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cyndellw · 6 days ago

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Small Creatures: Chapter 7

Previous Part Read on AO3

One duffel bag. He’d managed to fit his entire life into one duffel bag. It should have been more. He slung it over his shoulder. The weight pressing down on him felt unbearably light. Stagehand had not realized how few things he had that were actually his. Clothes, mostly. His sketch pad. A back up mask in case his broke. His entire life, all in one bag.

“So you’re really doing this.” His mother remarked, scanning him from her spot on the kitchen counter. It was early morning, before the first light of dawn had even broken over the horizon. He’d said his goodbyes to his siblings the night before, teary eyes from all the youngest stained into his coat. His father had not been there for it, though that wasn’t that shocking to him. He’d never been particularly close with the man, only ever really spending time with him while they were at work. His sister Pensive Runner, the closest to him in age, had ceased giving him the cold shoulder long enough to give him a hug before going to bed for the night.

“Yep.” He said. He was sitting on the couch, knees pulled up to his chest. “I’m doing this.”

“You get that you’re leaving your whole family, right?” His mother asked. She was cleaning dishes, one hand furiously scrubbing away at the grime. “You’re leaving your whole family to go somewhere like Valley? The ones who raised you? The ones who love you? You’re just going to drop everything, just like that?”

“Mom, I was always going to leave eventually.” He said. “I’m your kid. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to want?”

“Yeah, I knew that.” She snapped. She dunked her dish into the water. “But I always figured it would at least still be in Eden! You have a good life here! You have a family that loves you and a good job. You couldn’t just find someone nice to settle down with a move into one of the houses down the street?”

“So I’d still be able to watch everyone for you?” He muttered.

“Excuse me, what was that?”

“Nothing, ma’am.”

“That’s what I thought.” She pulled the dish out of the water, beginning to dry it off. “I just think you’re making a reckless decision. And it’s somewhere so cold and dreary. I can’t imagine why anyone wants to live there, much less why you would.”

“It’s something new.” He shrugged. “I’ve never really left Eden.”

“Yes, you have! Have you forgotten all the family vacations to Sanctuary?”

“Okay fine, but those are just family vacations. I just…”

“Just what, Frantic Stagehand?” She set down the dish, turning to face him and putting her hands down on the counter. He could already feel the intensity of her gaze. “Just what.”

“I just…want to see what life is like outside my family, you know?”

“No. I don’t know. I would’ve been so grateful to be in the position you’re in. You have a roof over your head, food, people who love you.”

“Well, yeah but-“

“But what?” She snapped. “Are you suddenly too good for all that?”

“That’s not what I said!” Stagehand finally shot back, standing from the couch. However, the fire that filled his body left almost as soon as he met eyes with his mother, leaving his body cold and filled with something he could almost describe as fear. She looked at him as though he’d just ripped out her heart and she was preparing to rip his out in turn, tears filling her eyes and dripping down her cheeks.

“Do not yell at me, I am your mother!” She shouted. He immediately sat down, any rebuttal he could have mustered dying before it had a chance to be born. “You want to go do this? Fine! Go be some big strong independent man who doesn’t need his family!” She grabbed the plate, placing it into the cabinet and slamming the door. She then walked over to Stagehand, bending to his level. He didn’t dare meet her eyes. “But just know, I’ll be at the door waiting for you when you come crawling back.”

Since moving to Valley, several things in Stagehand’s life had changed. Some of these changes were obvious. It was much colder here than it ever had been in Eden. Despite its altitude, Eden was often quite warm, with a decent amount of seasonal variation. It was prone to thunderstorms in the summer and blizzards in the winter, but nothing like the persistent cold of Valley. The food was quite different as well. He wasn’t unfamiliar with Valley food, but he was beginning to realize the exposure may have not been as authentic as he thought. Far more mint and hazelnut, apples used in ways he personally never would have thought of.

However, one major change he had not been prepared for was the quiet of his new living space. He supposed he should have anticipated it. Going from a house of 11 to a house of 2 would certainly decrease the average amount of talking and concerning banging he heard throughout the day, and Dancer had always had a relatively soft voice and a tendency towards listening over speaking. However, the first night he was there she had gone to bed before him and he’d stayed up to keep unpacking and when he stopped to take a break he realized the only sound he could hear was the ticking of their clock. The silence was so striking and unfamiliar that he felt as though he should be looking over his shoulder waiting for a monster to jump out of the shadows that hid amongst the quiet.

Even now, five months in, he still wasn’t used to the quiet. He had awoken in his room alone, eyes fixed on his ceiling. The absence of shuffling throughout the house, voices, anything , pulled at something that ate a pit into his core. A growing pile of letters lay on his dresser, none of which he could bring himself to open. He was sure none of it was bad. It was probably filled with letters from his siblings, little stories and snippets from their lives. Maybe even a photo or two. But he knew what else it would come with.

‘When are you coming back?’

He didn’t know.

He didn’t want to know.

He walked out of his room, breakfast already made with two plates laid out on the table and two mags of black tea, the bags still sitting in his. He sat down at the table and grabbed the cup, blowing on it and pouring in a little bit of cream.

“I thought you liked your tea strong.” Dancer asked, sipping her own. Her tea bags had already been long since removed.

“I do.” He said.

“Then why are you pouring in cream?”

“Because I don’t hate myself.” He took a sip, leaving the tea bags in. “I still want it steeping but I want to be able to drink it while it steeps.” He looked at her cup. “I happen to like the taste of tea, thank you very much.”

“Oh, and I don’t?”

“No. You like a little bit of tea with your milk and sugar.”

“…It’s too early in the morning for your sass.”

“Fair enough.”

They continued their breakfast in what Stagehand assumed was a comfortable silence. The silverware clinked against their plates in an unaccompanied way that made his ears ring, and he wondered briefly to himself if there was ever a time he’d get used to this. He sighed. Usually this wasn’t an issue. Usually he didn’t feel this way. He just had days and he hated it. This was stupid. It was just quiet which was fine Dancer wasn’t quiet because she was mad she was quiet because she was tired and she was just like that she’d always been quiet she wasn’t his mother she-

“Are you okay?”

He looked up, seeing Dancer staring at him with her head cocked, giving him a concerned look. She had reached over and placed a hand on his arm. He looked away.

“Yeah I…” he started, pausing when he looked back in her eyes. “…It’s just quiet. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay!” Dancer said. “I understand! Sorry I’m not the most chatty. I can try to talk more.”

“It’s fine.” He said. “Usually it doesn’t matter. I actually really like the quiet. I’m just…”

“Not used to it?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Alright, well I can still try.” She shrugged. He gave her a small smile. “I think we both work today, right?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, stirring his tea. “I um…I was thinking of asking Director if I can try designing some of my own backdrops, as opposed to just…redoing the already existing ones, or doing little touch ups.”

“Oh my goodness, yes! You totally should!”

“I don’t know. I’m worried it won’t look nice. Plus, I need to make sure the painting looks right with the lighting and I mean what if I make things too big or too small-”

“That’s what learning is for.” She giggled. “You’re already a great artist! Bring your sketchbook with you and after the huddle you can go over it with him. I’m sure he’d love to take a look at them and I know he’s tired of reusing all the same backdrops.”

“Okay. I’ll at least bring it with me to show him.” Stagehand nodded. They finished their breakfast with the occasional light chatter and cleaned up, making their way out to the theater. They were among the last to arrive, giving Spin Dancer and Rhythm a small wave as they walked past, the theater already filled with chatter and liveliness from the crew.

“Good morning Stagehand! Good morning Dancer!” Performance greeted them, waving. He was standing near the center stage with Mellow and Storyteller. Behind him Mellow appeared to be trying to teach Storyteller a dance.

“No, remember it’s across the body.” Mellow said, crossing his arms across his body while pulling up the leg on the opposite side. “And opposite leg, twice. You gotta get the right beat.” He started humming and singing to himself as he did the dance. “ Listen to that now. We'll get it going. We'll be heard tonight. But take that bag away. ” Storyteller attempted desperately to follow along.

“How are you able to do this without even thinking about it?” Storyteller huffed, mixing up her arms and legs again.

“I’m not even going that fast, I'm just going in time.” Mellow protested. Storyteller rolled her eyes, smacking him on the arm, leading him to let out a high pitched moan. “Stoooop you’re gonna turn me on.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Storyteller cocked her head.

“How is he like this this early in the day?” Stagehand asked, looking over Performance.

“Oh he’s always like this.” Performance said. “That’s how.”

“I do a lot of drugs, kid.” Mellow said with a solemn nod. “You’ll understand when you’re my age.” Stagehand furrowed his brow.

“I’m older than you.”

“Exactly.” The two men stared at each other, Stagehand debating whether or not that was worthy of a response. Performance and Dancer had both already picked up on Mellow’s dance, doing it in tandem across from each other while Storyteller had a fake crisis in the background, and Stagehand couldn’t decide if that made the moment better or worse. Fortunately all of his decisions were made for him with a call from the stage.

“And a hush fell over the crowd!”

The entire theater fell silent, everyone standing at attention and staring at Thoughtful Director, who had taken his place at the front of the stage. He looked over them and waved his hand, and the group quickly made their way down to the seats.

“You may be seated.” The crew sat with haste, Stagehand finding himself sitting next to a highly attentive Performance. On Performance’s other side, as always, was his brother. Their identical flat masks stared at Director with an equally impressive focus. Director cleared his throat and clapped his hands together. “Good morning everyone. I appreciate you all being here, as always. I know you’ve all been working very hard, so I’m happy to bring you some good news!” He stepped off to the side, grabbing a memory projector and tapping it. It made a small fizzling noise and he rolled his eyes, giving it a harder smack on its head. The projector finally lit up, showing a tall woman with a poofy ponytail and a cow mask with long, ornate golden horns. She had a black and scarf tossed over her shoulder.

”Is this thing recording?” She muttered in a thick Prairie accent, putting her hands on her hips. ”Ugh, this would be so much easier if I just sent a letter. Why’s he gotta be so damn dramatic?” Stagehand heard Performance chuckle quietly. The woman finally straightened her back, clasping her hands together. ”Oh well, if it doesn’t work I’ll just tell him to read off the letter like a normal person.” She waved her hand enthusiastically. “Hello everyone! My name is Radiance Guide, I’m a friend of your director! I’m also a costume and fashion designer, and a pretty damn good one if I say so myself. I’m sending this to all ya’ll cause I’m inviting you out to my house outside Cloud City. I need some models for a shoot I’m doing, plus I’m always looking for design inspiration. Director suggested getting all ya’ll some experience modeling and it’ll get the theater name a little more out there, so it’s a win-win! Besides, you’ll get half a vacation out of it. Whattaya say?” She waved again, and the recording cut out.

“So, what do you all think?” Director asked, collecting the projector. “Some modeling in exchange for free access to a big house outside Cloud City?”

“Heck yeah!” Troupe Juggler shouted, pumping his fists over his head. He was followed by excited cheers, though Stagehand noticed that Spin Dancer kept to a polite clap. The two shared eye contact, and Spin Dancer waved him off with a reassuring look. “I’m going to go snowboarding, it's going to be awesome .”

“You already go snowboarding almost everyday.” Troupe Greeter reminded him.

“Okay yeah, but that’s just on the slope at the bottom of Hermit Valley, that’s basically just a bunny slope!” Juggler huffed. Greeter chuckled, reaching over and messing up his hair. “Hey! That takes a lot of hair gel…”

“Now, I don’t want you to think you’re just going to be on vacation with an occasional wardrobe switch.” Director said, sitting on the edge of the stage so he could face the troupe more on their level. “First and foremost, you’re all representing the theater, and I expect you to act like it. That means behaving appropriately and professionally, and no getting overly rowdy in public. I don’t want a repeat of when we were in Frostdale.” He very pointedly looked at Actor.

“What?” She called. “That guy started it!”

“And there were absolutely ways to end it that didn’t end with me picking you up from jail.”

“It was just holding.” She pouted. He stared at her. “You’re the one that said that there was a difference!” The director rolled his eyes, though Stagehand could see a glint of amusement.

“Semantics aside.” He said, crossing one leg over the other. “It also wasn’t easy for me to get Radiance to agree to this.” He paused. “Actually no, that was a lie. It was quite easy to get her to agree to this. However, it did involve a trek up to Citadel on my part. Therefore, to pay me back for my part in coordinating this I’ll be giving you all a task.” He paused again, and Stagehand began to think back to all the pauses Director had made in the past and wonder how many of them had been for dramatic effect. “I will be splitting you into two groups, and each of you will be creating a piece to perform for Radiance and myself at the end of your time up there. You will have one week, and we’re leaving after the weekend. I have already made the groups, ensuring each of you have a stagehand for your team. The teams will be led by Rhythm and Performance respectively.” He stood and clapped his hands twice, dismissing the troupe from their meeting. “Alright, you may disperse and work on your assignments for the day. Rhythm, Performance, you’ll each find your assigned teams written down and placed in your boxes. I expect you to convene with them before the end of the day.” The troupe began to scatter, each moving to their respective tasks while the twins made their way to the office. Stagehand pulled himself onto the stage and trotted over to Director, who was assessing some stitching on the curtains.

“Director, sir, I…” His voice got caught in his throat. Who was he kidding? He wasn’t that good. He should just keep going with what he was already doing. His touch ups were fine! And by the look of the curtains maybe that was a bigger priority. “I…um…”

“Yes, Stagehand?” Director asked, putting down the curtain to turn to face him. Stagehand was holding onto the strap of his bag. He could feel the weight of the sketchbook dragging on him.

“Um…” He dropped the bag, opening it and pulling out the sketchbook. It was now or never. He could do this.

“Director!”

Damnit.

“Director, do you have any particular themes you want us to be addressing in our performances?” Performance walked over, list in hand. “I’m definitely excited for the creative freedom I just want to make sure I’m not misunderstanding anything.”

“Oh, no Performance.” Director said. “This is a self-guided project. I want to see what you two will do with your troupes, and what all of you will create.”

“Awesome!” Performance said, pumping his fist. Stagehand held his sketchbook close to his chest, clutching it tighter. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little annoyed, but maybe it was for the best. After all, he didn’t have any training beyond what he’d learned here. He was entirely self taught, he just doodled. He couldn’t make sets who was he kidding- “Is that your sketchbook?” He was pulled out of his spiral by Performance’s voice. The taller man was staring down at him, specifically at his book.

“Oh! Um, yes.” He said.

“May I see it?”

“...Y-Yeah! Sure!” He handed Performance the book. Part of him wanted to say no but part of him really wanted to see what the other would think. Besides, he’d already told Performance that he would show him some of his art. It was too late to back out now, considering the other man seemed eager.

“Thank you!” Performance said, accepting the book and flipping it open. He was quiet for a bit, flipping through the pages and studying them with a scrutiny that Stagehand had not managed to prepare himself for. Director walked over, looking at the contents of the notebook as Performance moved it down to his eye level, and Stagehand blanched internally. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready! He wasn’t ready he wasn’t ready he wasn’t ready-

“These are quite good.” Director commented. Stagehand stood a little stiffer. They were what?

“They are!” Performance agreed. “I love the simplistic style for the architecture to give depth, and your shading contrast is great!”

“Your line work is also really neat while still avoiding making the canvas bland.” Director nodded. “I’d like to see you bring some of this to your work here, if you don’t mind.”

“You’ll get to show off in the play too!” Performance said. “You got assigned to my team, so you're my stagehand! If we have the supplies I’ll probably have you make at least one backdrop.”

“It’ll give you some practice before you start designing backdrops for professional performances.” Director nodded. Performance handed the sketchbook back to Stagehand, who was still processing what had just happened.

“W-Wait, you want me to start designing for the theater?” He blanched.

“Of course.” Director said. “Now that I know you have this skill and talent, I’m going to work to develop and utilize it. Besides, we need new backdrops and set pieces. The old ones are getting a bit…worn.” Stagehand couldn’t argue with that. There were pieces in this theater that (according to Performance) predated the twins' joining of the troupe, and it was all too easy to tell which ones they were. “Now then, I need to check some of the logistics for this trip. Excuse me.” With that, he left the two to their own devices.

“Thank you for bringing your art.” Performance said. “I enjoyed it! I’m so excited to have you on my team. This is going to be awesome.”

“Thank you.” Stagehand rubbed the back of his head. “I’m not sure though. Troupe Greeter has a lot more experience than I do, you probably would’ve been more lucky with them-”

“Nonsense.” Performance shook his head. “When he said he’d be splitting up the teams so we each had a stagehand I was really hoping you’d be mine. So I got exactly what I wanted!” He looked at the list again. “It’s going to be you, me, Mellow, Dancer, and Storyteller. We’re going to be a great team! I can’t wait, this is going to be awesome.” He started walking away and then stopped, turning to face Stagehand. “Come on, let’s go get them so we can get a headstart!” Stagehand nodded, smiling under his mask, and trotted after the actor.

When Rhythm and Performance got home that night it was late and it was dark. They were both exhausted but beyond excited, each talking about what they needed to start packing. Neither of them noticed the figure that hid in the shadow of the nearby houses, much less how intently the figure watched them through the nighttime snow.

