Chapter Text
The lights are too bright, glaring into your eyes. There’s a distant sound of clapping, as if an angry horde of elephants running across the inside of your skull. The world tilts, under the pretense of control. Someone is running their fingers back and forth down your already sizzling, melting brain.
You smile, holding the final pose of your routine, trying not to breathe too hard. It would be unsightly after all. Your glimmering bodice is tight, holding in as much as it can. The feathers over your chest, hastily reattached a few hours ago, itch, prick and flutter at your skin with each tremor you fail to suppress. As if you’re a fledgling again. You refuse to adjust them, not now. In a minute you will peel off this costume, that in the recent days has become like a second skin.
Yet no matter how hard you try to hold it in, no matter how fiercely you command it, your chest is moving. Every breath as it would be your last, gasping and drowning in your sweat. Threatening to smudge the makeup you spent 45 minutes on.
Why can’t your useless heart just stay still for 3 minutes?
Just this one moment of flawless grace and dignity…
Please??
Despite your beating heart, you remain still, impossibly so. In a deep bow, arms and wings unfurled in a perfect arc. Impressionist shadows spilling across the polished floor.
The auditorium is packed with guests, patrons, students and media alike. All in a shapeless mass of dark, cacophonous voices. You can feel their stares, slowly burning you to ashes.
The jury is no better, faces neutral, yet their eyes hold no gleam of appreciation. The hour of your sentence grows near, and you are helpless, but to pray it will be a swift one. The sword of Damocles is swinging, and you can only hope the blade falls clean.
They applauded politely, as you stood up, bowed again and waved, at which the audience roared like a stormy sea lashing against you.
“Thank you! Thank you!” Someone is calling out in a voice so cheerful and impossibly distant. Your mouth moves on its own.
You are shooed off stage by a wave of the head judges hand, like a peculiarly officious insect. With one last bow, your wings fold against your spine and you turn left. You still hear them, somehow, exchanging opinions on your performance. Their voices chase you out, with every hurried step.
“My thoughts on it…?”
The crowd is so loud, you can’t hear anything. Your ears are ringing, the buzzing persistent every time u slap your head. With every hit, your vision swims more and more.
“Ah…Well.”
You’re not sure whether you imagined it or not. It is technically impossible for you to hear them talking in lowered voices so far from the stage, especially as your making your way back.
You don’t dare look back.
You do make it to the red velvet curtain. Your hands ghosts over the golden rope. A familial gesture meant to ground yourself, one last adieu, as you melt back into the shadows, the same you always do after a show. With your head held high, swallowing the bile rising in your throat. You already threw up water and stomach acid before the show, no need to do so again.
“It was somewhat underwhelming, no?”
The silence is deafening.
Your heart shatters, like the brittle thing it is.