Le Cygne [f]

[sey]

The title Prima Ballerina was a grand title. It brought about many privileges and benefits. It was like being a Diva in the opera world. And regardless of how esteemed of a title it was, Natalya didn’t care. The title only meant she had a more stage time than some others. However, there even times she wasn’t the leading female. Roles that required too much smiling annoyed her too much. Luckily, tonight’s performance was The Swan.

She was dressed up in a rather elaborately stitched tutu and corset with dazzling white feathers that reflected the soft white lights of the stage. The headband she wore was always ordained with feathers. The outfit was restricting, but so was her dance as it required her to dance the whole act en pointe. She slowly entered the stage as a violin played. She slowly moved her hands up and down slowly as if she were fluttering her wings. The every tips of her toes were the only thing to touch the ground as she glided across the stage.

When she finally made it to the center of the stage, she finally turned towards the audience. She could barely see them as the light shined on her face. It was always better when she couldn’t see all the faces staring at her. She didn’t have stage fright. Of all the things to fear in the world, it wasn’t hundreds of faces staring at her. But she disliked being around people. With the leg blinding her, she could concentrate on the music rather than having to notice the stupid onlookers. They were nothing but distractions. She slowly swung her torso down to her legs and then back up like going in a circle as the violin was accompanied by a piano.

The graceful blonde moved about the stage imitating a graceful swan throw dancing. The music was still slow and she moved around slowly with soft gestures, always making sure to flap her wings. She flew across the stage and then back around. She even flew backwards. The music slowly became stronger and Natalya moved bolder. Instead of just tiptoeing around, she leapt and twirled gracefully about. But once again the music started to get softer. She stopped prancing about but instead moved her arms in an elegant manner before slowly sliding to the ground on one leg. It looked like a swan landing onto water. Her torso moved back and further slowly as her arms moved and fluttered around her. The piano got softer and softer, and she moved less and less. Her body went into the elaborate tutu as the music came to a close. The light slowly dimmed until she was covered by shadow, signifying the first act as over.

Once the light was off of her, she could see all the faces. How unfortunate. She found herself scanning the theater like usual. Whenever she danced, she liked to pretend people she actually cared about were watching. Such people didn’t exist in this world, but it was a source of hidden comfort. Like usual she could see her teenage brother and sister watching her in the furthest row in the back near the exit. They clapped along the rest of the crowd. She couldn’t stare at them for too long or else they would run away. Her blue eyes slowly moved away, glance towards the higher seats. There were actually a few faces she recognized within the theater mostly in private balconies. Even a man that looked like her father was there…not that it was possible. Her father was long dead. But that man shared a striking resemblance to him. The only difference was he wore a scarf and her father never dared to wear such a thing. It looked similar towards the scarf her brother wore. Her eyes went away from the strange man back towards the back of the room where her brother and sister stood. It was exactly the same.

Were her delusions evolving? The man was in a booth alone, watching the stage wearing her brother’s sweater. Could he brother be here as an older man and teenage boy at the same time? An odd sensation went down her spine as she stared at the foreign man. Was he real? There was a whisper, distracting her away from her thoughts and back into reality. Slowly she rose back to her feet and walked off stage in the darkness as she scene changed and the music started to play again. Girls in similar, but less elaborate outfits came leaping out to a happy tune as she went to wait until it was her time to come out again. She tried to look out at the crowd from behind the curtains, but it was impossible. The rule was to never allow yourself to be seen by the audience, and if she could see them they could see her. It was frustrating. How many delusions could she have? If she could have so many, why couldn’t she see them when she was alone and they were close? A dark frown appeared on her face as she listened to the happy music. Delusion or not, she needed to put that aside. She needed to focus on reality and not silly fantasies.

[Ivan Braginsky]

Ivan used to go to ballets when he was taken, along with his sisters, by his parents once upon a time many years ago. He rather liked them then, not that he would have let his father know that, and he still enjoyed them now. However, it wasn't often that he went to them, at least not these days. Since his formal discharge from service, he hadn't been... nearly as interested in social gatherings. Granted, sitting alone in a balcony seat was far from being a social butterfly with the main audience, chitter-chattering away with his neighbors.

He'd been convinced by his lovely bots to go to one for a change, since it had been mentioned at one point in their company that he had enjoyed them in the past. Ivan had, of course, protested to the idea of going without them, trying to claim that he thought it would enrich their lives. In reality, that was a falsehood as he'd really just not wanted to go by himself. It felt so strange to be out without his son and companion bot, however, he'd been convinced to do it before. This was just another one of those times. Besides, he didn't mind the privacy of hiding in a balcony in the Neutheater where he could almost casually observe the performance without being expected to engage in "intelligent conversation" with whoever happened to be sitting next to him. Also, the privacy of the balcony allowed him to dress more casually and without having to appear as though he were constantly on his way to a wedding. A warm sweater he'd had for years and some slacks suited him nicely for the evening.

He'd heard good reviews for this particular performance... The Swan. The prima ballerina was amazing to watch, or so he'd heard from the same reviewers. She was from Belarus, so the sources said, and quite beautiful along with being relatively young. It was almost funny, he'd thought, when he saw her age in the reviews, that she was the same age his younger sister would be and they had the same first name: Natalya. What a coincidence! Ivan, however, put it out of his mind by the time he'd sat down in the balcony seat and watched the ballet unfold on the stage before him.