#sky children of the light #sky cotl #frantic stagehand #performance guide #modest dancer #sky cotl fanfic #small creatures #i love the performance troupe so much

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cyndellw · 6 days ago

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Small Creatures: Chapter 6

Previous Part Read on AO3

“Are you sure you just want one week off?” Director asked, cocking his head at Performance. The twins were sitting on his couch, each eating half of the apple he had offered them. He had been in the process of reorganizing his bookshelf when they had arrived, so their trip to the couch had involved navigating a small labyrinth of book stacks. “May I ask what exactly happened?”

“Um…no.” Performance said, shaking his head. “I’m not sure I really want to talk about it, I just…” He trailed off. He did want to give Director some level of context but he really didn’t want to even think about the fact that it happened. He felt his throat tighten a bit, the words getting caught as he attempted to force them out. He shook his head quickly, looking over at his brother for any kind of guidance.

“In the simplest terms, a man kept coming around to see him after the theater closed and wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Rhythm explained. “It escalated.”

“Understood.” Director nodded. He carried another set of books over to his shelf, alphabetizing them. “I’ll also have to look into getting some security for the theater, potentially.” Performance felt a twinge of guilt in his chest.

“Are you sure we can afford-”

“Yeah, definitely.” Rhythm agreed, cutting him off. Performance shut his mouth, picking at his apple before taking another bite, waiting for his brother to continue. “Apparently this was happening for a couple days before it got bad.”

“And you didn’t say anything?” Director asked, looking at Performance.

“I didn’t think it would get as bad as it did.” Performance said. “Listen, I really just want to move past this. I don’t even want to take a week off.”

“Perf you need to take at least some time to recover.” Rhythm said.

“I’d really rather have a distraction.” Performance muttered.

“You’ll find plenty of distractions! Hell, knowing you, if you can’t find one you’ll probably make one, right?” Rhythm responded, stretching. Performance looked at him, and then quickly looked away, letting out a little huff as he leaned on his hand. Director looked between the two of them, and then went back to his books. He kept sorting them onto his shelf until he paused on one, and walked over to Performance.

“Here, take this home with you.” Director said, offering the book to Performance. He took it, briefly glancing at the cover before flipping through the pages. “It’s a collection of monologues. I think you’ll particularly enjoy ‘Hymn of the Birdkeeper’.”

“Thank you.” Performance said. He flipped to the monologue in question. “To the ones who adore open windows, flitting in and out with a gratitude for the wind and the sharing of grand seeds. To the ones who adore open windows, flitting in and out with a gratitude for the wind.

Take my heart, soar through the open skies, so the open windows that cage my body may be the freeing light that saves my soul.” He looked up at Director. “You’re right, this is really good. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Take the week to work on memorizing it, and then you can perform it for the cast when you’re back.” Director said. “You said you wanted to keep it to yourself, right? We can say this was you’re taking a little vacation, and that you wanted to work on a piece while you were gone.”

“And you think they’ll believe it?”

“They care about you.” Director placed another book on the shelf. “They’ll believe whatever you choose to tell them. It won’t be a lie, either. This can be your distraction for the week.”

Rhythm was correct, of course. Performance did manage to find things to distract himself. He now had a new monologue to learn, and given that he had a week to learn it he had plenty of time to decide how to choreograph the physicality of it. He had a mental map of the stage, making it easy to move around his room, creating a staging plan as he quickly memorized the words. Beyond that, there was plenty of cleaning to do, and the house still needed repairs, and he’d meant to pull out the ice box and clean behind it. If anything, maybe this week off was a blessing, despite how achingly painful it was.

He was deep cleaning the inside of the fireplace when he heard a knock at the door. He pulled himself out, his hair covered in dusty gray splotches from the ash, and walked over to the door. He opened it to see Mellow, who immediately walked past him and flopped himself onto the couch.

“Hi, welcome to my home, please let yourself right in.” Performance said, rolling his eyes with a smile as he shut the door behind him. He went back over to the fireplace, returning to his work. “What’s up?”

“Not much, just wondering where you’ve been, dude.” Mellow said. “You basically live at the theater. The vibe is weird without you.”

“I’m taking a little vacation, that’s all.”

“This is a really sad little vacation. You’re just in your house.”

“I like my house.”

“Damn, that’s awesome. I also like your house.” Mellow said. “...Anyways, what happened.” Performance paused, and pulled himself out of the fireplace. He looked over at his friend, who was already staring right at him. “You’re a shitty liar. You can tell me to fuck off and that you don’t want to talk about it, but dude, at least don’t lie to my face.”

“...Guardian kind of…talked me into getting a drink with him.” Performance admittedly, moving to sit on the floor properly, pulling his knees up. “And then he put something in the drink.”

“Wait he what ?” Mellow exclaimed, pushing himself up from his lounging position. “He fucking drugged you?!”

“Nothing happened!” Performance insisted. Mellow stared at him, the pause hanging in the air until he finally spoke.

“Are you…okay?”

“I’m fine.” Performance said. Mellow continued to stare at him, the concern evident in his eyes. “I’m fine, really! I am.”

“...Perf…” Mellow began. Performance continued to stare him in the eyes, quietly begging him not to push it. Mellow finally sighed. “You’re too nice for your own good dude, you know that?”

“What do you mean?”

“You should’ve told him to ‘fuck off’. He deserved to be told to ‘fuck off’.”

“Well…he had bought me that bouquet, and he came all the way out here from Eden just to see me.”

“Yeah, and that’s really sketchy, but also him buying you flowers doesn’t buy him like…the ‘right’ to do something to you.”

“Yeah…you’re right.” Performance said. He looked back at the flowers, noticing Mellow follow his gaze out of the corner of his eye. “Did you just come here to lecture me? Trust me, I’ve gotten plenty of that from my brother.”

“...Well I mean, if you make cookies I might have another reason to hang out…” Mellow said. “Nah, I did not come here to lecture you, but I am worried about you dude. You would’ve said something if you were taking a break.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Performance conceded. “...Did you actually want me to make you cookies or…?”

“I mean if you’re offering I’m down.”

“Fine, let me just go wash up and then I’ll get the supplies out.”

“Nah, I’ll do it.” Mellow said, standing. “I know where you keep your stuff, plus that flour bag is heavy as shit.”

“When’s the last time you cared about that?” Performance teased.

“Hey, man, first time for everything. You need some rest, I gotta take care of my best friend, otherwise I don’t get anymore Performance cookies.” Mellow turned and went to the kitchen before Performance had a chance to retort, leaving him to wash the soot and ash off his hands. He sighed, but chose not to push further, instead cleaning up and making his way to the kitchen.

It was nice having Mellow over for a few hours. Performance had honestly needed the company of someone beyond his brother. Not that he didn’t love his brother. He did. And Mellow was still acting weird. Cleaning, picking things up, putting things away. Usually Mellow took what he called “guest privileges”, not that Performance ever cared. As he closed the door behind him he let out a sigh, grabbing a broom to give the entry way another quick sweep. He looked back at the flowers.

They were gone.

The next day, Performance decided to take a break from his monologue and do some cleaning on the outside of their house. The windows needed cleaning, he needed to shovel the snow off their walkway, the fence needed to be repaired, the gutter needed to be cleared out and chipped free of ice, it honestly felt like the more he looked at his list of things to do the longer it grew.

“Performance!” Performance sighed when he heard his brother’s voice, already hearing the oncoming scolding begin to play in his head, and looked off the roof. Rhythm and Spin Dancer were standing below him, Rhythm’s arms crossed over his chest. “This seriously couldn’t have waited until I got home? What if you slipped off!”

“The gutters need to be cleared, Rhythm.” He said, continuing to scoop the snow out, tossing it onto the ground. He pulled out another scoop, and paused. He pulled it close to himself, balling it up.

“The gutters could have waited.” Rhythm retorted. “I could’ve done it when I got home. You’re supposed to rest- AH!” Performance tossed the snowball at him, hitting him in the middle of his head. Spin Dancer burst out laughing as Rhythm continued to squawk, trying to ruffle the snow of his hair.

“Nice shot!” Spin Dancer called back up at him. Performance gave a small bow, and then balled up another snowball, this time aiming for the dancer. Another perfect shot, this time right in his chest. “Oh so that’s how it’s going to be? Come down here and fight like a real snowball warrior!” Performance laughed and scooted over to the ladder, making his way down. He was immediately greeted with a snowball to the arm. He looked over to see Spin Dancer already forming another, and ran around the corner. He looked around, spotting the winterberry bush he’d never bothered to remove from their yard and ducking behind it. He grabbed a nearby fist full of snow and quickly packed it, launching it at Spin Dancer as he turned the corner, landing at the same time as the dancer received a snowball to the back of the head, presumably from Rhythm.

“Heck yeah, double team!” Performance cheered, jumping up from behind the bush. He was immediately hit in the chest in the snowball, and looked up to see his brother smirking at him.

“There are no teams in snow war, Perf.” Rhythm said. “Only honor and cold, sweet victory.”

“Oh, it’s on.” Performance grinned. He ducked behind the bush again, and quickly launched another snowball at his brother before running from his cover and hopping their fence out onto the hill behind their house. He turned to see Spin Dancer scoop up an arm full of snow and drop it on Rhythm’s head before turning to him, gathering more snow as he ran for the actor. Performance laughed and turned, ducking behind a snow bank. “It’s over you two! I have the high ground!”

“It’s over?” Spin Dancer asked jokingly, tossing a snowball at Performance, who quickly ducked. “The fun has only just begun!” He was hit with another snowball to the back, and they both looked to see Rhythm quickly duck behind their fence. Spin Dancer took a moment, lining up his shot, and tossed it over the fence. Based on the indignant squawk, he’d managed to hit Rhythm square in the head.

The snowball fight continued for several minutes, and Performance felt the most relaxed he had in days. Things finally felt normal. Things could be normal . Rhythm would relax and-

He felt a particularly hard snowball from Spin Dancer hit his face, and it knocked his mask off into the snow.

“Oh shit Performance I’m so so-“

“Hey! Watch how hard you’re fucking throwing!” Rhythm was on Spin Dancer in a moment as Performance ducked behind the snow bank, covering his face with one hand as he dug around for his mask with the other. As soon as he found it he put it on, cringing at the feeling of the snow against his skin as he leaned back up over the snowbank. He looked over, seeing Rhythm pointing at the taller man’s chest as he approached him aggressively, Spin Dancer’s hands held up as he attempted to retreat from his angry friend. “You knocked his mask clean off his face! You could’ve hurt him! You could’ve-!”

“Rhythm!” He shouted, pulling himself over the snowbank. He pushed himself between them, trying to block his brother’s tirade. Rhythm looked at him, clearly annoyed, but stopped. “Rhythm it’s fine! I’m fine.”

“This…you’re okay, right?” Spin Dancer asked, looking between them. Performance turned, nodding quickly.

“I’m fine! We can go back to having fun!”

“No, I think maybe we should go inside.” Rhythm said, stepping back. He looked at Spin Dancer and sighed. “I’m sorry. I overreacted.”

“You’re good, I get it.” Spin Dancer said, putting his hands down as he relaxed. “Thank you though.”

“Come on, let’s go inside.” Rhythm said, turning towards the house. “I can make some tea or something for us.”

“No come on, let's keep playing!” Performance begged. “I-we were having fun!”

“We were.” Spin Dancer agreed.

“Then let’s keep going! We can build some more snow banks real quick and maybe just throw a little more gently-“

“Nah, he’s probably right.” Spin Dancer said. “We should go inside.” He threw an arm around Performance, giving him a sympathetic glance. “Your brother is in a mood. He told me a little bit about what happened, so I can’t really blame him too much.” Performance felt his heart sink.

“What did he tell you?”

“Enough.” Spin Dancer said, rubbing the back of his head as he led the actor back down to the house. “Don’t worry, he didn’t go into details and I didn’t ask. But he did say that someone tried to hurt you at the Eden bar. So maybe for his sake, I guess let’s go inside.”

“…Okay.” Performance conceded. “You’re right. I think I have some biscuits I made this morning. We can have those with his tea.”

“Awesome! You’re the best, you know?” Spin Dancer said, looking down at Performance, who gave him a quizzical glance. “Rhythm is lucky to have you as his brother. That’s why he’s like this.”

“I guess. It gets a little frustrating though.”

“Yeah, I get it.” Spin Dancer said. “Give him some time, he’ll calm down. Now let’s go have some tea and biscuits.” The dancer ruffled his hair as they went inside. Performance gave a small nod, bringing the biscuits to the table so he could spend the rest of the night inside.

On the final day of Performance’s ‘vacation’, he felt like he was losing his mind. He’d cleaned the entire house, planned his grocery shopping for the next month, fixed all the projects he could get away with, and talked Mellow into letting him borrow one of his guitars to start practicing, finally graduating from the air guitar. He wanted to go back to the theater. He wanted to perform, to see all the others, to step foot on the stage and-

There was a knock at the door. He looked over and its direction and groaned internally. It was probably another person coming to check on him. It was very sweet of them, of course! He appreciated that they all seemed to care for him so much. However, he could do without the hovering from Rhythm, or the concern because of how uncommon it was for him to not be at the theater (though he couldn’t quite blame them for that), or the feeling that he was being treated as though he were made of glass by anyone with any semblance of understanding of his situation.

He walked to the door, opening it up to see Stagehand looking up at him.

“Hello.” The shorter man greeted. “I’m not working today so I thought I might stop by.”

“Oh, yes! Please, come in!” Performance said, moving to the side to allow Stagehand in. He closed the door behind him, making his way to his small kitchen. “Do you want anything to drink? I have water, tea, and coffee. Are you hungry at all? I don’t have anything fresh but I have some biscuits I made yesterday, or I can whip something up really quick-“

“I’m fine, thank you though.” Stagehand said, sitting down at the dining room table. Performance nodded, but walked over with two cups of water anyways. In hindsight, he hadn’t drank anything yet today, and if he gave his guest water he might remember to drink some as well. “Everyone has been missing you at the theater. I don’t think they realized how much work you’d been doing with Storyteller to help her remember her lines.”

“Oh, the muscle memory work?” Performance asked, cocking his head. His eyes widened. “Oh my goodness I’d completely forgotten that I’d been working with her on a new script!”

“She’s been getting it down. Her and Dancer have actually been working on it together. She said I’m not allowed to tell you what they’ve come up with though.” Stagehand chuckled. “They want it to be a surprise.”

“Oh, that’s lovely!” Performance said. He took a sip of his water, tapping his nails on the cup. Why was he so nervous?

“So…how have you…” Stagehand started, seeming to lose his words part way through. After a moment of silence he locked eyes with Performance and sighed. “Are you doing okay?”

“I’m fine!” Performance took a large sip of his water. “I’m going a little stir crazy, and I miss being back at the theater, but I’m great! I’ve been super productive all week.”

“You know everyone would understand if you weren’t, right?” Stagehand asked. “Given everything it’d be reasonable for you to not be.”

“Yes, absolutely.” Performance agreed. “But I am fine. Everyone is so worried for me, if I didn’t know better I’d think more people knew.”

“Not that I’m aware of. But people miss you.”

“That’s very sweet of them.”

“Yeah…” Stagehand said. Another awkward moment of silence sat between them. Performance didn’t know what to talk about. He didn’t actually know much about Stagehand. “Hey Dancer wanted me to ask if we could bring you some meals, that way you can ease back into the theater and not push yourself too hard-“

“Damnit I already told you I’m fine!” Performance finally snapped, slamming his cup down on the table. The water sloshed out, splashing against the table. “I am not some fragile, breakable little ceramic doll! I am the exact same person I was before all of this happened!” He panted and looked over at Stagehand who was staring at him. “…I’m sorry, you didn’t deserve that. I just…” He folded his arms and put his head down. “I just want to act like this never happened. I want everything to just go back to normal.”

“…Have you eaten yet today?”

Performance put his head up, squinting at Stagehand. He wasn’t proud of the fact that he had had to think about it, but he had in fact eaten today. He’d had a few apple slices and half a piece of toast that morning.

“Yes I’ve eaten.” He sneered. “Don’t worry, I’m so broken that I’ve forgotten how to keep myself alive.”

“That’s not why I ask.” Stagehand said, shaking his hands. “I actually wanted to ask if I could buy you lunch. We can go and hang out, act like everything is normal?” Performance stared at Stagehand for a moment and then smiled.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” He stood up, walking over to the door and sliding his boots on. “Do you have a preference?”

“Nope.” Stagehand shook his head, walking over to join him in the entryway. “You’re going to know better spots than me anyways.”

“Maybe curry?” Performance asked. “There’s a good hole in the wall near the theater that serves pretty authentic Golden Sands cuisine, at least according to Respectful Pianist.”

“…Do they have a sliding scale of spice?”

“Yeah, it’s like a 1 to 5. Why?”

“Because I’m from Eden, and I’m very aware of it.”

“Fair enough. You’ll want a 1 then.” They both chuckled, stepping out of the house after Performance wrote a quick note to his brother explaining where he was. He led the way to the cart and ordered curry for each of them, a level 1 for Stagehand and a level 3 for himself. They took their bowls over to a bench near a small patch of barren trees, sitting with a small gap between each other for their food.

“Mellow Musician has been an absolute menace without you, by the way.” Stagehand said, pushing a spoonful of vegetables into his mouth. “Aaaaah hot .”

