, but he doesn’t mind. Her oozing tentacles are a cool weight on his back, and her hands are warm on his face. He wishes he could have moved up to sit beside her on the crate so he could be closer to her than he is now. With great hesitation he lifts his arms up and rests his hands atop her arms in something not quite resembling a hug but with all the good intentions of one. When the velvet of her dress brushes against the top of his fingers, he slowly slides his hands out from his coat sleeves. He wishes he were brave enough to embrace her, but he knows now isn’t the time.
Slowly, Peony opens her eyes. She slips her hands away from his face and her tentacles away from his back. With nothing else to look at, he finds himself staring deep into her eyes. He could go colorblind, but as long as he could still see the steelish blue of her eyes, he’d know peace.
“My goodness,” she whispers, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I’ve seen a goddess, he thinks to himself.
“I do?” He asks.
“I’m teasing, don’t worry,” she replies. “Well, sort of, anyway. You’re a little pink, that’s all.”
Sebastian quickly pulls his hands back into his sleeves. “I’m sure it’s just from nerves.”
“Don’t be nervous. It’s just you and me, alright?”
The words sink into him like quicksand. Oh Peony, he thinks, It could only be you and I left in Portar and I’d be alright.
His thoughts cloud and muddle until he finds himself in a frenzy of longing. With nothing but her to see, how can he pull himself away? The joy crushes his chest.
“Now, take my hand. It’s a bit crowded back here, and I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
Sebastian reaches out for her hand and holds firm as she starts to lead him through the maze of the backstage. He wishes she could lead him along like this forever.
The two come to a stop at what Sebastian assumes is the opening to the stage. The air doesn’t change, nor does the sound or scent. He supposes, perhaps, in this haze it is only himself and Peony. Not that he minds. The greatest peace in the world is by her side.
Sebastian can’t hear it, but Sunshine begins to make his call. Now, Peony knows it’s her turn to take the lead.