The music was beautiful as was the dancing, however, once the prima ballerina appeared, which he recognized from the reviews he'd read, the earlier coincidence... wasn't quite such an odd coincidence anymore. He leaned forward in his seat as he rested some of his weight on the edge of the balcony to get a better look, still keeping the meaningless smile on his face. She was, indeed, beautiful, but something was... remarkably familiar about her. Her hair was exactly the same color as his younger sister's... glossy and pale. There was no way that could be-... This woman was from Belarus, there was absolutely no way that was his baby sister. The last names were different too!

Trying to distract himself, Ivan focused on her dance and the story it told. He almost felt like the other dancers, skilled though they were, ought to be shamed by skill this young woman displayed. There, that was something completely unrelated he could think about and enjoy. That was what he kept telling himself, over and over. Enjoy the story, Ivan, that's what you came here for in the first place... to get away and enjoy yourself. He found it better to go with that than to contradict himself by explaining aloud to his thoughts that it was, in fact, Yong Soo's idea that he attend a ballet. Sure, no one was around to hear him or stare, but it probably wasn't a good habit to get into.

Then the lights shifted off of the ballerina... and she looked at him... directly at him. Ivan wasn't sure if that was good or bad, but tried to keep his usual grin in place despite the urge of his system to gulp. That was... unsettling. She even... had the same eyes, if he could tell properly from his high-up seat (which meant he really couldn't tell at all, only guess), as his younger sister. It could very well have a trick of the light or a wishful illusion of his imagination. There was no way this Belorussian prima ballerina was his sister! She couldn't be!

Yet... when she exited the stage, Ivan found himself inexplicably waiting... anticipating for when she would return to the stage and dance again.

[sey]

The music became erratic. Instead of graceful piano melodies accompanied by a violin, there were horns, flutes, and even tubas all out of tune with one another. Natalya ran on stage, sway around erratically. The other girls came running in, bumping into one another as well as her. It was pure chaos! Natalya fell to the ground in a dramatic manner as everyone fluttered around her in the chaos. It sounded like someone slammed their hands on the piano and all the other girls fell.

Natalya lifted her head slowly as she looked up at the balcony. Her delusion was still sitting there, watching her. She stared at him intensely. Was this really? Could it be real? Could someone that looked like her brother actually be there to see her dance? Could Ivan actually be there? She was distracted and almost missed her queue. The music returned. It crescendo as Natalya slowly moved her arms as if she were trying to fly but her legs never moved up. She stopped again and her head fell into here tutu.

The music came back in a whimsical tune and the other girls danced around erratically in a circle until it stopped and they all fell to the floor. Once again, the music slowly and softly began, and this time Natalya rose. She once again got into en pointe form and slowly moved, lifting her arms in a strained manner. She didn’t stay on her toes. At times she stopped to sweep the ground with her right foot and arm before dancing slowly away. Every so often, the music would change and the other girls would dance in a more energetic fashion. Eventually the two sounds mixed and the more energetic girls seemed to overrun the stage until she once again fell on the floor. The others fluttered offstage leaving Natalya alone with dark music.

Her eyes once again found him, just to make sure he was there watching. The solo light once again appeared on her so she couldn’t stare at him. She moved her arms around her body before trying to lift up but her lower body didn’t move. Her torso slowly seemed to fall lower and lower as her arms kept moving. And then, she stopped moving completely spread out on stage as the music seemed to keep going. It seemed to lighten and end on a soft note before the whole stage went black.

She stood up, staring at the man intensely with a disturbed look. He was real, wasn’t he? There was a Russian man in that balcony watching her with a scarf. It was a thing that looked handmade with love and care. Could it be something Kateryna made, or was she just imagining it? The curtain closed on her with her eyes locked on the man as the audience applauded and the lights to the rest of the theater came on.

[Ivan Braginsky]

Again, the ballerina returned, the dance much different this time, more frantic and struggling. It hurt to watch this dance, but not from poor artistry, but... from the feeling elicited by the story. He would never show it on his face, that something like ballet solicited emotions from a man that no longer physically possessed a heart. Granted, the physical heart was different from the intangible aspect of the soul, but the irony was there all the as his emotional heart's existence was sometimes called into question by colleagues.

Ivan wasn't sure whether or not he'd imagined it, but the ballerina looked at him from her place on the ground. It seemed like she was staring at him, but from the distance, he couldn't be sure she could actually see him. Maybe she was just staring off at some blank spot that happened to be in his general direction. But... he'd watched her carefully from the moment she reappeared on stage, keeping track of movements to try and make sure that this was not the sister he'd lost years ago.

He kept staring back at her, assuming that she was returning it, until the stage lights were killed, bathing it all in darkness. Ivan could no longer see anything on the stage, but he felt... eyes... on him even then. That was kind of unnerving. She had been looking at him. Quickly glancing around revealed nothing. There was no one else in the balcony with him... What was he thinking? No one was looking at him. Paranoia was getting the best of him again; Ivan chuckled awkwardly to himself.

No... It couldn't have been the ballerina. There was no way she was staring at him. However, the thought was interrupted as the curtain fell, catching his attention with the thunderous applause of the audience that accompanied the fall. Oh... right... it was over.

Without standing for the sake of his stiff knees, he merely smiled and joined the applause. He... would have to certainly come to the ballet more often.

Ivan wondered if he ought to leave yet. The show was over, but... No, it was best not to think about it. With a bit of effort, he used the side of the balcony to ease his way to his feet. He should probably just go before his curiosity got the better of him.