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ograndebatata · 4 years

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After The Storm

So... if I had to guess, this must be some sort of very absurd record.

Explaining a bit better what I mean, I wrote this for the weekly challenge in the EoA Discord server, for the prompts ‘Future’ and ‘Dancing’.

Needless to say, it’s beyond late, and I honestly don’t know how well it meets either of those prompts.

But I liked it enough to want to finish it and post it... so here it is.

I hope you like it.

Note: Like the bulk of my Elena of Avalor fics, this one is set in my Tales of the Ever Realm AU. However, in this particular fic, I feel there isn’t anything glaringly incompatible with canon, so I think it can be read blind ‘fairly well’. Again, I tried my best to make it strong enough to stand on its own, but readers will tell me if I succeeded.

Note #2: I don’t own the lyrics to the song ‘Once Upon a Dream’ used below. They belong to their respective creators, just as the Elena of Avalor main universe and any elements you recognize from it belong to their respective creators.

With this said, please check below the cut for the actual ficlet.

///

After The Storm

In the Kingdom of Aravallia, February 19th, Year 9147 of the Ever Realm Calendar...

Trying to hold back the concerned frown that tugged at his face, Fiero strode fluidly through the beach’s wet sand, his tamborita thrust out before him as it sent an invisible magical ripple across the sand to clear a trail through the leaves and twigs and other bits of litter that had been blown across the sand by the previous night’s weather. Some might call him squeamish, but he wasn’t in the mood to keep flinching whenever he stepped on something sharp with bare feet, and the only other person around to see what he was doing wouldn’t think poorly of him if she saw him.

Which she didn’t. Because she wasn’t facing him. Like she had been about half an hour ago, Gracia was staring into the horizon as she stood by the water’s edge, her long black hair flowing in the wind, the pink wrap and yellow sundress she wore contrasting against her dark skin as they undulated around her, the dress' hem swaying around her legs and flapping against her tamborita, which she held in her left hand.

From a distance, she’d seem alright to a casual observer. But Fiero had always been perceptive. Even two years ago, when he first met Gracia, he had been able to tell she was different from all other malvagos he had met. If he had seen her like this back then, he would have been able to tell how sad she was in the way her head hung slightly, in the edge of a slump to her shoulders. Now that he and Gracia had grown so close, had learned to read each other like written pages, she wouldn’t be able to trick him even if she wanted to, just like he knew he knew was true with him regarding her.

Of course, neither would try it by now. Even before they had come to an understanding, they had barely been able to treat each other like threats. Now that they had grown so close, neither would even consider trying anything underhanded towards the other.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Gracia’s shoulders briefly rose, then dropped again, her body shuddering in what seemed like a deep sigh. Again, Fiero’s face itched to shift into a concerned frown, joined by a weight in his chest and a shiver that washed over him as the wind briefly picked up, no doubt aided by the large cloud that kept blocking the sun, even though most of the others had cleared away to reveal a pristine morning sky.

Perhaps leaving her alone while I made breakfast wasn't the best idea. He thought.

A slight pang sank into his heart at the thought. He had meant well when he did so - he’d only wanted to give her a warm meal to enjoy when she came back - but now that she had stayed outside for so long, not to mention wearing only a dress in this weather, he started to get worried. While he did want to respect the fact she might want to be alone, he also didn’t want to leave her in pain without trying to comfort her. He knew from personal experience that having no support when one was in pain was not pleasant.

To put it mildly. He thought, the old scars from all the times that had happened to him briefly flaring up.

The breeze picked up around him, stronger, chillier, sending a second shiver through him before it settled down again. No doubt, his white t-shirt and light grey trousers weren’t the best outfit to shield him from this weather, especially with the latter pulled up to mid-calf. Gracia had to be feeling it even more, standing barefoot in the surf with the occasional wave washing over her feet and ankles, but she didn’t even flinch. Either she withstood it better than him, or she was so lost in her thoughts she didn’t even notice.

Yes, she had her wrap over her dress, and could use her tamborita to cast a spell to warm herself if she needed, and even without it she was powerful and skilled enough to use her magic to do so. But still, he couldn't help but worry.

Don't be like that. He told himself. She's an adult woman who's about as powerful a malvago as you. She can take care of herself.

His concern didn't fade. He knew that was all true, and he also knew he couldn't be consumed by worry all the time, but he couldn't just not worry to any degree, especially when he knew she was hurting.

The ground under his feet suddenly became even colder, an edge of actual wetness meeting his skin as he stepped onto the sand by the water's edge. He lowered his tamborita and retracted his magic; there was no litter to clear away here. The weight in his chest grew as he got a close look at Gracia, clutching her wrap to her with her right hand, the pain and sadness she emanated ever more visible, as if he was approaching a campfire.

In a way, it was expected, for lack of a better term. Gracia was only human, and life hadn’t been kind to her recently. But it being expected didn’t make him feel better. The idea of her being in pain cut him up inside like a row of knives. Gracia had already been dealt far too much suffering; she didn’t need any more.

And yet, life kept giving her further helpings of it.

It’s not fair. Fiero thought, pain cutting through his heart as he finally got close enough to see her violet eyes, glistening with unshed tears. It’s just not fair.

The urge to rush over and wrap his arms around Gracia came over him. He pushed it back and stopped, then cleared his throat, careful to be loud enough to be heard over a distance.

She started as if she was coming out of a trance, her tamborita swaying slightly with her movement.

“Fiero?” she asked as she turned to face him, showing him that, instead of the heavier makeup she wore with her malvaga outfit, she had chosen a more subdued look to go with the sundress. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you up when I left?”

Before he could answer, she blinked, her eyes briefly widening. He guessed she had somehow noticed how much time had passed. So whether she’d noticed the chill or not, she had indeed been lost in her thoughts.

The concerned frown pulled at his face yet again. Pushing it back, he smiled, closed the gap between them.

“Don’t worry, you didn’t,” he reassured, running the backs of his fingers from her cheekbone to her chin. “And even if you had, you wouldn’t need to apologize,” he added as he reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

He said nothing else as he slid his hand away from her ear, cupping Gracia’s cheek. A hint of light returned to her eyes, her lips curling upwards as he caressed her cheekbone with his thumb. Then, she stepped closer to him, stretching up a bit. Mirroring her motion, Fiero leaned down, his lips meeting hers, their mouths lingering together before they drew apart.