“Careful.” Performance giggled. “They’re pretty good about keeping it warm, and they make it fresh throughout the day.” He blew on his own spoonful. “But yeah, that sounds about right. What’s he been doing?”

“Mostly coming up with little songs on the fly. Yesterday he spent about 20 minutes narrating me while I was moving props and set pieces.”

“Wow, he’s that bored?”

“That’s certainly a word for it.” They sat in silence for another few minutes while eating until Performance finally looked over at Stagehand.

“You know, I don’t actually know much about you.” Performance said. “I feel like every time we see each other there’s something happening, or someone else needs one of our attentions.”

“Yeah.” Stagehand nodded. Performance stared at him for a few seconds before speaking again.

“So…can you tell me things about you…?”

“Oh! Um!” Stagehand coughed on a spoonful of curry. “Sorry! I uh…” He cleared throat. “I’m not really that interesting.”

“I doubt that!” Performance replied. “I think everyone is interesting!”

“Well um…” Stagehand started, scratching the back of his head. “I…don’t really know where to start…”

“You can tell me about your family, if you’d like. Or what you did before coming to the theater? Or what you like to do outside of this!”

“That’s a lot of options.”

“Then we can go one at a time. Can I know about your family? After that you can tell me about work or whatever you used to do.”

“Okay. Yeah. That works.” Stagehand nodded. Performance noticed his chest rising, seeming to take deep breaths. Maybe he’d overwhelmed the other a little bit with his excitement. Oops… He turned fully to face the shorter man, clasping his hands together and placing them in his lap. Stagehand cleared his throat again before finally beginning to speak. “Um, well, I was born with two parents. Wait, shoot, that’s obvious, sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Performance giggled. “It’s funny. Go on.”

“Okay um. Two parents. My mom is a nurse and my dad is a dock lead at the industrial port. I have eight younger siblings, so I’m the oldest of nine.”

“Oh, wow. And here I thought one was bad enough.”

“Yeah, our house was always really loud growing up. The youngest turned five shortly before I left, so there’s about…seventeen-ish years of between me and her.”

“So you’re 22 then?”

“Yeah! …Wait, how old are you and Rhythm?”

“19. Anyways, go on.”

“Okay um…I was a dockhand before I moved here. I worked at my dad’s dock. Um…what was the last question?” Stagehand looked at Performance sheepishly, and he giggled again.

“What do you like doing outside of work?” Stagehand paused, and for a moment Performance worried that he’d overwhelmed the poor man.

“Art.” Stagehand said thoughtfully. “Well, creating, I guess. I love to build things, I love to draw. I love painting in particular. My mom was always pushy about us doing sports and wasn’t very supportive of that, so I haven’t always had a lot of opportunities to pursue it. But I enjoy it.”

“That’s fantastic!” Performance said, clapping his hands together. “I’ve seen some of the set pieces that you’ve been working on building. They’re very good! The detail work on painting is very nice and the structure of them is solid!”

“O-Oh, thank you.” Stagehand said, rubbing the back of his head. “Um…I mean I just answered all these questions. What about you?”

“Oh!” Performance said. He hadn’t actually been prepared to be asked about himself. Usually he got people talking about themselves and he was perfectly content to listen. “Well…my family is kind of just me and Rhythm. Okay, not really. I also have two parents. Had.”

“Had?”

“Had.” Performance coughed awkwardly. “Our mother died when we were young, and our father isn’t really around, to say the least. There is a woman that we’re close to, she kind of took us in.”

“Does she live in town?”

“Um…not really, it’s kind of complicated. But! Moving on! I didn’t really have a job before this. Rhythm and I used to help out a lot in a soup kitchen, but I haven’t really had time to recently. But yeah, that’s really it.”

“What about the last question?”

“The last question?”

“Yeah, what do you like doing outside of work?”

“Oh!” Performance paused. What did he like doing outside of work? He hadn’t really ever thought about it. He loved writing, acting, dancing, making music, all things he did with the theater. His entire life was essentially encompassed in that building. “…I like to cook. And I haven’t gone in a long time, but I love skating. A lot of what I like to do I already do at work, admittedly.”

“Well, maybe that’s a good thing? You’re doing what you love.”

“Yeah, I guess. That’s part of why I miss it so much. I would love to open up my own theater one day, and maybe teach people all about the different arts and performing. I think it would be cool to have a little music shop connected to it too!” He grinned, putting his hands out in front of him as though he were framing something. “One time I wrote out a whole bunch of names for it. My favorite is ‘Harmony Hall’. The theater would be on the outside with a big backstage area, and then it would be connected to the shop by a hallway, and the shop itself would have lots of instruments you could play around with so you could find out what you like, and then there’d be demonstrations so you could learn.” He quickly stopped himself. He was getting carried away, talking too much. He looked at Stagehand and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Sorry, I can get a little rambly when I get excited.”

“Don’t apologize.” Stagehand shook his hand. “I love that you have things you’re so passionate about. I’d love to hear more.”

“Oh, thank you.” Performance said. He felt his cheeks heat up a bit. “I’d love to see your art some time. Aside from the stuff I see at work, I mean. I’d like to see the stuff you just kinda…decide to do for fun, you know?”

“Yeah.” Stagehand nodded. “I’ll bring you something sometime.”

“I’d like that.”

When Performance finally returned to the theater, it felt like he was returning home. He arrived early, walking in with his brother and waving at the director before turning on the lights that had been forgotten. The curtains felt soft and heavy in his hands, and the air smelled so familiar that he wanted to bottle it up and spray it whenever he was away so he could hold the scent forever. He greeted each of the company members as they arrived, finding different cleaning tasks to keep his hands occupied as he waited for the day to start.

“Performance!” A familiar voice called his name. He turned to see Forgetful Storyteller approach him with Mellow. She hugged him, lifting his feet off the ground in her excitement. “I’ve missed you so much!”

“I missed you too, Storyteller.” He chuckled, taking a moment to stabilize himself after she put him on the ground. “I heard you’ve been working on your lines with Dancer?”

“What? Who told you!”

“Stagehand. Don’t worry though, he didn’t tell me what you’ve been working on to help remember them.”

“Good! It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

“What about that monologue you’ve been workin’ on?” Mellow finally butted in, stepping up to the other two. “It’s been like a week. I'm sure you had it down in like a day.”

“Something like that.” Performance nodded. He’d actually had it memorized in less than a day. He’d spent the rest of the week trying to figure out how exactly he was going to perform it. “I’m so glad to be back though I missed this place so much.”

“It’s not the same without you.” Storyteller shook her head. “It always feels weird being here without you. Like the theater is missing something.”

“Aw, thank you.” Performance said. He saw Stagehand and Dancer walk in out of the corner of his eye. Dancer immediately went to get changed out of her outdoor clothes while Stagehand stopped and waved at Performance, who happily turned to him and waved back as he made his way backstage to put his stuff down. For a moment Performance swore he saw Mellow take a glance between them, but shook it off. It must have been his imagination. “Anyways, let's get settled in. The Director should probably be making his way out soon.” Performance turned and went over to the seat Rhythm waved him to, sitting next to his twin with Mellow flopping to his other side while Storyteller took a seat behind them. To his surprise Dancer came and sat at her side, with Stagehand taking a seat in front of Performance.

“Hey!” Performance turned his head to see Respectful Pianist call for his attention, his voice thick with a Golden Sands accent. “It’s good to have you back.”

“It’s good to be back.” Performance replied, smiling. The musician gave him a nod, his face as serious as always, before turning his attention back to Admiring Actor. The woman gave Performance an enthusiastic wave before continuing their conversation. It was then that Director walked out onto the stage, clearing his throat. Performance looked at him, hearing the conversations continuing around him as the group seemed oblivious to their director’s presence. He nudged his brother, who chuckled with him as Director met their eyes with an amused glimmer. They both cleared their throats.

“And a hush fell over the crowd!” They yelled in tandem. Immediately the theater went silent, everyone’s attention turning to them, and then to their director, who stood center stage with his hands clasped. In the silence, Performance swore he could hear his own breath.

“Thank you.” Director said. “Now, it is good to see everyone, and I mean everyone .” He met Performance’s eyes, and the actor could see the glimmer of a smile in his gaze. “Welcome back Performance.” The group broke into cheers, welcoming him back with enthusiasm. He blushed, grinning under his mask as his brother reached over and gently messed his hair. The Director cleared his throat again, and the group calmed themselves, not needing the loud call to attention a second time. “That being said, I believe I gave you an assignment while you were gone?”

“Yes!” Performance said, standing. “I’m ready whenever you’d like me to perform.”

“Please.” Director said, moving to the side and motioning towards the center stage. He slid off that stage, taking a seat in the front as Performance pulled himself up. He walked to the middle of the stage, taking a moment to take in the view of the theater in front of him. The seats, both empty and full, melded together in a sea of everything he missed. He could smell the old wood of the stage, hear the slight creaking under his feet as he stepped on a particularly loud board. Particles of dust hung in the light that filtered in through the windows, flitting around each other in the soft morning air that hung steady throughout the room. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, pulling the memory of the script from his heart.

To the ones who adore open windows, flitting in and out with a gratitude for the wind.

Take my heart, soar through the open skies, so the open windows that cage my body may be the freeing light that saves my soul.

Lift me from the ground, let me ascend to leave this place behind.

While my feet may remain my mind shall soar from here to the edge of the universe, briefly stopping in all the places in between.

May my wings beat in time with the unending symphony of the eternal everything.

May my mind flutter softly amongst the vast cosmic ocean and become one with the energy that makes up all things.

The parts of me that shall remain will turn my mortal cage into a home for those with whom I’ve shared my light, so that they may find it within my body while I seek peace within my soul.

My voice sings in the key of sparkling souls.

My body blends with the sea of shining stars.

Take my heart, soar through open skies, bring me to become one with the universe, so that the bird keeper may be kept in turn.

His performance hung in the air, the words carrying across the audience and settling themselves in the quiet that followed. The sound of applause began to rise from the seats, cheering him on, but Performance was in his own world. He was one with the wood, the dust, and the air.

He bowed, the rush of emotion finally coming to him.

He was home.

Next Part

#sky children of the light #sky cotl #frantic stagehand #performance guide #performance guide x frantic stagehand #sky cotl fanfic #thoughtful director #festival spin dancer #mellow musician #small creatures

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cyndellw · 6 days ago

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Small Creatures: Chapter 5

Previous Part Read on AO3

Performance was a man of habits. He had specific things he liked to do at specific times, specific ways he enjoyed his coffee, and specific items he anticipated being in specific places. He was usually awake before sunrise, though he honestly never wanted to be, and got out of bed relatively quickly to begin making food and coffee and warming both his and his brother’s shoes. So when he woke up to find himself looking at an unfamiliar nightstand and sunlight already streaking in through the curtains, he was very confused to say the least. The blankets felt off, the pillows felt off.

This was not his bedroom.

He racked his brain trying to think of where he was, how he had gotten here, and a small pit of dread welled in his stomach. He vaguely remembered agreeing to go to a bar with Guardian, and leaving the table to use the restroom. After that was a mixture of blurriness and nothing . He looked around again, attempting to get his bearings, and noticed a cup of water, a bottle of medicine, and a note on the nightstand. He grabbed the water, sniffing it. It smelled fine. He took a sip. It just tasted like water. Normal, still water. He took another sip, taking the medicine to will his aching head away, and grabbed the note.

Performance,

You are at mine and Frantic Stagehand’s apartment, specifically Stagehand’s bedroom. He found you at a bar last night with another man, and you seemed like you weren’t doing well. Stagehand got you out of there before something really bad happened, but neither of us knew your address so he brought you here. We’re both probably going to be home when you wake up, and we will make food. You’re welcome to come talk to us, or if you just want to leave that’s also fine. It’s all your choice.

-Modest Dancer

He slipped out of the bed, making it behind him. Stagehand’s bed was rather sparse, a few blankets with a pillow on each side. Very different from Performance’s layers upon layers and borderline nest of pillows. The room as a whole was pretty sparse. The only notable decoration was a picture on the dresser. Stagehand was in it, holding a small child with another small child on his other side. There were other various children around him, eight in total if you didn’t include him. They were at a beach, and there were two older adults sitting on beach chairs off to the side, presumably their parents. Next to the picture on one side were a few unopened letters and to the other was Performance’s clothes, neatly folded. He got changed, and peeked his head out the door. There was the noise of someone shuffling in the kitchen and the sound of a radio, playing soft music as someone hummed. He stepped out.

At a small dining room table, Stagehand was sitting reading. In the kitchen Dancer was in the process of plating three plates with toast and some eggs as she hummed along with the melody. The sight of them made Performance’s stomach turn, but he wasn't going to turn them down. He stepped out from the bedroom after a moment, joining Stagehand at the table.

“Um…hi. Good morning, I guess.” Performance said. Stagehand looked up from his book, closing it.

“Good morning.” He greeted. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine!” Performance said, smiling. Stagehand stared at him, but didn’t say anything. “How are you?”

“I’m okay.” Stagehand said. Dancer placed a plate in front of each of them before sitting down with her own. “Do you…remember anything that happened last night?”

“…No, not really.” Performance looked away, grabbing a spoon and picking at the eggs. “I um…I know you guys said on the note that nothing happened but…that’s not a lie, right?”

“No.” Stagehand shook his head. “I wouldn’t lie about that.”

“...Thank you. Can I ask…what happened, then?”

“I wasn’t there for all of it. I walked in, you were with a guy I didn’t recognize, you clearly weren’t doing well, and I got you out of there. He said you were on a date but you said you didn’t know you remember it being a date and that he had promised he’d take you home.”

“Oh. I must have been more drunk than I thought.”

“That’s the thing…we’re pretty sure you were drugged.”

The silence that followed was consuming, wrapping around Performance’s throat like a snake that ate any words he could fathom to say, constricting in such a manner that he felt like it could snap his neck. He felt like the room was closing in around him. He felt like he could feel his muscles moving under his skin. He felt like he could hear his-

“Performance?”

The crushing silence was broken by Stagehand’s voice, and his head snapped over. Both Stagehand and Dancer looked at him with concern evident in their eyes. He looked down at the eggs. He could see every little particle that made them. His stomach turned, thinking of eating little bits and how they feel going down and back up again.

“Performance, are you okay?” It was Modest Dancer who broke the silence this time, reaching over to place a gentle hand on his arm. He wrenched back involuntarily, but put a happy look on his face, forcing the glow up to his eyes.

“I’m fine!” He said, an exact repetition of before. He pretended not to notice as the two of them shared a look, taking a spoonful of eggs and shoving them into his mouth. He wanted to throw up.

“You don’t have to be fine, Performance.” Stagehand responded. “You just got drugged by someone who was trying to take advantage of you-“

“Oh I know! I am, though!” Performance said. He couldn’t stomach another mouthful. He stood up, grabbing his plate and taking the empty plates from both of them, walking over to the sink. “Here, let me do the dishes after I wash my hands. Thank you very much for breakfast, it was delicious!” Thankfully neither of them pointed out that he had barely eaten any of his food. “I made sure to make the bed, as well. After this I’ll get out of your hair! I can figure out my own way home, I’m sure both of you have plenty of important things to do today. Today was my day off anyway and I have lots of cleaning I need to do, plus Rhythm is probably wondering where I am and goodness knows he-“

“Performance, your skin.” Dancer said, walking up to him. He looked down at his hands. There were red lines going up and down his arms where he’d been scrubbing with his nails. He hadn’t even noticed. She pulled his hands from the water, wiping them. “Stagehand will walk you home, I’ll do the dishes.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind doing them! It would be quite rude of me to not clean up after you cooked.” Performance tried to insist, attempting to grab a dish.

“I would never make a guest clean.” She said, gently nudging away his hand. He felt guilt bubble up his chest. “Would you?”

“N-No, never.” He said, shrinking back. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She said. “I appreciate you wanting to help! Stagehand, can you walk him home while I clean?”

“Yeah, I got it.” Stagehand said, standing up. “Are you ready to go home? Or do you need another couple minutes? You can bathe here if you want.” Performance wanted nothing more than to take up Stagehand on his offer and get into a bath, scrubbing off every layer of his skin until no part of him from last night remained.

“No, thank you.” He said. “I should get home. Like I said, Rhythm is probably wondering where I am.”

“Alright. Let me go get my boots on. Yours are by the front door with mine.” Stagehand walked over to the front door. Performance gave Dancer another quick ‘thank you very much’ and followed after him, lacing up his boots with practiced quickness. Stagehand patted his knees and stood. “Ready when you are.” Performance nodded, standing and following the other man out the door.

The village was still relatively quiet, few people out in the early morning snow. Performance had always liked it during these times. It was peaceful. The weight of the snow beneath his boots as they walked forward, the crunch that resonated from every footstep. It was grounding. It almost made him feel normal.

“Hey, um, I realized there’s something I forgot to put with your stuff.” Stagehand’s voice broke Performance’s contemplation, and the taller man quickly looked over at him. He was holding out a pocket sized notebook. Performance’s eyes lit up.

