capeandcowllogs | (no subject)

WHO: Fakir, Rue, school-related NPCs.
WHERE: City Academy of The Arts
WHEN: Monday afternoon
SUMMARY: Rue and Fakir get called to discuss the upcoming regional ballet competition. Boring slice-of-life drama ensues.
FORMAT: Paramagraphs

Rue was not surprised that she'd been called to Madame Haywood's office after class, even if it was only their first day back. Before the end of last semester, she'd already learned about the regional competition and had asked about entering. Admittedly, it was a bit of a surprise that she was actually going to be entered. After all, there were plenty of other girls in the grades above her that could easily have been chosen to represent the school over someone who had only been there a semester. It was an honor, either way, and she was determined not to ruin her good fortune.

When she entered the office, Madame Haywood smiled at her, and gestured towards a chair in front of her desk.

"Go ahead and sit down, Rue," she said. "We're still waiting for one more person."

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Fakir, still in vacation mode, arrived moments later rather than several minutes sooner. He paused in the doorway upon sighting Rue, and visibly grimaced, a dull sense of dread already welling up inside him. He sat before being prompted to do so, eager to at least get this over with.

Rue cast a brief sideways glance at Fakir. What was he doing here? If he was going to be in the competition as well, couldn't she have called him separately?

"So I have good news for you both," said Madame Haywood. "You're going to represent the school in the regional ballet contest in February."

"Oh."

Fakir was almost relieved, yet that subtle dread lingered in the back of his mind. He sat up straight in his chair.

"I'm very honored, but why address us together? I could understand anyone else."

Madame Haywood gave an uneasy smile.

"Well, you see, there are rules about how many students we can enter in each age group," she said. "And for yours, it's only one. Unless..."

"...They're performing a pas de deux," Rue said, looking distinctly unhappy.

Fakir looked similarly displeased, slouching in his chair again. "And I doubt you've considered letting anyone else take either of our places?" he asked.

Haywood looked confused.

"Why would I? You two are some of the most promsing young dancers I've seen here, and that's not flattery. And you both want to be in the competition, don't you?"

"Of course!" said Rue, very quickly.

Fakir's reply came a little too late, and his indignant snort was drowned out by Rue's emphatic agreement to the arrangement. He sank deep into his chair and sighed.

Really, there were only so many alternatives should he refuse, and while he doubted that the man Mytho talked to about his problems would allow it, one alternative would be placing Rue with Mytho. For several reasons, he couldn't have that.

"If I get to pick the routine, I'll do it," he finally said.

There would be no more creepy touching. Ever. Dracula was enough.

"I don't see why you shouldn't," said Madame Haywood pleasantly. "This is going to be a student-driven competition after all."

Rue looked less than pleased at the prospect of letting Fakir pick, but she sighed, and managed a smile.

"As long as it's a routine suited to both our skill levels, I have no objections."

Madame Haywood smiled brightly, seemingly unaware of the tension in those words.

"Great! Now, you two wait right here, I'm going to go find the entry forms in the teacher's lounge."

Without another word, she left, leaving the two of them alone.

"If I could think of a single routine in which I never had to touch you, I would be so relieved right now," Fakir muttered as he gave the desk a half-hearted kick.

"Same," said Rue irritably. "But if we have to do this we may as well pick something simple and get it over-with. I won't let you ruin this for me."

"Doing that intentionally would only mean sabotaging myself!" Fakir protested. "I don't hate the idea that much."

"I've never known you to have much ambition, Fakir," Rue said calmly. "Honestly, I was surprised to hear you were even interested in the competition."

Fakir bristled. "What makes you think I don't have ambition?"

"At school you always seemed more focused on protecting Mytho than anything else. And you never tried out for lead roles, only supporting ones, or villains."

"That was at our last school," Fakir shot back defensively. "And I've been a lead here before."

"Fine, fine, I suppose you were," she said with a sigh. "Although you didn't seem too enthusiastic about that."

"Consider the female lead!" Fakir shot back, turning to glower at her with such force that his braid slapped him in the eye and totally ruined his chances of looking menacing.

Rue sighed again. Honestly, he was so predictable.

"I don't suppose you have any ideas, do you?"

"Since I hadn't even considered this until now, no, I don't," Fakir said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Did you?"

Rue looked thoughtful for a moment.

"I know you'll want to disagree with me..." she said. "But the black swan pas de deux doesn't have much in the way of close dancing. All you'll really have to do is hold me up for turns."

At this, Fakir raised an eyebrow. "I don't exactly disagree, but I'm surprised that you would consider dancing Swan Lake with me."

"How come?" she asked, looking over at him curiously. "It's just a ballet."

They both knew that wasn't true. But, she thought, if she told herself enough that it didn't matter anymore, maybe it would become true.