Then, as he straightened himself, her nose scrunched up, her right eyebrow arching.

The shift in expression working as well as a verbal question, Fiero explained. “Breakfast is ready.”

Her eyebrow arched another fraction, her nose scrunching up again. “What is it?”

“Misto quente,” he replied, caressing her cheek again. “Your favorite.” His need to be specific protesting in the back of his mind, he added, “It’s a bit different from the one made in Paraiso, but it's the best I could do with what’s sold in Aravallia.”

Her smile widened slightly.

“I’m sure it’s delicious.”

Despite her words, she made no move to walk back to their cottage, or any kind of move, other than letting her mouth fall back into a frown.

The weight on his chest seeming to turn into a crack on his heart, Fiero moved his hand down and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. For a moment, her eyebrows knit together as if she was deciding what to do. Then magic flowed out of her right hand and into her wrap, two of its corners twistingly themselves together into a knot. Once the garment was secure around her shoulders, she switched her tamborita to her right hand and settled her left arm around his back. Wordlessly, Fiero drew her into him, her full figure settling against his lean profile as she leaned her head on his shoulder.

A wave washed over their feet. Fiero flinched in surprise, but no shiver came over him, the water somehow warmer than the air.

“If you want to talk about it, I’ll listen to every word,” he whispered into her hair.

Her left arm curled around his torso, her cheek shifting with her deepening frown, the change conveyed even through his t-shirt.

“Is there really anything I can say?” she murmured, snuggling her cheek into his shoulder.

He kissed her hair. “I understand if there isn't."

She curled her fingers more tightly over his side, a long exhale mixed with a pained whimper flowing from her. Again, Fiero kissed her hair. A softer, calmer sigh flowed from her, her form relaxing slightly against his’.

For a while, they stood in silence, the quietude broken only by the hushed murmurs of the breaking waves and the occasional caws of seabirds.

Then, Gracia found her voice.

“I suppose there really isn’t anything to say.” She took a breath, the sound telling Fiero she was either considering if there was anything to say after all or if she wanted to say it to begin with. “I just… I'm just still having trouble taking it all in. I’ve known my family was not very family-like for a long time, but that it has people who would go as far as they did…” She fell silent, her fingers loosening against him. “It's just... difficult to deal with.”

Fiero didn’t say anything. He simply kept his arm around Gracia’s shoulders.

“I admit that, in a sense, it shouldn’t be so shocking,” Gracia went on. “I’ve been a malvaga for over seventeen years. And I've met plenty of rotten people even before I was a malvaga. And I’ve seen my share of families who don’t act like families at all. And yet…”

She trailed off, briefly tensing up against him as if forcefully holding back the memories of the unpleasant discovery she had made. Fiero drew her even further into him, his other hand curling more tightly around his tamborita’s handle.

“I’m sorry you got such a short end of the stick when it comes to family,” he breathed. “And that you learned what those four are like in the way you did.”

Again, she curled her fingers over his side, her left hand running up and down his ribcage. “Don’t be. It’s better that I got to know. At least now I definitely won’t hold any illusions that things could have been different. Not with the four of them anyway.” She paused again, a shaky breath flowing out of her. “Still…”

Again, the words died in her mouth, her hand loosening again. Another wave washed over their feet, covering them up to their ankles. This time, it was followed by another stronger gust of chilly wind, the ambience around them darkening a fraction, as if the weather itself had decided to try and make them shiver. Neither of them blinked.

“You don’t need to explain,” Fiero soothed. He slid his hand from her shoulders and caressed up and down her back. “These things are always difficult to deal with. Especially when they happen to us personally.”

Again, Gracia didn’t give a verbal response, but the way she leaned against him, tired and drained while at the same time tense, spoke for her well enough.

“I can’t help but be shocked also,” he went on. “I’ve been a malvago for almost thirty years, I ran into plenty of nasty bastards even when I was a wizard, and I got to see firsthand how charming your family is, even before everything happened. Still, to learn what those four wanted to do to you...”

He cut himself off, an invisible foot suddenly kicking him. He’d gone more than far enough.

“Point is, if I feel like this, I can only imagine how you feel,” he finished.

Another deep, tired sigh flowed out of Gracia’s mouth. Then, he felt her shifting against him as her cheek left his chest and her arm pulled away from him. Looking down, his green eyes met her violet ones, the crack in his heart growing at the sheer pain within them.

“You know the worst part?”

Fiero curled his eyebrow in a silent question.

A briefer tired breath leaving her mouth, she replied, “On how I said it shouldn't be so shocking… In a way, it actually isn't shocking at all, considering what they have always been like. Looking back on it, the writing was always on the wall. I really should have known their natures from the beginning, rather than held any hopes about them.”

Another sigh crawled out of her, slow and heavy as if she was trying to exhale wet clay. Pain flared up in his chest as if both halves of his heart were being pushed apart. A lump started to settle in the back of his throat. He gulped to force it back, curled his arm more tightly around Gracia as he kissed her hair again.

“Don’t blame yourself,” he whispered. “ It’s not on you.”

Her gaze shifted towards the sand at his words, self-reproach all too plain in her eyes. The pain in his own chest throbbed harder. A wave ran over their feet once more.

"Please, look at me,” Fiero begged, his voice thick from the effort he was making to keep it calm and soothing, rather than filled with all the anger he felt towards Gracia’s so-called family.

Slowly, Gracia’s eyes turned up to his, pain roiling in their depths more intensely than ever before, just as the landscape around them seemed to grow darker once more, as if a thicker layer of cloud cover had just gotten before the sun. Carefully, Fiero brought his other hand up and, stretching his fingers as well as he could without losing his grip on his tamborita, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“It’s not on you,” he repeated. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You tried to follow their values as well as you could without compromising your own, you tried to step into their shoes time and again, you tried to give them the benefit of doubt multiple times, to believe there could be a sliver of kindness hidden deep within them, to help them when they needed even though they never showed a sliver of gratitude for, and yet all of them treated you like dirt.”