“My notebook!” He grabbed it from Stagehand, flipping through it and hugging it his chest before stuffing it into his pocket. In the chaos of everything he had completely forgotten it. At this point he should really consider tying it to his wrist. He breathed out a sigh of relief and then chuckled. “You know, that’s the whole reason I got into that mess last night. I had wanted to spend the night going over my notes and critiques, but I had accidentally left it at the theater. When I went to go back home, well, he was there.” For a moment he could’ve sworn Stagehand was staring at him, but the shorter man had looked away so quickly he couldn’t tell.

“Well, I’m glad I grabbed it. We found it in your pocket when Dancer were cleaning your clothes.” Stagehand explained.

“I know I was a guest but there has to be some way that I can repay you both.” Performance said. “I mean, Dancer not only made me breakfast but she also cleaned my clothes. Plus, the situation last night was really dangerous, and you went out of your way to save me.”

“Yeah…speaking of, are you sure you're okay?” Stagehand asked again. “I mean, you almost got-“

“Yes, I’m fine.” Performance quickly said, snapping slightly despite his cheery persona. “Honestly, all in all I would like to pretend that last night’s fiasco didn’t happen.”

“Do you want to stop by a guard post to make a report?”

“Nope.” Performance said. He knew he should. After all, the man was still out there. He could come back, or he could do something to someone else. “I don’t think there’s much they could do, anyway.” After all, the man had likely already left, and he could barely remember a thing. He was sure he could pick Guardian out of a crowd but to actually bring up his face? He wasn’t sure if he had forgotten or if his brain simply wouldn’t allow it. Besides, there was really no guarantee they could help.

“Okay…” Stagehand sighed. “You’re going to tell your brother though, right?”

“I um…” Performance really didn’t want to. He didn’t want Rhythm to have something else on his mind. He had to keep up his end of their little unspoken agreement. His brother went out and got extra work and in exchange he would take care of everything else, including himself. “He already worries so much. And besides, I’m fine.”

“Performance, you should really talk to him about it.” Stagehand implored. “I can’t make you do anything, but I think that if you don’t it’s just going to keep eating at you until it comes out, and the longer it sits the worse it’ll be.” He stared at Performance, who just nervously picked at his sleeve. “I can stay with you, while you tell him. Or I can tell him. Which do you want, cause he’s going to find one way or another.”

“…Can you tell him?”

“Yes I can.”

It didn’t take much longer for them to arrive at Performance’s house. Performance paused at the front door. He wished Dreams was here. He wanted her here. He desperately wanted her to come out the door and hold him and tell him that everything would be okay because if anyone would know how to deal with this it would be her. But she wasn’t here, whether he liked it or not. He fished around his pockets until he found his key, unlocking the door and pulling it open. He was greeted with the sight of a frantic Rhythm in the middle of putting his boots on.

“PERFORMANCE!” He yelled, running to his brother. He pulled him into a hug, pushing his head into the crook of his neck and wrapping his arms in a vice grip. He pulled back, placing both his hands on his brother’s shoulders. “Where the fuck were you?! I was looking up and down the house for you! I was about to start scouring the whole village! You had me worried half to death!” Performance flinched back at the yelling, wrapping his arms around himself and looking away as Rhythm continued his tirade.

“Woah woah woah, hey!” Stagehand said, moving up to them. He forced himself between the twins, gently pushing Rhythm away while Performance cowered behind him. Rhythm looked down at him, clearly wanting to say more, but then looked back up at Performance, his eyes filling with guilt. “Let’s all take a moment and calm down .”

“Perf I-” Rhythm started.

“I’m sorry.” Performance whimpered. “I-I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I-I thought I would be back-“

“Let’s all just go inside and sit down so we can talk. Calmly. ” Stagehand said. Rhythm nodded, moving to the side to let the two inside. Stagehand started to walk in, but stopped when he didn’t hear footsteps behind him. He turned to see Performance frozen in place, still eyeing his brother cautiously. Stagehand sighed, walking over to the other man and putting out his hand. Performance looked down at it, and after a moment slid his hand into Stagehand’s, allowing himself to be led inside and over to a couch. Rhythm sat on a nearby chair, and Stagehand took the other end of the couch. “Okay. Now that we’re all sitting down, we can talk about what happened.”

“I woke up and you weren’t in the kitchen or your bedroom or anywhere .” Rhythm said, looking at Performance. Performance still pointedly not looking at him. “I thought maybe you’d gone for a walk but there wasn’t even a note. Hell, what if you had been kidnapped or something I had no way of knowing!”

“I know…” Performance said, his voice trembling. “I’m sorry.”

“Okay, he asked me to tell you what happened.” Stagehand said before the brother’s could start getting into it. Rhythm looked at him, cocking his head. “I was getting food last night at a bar and he happened to be there with someone. He wasn’t doing very well, this man was trying to get him to leave with him but he was clearly very confused. The man had said they were on a date-“

“You were on a date?!” Rhythm sputtered.

“No!” Performance shot back. “I went to the theater to get my notebook! Guardian was the one who wouldn’t leave me alone until I went and got a drink with him!”

“Who the fuck is-?!”

“That’s not the point right now!” Stagehand announced, his voice cutting through their argument and quieting them both. For a moment it felt very familiar. “Anyways, Performance clearly had no idea what this man was talking about. I’m…” Stagehand hesitated a moment, looking at Performance, who did not look back. “I’m pretty sure he was drugged.”

“ What? ” Rhythm’s voice was laced with murderous intent. “You said his name was Guardian? Where is he now? I think I need to have a chat with him.”

“Rhythm, he-“ Performance started.

“I’m going to fucking kill him.”

“Rhythm he’s gone.”

“What do you mean he’s gone?!”

“H-He probably went back to Eden. He said he was going today.”

“That motherfucker…” Rhythm growled in frustration, running his hands through his hair. “Okay, so you got him out of there. Thank you for that. That still doesn’t explain where he was the rest of the night.”

“Mine and Dancer’s apartment. He was too sick to direct me home so I gave him my bed for the night and slept on the couch.” Stagehand explained. He saw Rhythm squint at him, but ultimately the man said nothing. “What matters right now is that he’s safe, and he’s home. I got there before anything worse could happen, and now you know where he is.” There was a silence that hung over them, neither of the twins seeming to be willing to say anything. After a moment Stagehand patted his knees. “I’m pretty sure that’s everything.” He looked over at Performance. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No, thank you.” Performance replied. He had pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his chin atop them. “Thank you for walking me home and, well, for everything.”

“Yes.” Rhythm nodded. “Thank you.”

“Alright, then I’m going to go home.” Stagehand said. “I left my work clothes there and I have some props I need to work on.” He stood, leaving the twins sitting with a growing silence between each other.

The silence was overwhelming, suffocating. It wasn’t uncommon for the twins to sit without speaking to each other, but rarely was it ever quiet. The air was usually decorated with the sound of Rhythm playing music, Performance singing to himself as he worked, the radio, one of them muttering to themselves, something . Often it was some form of ‘quiet’, but rarely was it ever silent .

“Rhythm I-“ Performance began.

“I was scared you were dead, Performance.” Rhythm said. Performance finally looked up at his brother, seeing his piercing eyes staring directly into him. “You didn’t even leave a note.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” He pulled at his sleeves. “I just, I was only going to go get my notebook. I didn’t know…I didn’t know the whole thing with him was going to escalate.”

“Who is him exactly? You keep saying ‘ him ’ you’ve even said his name but the only thing I know about him is that he’s from Eden and apparently he wouldn’t leave you alone until you went and got a drink with him!”

“He’s just some guy! He kept coming around the theater as I was leaving for a few days I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal so I didn’t want to bother you-“

“And look where that got you, huh?”

“Don’t talk to me like that!” Performance’s yell threw a blanket of utter silence over the room. He ripped his mask off, slamming it down on the couch as frustrated tears began streaming down his face. He rubbed his eye aggressively, and then bent over, his face in his lap and his head in his hands. “Don’t talk to me like that.” It was quiet for another moment, until Performance heard the sound of Rhythm shuffling.

“Hey.” Performance flinched at the sound of his brother’s voice, feeling his gently pet his hair. He looked up, seeing Rhythm’s maskless face giving him a gentle smile. “I’m sorry. You’re right.” Rhythm sat next to him, gently guiding him from his hunched over position to one where he was laying his head in the crook of his twin’s shoulder. “I shouldn’t have been mean like that, I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I was just scared.” Rhythm wrapped his arms around Performance, nuzzling his fair into the others hair. “When I couldn’t find you, all I could think of was when I found Skater…after her last show. And then every time I tried not to think of that I could only think of when I came home, the last night we were with our father.” He tightened his arms. “I thought he killed you. After Skater…I had promised I wouldn’t let anything happen to anyone else, ever again. And now it’s almost happened to you, more than once.” His grip tightened, and he held Performance in a vice grip until his brother began to squirm lightly. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.” Performance said, settling back as the grip loosened. “I’m sorry. I should have left a note.”

“You shouldn’t have left.”

“Rhythm, I needed my notebook.”

“You could have waited until I got home, or you could have gotten it the next day.”

“But I wanted to-”

“Your notebook wasn’t worth that risk.” There was another pause, the quiet less suffocating but still far from comfortable. “You said earlier…you didn’t want to ‘bother’ me. Why would you think that?”

“...Because you work a lot, and you told me not to go work extra and to focus on the theater, so I try to just…make everything else easier.”

“Perf…” Rhythm pulled away from his brother, holding him by his shoulders again. They stared at each other, before pressing their foreheads together. “You are the most important thing to me. You have always been the most important thing to me. It’s never a ‘bother’ if you feel unsafe, in fact you need to tell me.” He pulled away, smiling at his brother. “And please, stop going out alone at night. You know I hate it when you do that. Please, just let me keep you safe.” Performance stared at his brother, but nodded. If that’s what his brother wanted, then he could manage that.

“Okay.”

Next Part

#sky children of the light #sky cotl #frantic stagehand #performance guide #modest dancer #rhythm guide #sky cotl fanfic #small creatures

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cyndellw · 6 days ago

Text

Small Creatures: Chapter 4

(TW: stalker behavior, roofies, attempted date rape, vomit, alcohol)

Previous part Read on AO3

Performance grinned, basking in the stage light as breathed in the cheering of the audience. He took his brother’s hand, raising their hands high above their heads and dropping them down with force as they bowed. It had been another medley night, with him and his brother performing separately before coming together at the end to perform a dance they’d been rehearsing for the better part of the past three weeks built upon the idea of a man dancing with his shadow. The final performance was always the most thrilling time for him in these medley shows, something to keep them in the minds of their community and making money. The thrill of this one time to get everything right was almost as intoxicating as the rush of opening night.

“Hey, I’m going to go get a drink with Festival Spin Dancer, Admiring Actor, and Respectful Pianist.” Rhythm said, pulling off his costume and grabbing his shirt. “Did you want to come with us?”

“No thank you.” Performance said. “I’m kind of worn out. I think I’m just going to go home and wind down.”

“Okay, we’ll walk you home then.” Rhythm paused. “That actually sounds kind of nice, I might just do that too.”

“No, go have fun with your friends!” Performance insisted, shaking his head. “You’ve been working so much recently, you deserve it! I might invite Mellow Musician to come with me, if that’s okay?”

“Yeah, that's fine, just tell him not to eat our snacks again.” Rhythm said, rolling his eyes. His brother giggled.

“Okay, I’ll make sure he knows.” Performance turned and looked in his bag, furrowing his brow. “Hey, go ahead and head out without me. I can’t find my notebook.”

“I can help you look.”

“It’s fine! I don’t want to keep them waiting.”

“I don’t really want you walking home alone at night, Perf.”

“I won’t be alone. Mellow will be with me!”

“Right, because that makes me feel so much better.”

“Rhy, I’ll be fine, I promise.” The twins stared at each other, neither of them moving, until Rhythm finally sighed and put his hands up in the air.

“Fine, fine.” He said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sweet megabird, you are stubborn.” Performance grinned, though part of him wanted to remind Rhythm that he wasn’t the stubborn one. However, there was no need to push on this victory. Just call it a win and call it a day. He waved at his twin as Rhythm walked out of the dressing room. He searched for a bit longer, finally finding his pocket notebook underneath one of the makeup tables. He hummed in annoyance. It must’ve gotten knocked off the desk during a quick change. He opened it up and made a few notes about his performance that night, making sure to write something he was proud of before making all his comments about what he could’ve done better. After he was done he snapped it shut in his hand and tossed it into his bag, pulling it over his shoulder and exiting the dressing room to meet his best friend.

“Hey!” He waved at Mellow, who was leaning against the wall humming to himself. The tune was unrecognizable, meaning he was likely working on something new. “Thanks for waiting, sorry I took so long. Great performance tonight! That guitar riff before the bridge was killer.”

“Thanks, dude.” Mellow said, stretching his fingers. “My hands are pretty tired though, spent a lot of time with you mom last night.”

“You went all the way to her grave and didn’t even invite me?” Performance joked. “Makes sense though. Your fingers were moving like crazy.” He tried to recreate what his friend had done on an air guitar while making noises with his mouth, only to find his fingers tripping over each other. “I keep telling you that you need to teach me how to play electric!”

“And I will, when you start doing that part right.” Mellow chuckled. He proceeded to “pull” an air guitar off his back, beginning to shred on it. “You gotta at least have the basics of an air guitar before I even let you near a real one.” The actor crossed his arms indignantly, and after a moment they both laughed. “Anyways, you heading out? I saw your brother dip with some of his friends.”

“Yeah. Did you want to come over?”

“Can I smoke?”

“Only if you blow it out the window. You know I can’t stand the smell of pot.”

“Yeah, that’s fair. Then yeah, totally. I’ll have to remember to pack edibles next time. I can bring extra, if you wanna try some.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Performance shrugged. “I’ll think about it.” The two of them made their way out of the theater and over to the exit. By this point the crowd surrounding the exit had mostly dispersed, with a few straggling groups looking at the poster for the next major production. Mellow and Performance waved at them, earning some waves and compliments in return, before turning to their path back to Performance’s home. They took one step, and were cut off by a figure suddenly moving in front of them.

“Hey, great show tonight.” A man said, standing in front of them. He looked at them both as he said then, and then finally rested his eyes directly on Performance, who had to stop himself from shrinking back a little bit. The man seemed practically built like a brick wall, standing at nearly a full foot over him with a broad chest. His mask was plain, with his hair cut into a tight buzz cut. He was holding a large bouquet that he pushed into Performance’s hands. The actor took it, a bit startled by the motion, holding it to his chest as the large man continued. “Your dancing is almost as enjoyable as your acting.”

“Th-Thank you.” He stammered. He could see the man’s eyes squint behind his mask, presumably in a smile. “It’s always nice to hear people’s reviews.” No it wasn’t, actually. He was lying. It was nice to hear people’s praise , but that didn’t sound as good.

“Of course.” The man agreed. “When I noticed that you were performing while I was in town I had to make sure to attend.”

“I’m flattered, thank you.” Performance said, still holding the bouquet tightly. There was an awkward silence that hung in the air before Mellow Musician spoke.

“Thanks for the compliments, we’ve had a long night.” The musician said. “We’re going to go now. Bye.” He started walking away. Performance looked at him, and then looked back at the large man.

“Thank you, um…”

“You can call me Guardian.” The man offered.

“Thank you, Guardian.” The actor said. “And um, thank you for the flowers as well. …Bye!” He gave the man a quick bow and quickly caught up with his friend.

“That was weird.” Mellow muttered as soon as they were out of earshot. “He has a weird vibe.”

“He seemed nice.” Performance argued. He couldn’t actually argue much with Musician on this, the man’s energy was definitely a little odd, but that could mean so many things. He was a big guy, maybe he was just naturally intimidating, and he was actually really nice like Troupe Greeter. Or maybe it was Performance being tired and having a little bit of post show anxiety. That happens all the time! Honestly, he could think of a thousand ways that whatever awkwardness had occurred must’ve been his fault. “We’re probably just tired. It’s been a long day.” Musician gave him a look, pulling a joint out of his pocket and lighting it up.

“Maybe.” He said, putting the joint up his lips and taking a deep inhale. “Whatever. I still think it was weird. Anyways, I’ve got cookies in my bag. We can split them.”

“Actual cookies or…?”

“Actual cookies, don’t worry. You know I wouldn’t give you pot without telling you.”

“I know.”

The next day Performance left with Mellow again. That day Rhythm wasn’t working, at the theater or otherwise, and Performance had insisted he spent the day resting considering he hadn’t had a full day off in almost a month. The younger twin had even still made him breakfast, leaving it on the table and sneaking out the front door so as to not wake him. While Mellow wasn’t coming over for a second day in a row, it was still nice to walk home with his friend.

“Sweet megabird, I'm sore.” Mellow whined, opening the theater door and letting his friend through. Performance giggled.

“Have you been doing the stretches I recommended to you?” He asked. Mellow waved his hand in a wishy-washy motion. “Well, if you did then you might now be so sore.”

“Yeah yeah what are you my mom-”

“Hey, I thought you might be leaving around this time.”

They both froze at the booming voice that came from their side. Guardian walked up, waving and immediately looking at Performance. If he thought about it too hard he could’ve sworn Guardian was looking him up and down, but it was hard to pin that on him. After all, the man had to look down at him in general. He was probably overthinking it. Yeah. He was definitely overthinking it.

“You’re just getting out of rehearsal, I presume?” Guardian asked.

