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“I heard a voice. It was yours.”

Inspired by episode 21.

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Jordan Fisher and Aaron Tveit - Those Magic Changes

(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SyPmlG82CNo)

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hey hey -- go ahead and like for a starter! 

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Given how often Fakir arrives early to the academy’s dance rooms, you’d think he enjoys the prospect. Though he’s not particularly bad at the art, nor does he shy away from classes and practices, excitement’s nowhere near the reason for his usual modus operandi of seeking out the practice spaces so early. The reality is different, but just as simple -- the earlier he arrives, the emptier the school tends to be. It’s much easier to center yourself and order your thoughts when there’s no annoying press of bodies to contend with. 

So when he finds that he’s not, in fact, alone, his easily soured mood dips the way it knows best, and as he leans against the open door his mouth etches down into a half pensive, half dissatisfied frown. 

He remains silent as the girl moves, his critical eye taking in the steps without any real intention to pay much attention. She looks -- light. It’s not bad, not really, the way she dances. Perhaps if he had any intention of taking ballet seriously he might have cared a little more. ( and perhaps if something about the way she cuts through the air didn’t remind him of something he truly cannot name or place, he’d be less inclined towards irritation. ) 

His brow furrows at her comment, and he makes no attempt to move from his spot. Seeing her face, now, she doesn’t look familiar -- something that he notices only because taking the time to know who might have contact with Mytho is of dire importance. 

❛ -- Are you supposed to be here? I haven’t seen you before. ❜ It’s about the closest he can get to reciprocating the greeting, wariness creating a hard bite on the edges of his words. 

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Wings.. She spins on the tip of her toe with slow yet meaningful grace. Her hands stretch out wide, then sweep down with a low dip. Those same wings she’s conjured with her hands help lift her up right. Another spin and she leaps–As if to take flight ! One swears there are wings on her back !               A soft landing ‘pon the sole of her foot and she glances at her reflection almost in wonder, lips curved into an innocent smile. Hazel hues widen when  she realizes she is no longer alone.                         ❝ Oh. Hello there. ❞

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[wants to defend fav character but swallows feelings instead]

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she does it on purpose

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“I’m sorry, I’m sorry you fell in love with me and I with you, I’m not a princess, not even a girl really. I’m just a duck. I just wanted to dance with you all so badly. I wanted to dance beautifully like the prince and you and everyone else. Now I’ve fallen in love with you and I don’t want to go back to being just a duck. But, I was never meant to be a girl for more than a night.”

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partners in crime! .+*

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▉▊ ╳ ┊ 「 open 」

He’s not pouting, don’t be ridiculous. There’s no world where he’d be doing something childish over something childish. ( at least, according to himself. ) Besides, if he’s a little on the sullen side, he has a perfectly good reason for it. The time for anything cold and snowy should be passing now -- not stopping, literally frozen and bringing with it ice slicks dotting each sidewalk every five feet across. 

❛ -- Stupid. ❜ The word is merely slightly venom barbed, cut short in frustration as he reaches out, quick as anything, to grab the arm of the person just about to fall on a god forsaken slick. He means the barb for the weather, mostly, but also doesn’t bother clarifying. ❛ Watch where you’re going. ❜

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I’m sorry you had to go through all this, but thank you for saving everyone…

#11 - with their favorite animal

I’m sorry, I got caught up in Ahiru feels. ;A; Because even if he didn’t love her romantically, how can you not have the bird that volunteered to be subject of unstable reality bending powers, suffer in the hands of the enemy, and by her own little strength in the darkest hour save everyone, how can it not be your favorite animal?

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miracuous tutu maybeee?

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“I will stay by your side” vs. “Stay Away”

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WIP on a princess tutu piece~

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She likes it. Something unidentifiably light bubbles up in the pit of his stomach, like a physical manifestation of firefly lights. It’s warm and -- it’s nice. This was not for him or about him, and he feels a little selfish for feeling so good. But Duck is happy ( she’s happy! ) and he’ll weather all his flaws and faults if he can just keep that smile on her face, that life flickering in her eyes. 

Her remarks, quiet and colored in awe, hit like tangible things. Fakir ducks his head to the side so she won’t catch the heat that he can feel traveling up his neck, painting his face a telltale red. It’s more than a little frustrating; emotions are so fickle and changing, he can hardly keep track of their dizzying progress. And they’re distracting him from her. 

❛ Mmm, ❜ he replies, articulate as ever in his agreement. If things were too cold (or too wet and slippery), it would defeat the purpose he’s constructed. The fact that she’s noticed sends an electric shiver down his spine -- even now, in the midst of his present, she sees right through him. ( But she also sees him in his entirety, and that more than anything is a new world unto itself. ) 

Fakir is prepared for the surprise; he knows that everything is merely decoration, from the snow bursts to the gift boxes to the character replications. He’s planned everything to the smallest detail, written until the ink started to cover more of his hands than the paper. But when Duck jumps, he reaches out and wraps a steady hand around hers, pulling her into his chest without thinking and sheltering her with the same arm. 

After a moment or two, he realizes what he’s done. The gentle heat of before magnifies tenfold in a single moment and he promptly takes a step back -- leaving their hands joined, but giving her space. 

❛ Sorry -- ah, sorry. That’s -- well... surprise? ❜

He coughs around the last word, trying not to appear as ruffled and startled as he feels. 

❛ There’s more of them -- I thought they’d be... fun? ❜

“Mine,” she gasps quietly and can scarcely believe it’s all for her. He’s made it all for her. “It’s beautiful,” she murmurs gently. “Absolutely beautiful.”