A reminder flaring in the back of his mind, he added as he lowered his hand, “Well, almost all. But most of them treated you like dirt. And those four monsters actually started plotting to have you killed just so they’d get their hands on your money. And yet when their plot was discovered, they tried to beg for mercy by appealing to the fact they’re family!”

He winced as he suddenly realized his voice had started to slip into a shout. He knew Gracia knew him well enough to understand he wasn’t angry at her, but he still didn’t want to further upset her by raising his voice.

Nevertheless, he seemed to have built up enough bile that he couldn’t avoid rolling his eyes and adding, “It’s beyond belief. They try to frame you for murder so you’ll be hanged and then say they’re family the moment they realize you found out their plot.” A sharp scoff blasted out of him. “Family, my…” Catching himself as he realized the word he was about to utter, he said instead, blood rushing to his cheeks, “Well, my that certain body part which is located on the side directly opposite to my front side, on the region right below my waist.”

A bout of laughter bubbled out of Gracia, a happy glow blooming in her eyes. Though his cheeks kept blazing, Fiero smiled at the sound, feeling every muscle in his body loosening from it.

“Are you sure your phrasing was verbose enough?” Gracia drawled once her laughter faded, her smooth contralto a fraction deeper and huskier than usual. “You might have been able to add two or three more sentences to that description.”

Unsure of what to say, Fiero could only shrug, though none of the defensiveness from his youth flared up within him. With Gracia, he always knew that when she teased him or poked fun at him, she did not mean to offend or hurt him.

“Well, what I said was specific enough already, I figure,” he said in an affected nonchalant tone, the red in his cheeks fading.

A mirthful spark in her eyes, her smirk shifted into a tender smile as she briefly curled her fingers around his side again, running a brief caress over his ribs.

His voice calmer, Fiero went on, “Point is, they were just rotten, period. And they were beyond lucky that they not only lived to see another day but didn't even end up in prison. If they still want to be dirtbags rather than try to better themselves, it’s on them, not on you.”

Gracia’s smirk returned, though this time it didn’t reach her eyes. Knowing what was on her mind, he added, an edge of tension creeping into his voice, “Not those four in particular. 'Greedy heartless monsters' would be more appropriate for them. 'Dirtbags' is a label for your other relatives.” The same reminder from before flaring up again, he added, “Other than Esha and Anjali and Lavanya. And their husbands and children, as far as I can tell. But that still leaves literal dozens of people in your family who are…”

This time, he was the one trailing off, his mind drawing a blank on a word good enough to refer to the kind of people most of Gracia’s relatives were. Still, her arm slipped down to his waist as her face fell.

“I know.”

The weight over his heart returning, Fiero pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered.

He knew he was repeating himself, but he meant what he said now as much as he did before.

He felt her face leaning away from his shoulder, though her arm moved up to rest over his ribs once more. He looked down; their gazes met again.

“It's alright,” she replied. “You did nothing wrong either. You don't need to apologize.”

A long sigh washed out of him. He drew her back into him, as she let her head rest on his shoulder again.

"I only wish I could actually do something about this."

///

Hearing the sorrow in his voice, Gracia leaned up and put a kiss to Fiero's cheek, briefly pressing her hand to his side as she did so, feeling the breeze blowing over them both.

She knew he meant what he said, but she'd never dream of asking him to do more than he already did.

He looked out for her well being, he tried to help her to the best of his abilities, he listened to her when she wanted to talk, he always respected her boundaries, and he was there for her.

That was all she could ask him to do.

She knew him wanting to do more for her meant that he cared, but she also knew that there were things he just could not do. All magic had its limits, and malvago magic in particular was very limited when it came to things unrelated to destruction. Having been a malvaga for as long as she had, Gracia knew that from personal experience. And even ignoring those limits, there were lines that no person with a sliver of decency and humanity crossed, and Fiero had much more than a sliver of either.

It was more than she could say of many people she had met, including some who claimed to be paragons of virtue, only to turn out nastier than some fairy tale villains.

Like ‘those four’ as Fiero had labeled them. They claimed to walk the path of righteousness, to follow the values of old, and then they had tried to have her killed, and for such a mercenary reason to boot.

Not that any reason would have been good, but doing it only because they wanted her money to add it to their very much not-paltry fortune… It was just… it was just beyond low.

Don’t think about that anymore. An inner voice tried to insist. It’s not worth it. They're not worth it.

A knot materializing in her chest at the thought, she took a deep breath, mentally pushing back the remains of the whirlwind within her as if the air she took in would do the job. Not thinking about them was easier said than done, especially after what they had done to her.

Having taken the deepest breath she could, she released, willing herself to let it out calm and slow, yet with purposefulness flowing through her. As the air rushed out of her, Fiero rubbed his shoulder over her wrap, pressing his lips to her hair once more, his embrace tightening a bit again.

‘It's alright.’ She read in his touch, even through the fabric. ‘Take all the time you need.’

Turning her head slightly upwards once more, she gave him another smile. The corners of his mouth curled upwards in response as he rubbed another circle over her shoulder.

Her smile widening, she closed her eyes as she took another breath, slightly faster and shallower than the last, but still allowing the salty air to flow into her lungs, to mentally will what she could only call its ‘calming essence’ to flow through her being. Just as she let it out, the breeze around her softened, grew warmer, everything around them and their own bodies seeming to lighten a few shades, the sun finally peeking through the clouds. Another wave washed up the beach, moving past them until it rose past their ankles. Then, as it retreated, it seemed to take yet another bit of her inner turmoil with her, the knot in her chest softening further.

A small sigh trickling out of her, Gracia nestled her head into Fiero’s shoulder, pressing her hand to his side once. Thinking about something else might be easier said than done, but it was better to do it than dwell on what those four had done just for the sake of it. And a good way to start thinking about something else was to start talking about something else.

Fortunately, while enjoying each other's company in silence was not a problem for them, finding things to talk about wasn't either.

Her gaze met his’ as she spoke up.

“Speaking of doing, is there anything you'd like to do once we get to Bansagubat? Other than following up on the lead we found on the Scepter of Night, I mean?”