“Yep.” Mellow responded curtly before Performance had a chance to answer. “And boy are we tired.”

“You’re working pretty hard for what goes on onstage then?” The man cocked his head. “You just finished a show. Thought you’d maybe be taking a break.”

“Nope.”

“Well then, how about-”

“We’re going to go now.” Mellow said, looking Guardian in the eye. Performance looked between the two of them, anxiety welling in his chest. Mellow’s eyes were challenging, staring the large man directly with a ‘try me’ type of aura. On the other hand, Guardian simply stared down at him, a cold stoicism firmly in his gaze. The man then shifted his gaze to the actor, and Mellow quickly intertwined their arms, pulling him away from Guardian. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Oh, um, okay!” Performance agreed, scrambling to not lose his footing as Mellow pulled him away. “It was nice to see you again!” He turned to keep up properly, giving his friend a quizzical look. “That was…a little intense.”

“I don’t like the way he was looking at you.” Mellow said. “Is Thoughtful Director in tomorrow? We need to tell him that this guy is hanging around the theater.”

“No, I’m pretty sure he has a thing he has to go to at the Coliseum.” Performance shook his head.

“Fuck, of course he’d have a meeting tomorrow. Is your brother going to be there tomorrow at least?” Mellow pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s one thing Rhythm has going for him, he’s way scarier than you are.”

“I’m not scary though…”

“You are so close to the point, Perf.”

“Ah. Well, anyways, he’s going to be there but he has to go to work afterwards. He’s trying to get the most out of this construction project before it ends.”

“Okay, well, he should probably at least know about this. I’ll help you explain it-”

“Nope, he doesn’t need to worry about this.” Performance said, shaking his head. Mellow stopped, staring at him.

“Your brother doesn’t need to know about the weirdo that has stopped and approached you outside the theater twice ? Like the first time I was willing to leave it at a weird vibe thing but twice in a row is fucking bizarre, Perf.”

“Mellow, please.” Performance begged. “I don’t need to add something more to his plate. I don’t want to add something more to his plate. He already has so many other things he’s trying to focus on, especially with two jobs. The more I can take off his load the better, and I don’t need to add something like this.” The musician stared at him and eventually sighed, pinching the bridge of his mask.

“Why are you trying to keep this from him? He’s just gonna be pissed when he finds out that this happened and you didn’t say anything.”

“Listen, if it gets worse, I’ll say something.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Okay…now let’s go. I wasn’t lying about being tired.”

On the next day, Performance had meant to have an easy night in. They hadn’t had much to work on at the theater that day, so he actually got to go home early. Rhythm was still working his other job, leaving the younger twin with the house all to himself. He’d made himself a rare treat, hot chocolate, and had a fire crackling in the hearth in front of their couch. He grabbed his favorite blanket and his bag, and went over to the couch to get settled, digging through his bag for his notebook.

…

Where was his stupid notebook.

He could not be more upset. While he wasn’t anywhere near as busy as his brother he still very rarely had a night like this. All their shopping was done, he’d even done some meal prepping, all the laundry was done, there were no major maintenance issues around the house, and the only cleaning he had needed to do was a very small amount of upkeep. He had just wanted to have a night where he could drink hot chocolate and relax with his favorite blanket in front of the fire and go over his notes and maybe even come up with some more writing pieces while he was at it. But no, that was all going to be postponed, because he lost his stupid notebook again. It was nowhere in his bed. Where in the world could he possibly have put it?

Oh.

He knew exactly where it was. It was sitting on a makeup table in one of the dressing rooms. He had put it down when Troupe Greeter came over to talk to him and he’d completely forgotten to pick it back up when collecting his things. He could picture it so clearly in his brain that he almost wanted to cry.

He sighed, walking over to the door and putting on his boots. He grabbed a handful of snow from outside and threw it into his fire, watching it until he knew it was fully out, and then made his way back outside. At the very least he’d be able to reheat his hot chocolate. He looked at the sky, and let out a deep sigh. It was late. Not unreasonably so, but late nonetheless. He didn’t want to be out here, trudging to the theater. He wanted to be back inside with his hot chocolate, his blanket, and his nice fire.

Whatever, this was his own damn fault anyways. At least Director had given both him and his brother copies of the theater key, so he didn’t have to go up to his apartment to wake him up. At that point, he would’ve given up before his started. Also, the walk was pretty short, so at least there was that. He slid into the theater, turning on one of the lights to help him find his way, and grabbed the notebook, sliding back out with the light turned off and the door locked behind him.

“Hey, I was wondering if I was going to find you here tonight.” A vaguely familiar voice called. “All alone? Now that part is a little bit of a surprise.” Performance nearly jumped out of his skin, turning to face Guardian as he stuffed his notebook into his pocket. “Were you just rehearsing by yourself?”

“Oh, no.” Performance shook his head. “I accidentally left my notebook here. I was going to go over my critiques tonight.”

“Hm, interesting choice.” Guardian said, cocking his head a little and staring at Performance from the side.

“Um, yeah, I guess.” Performance shrugged. “...Anyways, I should probably go. It’s pretty late.”

“Are you sure?” The large man asked, moving closer to Performance. “You know, I’m in town from Eden, and I’m actually going back there tomorrow. I mean yeah, I was visiting a friend, but I partially came out here to see you again.” Performance stepped back as the man kept encroaching into his space until he felt his back hit a wall. The man leaned over him, putting his hand on the wall for support. “Let me buy you a drink, hm?”

“Um, I’m actually pretty-”

“Let me guess. Tired?” Performance blanched internally at the man’s comment. Guardian chuckled. “I won’t keep you out too late, I promise. But I did come all the way out here, including waiting to see if you were at the theater tonight, and it’s pretty cold here. I’m not exactly used to that kind of cold like you aree.”

“That’s totally fair! You were right though, I am pretty tired.”

“Are you sure? Even after I bought you that nice bouquet, you won’t go get a drink with me?”

“Um…” Performance started, very pointedly not looking Guardian in the eyes. He had his notebook. He could just go home. He wanted to just go home. But at the same time…Guardian had a point. Those flowers were clearly expensive, and if he was leaving tomorrow then maybe there was no harm. Yeah, he was definitely…assertive, was a word for it. But maybe Performance was just overthinking it. “Okay.”

“Excellent.” Guardian said, pushing off the wall. He wrapped his arm around Performance, pulling the actor to him. Performance felt himself being led, almost losing his footing, controlled by the tight grasp. “I have a room at the local inn, and it’s next to a pretty good bar. Sells proper Eden beer too.”

“Oh, cool.” Performance said. “Do they have…not beer?”

“Oh yeah. They’ve got plenty of those fruity drinks, and that valley drink. Mead?”

“Mead.”

“Yeah, that one. They’ve got a lot of options.”

The two of them walked into the bar, and Guardian quickly made his way to a booth in the back corner, offering Performance the seat facing away from the door. The actor slid into it, tapping his knees nervously.

“Alright, you been here before?” Guardian asked.

“Y-Yeah! I’ve been here a couple times. They have a really good mead they make with a coffee flavor.”

“I’ll go get us drinks and I’ll be right back.” Guardian got up from the table, heading towards the bar. Performance continued to tap his knees, and then forced his hands up onto the table, intertwining his fingers. Before long the other man returned, placing a glass of something red in front of the actor before sitting back down with his bottle of beer. “I forgot to ask what you wanted, so I ended up just making a choice. You seem like a cranberry vodka kind of guy.”

“Thank you.” Performance said, pulling the drink towards him. In truth, he wasn’t. He preferred either mead or fruity drinks with enough juice that he couldn’t taste the alcohol. But he didn’t want to seem ungrateful. “…So, you said you’re from Eden?”

“Born and raised.” Guardian said. “Are you from Valley?”

“Yep. I grew up in this village, actually.”

“Nice. Ever wanted to leave?”

“No, not really.” Performance took a long sip, making a bit of a face under his mask at the taste. “I want to travel, don’t get me wrong. But I don’t really want to live anywhere else.”

“That’s fair.” Guardian said, taking a swig of his beer. “It’s a little small. Cute though. I’ll have to take you to Eden sometime.”

“Take me to Eden…?”

“Well yeah. I know I’m leaving tomorrow, but I’ll be coming back. Like I said before, a friend of mine lives out here. I stay with him on occasion.” He pointed at Performance’s drink. “Here, finish that up so I can go get you another one.”

“O-Oh sorry.” Performance said, quickly finishing the drink. He almost wanted to point out Guardian was only halfway done with his beer, but quickly thought otherwise, not wanting to be rude. The man was enthusiastic, at least. “Though, I thought you only wanted to buy me one drink?”

“You're a pretty little thing. I’ll buy you some more, make the most of the night while I have you.” Guardian said. Before Performance could respond he was already up, taking the empty glass with him. Performance was unwilling to admit that he was already feeling a buzz. He’d always been a lightweight compared to a lot of his friends, and drinking quickly had always made it worse. “Alright, there we go. Another cranberry vodka.”

“Thanks.” Performance said, taking another sip. He made a face again. This one tasted even stronger. Maybe he’d be able to get away with small sips. “So do you attend many productions in Eden then? I know the scene up there is pretty active.”

“No, not really.” Guardian said. “I actually had never been to a show before I saw you for the first time. I think you were playing some sort of moon spirit. I went to a show in Eden and it didn’t feel anywhere near as magical, so I decided to just stick to watching your shows.”

“Oh, um, thank you.” Performance said. “I’m glad my performance stood out to you so much.”

“It absolutely did.” Guardian said. He looked down at the drink in the actor’s hand. “What? Not enjoying it?”

“N-No I am!” Performance replied. He took a large sip of the drink and had to physically stop himself from gagging. The buzz hit him like a manta moments later. “Wow, that's really strong.”

“Good, I asked them to make it a double.” Guardian said. He was now three quarters of the way through his beer. “There’s something else I want to ask you.”

“Hm?” Performance cocked his head, quickly taking another long sip.

“Like I said, my inn is next door.” The large leaned closer. “I’m only here for one more night, and I’m a really big fan of yours. You could make this a really special experience for me, you know?” He reached down, and placed a hand on Performance’s knee, running it up onto his thigh. Performance choked on his drink, having been mid sip. His leg shot up on pure reflex, knocking the man’s hand against the bottom of the table.

“O-Oh um, I-I’m flattered, really!” He said once he’d finished clearing the liquid from his throat. “However, um, no thank you? No thank you.”

“Ah, well, that’s disappointing.” Guardian said, shaking his hand. Performance felt kind of bad. He hadn’t meant to knock his leg, much less as hard as he did.

“Yeah…sorry.” The two of them stared at each other for a moment, and Performance felt himself squirm internally. “...I’m going to go to the bathroom!” He stood up in a swift, stiff move, and made his way to the restrooms, quickly moving into a stall and locking it. He sat on the toilet, hugging himself as he felt his chest and throat begin to tighten. This was a bad choice, this was such a bad choice how could he have been so damn stupid . He had already been anxious and he added alcohol on top of that? All because he hadn’t wanted to be rude? He pulled off his mask, furiously wiping the tears from his eyes and attempting desperately to breathe. He clutched either of his hair, pushing his head down and pulling hard, beginning to rock and he attempted to calm himself.

The worst part of this was no one knew where he was .

Maybe he would get lucky, and Guardian would just leave while he was in the bathroom. Afterall, he doubted the man wanted to stick around after that? Performance was even willing to pick up the tab if it would just get him out of this situation. Then he could just go home and pretend this had never happened-

“Performance?”

Fuck.

“Y-Yeah, sorry! I’ll be just a minute.” Performance said, responding to Guardian’s voice. His own voice wavered, his current state clear as day despite all efforts to the contrary.

“It’s okay. I came on too strong, I get it.” Guardian said. Performance continued taking deep breaths, his heart rate slowly but surely starting to come down. That response was…unexpected. “Here, how about I get you some water and then I’ll take you home? I did promise I wouldn’t keep you out too late, didn’t I?”

“Y-Yeah, okay.” Performance replied. He wiped a few more tears off his face. “I’ll um, I just needed another minute. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay. Take as long as you need. I’ll go pay the tab and get you some water.” Performance heard the restroom door open again, and he was once again left alone to compose himself. It took another few minutes for him to be able to breathe again without an enormous amount of effort, and he fixed his mask back to his face, leaving the stall and fixing his hair. He left the bathroom finally, and went back to his seat, sitting a little closer to the edge. The empty cups had been cleared, and replaced with two cups of water. “Here, I got us both some water.”

“Thank you.” He took his, looking down at it. There were little bubbles that rose along the sides to the top. “Oh, it’s fizzy.”

“Yeah, they had an option for soda water and I figured that might do us both some good.” Guardian said, taking a sip of his own water. “Drink slowly, though. It’ll absorb better into your system, and you’re probably pretty dehydrated from the alcohol.” Performance nodded, taking a sip. He didn’t really like carbonated things, but he hated waste even more. “We’ll give it another ten minutes, and then I’ll take you home, okay? I promise.”

“Okay.” Performance nodded. He took a few more sips, and neither of them attempted much conversation. He kept his eyes down, feeling Guardian watching him. About halfway through his glass, he started feeling…off. “Hey, um, I might just leave now. I’m feeling kind of weird.”

“Here, finish your water, and then we can go.” Guardian said. “I said I’d walk you home, didn’t I?”

“Yeah…” Performance nodded. He quickly finished his water and moved to stand up, finding himself quickly back in his seat as the world went sideways.

“How you feeling?”

“Um…dizzy.”

“Alright, let’s wait a little bit to get you home. Like I said, I have a room at the inn next door...”

Stagehand was having one of those nights where he didn’t really know what to do with himself. Modest Dancer was out, having gone to get dinner with Forgetful Storyteller. She insisted they were just friends, but Stagehand had caught the writer sneaking glimpses at his roommate, so he knew very well that the woman was hoping for something more. As long as she was respectful, Stagehand was more than happy to support them. He knew Dancer’s type, she fit it to a tee, and she had never been allowed to date by her parents, so this would be good for her.

This did, however, leave him at their shared apartment alone with nothing much to entertain himself. He wasn’t used to silence. Usually if Modest Dancer were home one of them would make dinner (usually her, Stagehand was more than capable of it, but if it didn’t involve a grill he wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about it) and they might hang out in the living room talking before retreating to their respective rooms. However, with her out, he hadn’t even eaten yet. It wasn’t exactly like he knew how to make food for only one person.

However…he had been having a hankering for an Eden style burger. He remembered Respectful Pianist mentioning a local bar that was owned by a couple who had moved to the village from Eden and imported ingredients to make authentic Eden style food. They would even bag it up so the customer could take it home, which sounded amazing. He got up, stretched, and put on his boots, making his way outside. Fortunately the village was quite small, and he’d remembered Pianist describing it as being next to the village’s major inn, so it didn’t take him long to find. He walked inside and walked up to the counter, quickly placing a take out order, and made his way over to the bathroom.

On his way over, however, he spotted something that made him pause. There was Performance, being coaxed out of a booth by a large man that he did not recognize. Something seemed…off. Performance seemed too dazed for it to be a normal drunk, his limbs moving in an odd, limp fashion.

“Hey, Performance.” Stagehand said, quickly walking over. Performance looked at him and blinked slowly, recognition filling his eyes after a moment. “You doing okay?”

“He’s fine.” The other man said, pulling Performance out of the booth with more force than before. The actor stumbled, catching himself against the man’s chest. “We were just leaving, actually. We’re on a date.”

“We’re on a date?” Performance asked, looking up quizzically.

“Yes, don’t you remember?” The man asked. “I asked you if you’d go get a drink with me, and you said yes. We’re on a date.”

“But I…” Performance started. “I’m confused.”

“That’s fine, don’t worry your pretty little head over it.” The man said, giving Performance a quick pat on the head and then grabbing him by the waist when he began to sway again. “We’re going to head back to my inn room, excuse us.” He moved to make his way past Stagehand.

“I think maybe he should just go home.” Stagehand said, moving in their way. He may not be very tall, but he was stocky, and he knew how to use that. “I can take him home, that way you can get back to your inn.”

“He said he was going with me, so move.”

“I don’t remember saying that…” A small voice chimed in. They both looked over at Performance, who had pulled away from the man and was leaning against the wall for support. Stagehand looked around, and then looked over at the bartender who had just come out of the back with a bucket of ice, desperately trying to make eye contact. They looked at him, and then looked over at Performance, and motioned another large man over to the bar.

“Performance.” Stagehand said, beginning to move himself between him and the other man. “Do you want to go with him?”

“…I-I want to go home.” Performance whimpered, seeming to attempt at pushing himself further in the wall. He looked at the large man. “You said you’d take me home. You promised!”

“Okay.” Stagehand said. “Let’s take you home.” The other man started to push at Stagehand.

“Hey, who do you think you are-“ Before he even had a chance to finish, Performance leaned over and released the contents of his stomach onto the floor, Stagehand’s pants, and both the men’s shoes, causing the larger man to step back in disgust. Without another word, Stagehand reached over, quickly bundling Performance into a bridal carry and pushing the actor’s head into his shoulder. Take out order be damned, he made his way over to the door as the bouncer made his way over to the man yelling after them. There was one small issue among many.

He didn’t know where Performance lived.