She’ll probably never be a lead prima ballerina but with him by her side it’s enough. So long as she can remember dancing with him and recall the weight o his palms atop her slender waist or the weightlessness she experience when the two of them executed a proper lift it would be enough. He’s her premier danseur, and as she wanders forward curiously the trembling in her hand dies down and she stares up at the ceiling. 

Awestruck by his snow and the world around them he’s encased the two in reminds her of a snow globe. She can all but hear a mechanical chime in her ears as she imagines being shaken up and enjoyed time and time again. The two of them placed in a little bubble completely shut out from the rest of the world and contained in their own little fantasy. 

“It’s hardly even cold,” her breath doesn’t swell before her like a cloud of jumbled words when she breathes. Irises drift across the falling snow to the candy town he’s created. “I can almost smell the peppermint,” she breathes and her nose wiggles for effect. Duck leads Fakir forward like he’s never seen this place before. Every step’s slow and deliberate and the snowflakes flit and nestle into her strawberry blonde hair.  

“You put us in candy town,” she muses happily. Her eyes flutter as she relaxes her grip on his hand. “Where Clara and the Nutcracker go after they defeat the Mouse King and,” her voice can’t keep up and she stops when a light illuminates the two of them. She backs towards him in surprise. One of her first tendencies to shock is to promptly seek him out for protection. 

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The moment she opens her eyes and he watches them grow wide, Fakir knows that everything will be alright. Duck has never been particularly skilled at hiding her emotions, and though it’s still hard for him to believe that he’s done well, he knows that she’s appreciative of what’s before her. That’s enough for him. 

When she comments on the snow, he can’t help the gentle, quiet laugh that ghosts in the back of his throat. He follows her without any protest, still thankful that she’s holding onto his hand at all. Her question, though, goes unanswered. This is going to be a happy moment for her, and if there’s the slightest chance that his use of tale spinning will remind her of things she’d rather not think of, he’s not going to make that mistake. 

❛ Yeah, ❜ he replies, trying and failing to stifle the slightly awed grin that’s currently written all over his expression - across his lips, in the depths of his eyes. ❛ I don’t know how long it will last, but it’s all for you. ❜

He’s perfectly happy to let her explore the stage setting to her heart’s content -- there’s plenty to find in the way of decorations from the show and bursts of glitter and magically crafted snow. It’s hopefully full of things that will keep her this happy, this excited, this pleased with her holiday. 

And, of course, there are a few additional surprises. 

❛ There’s stuff to find -- I don’t think any of it will last, but I thought you might enjoy looking around and exploring. ❜

Truth be told, he’d wanted to do more. Buy her real things to sneak in amongst the likenesses of sugar plums, dancing dolls, and fairies. But even after quite a bit of practice he still couldn’t seem to make reality and fantasy mesh. So he’d have to be content with the lights and snow flurries that were designed to kick up when she crosses certain points. 

( well -- those and the much larger surprise that he’s still far too nervous about. )

She trusts him completely. Her faith’s been placed within the only person she knows will always be on her side. The one and only partner she wants to have in her pas de deux for life. Without her sight her ears perk and she listens for any instantaneous change that she might be able to capture. Though all she can hear is the steady rhythm of her heart beating in her ears drumming away as the blood pulses in her body. Can he hear her heart? At times it’s so loud it threatens to burst out of her chest and capture the lovely boy for itself so she can’t have it. Her hand fits into his own well and she clasps onto him. It’s not a tight death grip or a lackadaisical princess hold where her fingers balance lazily in his hand. Maybe he can feel her trembling from joy or he can now sense the pulse in her wrist and along her fingers as she clings to him. 

The warmth of his hand radiates in her heart and she keeps in her place since he hasn’t asked her to move yet the girl continues to smile and keeps her eyes closed tight. Whatever he’s got planned for her, she can’t begin to fathom but she’s excited. 

Once he begins to lead her she dutifully follows. The bag at her side knocks gently against her slender hip and she traverses up the steps cautiously so she doesn’t trip over her face and land flat on her freckled nose. “Okay,” she nods. However, as soon as she says that she seems to lose her balance and leaves forward like she’s lost her footing but a smile cracks across her lips and she teases gently, “Just kidding.” Her clumsiness still embarrasses her but she’s a good sport and can embrace it. 

He guides her in and she stands in silence. Anxiously the girl releases a quiet breath. Unprepared for his surprise she waits for her queue. A sound,a  word, or a push from him as she remains with her back against the open door. There’s a chill she can’t quite place and she can’t tell if it’s from within the chapel or behind her. The door’s shut and she lifts her chin. Something’s on her face and she brushes away the urge to wipe her face.

She can’t keep her eyes shut any longer and the instruction to open them leaves her stunned. For a beat she keeps them closed and waits for him to tell her that he’s joking or that it’s not ready but his voice is certain and she first tilts her chin towards her chest and blinks at her feet carefully.

Duck dares to look up and can hardly contain her excitement. A deep gasp robs her of her breath and she stiffens. Knees knock together once and she leans forward. Her eyes are the side of saucers. The loveliness before her is indescribable. 

“Fakir!” she exclaims in excitement. “Fakir! It’s!” A free hand opens and her palm faces the feiling. A snowflake graces her hand and she drags him forward a few paces. “Fakir! It’s snowing!” she gasps and looks up at him. Wonder illuminates her cerulean eyes and she stares at the ceiling for a beat. “How, how can this be?” she snaps back into his direction. It can’t be. “Fakir is this? Is this mine?”