He blinked at her question, confusion flickering in his gaze. She knew without having to ask that he'd found her change of subject sudden. But she also knew that he'd go along with it as long as her attempt at not dwelling on the recent events didn't fail.

Sure enough, his brow furrowed into the focused look he often assumed when he was in deep thought, though he didn't bring up his left hand to hold its thumb and forefinger to his chin, due to the tamborita he held.

“I don't think so,” he replied after some time. “At least for now. I don't know enough about Bansagubat to have an idea of what to do there.” He cocked his head to the side, curling an eyebrow. “What about you, mi alma? Is there anything you'd like to do?"

He punctuated his second question with a knowing grin, telling her he'd guessed the basics of her answer.

Gracia smirked in response. He did know her well...

“Indeed there is, mi amado,” she replied, her voice a fraction lower and slower again.

His knowing grin widened a fraction.

"Any chance I can know exactly what it is?"

Gracia started opening her mouth to reply, but the teasing tune she was mustering faded like a snuffed candle as she realized a few things.

"I'd tell you if I knew, but I'm not sure yet myself. It will depend on how long we stay there, and on where we have to go to find our next clue, if it even exists to begin with."

Her eyes narrowed into a glare at the thought, Fiero's expression mirroring hers, both recalling how many fake clues on the Scepter of Night’s whereabouts there seemed to exist throughout the world.

“But there are quite a few dancing festivals in Bansagubat, at many places and at many times of the year," Gracia went on before her mind could start wandering down another bad path. "I’d like to be able to go to a few. Or then take a few classes on the local dances, if I find any. Maybe do both things, if we find the time.”

Her chest seemed to grow lighter as she went on, a familiar giddiness rushing through her at that line of thought. She had only been to Bansagubat once, and the stay had been too brief for her to do much of anything, but she had read about the kingdom, and, more relevantly to her tastes, about its dances. It was true that seeing drawings and reading descriptions on the written page didn’t compare to the real thing by any means, but the authors had been good enough that she could join the picture and the text to somewhat visualize what the real dances were like. And even if she hadn’t, she had always liked learning new dances, and Bansagubat had plenty that she wanted to learn.

A faint shift in Fiero’s face brought her back to reality - his knowing grin had become a fond one, no doubt at the view of the joy she felt bubbling within her and which she now realized had spilled over onto her features.

That was one of the things she loved about him. While she knew he didn’t hate dancing per se, she also knew he wasn’t particularly fond of it. But he still wholeheartedly loved seeing her so happy doing something she loved, and was genuinely happy to do it with her just because it made her happy.

“I don’t see us staying at Bansagubat for less than several months,” he said. “I think we’ll find the time for that." He pursed his lips shut, as if struck by a sudden thought. "Or, if you’d rather I did so, I can also read up on Tolome’s treasure on my own while you have your dance classes and we read up on it together whenever you’re not in class or practicing.”

He winced right after he spoke, as if he thought he’d just put his foot in his mouth with his suggestion. Giving him a comforting smile, Gracia shifted around so that she now stood before him, her hand flowing from around his back to rest on his shoulder, on cue with another wave washing over their feet. The landscape seemed to grow a few more shades around them, though this time the breeze strengthened for a moment, as if unsure of whether to let up or intensify.

“I get what you mean,” she told him. “And I don’t mind going to classes for some of those dances on my own. But we find classes for some others, I confess I was hoping you’d come with me.” Suddenly afraid of how her words might be taken, she added, “But I will accept if you don’t.”

She punctuated her sentence with a calm smile to reinforce her words, meaning it from the bottom of her heart. She would indeed like it if Fiero went to classes for those specific dances with her, but she wouldn’t try to force him to if he really didn’t want to. Even before her time with her family, she knew how awful it was to be forced into things one didn’t want to do.

At first, Fiero’s forehead crinkled in puzzlement. Gracia knew without asking that he was wondering what kind of dances she might want him to go along on. But then, his warm smile returned as he raised his now free hand to rest it on her cheek, running a slow, tender caress over it.

“I’ll go with you,” he whispered. “Whatever the kind of dances you’re talking about, as long as you want me to go with you, I will.”

Gracia’s smile widened a bit further, her whole being suddenly lightening. It might be the kind of line too easily uttered, but again, she knew just from his tone and expression that Fiero was doing it willingly, because he knew it would make her happy. The fact he hadn’t even asked what dances she was talking about only reinforced it.

She snapped out of her thoughts as a hint of a scowl returned to Fiero’s face, as if something had just reminded him of an unpleasant memory.

A frown replacing her smile, she asked, "What’s the matter?"

Putting his smile back in place, Fiero reached down and held her hand in his’, raising it up until it was level with their chests.

“Nothing serious,” he soothed. “Just a few bad memories of the last time I had dance classes.”

Gracia’s eyes opened a bit wider, a mix of amazement and realization pricking at her.

“So you did have dance classes…” Again reading a silent question in Fiero’s face, she explained, “I thought you had them from the first time I danced with you. You danced far too well to be a novice. But I confess it does seem a bit surprising.”

His own smile still in place, he briefly squeezed her hand more tightly.

“I know. I didn’t ever think I’d have dance classes before I started them either. Dancing was never among my top-favorite activities until we started seeing one another.” Again wincing right after his sentence, he added, “Not that I ever hated it, but…”

He trailed off, unease creeping up into his eyes. Smiling again, Gracia rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb.

“I understand. I liked learning magic well enough when I was younger, but I didn’t throw myself into it until I became a malvaga.” Feeling the shadow of more unpleasant memories starting to creep over her, she went on before they could settle in. “Though now I’m curious on why you had dance classes if you didn’t particularly like dancing.”

Fiero’s shoulders dropped at the question. This time, a sigh actually flowed out of him, his hand slipping off of hers. Gracia knew without having to ask that whatever he was recalling, it was not pleasant.

But before she could tell him he didn’t have to answer if he didn’t want to, he explained, “I felt I should when I started training to be the Royal Wizard of Avalor.”

Gracia’s eyes opened a fraction wider.

“What does dancing have to do with being a Royal Wizard?”

He sighed again.