“Hey, Performance.” He whispered to the shaking man in his arms. “I don’t know where you live buddy. Do you think you can give me some directions, or are you feeling too sick?”

“Sick.” Performance responded. He made a whining noise. “Dizzy.”

“Okay, okay I hear you. We’re going to go back to my place.” Stagehand started walking back towards his apartment. His heart wrenched when he heard Performance begin to cry.

“Why aren’t you taking me home?” He sobbed. “I want to go home.”

“I know buddy. I’ll take you home in the morning, I promise. But tonight you can stay in my bed.”

“No! I don’t want to do that!” Stagehand tightened his grip as he felt Performance start to struggle. He felt bad, not only because of everything that was happening but also because whatever the other man had slipped Performance kept him from being able to properly struggle. “I don’t want to!”

“Not like that Performance, not like that.” Stagehand said quickly. He approached the apartment door, seeing a small light on inside. Apparently Dancer had gotten home early. Thank the megabird. He knocked on the door. “You’re going to stay in my bed, and I’m going to sleep on the couch. You’ll have the whole bedroom to yourself.” He heard a click as the deadbolt was unlocked, and Dancer opened the door.

“Did you forget your ke- oh my goodness.” She gasped, putting a hand over her mouth. Stagehand took a moment to think about how he must look, covered in vomit holding their shaking, crying coworker. “Is he okay? What happened?” She moved to the side, allowing Stagehand to deposit Performance onto the couch. He quickly grabbed a waste bin, holding it under Performance just in time to catch another round of vomit. Dancer sat on the actor’s other side, lowering her voice to a gentle tone. “Hey, Performance, can I touch you? I’m just going to rub your back. Is that okay?” He nodded, and she began rubbing small, comforting circles between his shoulders before addressing Stagehand. “What happened to him?”

“I’m pretty sure he got drugged.” Stagehand said, holding the waste bin in case Performance threw up again. “I went to go get some food and I saw him there with another guy who was trying to get him to go to his inn room next door. He said they were on a date, but Performance clearly had no idea what he was talking about and just really wanted to go home.”

“I think you’re right, he was definitely slipped something.” She nodded. “I don’t know where he lives. I’m guessing you don’t either?”

“Nope.” Stagehand shook his head. “I’m going to give him my bed for the night, and then I’ll just sleep out here.”

“We should leave a note on your bedside table. He might not remember anything in the morning.” Dancer suggested. Stagehand nodded and moved to get a piece of paper, but stopped abruptly when Performance whined, gripping his sleeve and attempting to pull him closer. He sat back down, and the other man leaned against him, pushing his head against his shoulder. Dancer continued to rub his back. “Performance, do you want Stagehand to stay with you until you go to bed?” Performance nodded. “Okay honey, he can stay there. I’m going to go write you a little note and then we’ll get you into bed, okay?” He nodded again and she got up, moving to write the note at their kitchen counter.

“Are you doing okay there Perf?” Stagehand asked, switching to the nickname he’d heard from Rhythm and Mellow.

“Where am I?” Performance whined.

“You’re at my apartment. Modest Dancer is here too. We’re going to take care of you, okay?”

“Why am I here…? I thought you said you were taking me home.”

“I know, but I don’t know where you live. So I’m going to sleep out here on the couch and you’re going to sleep in my nice warm bed, and then in the morning I’ll take you home, okay?”

“Okay…” Performance sniffled. “Rhythm is going to be really worried…he’s going to be really mad at me.”

“Mad at you?”

“Yeah. Cause I went to get my notebook and he doesn’t like it when I walk around alone at night, and I didn’t tell anyone, and then I went with that weird guy.”

“I think he’s going to be more mad at the guy than anything else. You’re a grown adult Perf, you’re allowed to be independent.”

“Yeah…do you think he’s going to hate me? He’s finally going to get sick of me and then he’s going to throw me out so he doesn’t have to worry about me anymore.” Performance began sobbing again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for this I just wanted my notebook.”

“I know buddy, I know.” Stagehand cooed. “Hey, listen to me though. I don’t think Rhythm could ever hate you. He just worries so much about you because he loves more than anything in the world. I’ve got siblings too, so I get it. He might be a little mad because he was scared, but it’ll be okay.” He reached over and held Performance until the taller man began to calm down again. “Do you want to stay here some more or do you want to go to bed?”

“…Bed.”

“Okay. Let’s get you into bed then.” Stagehand stood up, pulling Performance up with him. Dancer moved to the actor’s other side and together they walked him into Stagehand’s room. “Your clothes are a little gross Perf. Can I give you some of mine? I can help you change or Dancer can help you change.” They’d be a little short, but they’d fit.

“You.” Performance said.

“Okay. Stagehand nodded. He pulled a pair of pajama pants out of his dresser and another set for himself, and Dancer quickly left the room as he helped Performance out of his clothes and into new ones, carefully avoiding moving his mask. He wasn’t sure how comfortable Performance was with others seeing his face, and that wasn’t a taboo he was willing to break, especially not after what happened. He helped the actor into bed, tucking him in gently. On pure instinct he reached over and gently pet Performance’s hair. Before he had the chance to apologize, the man leaned into the touch, sighing as he quickly fell asleep. Stagehand pulled away after a minute, quickly changing and leaving the room with Performance’s clothes in his arms.

“Is he doing okay?” Dancer asked. She collected Performance’s clothes from Stagehand and went over to the sink, beginning the process of cleaning them. “I’ll wash these out the best I can and then let them air dry in the bathroom.”

“He’s doing okay.” Stagehand said. He sat down on the couch, running his hands through his hair. “Fuck…I’m so glad I got there when I did. I don’t even want to think about what might’ve happened to him if I hadn’t.”

“Yeah.” Dancer agreed. She looked over at her friend out of the corner of her eye. “Are you doing okay, Stage?”

“...When I first told him he could have my bed he freaked out.” Stagehand ran his hands down across his mask. “He thought that I was going to… He was so scared, Dancer. It kind of makes me feel like I’m going to be sick.”

“Hey.” She said, pausing her work and walking over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You got there in time. That’s what matters. Let’s just…let’s just get cleaned up, go to bed, and we can deal with the rest in the morning, okay?”

“Okay.”

Next Part

#sky children of the light #frantic stagehand #performance guide #sky cotl fanfic #small creatures #rhythm guide #mellow musician #tw: vomit #tw: drugs #tw: attempted date rape #sky cotl #tw: alcohol

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cyndellw · 6 days ago

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Small Creatures: Chapter 3

Previous part Read on AO3

Two weeks in, and Stagehand was still feeling like he had no idea how to do his job. Of course, he’d known it would take him longer than a week to learn how to do his job, but he’d been working at the dock for just long enough that he was no longer used to feeling uncomfortable. It didn’t help that most of his training was being done by the man he was replacing, one Bumbling Boatswain. The man definitely seemed to know what he was doing, but it had led to more awkward circumstances than he was willing to admit over an uncomfortably short period.

“So…how exactly did this happen?”

Such as this one.

The two of them stared at Troupe Greeter, and then down at the broken flower pot on the ground, and then back up at Troupe Greeter. Honestly, Stagehand wasn’t entirely sure why they had a real flower pot as a prop. That seemed like it was something that was way too breakable to be kept as an on hand prop, but what did know apparently.

“I…slipped?” Boatswain shrugged.

“On what? The floor is dry?” Greeter sighed, pinching the bridge of their nose. “I…whatever. Just go get a broom and let’s get this cleaned up.”

“I sure hope your sea legs work better than your land legs do.” Stagehand joked, grabbing the broom and dustpan.

“Oh, they do!” Boatswain insisted. “Believe me kid, I was born on the sea and if everything goes as planned, I’ll die there too. This will be my first time working with my brother, though, so maybe he’ll actually be the thing that kills me.”

“Do you and your brother not get along?”

“Oh no we get along great, but all siblings fight. You’ve got siblings, right kid?”

“I’m the oldest of nine.”

“Ouch.” Troupe Greeter finally added. “Sometimes I really wish I had little siblings, but I think eight of them would be way too many.” They looked over at Boatswain. “Also, I don’t think that’s true. I’ve never heard Rhythm and Performance fight.”

“Okay whatever those two have going on is not a normal sibling relationship.” Boatswain said, leaning against a piece of rigging, causing Greeter to cross their arms. “What? It is perfectly secure.”

“Wait, what do you mean by that?” Stagehand asked, furrowing his brow. “They seem pretty normal to me.”

“You’ve also only known them for two weeks.” Boatswain remarked. “Here, we’re almost off. I’ll buy you a drink as a parting gift, mentor to mentee. Then I’ll tell you everything you need to know about everyone else here.” Stagehand nodded, not bothering to correct the older man on the nature of their relationship.

“What, I don’t get a drink?” Greeter asked.

“You don’t even drink.”

“I drink soda.”

“...Fine. I’ll buy you a soda.”

It took another hour, but between the three of them they were able to get their work done. From what Modest Dancer had explained, this theater seemed to be a small company, and having all stagehands working together outside dress rehearsals and shows was uncommon. However, the director had wanted Stagehand to get some form of training from Boatswain as well as build some form of relationship with his fellow stage crew, which Stagehand did appreciate. He actually liked Troupe Greeter quite a bit, and while Bumbling Boatswain had taught him more about what not to do, he’d still gained quite a bit of information from the man.

“You ever had mead before, kid?”

Such as this, apparently.

“Can’t say I have.” Stagehand said, looking at the dark liquid in his glass. He was sitting between them, Boatswain sipping his mead on one side while Troupe Greeter sipped their soda up through a straw. “Is it different from regular alcohol?”

“Okay, first off, there’s no regular alcohol, just different types. And yes, it’s different. It’s made with fermented honey. That one in particular is fermented honey and blackberries I think.” Boatswain took a swig of his. “The best alcohol in the realms, and they make it right here in the Valley. Anyways, let's give you a run down of the company, kid.” Stagehand nodded, taking a sip. “Alright…where to start.”

“Probably with Thoughtful Director.” Greeter said. “He’s the director, owner of the theater, and he’s been here the longest. He’s an interesting guy, honestly. I think he said his parents are both priests, and he grew up in Vault.”

“Wait, people actually live there?” Stagehand asked.

“Sort of. The priests and archivists basically live there, and some of them keep their families there. Honestly I haven’t gotten much out of him. He doesn’t really talk about himself much unless you ask. Obviously, you’ve met Performance. Rhythm is his brother, and he’s basically Director’s protegee. Then there’s Respectful Pianist, who mostly just works on the music for shows, though he dances sometimes. Admiring Actor, Troupe Juggler, and Festival Spin Dancer are all performers. That whole group is super tight knit with Rhythm.”

“And Performance?”

“I’m not really sure.” Greeter shrugged.

“Nah, Performance is friendly to them but they’re not friends.” Boatswain said. “He’s friends with that guy Mellow Musician. The one who smokes herbs in the alley out back. That and the girl who can’t remember her hand in her pocket.”

“Forgetful Storyteller.”

“That’s the one. Nice girl.” He takes another sip. “Those three are pretty good friends. Performance is hard to pick up on anything from. Rhythm too, but I see him more. I worked on the construction project he’s been working on, so we had a chance to talk a bit. Hardworking guy. Honest. I like him.”

“I didn’t realize he had a second job.” Stagehand commented. He finished off his mead, pushing his glass away and flagging down the bartender to buy himself a refill. “Do they both?”

“Nah.” Boatswain waved his hand. “That’s one thing you can use to tell the twins apart. Performance hasn’t done real work a day in his life.”

“Hey, that’s a bit uncalled for.” Greeter said, furrowing their brow. “First of all, manual labor isn’t the only real work. Secondly, you never talk to him.”

“Oh don’t get your pants in a twist, I was joking.” Boatswain muttered into his mead. Stagehand looked past him, suddenly realizing the man had gotten to his third glass when none of them were looking. “Besides, it’s not exactly like he talks to me.”

“He doesn’t really give Performance a chance to.” Greeter remarked to Stagehand. “Don’t let him give you the wrong idea. Performance is really sweet, especially when he gets excited about what he’s talking about. Actually…how much exposure do you have to the performing arts?”

“Um, not as much as I should, all things considered.” Stagehand said. “I thought about doing it in school, and then other stuff came up. Plus I had to get a job.”

“Fair. Listen, there’s a show tomorrow that a traveling troupe is putting on that Thoughtful Director is taking the twins as well as Festival Spin Dancer to. I was originally going to go as well, but why don’t you go instead?

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.” Greeter nodded. “I think they’d enjoy having you along, and it’s a very popular show so it’s a good one for you to know. Spiral Dance of the Mortal Loom.” They stood up. “Anyways, he’s drunk, so I’m going to get him home.” They reached over, grabbing Boatswain and throwing him over their shoulder. He squawked, but didn’t struggle. “Get home safe, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah, you too.” Stagehand nodded, and then looked into his glass of mead as they walked out, lost in thoughts of the following day.

From what Stagehand had been told, it was uncommon for well known traveling troupes to make their way through small places like Village of Dreams. Why would they waste their time and budget when they could perform in Sanctuary Island, Cloud City, or even Eden? However, this was a relatively well known troupe, and by the sound of it they’d stopped here simply out of love for the village.

“You’ve really never seen Spiral Dance of the Mortal Loom?” Performance asked. The two of them were walking together, lagging slightly behind the other three. Director seemed lost in thought, as he always was, occasionally responding to either Rhythm or Festival Spin Dancer asking him a question, though the pair seemed to be wrapped up in a conversation between themselves. Honestly, Stagehand was rather grateful Performance had been willing to stop listening to them and step back to talk to him. “It’s a classic! It was actually the first show I had a lead role in. Pretty much every company puts it on at least once.”

“What’s it about?”

“I don’t want to go too far into it cause I want you to see it for yourself.” Performance insisted. “But I will say it’s a very old play. I think it technically predates Eden, though it’s been updated several times and the version is often dependent on the company performing it, so it’s never 100% the same. There’s also two main characters, cause it’s about a pair of twin light weavers. Rhythm and I played both the leads when we did it. He played Falynx and I played Archinae.”

The group entered the seating area, and Rhythm, Spin Dancer, and Director all sat in the front. Stagehand went to sit behind them, and Rhythm looked around.

“There’s only three seats on this bench.” Rhythm said, looking over at Performance. “Here, how about Stagehand takes my spot and then I’ll sit with you back there.”

“I’m sure he can sit without you just fine Rhy.” Spin Dancer chuckled. Rhythm quickly shot him a look and moved to stand.

“No he’s right! I’m fine.” Performance insisted, quickly taking a seat next to Stagehand. Rhythm cocked his head, but didn’t move further. “Besides, Stagehand hasn’t seen this show before and I can be in whispering distance to answer his questions!” Rhythm stared at his brother for another moment and then shared a glance with Fan Dancer, who shrugged, and they both turned back to the stage. After a few minutes, the lights dimmed, and the audience fell silent.

Spiral Dance of the Loom Weaver was a production Stagehand had heard of, but never managed to get much information on. It wasn’t an uncommon performance, but every time he’d asked about it he’d mostly been answered with “it’s complicated”. Seeing it now, he kind of understood why. The main characters, Falynx and Archinae, were a pair of twin light weavers and friends of a young King Resh back when he was still Alef. They created amazing tapestries and murals that detailed the stories of Alef and his accomplishments. The megabird, angry that they were using light to detail its losses, came down disguised as a elderly woman to chastise the pair for not using their gift more wisely. While Archinae had attempted to diffuse, Falynx had fought back against the woman, going so fair as to argue that their ability was better than the megabird, who’d never had to earn it. The megabird in disguise then challenged him to a weaving competition, stating that the winner would get glory and the loser would be silenced, terms to which he agreed. However, that night Archinae had a dream in which the megabird came out of the old woman’s look to kill his brother, leading him to dose his brother with a sleeping potion and weave in his place. In the end, Falynx woke up just in time to find Archinae having weaved a loom presenting the King Resh standing over the megabird, taking command of the light cycle. The megabird, in its anger, struck down Archinae, but recognized he was not the one who made the challenge after Falynx begged for his twin’s life, and therefore resurrected him as a light spider.

As the play ended and the performers came out to bow, Stagehand couldn’t help but notice his own group didn’t applaud with the same enthusiasm as the rest of the audience. Sure, they clapped, but it seemed to be more out of respectfulness to the cast more than actual enjoyment. He turned to Performance to ask a question when Thoughtful Director turned to face them.

“I’m going to buy us lunch.” He said. “Then we can discuss the show.” Stagehand nodded, and the group left the seating area to go to a nearby food cart selling sausage rolls. After their food was purchased, Director led them to an apartment above their theater that Stagehand quickly realized was Director’s home. It was small, but cozy. There was a fireplace and a couch with a few chairs on either side. Three tall bookshelves took up most of the living room wall, filled to the brim with books of various sizes. There were more stacked on the coffee table, a cookbook on the counter in the small kitchen, and Stagehand could only assume there were more in the bedroom down the hall. Director sat on the couch, Spin Dancer and Rhythm sitting on either side of him. Performance sat in one of the chairs while Stagehand took the other, and the director cleared his throat. “So what differences did we notice from our production?”

“Well our show had no mention of Resh in it.” Rhythm said, crossing one leg over the other. “Falynx and Archinae were light weavers that worked in the court of the Valley Elders.”

“Very good. What else?”

“The villain was different.” Performance added. “When we performed we chose to make the Forest Elder our villain.” He turned his head to Stagehand. “There’s this supposed rivalry between her and the Valley Elders, so it was tongue in cheek reference to that.” He turned his head back to the rest of the group. “Making the villain the megabird was certainly a…decision.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Um…well…” Performance looked a bit taken aback, almost as though he hadn’t expected to be asked for his decision. “It just seems like an odd choice. I mean, I know it’s a play that changes depending on the company, but making the villain such a controversial figure is a really bold choice, especially considering they’re making it such a divine issue.”

“That and bringing in Resh.” Spin Dancer added, crossing his arms. “Like Rhythm said, in our version they were members of the Valley court, and that’s why they made all the weaves they did.”

“Yeah.” Rhythm nodded. “And in that version, Falynx was angry because the Elder accused his work of being ‘generic’ and ‘uninspired’. He was an artist who was defending his mastery. In this one they just had the megabird get angry because they were spending all this time making tapestries about their friend’s accomplishment and the megabird saw it as a waste of time that they should be spending on worship.”

“Which, if I remember correctly, isn’t even part of the teachings surrounding the light cycle?” Performance added, looking at Director for confirmation. The older man nodded.

“Stagehand.” Director said, looking at him. Stagehand sat up at the sudden statement of his name, straightening his back to attention like he was in grade schooler being called upon by a teacher. “Why do you think they did that?”

“Why do I think they added in the whole thing with the megabird? And Resh?”

“Exactly. Why do you think they added in that dichotomy? What message are they trying to get across?”

“Well…” Stagehand relaxed a little in his seat, cocking his head. “Recently, there’s been a bunch of protests out in the Golden Sands, right? Right outside the temple. I know there’s been a whole bunch of controversy around the pipes that were installed to funnel waste water out of Eden and Vault, as well as the rumors about experiments being done on light creatures in Treasure Reef. I’m probably thinking too far into it, but maybe the play is meant to get people to see the megabird in a negative light?” He looked between them, suddenly very unsure of himself. They all spoke with some level of prior knowledge to this subject, he felt like a complete outsider.

“I don’t think you’re thinking too far into it at all.” Director said with a nod. “That was very well put. What about the attachment to Resh, anyone?”

“They want people to see him in a good light.” Rhythm said. “Not that anyone should.” Stagehand looked at him, and then looked at Performance, who nodded in a motion so slight he thought for a moment he may have imagined it.

“If the protests are about supporting the light creatures and going against Resh’s industrial developments, then if they’re going to vilify the megabird they’d want to idolize Resh.” Spin Dancer offered. “That way the audience’s brain can be presented with a black and white world view and find it acceptable. It adheres to the most primal parts of our brains that want things to be very basic.” Stagehand blanched. These people were really smart.

“Exactly, your commentary lines up well with Stagehand’s.” Director said with a nod. “What would any of you have done differently?” The room was quiet for a moment.

“I would have made Resh the villain.” Rhythm said.

“Yeah, and then you would’ve gotten us put in holding for ‘suspicious behavior’.” Spin Dancer laughed, the only sound in the room as the silence suddenly took a turn for the awkward. Thoughtful Director gave him a look, and he cleared his throat. “Er, sorry. Bad joke.”

“What would you have done with Resh as the villain?” Director asked.

“I would’ve made the twins working class artists who were doing it in their free time, and Falynx’s art would’ve been a piece of political commentary.” Rhythm explained. “Resh would have challenged him instead after he defended himself from his art being called heretical, and then turned Archinae into a spider because he couldn’t kill him due to him not being the challenger, but he would still want to punish the twins. Therefore, he separates the twins by turning one into a spider.”

“What about you, Performance?” Director asked, turning to the other twin. Performance hummed thoughtfully and straightened his posture.

“Um… I think I have an interesting take on it.” He mused. “I like Rhythm’s idea, but I kind of want to go back to not having Resh involved at all. Also, I was intrigued by this company’s idea of utilizing the megabird, but I think I’d use Aurora instead. I’d write the twins as artists working under a businessman. No one in particular, just a businessman. Aurora comes down, disguised as an old woman, and makes the comment about how their potential seemed to be being wasted on what they were creating for their boss. Falynx gets upset, arguing that they have no other choice, and given free reign he could make something greater than anyone has ever seen. So she challenges them to that, on the condition that the piece cannot be made for profit. Their boss ends up finding out and gets angry at Falynx and threatens to destroy his career, which is why Archinae sleep potions him and takes his place, with the plan of revealing his identity afterwards. Aurora ends up turning both the twins into spiders, that way they can keep working on their art together without the need to pander to someone else to survive at the cost of their potential.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Though, I think I’d take out the part about the drugging, and make him sneak out while his brother is asleep. It feels a little unnecessary, at least to me, but I guess it’s just that I can’t imagine ever doing it.” Director nodded, and then looked over at Spin Dancer expectantly.

“I think I would have kept it pretty similar to how we did it.” Spin Dancer said. “I like a lot of our details, and keeping it focused on the interactions between the elders and having the main characters essentially be victims of unfair power dynamics is more interesting than some sort of ‘mortal vs divine’ commentary. If I were to change anything though, I actually think I would have made it centered on the valley elders, and have the twins be working in the court and elders be arguing over which one of them is getting more focus in their art pieces. Then one of them makes the comment of ‘well all the art with you in it looks like shit anyways’, and then Falynx gets upset and speaks against them. This causes them to decide to make a challenge of style between the twins, which I think would be an interesting turn from Archinae drugging his brother, and then have it judged by the other elders to decide which one of the twins made the better art of their respective elder. If we want to keep in the self-sacrificing character of Archinae, he wins and the other elder is about to turn Falynx into a spider when Archinae begs for them to do it instead. He can say something about how ‘now he can weave art in their glory through the rest of the world wherever he goes’ or something to manipulate them. Either that or he loses, and his elder turns him into a spider out of resentment.”

“Those are all very interesting takes.” Director said with a nod. “With that being said, you’re all released. Except you, Stagehand, if you could just hang back a moment.” Oh god, had he contributed enough? Had Stagehand been expected to say more? He wasn’t anywhere near as knowledgeable as the other three and even if he was he doubted he could be as articulate. The three performers stood, saying their goodbyes, and left, leaving Director to look over at Stagehand. “So, what did you think? I heard you telling Performance that you’d never seen Spiral Dance of the Mortal Loom, but I also know you’re from Eden. I find that rather surprising.”

“Um, well, I mean I liked it but I guess a lot of their stuff was really on the nose.” Stagehand said, anxiety bubbling in his stomach. “Especially after hearing everything they all said. I’m sorry, sir, did I do something wrong…?”

“Oh goodness no.” Director waved his hands. “I’m simply surprised, is all, and you don’t seem comfortable talking in front of groups.” Stagehand felt his shoulders relax at that. “Is your interest in theater recent?”

“Well, no.” Stagehand admitted. “I’ve always been curious about it. But…I didn’t have a whole lot of free time growing up, if that makes sense. I only had time for one big thing outside of work and school, and my mom signed me up for wrestling without really asking me. I actually asked her about it and she said ‘no son of mine is going to be doing that artsy highbrow nonsense’. Of course she doesn’t know that I signed myself up for art classes in school but that’s neither here nor there.”

“Ah, so we’re your first major exposure then.” Director said, a glimmer in his eye. Stagehand nodded, and the older man cocked his head. “So then, are you interested in participating in other facets?”

“Oh megabird no.” Stagehand shook his head. “I could never get up on stage in front of all those people. Besides, I like working with my hands more than anything else.”

“Fair enough.” The director said, leaning back in his seat. “So then, from an outsider perspective, what did you think of the production today?”

“I thought they were full of shit.” Stagehand blurted out, and then covered his mouth. There was a moment of silence between them, and then the director burst out laughing. “I’m so sorry!”

“No it’s okay! I appreciate the candor. Besides, you’re not wrong. While the performers themselves were phenomenal, the message of the show was very on the nose and they were clearly pandering to the administration.”

“Oh thank goodness. I thought maybe I was getting the wrong idea.”

“Seldom are there wrong ideas in art. That’s part of why we have these conversations. I’d love for you to continue to come to them, and I think Performance enjoyed your company. So please, come with us to the next one. I’m actually quite honored that we get to be the introduction to your theatrical journey, and I look forward to seeing how your perspectives develop.”

“Thank you. I think I will.”

Next Part

#sky children of the light #sky cotl #frantic stagehand #performance guide #festival spin dancer #thoughtful director #rhythm guide #sky cotl fanfic #small creatures

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cyndellw · 6 days ago

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Small Creatures: Chapter 2

Previous part Read on AO3

“Good morning!“

A couple months had gone by since Dreams had been arrested, and the twins had settled into at least a semi-comfortable routine. Rhythm had managed to find odd jobs here and there, usually short contract positions doing cleaning or construction, and Performance in turn had settled into taking care of everything that kept them running on the day to day. This included tasks such as making their meals, like the breakfast that he was currently finishing. He quickly shifted off all the burners, pushing the pot of coffee away from its burner before it boiled over and slid the egg from his pan onto a half piece of toast he’d just pulled from their small oven. He turned to the paper on the counter, adding “eggs” to the list of things he needed to get from the grocer on his way home. He’d forgotten to get them the last time he went there, leaving him with the other half off the toast for breakfast. He poured some coffee into a cup and then added milk, sliding it in front of Rhythm before pouring the rest in a mug for himself with just enough sugar to taste it.

“Morning.” The other twin grumbled, still not fully awake. He broke the egg yolk with a spoon, picked up the toast, and took a bite before looking at his brother, who had already begun cleaning up. “Where’s yours?”

“Oh, I already ate!” Performance said. He’d be lying if he said the egg didn’t smell good, but his brother needed the extra protein more than he did. “Besides, I don’t get that hungry in the morning. I’m pretty happy with just coffee.” He set the pan onto the dry rack and began scooping the leftover coffee grounds into a bag. If he remembered to give it to their neighbor she’d give him something from her garden. “Are you working again tonight?”

“Yeah. I picked up a pretty long gig, actually. They’re adding some gondolas leading up to hermit valley.” Performance hummed in response. “Megabird knows why. There’s nothing up there. Hopefully there will be enough left over to go towards Dreams’s lawyer fund.”

“Yeah! With any luck.” The twins had not actually managed to make as much progress towards that as they’d wanted. They hadn’t realized how expensive the property tax on Dreams’s house was, but neither of them were willing to give it up. They also hadn’t realized how many repairs it needed, leading most of their extra money to go towards those repairs so they would be a house in better working condition when they were finally able to get her home.

They continued to leave her daughter’s room untouched, neither of them having been able to work up the courage to go in since Skater had died.

“Do you know what time you might be home?” Performance asked.

“Not until late. Did you get a chance to finish the laundry yesterday?”

“Yep! Yours is folded on the table in the entryway. I can put it away when I get home. I’m also going to the grocer after work to pick up a few things.”

“I’m a big boy, Perf, I can put away my own laundry.” The twins shared a look, and then giggled.

“I know you can. You just work a lot so I want to help.”

“You’re basically the only reason I remember to eat half the time. Believe me, you do plenty.”

As Rhythm put away his laundry, Performance finished cleaning up and packed a lunch for them both. As much as he’d sometimes rather grab food from a food cart, this was much more affordable and reduced the amount of food they might waste. He was actually pretty pleased with himself. He’d taken to these responsibilities rather quickly, though if he thought about it they mostly seemed like adult versions of a lot of what he did as a child. Laundry, cooking, cleaning, etcetera. He looked at his list again, pondering if there was anything missing.

“Are you ready to go?” Performance jumped a little and turned to face his brother, who’d absolutely not been standing behind him a moment ago. He nodded, grabbing his bag off the hook and pushing their lunches into it.

“I threw some extra food in your lunch so you have some for dinner since you won’t be home until late.” He said, double checking his bag. He had his rehearsal clothes, both their lunches, both their water bottles, he couldn’t think of anything else they needed. Rhythm chuckled, reaching over and ruffling Performance’s hair, earning an indignant squawk in turn.

“Thank you Performance.” He said. “Now give me the bag.”

“Huh? I’ve got it, it’s fine.”

“You cooked breakfast and did both our laundry, give me the bag.”

“But-” Performance was cut off by his brother reaching over and pulling the bag out of his hands, swinging it over his shoulder. Before he could even fully process what happened Rhythm had slid on his boots and was out the door. He crossed his arms and huffed, and then went to join his brother.

The walk to the theater was relatively quiet. Performance could tell by the way his brother’s fingers moved that he was working on a music sheet in his head. The Thoughtful Director had continued working directly with both the brothers, beginning to give them their own dance routines to create and scenes to direct, though Performance had noticed his brother’s proclivity towards all things music. They both loved music and had learned just about every instrument they could get their hands on, but when Rhythm played it was as though his songs were an extension of himself, something he hoped he could achieve with any of his own works.

“Welcome, boys.” The director greeted them as they stepped inside. They looked to be the first ones there, per usual. Rhythm set down their bag and walked over to the director, pulling out a paper from his pocket and showing it to him, speaking quietly. Probably asking for notes, if Performance had to guess. He’d heard his brother working until the early morning the night before. He unzipped their bag, moving their lunches into the cooler Director provided for them and changing his shoes into something that would be easier to move around the theater in. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little bit jealous of the relationship Rhythm and the director had, though he couldn’t really pin down what he was jealous of. Rhythm was getting the attention he deserved for the hard work he’d been putting in since they started, and it wasn’t like Performance wasn’t. He went to the back, flicking on a few of the lights the Director appeared to have forgotten, earning a call of “thank you, Performance”.

“Oh, Performance!” The director called him over. He cocked his head, walking over. “Would you be willing to do me a favor?”

“Of course!”

“Thank you. I have some flyers that need to go up around the village today, but I have a meeting up at the Citadel after I finish at the theater today. Bumbling Boatswain is joining his brother on an expedition in Golden Sands so we need to hire a new stagehand.”

“Yeah, I can do that.” He nodded. Internally, he was cringing. He still needed to work that into his trip to the grocer, and he needed to get their food in the cooler, meaning that he needed to go home, unpack everything, and then go back out and put up the flyers. That would take a while too, cause he needed to make sure there was adequate coverage. He wouldn’t get home until much later and he still needed to drop off the coffee grounds with the neighbor so he could get some vegetables from her and if he didn’t clean their stove tonight then he would forget about it-

“Don’t worry about getting them all up tonight.” Director said, giving him a look. He smiled. Was he that obvious? “I appreciate you getting this done. One more thing. Our new dancer arrived last night, and she’s going to come look at the theater today. Troupe Greeter is sick today, and she seems like the anxious type. Would you be willing to show her around?”

“Definitely!” If a little bit of pride at the director’s trust in him built up in his chest, well, that was really no one’s else’s business, right?

——-

“Stage, what if they don’t like me?” Modest Dancer asked as she wrung her hands nervously. “What if they expect me to have something ready to perform right away? With the move and everything I haven’t had a chance to work on anything.”

“I really doubt that they’re going to do that.” Stagehand said, looking over the note she’d received from her director once more. “See, it says right here, you’re going to be receiving a tour from one of the senior performers, that way you have a chance to see the theater before you officially get started on Monday.”

“What if I fall off the stage and everyone laughs at me?”

“I don’t…I really don’t think that’ll be their reaction.”

“Stagehand, please come with me.” She begged, looking at him. He looked away. With how long they’d been friends she knew he couldn’t resist that look. “Please. Please? Please.”

“Modest, I really need to start job hunting.” He said.

“The tour will be really short and I’ll go with you to different places to job hunt.”

“…Fine.”

That was how he ended up standing here, in front of the theater door, next to his friend as she fidgeted with her sleeve. They both stared at the door, waiting for the other to make a move. He looked at her, and sighed, before reaching up and pulling the rope for the doorbell. It took a minute, but eventually they heard some shuffling behind the door. It swung open to reveal a short man in a white mask.

“Hello.” He greeted. “You must be Modest Dancer. Is this a friend?”

“Oh, yeah!” She said. “I um…he wasn’t doing anything else today so I asked him to come with me!” Stagehand side eyed her, but said nothing.

“Well, welcome to you as well.” The man gave Stagehand a nod. “You may both call me Thoughtful Director, though Director is fine. Come in. I'll introduce you to some of the other people here. One of them will show you around.” He stepped aside to let them in, and then led them over to a group of people sitting. There was a man with long, wild hair, a shorter man with his hair styled up in the air, and a pair of twins in ponytails. “This is some of the crew.” He pointed to them as he introduced them. “Mellow Musician, Troupe Juggler, Rhythm Guide, and Performance Guide.”

“H-Hi.” Modest Dancer squeaked out.

“This is Modest Dancer.” Director introduced. “And her friend um…”

“Frantic Stagehand.” Stagehand answered the unspoken question.