“Nothing. But I wanted to destroy any possible grounds for criticism. They included failing to mingle and dance during formal events. So besides studying up on all the magic I could, I started learning other things I thought would help me for when I became Royal Wizard. Ballroom dancing was one of them. I was never actually tested on that during my so-called exam, but I guess that’s just as well, because my instructor said that if I didn’t get rid of the snake-like edge to my movements, I’d always be a lost cause.”

Gracia’s face hardened, her eyebrows settling into a straight line, her blood suddenly warmer.

She already knew enough about Fiero’s time trying to be the Royal Wizard to be angry on his behalf at pretty much everyone involved, but it still seemed that the more she learned, the more reasons she found to be angry. It still didn’t excuse what he had ended up doing, of course, but Fiero himself had always acknowledged such a fact whenever they talked about it, and just because she didn’t excuse the way he had snapped it didn’t mean she couldn’t feel sorry for him. As personally motivated as he might have been to a degree, Gracia knew Fiero had also wanted the post because he wanted to help people. Yet, it just kept turning out that more and more people involved in the game were against him, and for all sorts of nonsensical reasons at that.

And to think people from Paraiso were seen by Avalorans as high and mighty jerks, more shallow and vain than parrots! If she ever got to meet those particular Avalorans, she’d certainly have a few choice words for them on that matter.

But most of them were dead anyway, and if they hadn’t been able to recognize Fiero’s worth before, her ripping them a new one wouldn’t do anything on that front. Not to mention that, unfortunately in every sense of the word, Fiero couldn't be a Royal Wizard anyway. Malvagos couldn’t be Royal Wizards because of the limits to their magic, and once wizards became malvagos, there was no way for them to be wizards again.

Some of her anger drained away by her inner tirade, she willed the remainder back into the depths of her being. Then, smiling at him once more, she held his hand and raised it, this time rubbing her thumb over his palm.

“Well, take this from someone who danced since she was three and was a professional dancer for over thirteen years.” She paused for a moment longer, until Fiero’s gaze was locked on hers. “You’re better than some of my dance partners, and I’m talking of people who danced for a living. And that’s a fact as far as I’m concerned.” She paused again, this time to make sure her sentences sank in. “But even if it wasn’t, there are only two rules that one needs to follow when dancing.”

Fiero’s lips parted slightly, in a clear relay of his amazement.

“Really?” he whispered.

“Well, not if you’re doing it professionally,” Gracia admitted. “Then the audience will expect nothing but the best, and in a competition in particular, the judges tend to have a mile-long list of standards, and failing to meet even half of them will rob you of any chance.” She released his hand, then rested her own on his cheek. “But when you’re dancing for fun, there are only two things that need to be done. To dance from the heart, and to choose a partner you like dancing with and who likes dancing with you.”

His smile returned at her words. Warmth again enveloped her hand as he put it to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles as he finished, his moustache tickling her skin.

“As long as I’m dancing with you, none of those things will ever come into question.”

“Likewise,” she replied as Fiero straightened himself, their gazes meeting again.

And that was all either needed to say on the matter, their eyes telling each other everything else they needed to know as the breeze flowed around them, a wave again trickling over their feet and then pulling back.

Then, slowly, like a spark spreading across kindling, sunlight spread across the whole landscape, a warmth seeping into their surroundings, the breeze settling down even further until it merely ghosted over them, like the settings in the kind of fairy tale moments common in the ballets Gracia had performed in.

She knew this one was entirely natural and just a lucky coincidence, but she was more than happy to go with it.

"Dance with me?" she requested, squeezing Fiero’s hand.

He squeezed hers in return, his eyes twinkling.

"Of course, mi alma."

Her chest fluttering, Gracia slowly withdrew her hand from his’, then raised it until it was before the knot in her wrap.

“Let’s get ready then,” she said.

With those words, she channelled magic into the garment around her shoulders, her signature purplish-pink tone surging around it. As fluidly as a liquid, the wrap untied itself loose and then slid through the air until it hovered before her, folding itself into a neat rectangle. Once it finished, Fiero raised his own hand, sending magic forth as the glow around the bundle shifted from purplish-pink to a different violet shade. Retracting her own magic, Gracia raised her tamborita and aimed it at the wrap, landing a firm, but subdued smack on the drum. A purplish-pink glow bloomed around it, and the next instant, the folded cloth shimmered out of view with a hushed poof, teleported into what she knew was its proper place in its drawer.

That part of the task done, Gracia again channeled magic into her tamborita, purplish-pink sparks surging around its handle and drum with a faint hiss. Lowering the hand he’d been holding up, Fiero raised his tamborita to hers, violet sparks erupting from it. Then, as they put their tamboritas’ drums together, the sparks fused into bigger, brighter bolts of their shades blended together, a loud crackle lashing forth as their magic joined, finishing the protective spell that would safeguard their tamboritas.

After holding the drum wands in place for a few seconds, Fiero and Gracia released them and, with a sweeping motion of their arms as coordinated as a dance step, sent them floating about thirty feet away, where they sank vertically into the sand. The bolts around them faded, but the tamboritas remained together as if glued, standing under their own power like two swords stuck on the same stone.

Their preparations complete, Fiero put an arm across his chest and bowed, while she curtsied in her sundress as formally as she would in a ballgown. Their gazes locked again, both stepped towards each other, her left hand resting on his shoulder while his right one settled on her waist, their other hands interlacing together. A familiar thrill bursting through her as she felt Fiero’s hand pressing to her left, she went along with the movement of his spin, her hair fanning out as she circled her way around him. A faint splash reached her ears as she stopped, but she barely noticed it as he released her waist and raised their entwined hands above their heads. Following the cue, she twirled in her spot and then put her hand back to his shoulder while his’ settled on her waist again. Her smile growing even wider, she pressed slightly into Fiero’s shoulder to convey what she wanted him to do; he followed along and spun to the left once more with her in his arms, though this time she tightened the circle as she walked around him. In perfect tune with her movement, Fiero stepped back, the two of them falling into their rhythm of steps and twirls and circles, the warm sun shining down on them.

Reminded of a similar setup in a ballet she had once performed in - and in a musical version of the same story that she had gone to on her fourth date with Fiero - Gracia started humming a familiar tune under her breath, setting their steps to it.

Again, Fiero curled an eyebrow even as he settled into her cue.

“Aurora and Phillip’s Waltz?” he asked.

“Just something to set our dance to, mi amado,” she replied without slowing down. “I thought this fit us.”

And it did. In more ways than one. Between the costumes they - or at least she - had been wearing on the night they actually started their romantic relationship, the dreams they’d both had on the same night not long before that occasion, and the musical adaptation of The Tale of Sleeping Beauty they had watched on their fourth date, she thought that the song fit them. Not to mention she had always liked it since she was a child, even if Princess Aurora’s tale had never been her top favorite.

For a moment, Fiero narrowed his eyes, his look out of focus as if he was thinking of something. Then, he pressed his lips together as if gathering himself, and sent a warm tingle flowing into the thrill shooting through her as he began singing.

I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream

Not missing a beat, Gracia joined in.

I know you, the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam

He pulled her just a bit closer as both sang the next verses.

Yet I know it’s true That visions are seldom all they seem

Their voices soared as they moved into the chorus, the breeze briefly picking up again, but not slowing them down in the least as they swept across the beach.

But if I know you I know what you’ll do You’ll love me at once The way you did once upon a dream

#elena of avalor #fanfic #fiero #gracia #tales of the ever realm au #fiero x oc #fluff #romance #I hope you like it

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thesunlounge · 5 years

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Reviews 300: Private Agenda

Throughout 2019, Private Agenda have been crafting imagined landscapes…these dream renderings of paradise islands surrounded by boundless oceans, with sparkling blue waters crashing against white sand shores, coconut trees blowing in a warm seabreeze, and exotic flowers releasing strange perfumes that push the mind towards bliss. Having graced Lo Recordings’ Spaciousness compilation last year, the duo of Sean Phillips and Martin Aggrowe have united again with the label for an ambitious project of sonic fantasy, which started this summer with the Aura EP, a digitally released collection comprising four pitch-perfect pop numbers, a couple of which now rank among my very favorite Private Agenda tracks (which is saying something considerable). The EP sees the duo’s lyrical and production work hitting an apex, with their vocalizations touching on the sensual and the futuristic as gentle layers of sci-fi studio trickery caress every turn of phrase. And musically, we are treated to etheric synth-pop starscapes, krautrock hypno-glides, and neon new wave propulsions that exude an irresistible sense of melancholia...a brief yet masterful pop adventure and a high point for both Aggrowe and Phillips. But beyond this, the EP serves another purpose: as an opening chapter to an immersive story called Île de Rêve, which is a less a traditional album and more so a “series of transcendental reminiscences surrounding the cult of islands.”

Private Agenda are no strangers to balearic ambiance and touches of mystical seaside magic kiss most of their work, most specifically the (almost) beatless ethereality of their Primary Colours EP from 2017. But even given these tendencies towards new age textures and floating atmospherics, I am still blown away by Île de Rêve’s total dedication to surreal environments of cosmic aquatic wonder. The duo’s well-honed pop sensibilities are completely subsumed, with Phillips and Aggrowe instead using synthesizers, pianos, and the barest semblance of voice to transport the listener to the titular island of dreams. At times it feels like we are on land, pushing toes through warm sand as seabirds fly overhead, gazing over the horizon during a summer storm, or exploring the interior of the island…its gemstone caverns, crystalline streams, and flower fields exuding atmospheres of pastoral prog romance. Other times we are swimming in the waters off shore, joining in with the fluid movements of dolphins or exploring the mysteries of coral reef universes. In the album’s liner notes, Private Agenda talk about the peculiar paradox of growing up on an island…”a sense of isolation tempered by a strong sense of place.” And so it goes with the music: the introspective ambient sonics pull the spirit inward and invite reflection while simultaneously carrying the imagination towards a well-defined location…a tropical island in an ocean of dreams.

By August, I had spent several weeks with Aura and Île de Rêve and was preparing to write a piece on both when, much to my surprise, Private Agenda dropped The Space Between Swells, a digitally released remix EP featuring seaside sound masters Max Essa and Mark Barrott. Essa takes on the title track from Aura, and flips what is already a pop masterpiece into a stunning adventure of beachside dance ecstasy, one that proceeds across an extended vocal take and a heady dub disco fever dream. Then there’s Barrott, who elongates and transforms Île de Rêve’s “Sea Life” into a utopic slice of balearic beat…an early morning nature dance anthem built from deep dub atmospheres, underwater bass bubbles, liquid guitar textures, aqueous synthwaves, and angelic vocal repetitions (which is then backed by a dub and a narcotic accapella version that revels in the spirituality of silence). When I first learned Essa and Barrott were the remixers, I was as excited as I was unsurprised, for the two are natural choices to take on the narcotic pop and ambient vibrations of Private Agenda. But as ever with Aggrowe and Phillips, there is a deeper reason behind the choices, one that was recently revealed in an interview over at Vehlinggo, for you see, both Essa and Barrott have lived most of their lives on various islands (UK, Japan, Ibiza), giving them a unique perspective on Private Agenda’s overarching investigation of sacred ocean spaces.

Private Agenda - Aura (Lo Recordings, 2019) “Aura” starts with futuristic boogie rhythms, which set the stage for sweeping synthetic melodies, heavenly doo-wop choirs, and Chic-adelic funk guitars. As we drop into the verse, Phillips sings sensual lyricisms, with his fragile voice occasionally accompanied by soulful backing harmonies. During the chorus, gemstone synthesizers rise towards the sky and the singing erupts into some fantasy amalgam of MJ, Romanthony, and Jónsi as Phillips calls out: “and then when I wake up / I’ll hold you back,” with each “hold you back” refrain trailed by backing vocal ethereality. After a passage of percussive fireworks, with toms and snares splattering across the spectrum and tambourines jangling, we move into an instrumental variant of the chorus, wherein backing vocal cloudforms and tropical synthesis generate a balearic dreamscape before Phillips returns for one more round of vocal pop perfection. Then in “Grapple,” atmospheric swells phase between ocean and starlight while a hypno-rhythm soars through the cosmos. Looped voices pulsated and tubular bass sequences dance while pitch shifting leads descending upon the mix, sounding as if audial streaks of silver are mutating as they echo star-to-star. A clap introduces the verse, with octave basslines grooving and Phillips singing dystopic futurisms concerning nuclear fusion and chemical cocktails raining from the sky. And as the phrase “I tried to resit it / I can’t I can’t go on” trails into wordless ether, we hit an ultra-kosmkische glide, with echoing sequences and neon arpeggiations racing through galactic expanses. Another clap brings back the vocals, only during the second measure, a key change sweeps the soul towards realms of paradise perfection. And then comes a moment that never fails to bring tears…a passage so powerfully transcendent, with angel choir pulsations washing over the soul, layers of interstellar magic bringing LSD dream visions, and kosmische grooves working the body into space age synth-pop hypnosis.