“Stagehand…interesting.” Thoughtful Director looked at him, and Stagehand felt himself start to squirm under the other’s gaze. “Anyways, Performance, please show them around the theater.” One of the twins nodded, standing up. Upon closer inspection Stagehand could see they weren’t entirely identical. The standing one, presumably Performance, had longer hair, and it looked a bit softer. Or fluffier. Or both. The other one seemed to have a harsher gaze behind his mask, though Stagehand would be the first to admit he often thought too hard about these things. He felt his face heat up a little bit. Performance was also, upon the same closer inspection, strikingly beautiful. Not that the other one wasn’t, there was simply a difference that Stagehand could not entirely place.

“Of course!” Performance said, walking over to the two of them. “It’s nice to meet you! We’re super excited to have you. Follow me.” He turned around and led them backstage, commencing his tour

Stagehand was honestly impressed. Performance walked them through the theater like he’d been born there. He stepped over and around things without looking or even pausing in his statement, hands flitting around as he animatedly answered their questions.

“So, what made you choose our theater?” Performance asked, finishing their tour in a little break area. He sat on a table, crossing his legs and popping open a water bottle. “You’re from Eden, right?”

“Yep!” Dancer nodded. She’d seemed to calm down quite a bit through the tour. Performance had assured her she wasn’t expected to put on a show for them that day, and they were more than happy to have her there. “If I’m being honest…I was mostly focusing on theaters outside of Eden. And the Valley has a lot of good opportunities.”

“That’s true.” Performance nodded. “However, a lot of those opportunities are closer to the temple. Like Cloud City.”

“Yeah, I guess. Honestly…I’m not really sure if I’m at that level? Not that you guys aren’t! It took me long enough to get up the courage to apply here. It’s just…I don’t know…”

“I get it. We’re a smaller, local theater. It’s less intimidating than the major companies in big cities, and it’s a good opportunity to get some more things on your resume.” He stretched, running a hand through his hair. “Anyways, that’s pretty much it for the theater tour, so you’re pretty much free for the day.”

“Thank you so much.” Modest Dancer gave Performance a quick bow and then looked at Stagehand, clapping her hands together. “See, I told you it wouldn’t take too long!” No she didn’t. “Now I can help you with your job hunting.”

“Wait, you’re job hunting?” Performance asked, perking up as he looked at Stagehand, who nodded, a little taken aback by the enthusiasm. The performer hopped off the table and took his hands excitedly, and Stagehand couldn’t be more grateful for his mask as he felt the heat rush up to his face. “That’s fantastic! We actually just lost a stagehand! And your name is Frantic Stagehand! It’s like fate!”

“Oh, that’s perfect!” Dancer cheered.

“Wait, hold on.” Stagehand looked between them. “I-I don’t have any experience.”

“You did carpentry in school.” Dancer reminded him. “And art, and you know how to sew.” She turned to Performance. “He also was working as a dock worker.”

“Awesome! That’s where we get a lot of stage crew from.” The two of them looked at him, and Stagehand was met with two pleading faces. It was hard enough to say no to one. What was even happening. “So will you do it? You need a job anyway! It’ll be perfect!”

“F-Fine.” He sputtered. They both cheered, high fiving as though they’d somehow planned this.

“I’ll go let Thoughtful Director know now! Just come back on monday with Modest Dancer!” Performance said. “You guys remember the way out, right?” They nodded. “Okay awesome. I’ll see you both monday!” And with that, he was gone, Stagehand staring at where he’d left as Dancer dug through her bag for some chapstick.

“What just happened?” He asked, looking at her. She just giggled in turn.

“You got a job! Now let’s go find somewhere to get a late lunch.”

Next part

#sky children of the light #sky cotl #frantic stagehand #performance guide #modest dancer #thoughtful director #sky fanfiction #small creatures

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cyndellw · 6 days ago

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Small Creatures: Chapter 1

Read on AO3

“Performance, how many times have I told you that you don’t have to do this?” Dreams Guide asked with a smile, sitting down at the table and watching as the young man moved through the kitchen, dicing some chives to throw into the eggs that sizzled away in the pan. He had been humming to himself absentmindedly, jumping slightly when she made herself known. She could tell one part of it was out of surprise, while another came from something deep down he seemed to have yet to grow out of. “You can sleep in.”

“I mean, if I’m already up I might as well.” He responded, dividing the eggs out three ways and scooping them onto plates. “I also made some coffee. It’s on the stove. Would you like a cup?”

“Thank you, Perf.” She said, standing before he could move to get her a cup. She poured herself some coffee and mixed in a spoonful of sugar, just enough to taste it. “Now go sit down. I’m sure your brother will be out in a moment.” As if on command, Rhythm Guide walked out from his room, trudging to the counter and grabbing a plate off the counter before sitting down at the table and laying his head down. The other two chuckled, and Performance Guide poured his brother a cup of coffee, adding in some cream and placing the cup in front of him before grabbing his own plate and cup. “So what’s the plan for today?”

“We’re both going to be at the theater today.” Performance explained, taking a spoonful of eggs. “I needed to add more onion to this. Sorry. Anyways, I’m supposed to be working a new dance with Mellow as part of the medley show.”

“It tastes great, you’re fine. Anyways, I thought you were doing a monologue for that?”

“I’m doing both! It’s really exciting. And I know Rhythm is working on hashing out his music sheets with the director. Right?”

“Mmhmm,” Rhythm confirmed, pushing his head up off the table. He stared at his spoonful of eggs, the sleep still evident in his eyes, and carefully maneuvered it into his mouth. “Also shut up, these taste great. But yeah. Music sheets. He’s been really interested in my stuff, so that’s cool, I guess.”

“It’s really cool!” Performance nodded. “He recently started to talk to me about directing some of my own small productions between shows. I showed him one of the scenes I wrote a draft for and he gave me some really good advice on it.”

“Sounds like you both have a full day then.” Dreams smiled. “Today is my day off, so I’m going to check in on the kitchen for a few hours. I know Dancing Performer said he’d run it today but I’d still rather go check on it. It would feel odd not to.”

“Are you sure? You haven’t had a full day off in forever.” Performance asked. Dreams nodded, and he turned to check their list. “Okay…do you want me to grab anything from the market on our way home after rehearsal today?”

“Nope. If we need something I can get it. I’ll only be there for a few hours.” Dreams insisted. The three of them finished their breakfast, making idle chatter as Rhythm slowly woke up more. When they were done, Rhythm stood up and cleared the plates, gently pushing his brother’s shoulder down when he tried to stand up and help, and began cleaning up the kitchen. “Now, after I finish my coffee, I’ll head over there.”

Bang bang bang.

All three of their heads shot up at the sound at the door. Dreams moved quicker than either of the twins could, sliding on her mask and opening the door as the two quickly put theirs on in turn, moving behind her to look past her shoulders. Two officers stood at the door, spears their sides, towering over all three. The boys stiffened, each looking at the woman in front of them who’d moved to put herself just slightly more in front of them, blocking the guards from facing them directly.

“Can I help you?” She asked in a tone Performance couldn’t quite place. She sounded stressed, obviously, but also oddly calculated. As though she was working on some kind of information the boys did not have. He saw Rhythm tense up and he moved to grab his brother’s arm (just in case) when he was met with the piercing gaze of one of the guards, causing him to freeze in place.

“You need to come with us.” One of the guards said.

“On what counts?” Rhythm hissed out. “And with what warrant?”

“This one.” The guard pulled up a piece of paper. Dreams took it, pursing her lips. “Ma’am, you need to come with us. We have reason to believe you are involved in the organization of supply coordination for rebel terrorists.” Performance felt his blood run cold. He knew Dreams had definitely known people involved in the war, and she’d always been open to the boys on her opinions against Resh, but she…

There was no way.

This could not be happening.

“What the fuck are you talking about?!” Rhythm yelled, moving further up to Dreams’s side. Performance desperately wanted to follow him. To stand by her side. Or to wake up, and do the morning over again, because this had to just be a nightmare. He reached up, digging his nails into the side of his neck and ignoring the fact that the pain had to mean this was real as Rhythm got even louder. “She’s not going with you!”

“We have a warrant for her.” The other guard said. “That doesn’t mean we won’t make other arrests if need be.”

“Go ahead and-”

“Rhythm.” The twins both looked at the woman in the door. She was looking up at Rhythm, addressing the older twin with a sternness and resolution that resonated from her voice to her eyes. That tone was many things, but most of all it was a warning, something they recognized from when they were younger, not her sons but her daughter’s best friends who needed somewhere, someone to keep them safe. She turned towards Performance. “You know where my records and emergency fund are, right, Performance?” He nodded, and she smiled. He felt his pulse speed up. The feeling of her smile. The look in her eyes. The slight movement of her shoulders. The way she said their names.

“Dreams-”

“Do me a favor, and clean the place up a little today, if you don’t mind. And don’t forget to pull something out of the ice box.”

She knew she wasn’t coming home tonight.

She knew she might not come home ever.

“Ma’am.” The first guard said, his voice softening slightly. “It’s time for us to go.”

“I understand.” She said, grabbing her coat from next to the door and sliding on her shoes. She turned around, facing the twins as Performance pulled his brother further into the house. She met his eyes and gave another reassuring smile as the guard wrapped rope around her wrists, her head held high. Performance tightened his grip on his brother’s hand, keeping his hold as Dreams turned around, finally following the guards out the door. The twins stood in silence, the air only broken by the sound of a click as the weight of the door slowly swung shut.

“...She didn’t finish her coffee.” Performance said, finally breaking the silence. Rhythm moved silently to the cup, staring at it. Performance doubted his brother had much of an idea what to do. They’d just witnessed the woman who’d taken them in when they’d showed up on her doorstep beaten near death, who’d cared for them in the grief of losing their best friend despite the same girl being her daughter, who’d bought them their first instruments-

Performance flinched when Rhythm slammed his fist on the table. He took a few deep breaths, and then approached his brother, placing a hand on his back.

“Rhythm, I…” He started, and then stopped. There was nothing to make this better. There was nothing he could say, nothing he could do, nothing. “It’ll…we’ll be okay.”

“...Right.” Rhythm nodded, and turned towards his brother. “We’ll…we will figure it out. And we’ll help her out too.” He pushed his hand through his hair. “I just…I’m going to look for more work after rehearsal today. Maybe the director can give me a hand. With the extra money maybe we can get a lawyer or something.”

“Right.” Performance nodded, grabbing the cup off the table. He looked down at it. Maybe…maybe he should hold onto it. In case maybe she wanted it if he was wrong and she did come home. She always told them not to waste things, that everything could be saved or that it could be useful. He walked towards the window, opening it and, after a moment, finally dumping the coffee onto the snow. “I’ll pull something out of the ice chest. Like she asked. And I can look for some extra work too-”

“Don’t worry about it.” Rhythm cut him off. “But…if you don’t mind dealing with dinner. You’re better at cooking than I am. And you paid more attention to Dreams’s cooking lessons than I did. I can take care of us. It’ll be fine.” Performance pursed his lips. He felt the argument bubbling in his chest. His fingers clenched around the cup in his hand. He looked in Rhythm’s eyes and was met with stone cold resolution.

“...Okay.” The argument sunk out of the chest, and he deflated, perking back up before he could give his brother the opportunity to notice. “I’ll do this last bit of cleaning up then. It shouldn’t take me too long. And I’ll make something special for dinner too. That way you’ll have something nice when you come home!”

“Thanks Perf.” Rhythm nodded, giving his brother a grateful smile. “We’ll be okay.” Performance nodded, and quickly got to work cleaning the coffee cup.

Outside, the coffee sunk beneath the ice, having finally reached the point it could no longer melt.

Frantic Stagehand wiped the sweat from his forehead, sitting down on a box. His shift at the docks had just ended, and he could feel his bones. At least it was decent enough money, though the hours were long and the work exhausting, both physically and mentally. He pulled a small bag of almonds out of his pocket, popping one into his mouth and cracking it in half with his teeth before chewing.

“Stage!” He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard his name. He turned towards the voice, and sighed in relief when he saw Modest Dancer trotting over to him. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine.” He said, waving it off as she hopped onto the box next to him, pulling her feet up to sit cross-legged. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at rehearsal?”

“My teacher let me out early tonight.” She said, stretching her arm. “I saw what time it was and I assumed you’d be getting out around this time. It’s one of your earlier shifts, right?” He nodded. “Do you want to get dinner? My treat! I have exciting news.”

“Oh?” He asked, cocking his head.

“Yep yep!” She clasped her hands together and slid off the box, putting out her hand. He took it, sliding off the box before dusting himself off. “Let’s go get some valley food from that cart at the pier. Not the touristy one. The other one.” He nodded, and followed her there. They each got a bread bowl and sat on a nearby bench.

“So what’s the news?” He asked, stuffing a spoonful of chicken chowder into his mouth.

“Well…you know how I’ve been auditioning for different theaters?” She asked. He nodded. “Well, there’s one in the Village of Dreams I sent a recorded audition to. It’s this tiny village in the Valley of Triumph, just down the mountain from Cloud City.”

“Is that why you invited me to get valley food?” He asked. She giggled and nodded.

“Anyways, they said yes. It’s not the highest paying job, but…”

“But it’s away from here.” He finished. She nodded, looking down at her chowder. “I’m proud of you! You deserve it. I’ll have to start saving up so I can go see you when you’re a big star.”

“That’s another thing.” She added. “The valley is…I mean it’s cheaper than here, but it’s still pretty expensive. I found a place I could afford myself but the rent price on a two bedroom isn’t too bad. Do you…want to come with me?”

Stagehand stared at her. Moving to the Valley of Triumph? He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about leaving, getting as far as he could from Eden and starting somewhere fresh where he didn’t work with his father and come home and have to hear about his mother’s problems while making sure all eight of his siblings had eaten and done their homework and hadn’t killed each other. It had always felt like a pipe dream. He couldn’t really leave. Not when they needed him.

“You don’t need to answer me now.” She assured him. “Just think about it, okay?” She set her food down, beginning to pick at her sleeve. “I know it’s a really big move and it would be so far away and we wouldn’t know anyone and we’d have to learn all new places and-”

“Hey.” He cut her off, placing a hand on her hand to stop her. “I get it, it’s definitely scary, but it’s also really exciting. You’re going to do great out there.” He pulled back, pulling a piece of bread off the top of his bowl and dipping it in the chowder. “And I’ll think about it. There’s just…a lot to consider, you know?”

“Totally, I get it!” She nodded. “I’m not going to be moving for two months, so try to let me know in the next couple weeks, okay?” He nodded. “Anyways, how was work?”

After they finished their dinner, Stagehand walked Dancer home, leaving her at her doorstep and waving goodbye to her mother, who gave him her usual, cold nod of acknowledgement. He then carried on to his own house. By no means did he live in the roughest part of Eden, but his family was definitely less wealthy than his friend’s. As he walked up the steps to the door he could already hear the chaos from inside, and sighed. Bracing himself, he opened the door.

“STAGEHAND!” A delighted yell greeted his ears as he bent down, catching his youngest sister and pulling her up onto his hip. He walked inside, looking around. The place didn’t seem much cleaner than when he’d left earlier, and he spotted a note left on the counter. He knew his father was still at work, so it must be from his mother.

Stagehand,

Had to deal with an emergency at work. Didn’t have a chance to feed the kids before I left.

<3 - Mom

He sighed, pinching his nose.

“Alright!” He called, putting his sister on the ground and clapping his hands to call his siblings to the kitchen. “You guys are having sandwiches! Get out the ingredients, you’re making an assembly line.” One of them raised their hand, and he pointed at them. “What’s up?”

“Can we have chips?” They asked. He grabbed a bag from their cabinet, quickly doing math in his head. He had already had dinner, so he only needed to factor in eight.

“You can all have five chips each.” He said, immediately met with whining. “I will absolutely replace those chips with celery so help me megabird. You know I’m not bluffing.” The whining ceased immediately. “Okay. Everyone gets one peanut butter and jelly sandwich with five potato chips, and you all need to have three carrot sticks.” He could see the desire to whine in their eyes, but they stayed blessedly silent. He looked back down at the youngest. “And you, why don’t you have pants on?”

“No pants day!”

“Okay, well, no pants means no service, so go get your butt clothed.” He said, tapping her head. She giggled, running off towards one of the shared rooms, presumably to get clothed. “Raise your hands, who has done homework.” Three of them raised their hands. “All of it?” Three hands went down. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Alright, dinner, and then I’ll help you with your homework before bed.”

His siblings grumbled, but set up the sandwich assembly line he’d designed for nights like this, working efficiently to get everyone dinner and set up with him. He then spent the rest of his night cleaning the kitchen, pausing to walk over to the table to help with homework and at one point give the youngest two a bath. It was by some miracle he managed to get everyone in bed on time, and by that point he was even more tired than when he had finished work.

By the time his parents respectively got home, he was already in bed in a room he shared with three brothers. Between their breaths and the sounds of them shuffling in bed, he counted the popcorn bits on their ceiling, feeling the exhaustion in his bones and his brain. He thought back to the nights like this. More than he could count. All the baths, dinners, breakfasts, homeworks. He thought about them. He thought about missing them. He thought about Eden. He thought about his friend, scared and alone in a completely new place. He thought about a door, covered in bars, a loosely undefined cage. He thought about decisions, about the future, about birds.

He was moving to the Valley.

Next part

#sky children of the light #sky cotl #frantic stagehand #performance guide #small creatures #rhythm guide #dreams guide

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