“Kingfisher” sees dreampop guitars ringing out through pink and purple synth hazes as an airy trip-hop beatscape emerges. The vocals are so narcotizing and mysterious, with Phillips singing “everybody knows your name / blend into the background” in a way evoking the romantic spiritualisms of Air, all while spy movie guitars bring parallel evocations of Chris Isaak, Portishead, and Angelo Badalamenti. Elsewhere, arpeggiations swirl at hyperspeed while a baritone guitar decays through a noir nightscape, with the track’s title being whispered and percussion moving in and out of silence. There’s a brief moment that sees the mix reducing to a sea-foam fog as lonely guitars sit beneath birdsong field recordings, but the ambiance soon cuts away in favor of dramatic percussion passages, which then lead back to the narcotizing guitar pop magic, all liquid slides, desert hazes, ethereal arps, and soloing synth psychotropia intertwining while the stuttering percussion leads a softly anthemic body groove. Aura ends on “Lighthouse” and its themes of synthetic brass fluttering on clouds while seascape guitar chords disperse above kick drums, snares, whispering hi-hats, and growling funk bass riffs. The singing during the verse flits above sparse rhythms while six-string chords evoke shimmering harps and there’s a dirgey sort of chorus, with voices in each ear harmonizing and swooning together through paradise motions, creating atmospheres of soulful wonderment as backing vocals add touches of shadowy drama. Later, we break down into futuristic synth psychedelia, with electronic tracers circling wildly before progressing into alien madness…all while a breathy voices speaks “lighthouse” above chugging bass riffs and a kick drum heart pulse. Blasts of interstellar synthesis arc across the stereo field as the track erupts again into the all-encompassing chorus, with the heart swept higher and higher until an arresting minor key voice transition…an unexpected touch of prog drama leading to mutating voice coda.

Private Agenda - Île de Rêve (Lo Recordings, 2019) In “Bounty,” mermaid choirs hover beneath stabbing synths and swooning chord progressions are carried upon ethereal swells while aquatracers diffuse through the mix…these neon squiggles echoing through infinite oceans. Brass chords quiver before exploding with energy, which brings a touch of funk sensualism to the beauteous flow, and sequences constructed from glass move through dazzling patterns and rainbow colorations. And later, sea sirens sing radiant songs and layers of comforting hiss immerse the body as the spirit drifts towards Private Agenda’s island paradise. White light synthesis swells in from the void in “Sea Life,” bringing with it crystalline melodies that waver like a mirage. Downtempo drum pulsations are constructed from thudding kicks, electro-toms, and interspersed tambourines while funk-colored bass motions support yearning repetitions of “sea life”…the voice hauntingly beautiful and child-like, with etheric wavefronts swelling in support. There are soft transitions into ocean prog majesty, with basslines carrying the soul and synthesizers flowing outwards before reversing into mist. Then, as we return to the melodious vocal incantations, multiple layers flow in round while coral colored key strokes dance on sunbeams. “Wave Motion” follows with orgasmic pads surrounding the body…the vibe warm and womb-like. There are touches of 70s style mellotronic prog breaking through the dense layers of sea-fog while overhead, fragile piano melodies wander freely…the sound close mic’d and intimate, with squeaky hammers hitting dusty strings and bench creaks and soft breaths heard amidst the bucolic keystrokes. The ambient layers reduce to black smoke at some point before slowly filtering back into an oceanic haze and eventually, the pianos mutate through zany delay runs.

The epic length “Ultramarine” revels in dreamworld pads that vibrate with ecstatic energy. White noise percussion skips across an alien sea…these filtering snare rolls buried beneath layers of deep sea growth and sometimes morphing into whip cracks…while sparkling leads dance through an underwater wonderland. At some point, the wispy drum noises and dreamy melodies drop away, leaving atmospheric synths to waver like the reflections of sunlight off water, with evolving oscillations almost overtaking the mix before fading into nothingness. And as the rhythms return, they are joined by squelching synthfunk riffs and sub-sonic bass currents, with everything locking in for a beatless stretch of ambient house euphoria…like Larry Heard soundtracking a coral reef dreamworld. In “Monsoon,” thick polysynth riffs execute a paradise waltz while starshine echoes flow in counterpoint. This is the only other vocal track on the album and the lyrics are spellbinding, with Phillips working through soft variations of the phrase “in darkness / I sit and watch the rain fall” while his voice subtly mutates…as if a kiss of vocoder has been added to further enhance the futuristic dream aura. Psychosonic static textures crawl into the mix before sweeping it all away into a romantic filterscape, wherein crystalline leads ping like sonars, orgasmic synthesizers flow through warm distortions, and psychedelic wah-wah motions flutter above heartbeat kick taps. Once we rush back into the pounding polysynth riffs and echoing arp lines, the synth swells from the midsection remain, adding a strange yet comforting touch of alien orchestral magic. Towards the end, the vocals reprise their swoon-song spiritualisms as the mix begins fading away and eventually, a lone voice is left calling out over polychrome synthwave minimalism.

A golden-toned piano swims through the sky in “Solitude,” its lilting chords intermingling with gentle arpeggiations. Aggrowe’s playing is expressive…sometimes radiating primal power while at other times backing down into a whisper…and here and there, a screaming siren sweeps upwards with the piano for moments of stunning emotional power. Elsewhere, as the ivories settle back into a melancholic meditation, laser fire sequences weave neon patterns through the air and subsonic bass currents underly everything, their sounds evoking a contrabass bowing through layers of darkness. And during breathtaking climaxes, the dam bursts and waves ethereal atmosphere wash over the soul, melting the heart as the spirit ascends towards some star kingdom at the center of a deep sea universe. Next is “Melani,” with oscillations hypnotizing and hovering…as if time is standing still. Melodies sound sourced from a piano, but slowly morph and mutate into synthetic mesmerism…these golden hazes and lush romantic decay trails swelling in strength then dispersing. There are touches of kankyō-ongaku shining through, with my mind going to the work of Yoshimura and Hirose, as well as Hosono’s closed eyed synth journeys...the track seeing Aggrowe and Phillips similarly subsume melody in favor of spacious silence and atmospheric sound design. Cricket chirps diffuse in before fading away as the mix devolves into nothingness…a false ending that leads to a post-rock ceremonial for the sunrise. Later, black clouds of bass ambiance float the soul while ecclesiastical synthesizer leads rain down from the heavens and as the pianos resume their echoing ocean dances, we find ourselves in a world of modernistic new age wonderment...the vibe at once enchanting and deeply hallucinatory.

There’s a touch of Pachelbel’s “Canon” to the blissed out pads of “Dependency,” which are supported by soloing church organs…the two elements creating an instrumental hymn for the sky, though sometimes the synths distort into a garbled mess. The electronic textures are eventually swapped out for piano, with chord patterns falling like rain. Yearning space leads progressively modulate through alien tremolo weirdness and drunken arps careen across the mix, with wild filter formations moving in and out of time. It’s a world of contrast, with pianos growing ever more transcendent as the electronic elements are destroyed by ring modulation and outer-dimensional vibrato. After a climax awash in disorientation, we back down into the Pachelbel drift, with the church organs contorting into insectoid noise, synths filtering into warm wet brass, and flutey electronics transmuting into feedback. Closer “P.S.R.” begins with billowing waves of fuzzform synthesis creating a sunset panorama, with melodies reaching deep into the heart even as they are smothered in static and shadow. Aqueous stands of light escape from the murky atmospherics, their bright curlicues wrapping around the mind while slow filter movements stoke psychedelic hypnosis. Everything is in motion…though slowly, with progressions moving at the speed of universal evolution. Waves crash in against white sand beaches and are rendered in a soft-focus blur…like a paradise beach visited on a cloudy day. Delay-soaked pianos rain down from a grey sky and evoke the minimalist dreamscapes of Jordan de la Sierra, while subdued fusion textures swim in the background. And swells of church organ bass support it all, creating currents of soulful magic as the ivory incantations carry the mind away.

Private Agenda / Max Essa / Mark Barrott - The Space Between Swells (Lo Recordings, 2019) Max Essa’s extended vocal mix of “Aura” sets things to a muscular disco beat awash in conga and bongo tropicalisms, with voices echoing and blissful pads surrounding a romantic synthbass dub groove. Pianos trace out vague remembrances of the original track’s melodic themes, spaceguitars flow through deep sea phaser fx, and a synthetic brass section pulses on etherwaves over ultra-tight wah guitar accents…all until swirling electro-tracers bring in Private Agenda’s cinematic synthesizer themes. Basslines slip and slide through buttery distortions, even evoking fretless fusion sensuality, and there’s a tight shuffle on the hats that is oh-so-irrestible, with everything setting the stage for the vocals, which here swim through layers of tremolo atmospherics. The chorus is similar to the original, with Phillips erupting through soulful intensity while layers of backing vocal radiance cause the heart to swoon and sway. Elsewhere, we rush upwards on pulsating keyboards as the drums break down into a Latin funk stutter, with anthemic anticipation building as voices and synthesizers coalesce into sunset magic. Arps glisten before fading into air and dreamhouse pianos tease ecstatic riffs while Essa’s typically liquid guitar psychedelics flow ear-to-ear. And above it all, Phillips’ sexual hooks are repurposed into soulful dream textures. Essa and Private Agenda also present a dub mix of “Aura,” wherein hand drums sit beneath aquatic echos as the bass is given a boost of dub disco strength. In lieu of vocal leads, the balearic groovescapes are colored by saucer-eyed pads, piano explorations, and oceanic electronics that stretch towards the horizon and at times, coral-hued fusion leads soar through the mix…their dueling harmonies bringing airs of laser prog majesty. Near the end, angel hazes flutter thorough sea-foam and tripped out wah guitars converse with mermaid murmurs while up above, schools of fish reflect rainbow panoramas as they swim across the spectrum.

Mark Barrott’s take on “Sea Life” begins in the natural world, as crickets converse over deep earth oscillations. Hi-hats and hand drums build a groove amidst kosmische synthesis and Phillips’ “Sea Life” refrain is even more gaseous as it loops and echoes over itself. A subtle key change brings airs of hope before the kick drum hits and then, following a brief rhythmic breakdown, the beats rush back in alongside subsonic bubble pulses…these alien bass textures sitting somewhere between synthesis and percussion. The vocal refrain flows in and out of the mix according to Barrott’s mysterious dream logic and laser light oscillations smolder before rocketing towards the celestial sphere, while later, guitars morph through crystalline feedback glows and chiming echo hypnotics…like Floydian space rock intertwining with Roy Montgomery’s experimental ambiance. There’s a brief moment of rest near the middle where insect chirps move through the mix like a mirage while melodic bass sequences bop untethered, but soon the heady hi-hat patterns return us to tropical slow dance ecstasy, with the “sea life” hook wrapping the spirit in cooing sensuality. And eventually, the groove gives way to a beatless coda where organs transmuting into whale song amidst a haze of soundbath spirituality. In addition to the vocal mix, Barrott presents two further takes on “Sea Life,” the first of which strips the vocals away and thus allows the cosmic atmospherics to take over…creating an even more zoned out ritual for starlight nature dancing. And in a total flip, Barrott also includes an accapella mix, which gives full view into his vocal production sorcery. Pre-delays and reverberations cut in and out unexpectedly as Phillips’ hooks ping pong and smear into ether while elsewhere, humming pulses and looping voices morph into birdsong, psychosonic filter movements pull things in and out of focus, and unexpected temporal shifts lead to overlapping resonances and alien dissonances.

(images from my personal copy and Private Agenda’s Bandcamp)

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