Fantasy Demons...why demons? (a 1x1 rp)

[Gary Sue]

It was that same softness, right after insinuating he might have been 'enticed' by the tragic death they had both witnessed, that caught him off guard. That, and the closeness she felt to lea against him. The world around them blanked out for a moment as he felt his eyes widen with surprise, but hearing her next murmur while she hid her face away from him... he couldn't help but feel his own face soften a little, and a small, almost satisfied grin peeked from the corners of his lips. "... We'll make sure you are soon enough.", Armand murmured with a similar warmth in his own voice, letting out a small sigh of relief. It wasn't either of them, and neither of them had been made. All was well.

All but the sense of this- that same vein that popped prior on the man's head was beginning to return from the matter-of-factly tone of the directors. It was already infuriating enough to know there was no such thing as 'redemption' for their comrade who was killed for the sake of killing, but to have her death be ignored with no room to even mourn... something about that frustrated him.

He was almost shutting out all noise from the just anger he felt, only snapping out of it when he heard a familiar name and saw River speaking up too. It took him a brief moment to piece things together and understand she was taking the other dancer's place, and though a part of him was happy... it wouldn't really matter in the end. "This change only happened because they had no other choice, too."

This is why he wanted out. How sickening.

Hearing River's murmurs, Armand looked down at her with a frown on his face and nodded, contemplating something for an odd minute before with a tired huff, he turned towards the directors. "... Give me a moment, River.", that was the last exhale that left him before he took a few confident and almost too brave steps towards one of the bunch. Getting their attention and curiosity, he asked for a word in private further away from the rest of the coordination efforts.

The next two or three minutes were rather long as he tried to get a grasp on the impromptu changes and their breakneck pace. His main concern was seeing whether or not there were going to be rehearsals as of right now so that he knew if he should make his thoughts clear in the moment or not, but... thankfully for them, it appeared to be unnecessary as they simply wanted to catch everyone up to speed. Maybe that was a white lie from the director upon realising just how upset Armand was, given his near confrontational tone for what felt like the first time since he'd entered the troupe.

As the director walked back and Armand made his way by River again, he crossed his arms and explained the situation to her with some relief in his voice. "Your wish is granted... mostly. They want to make sure everyone is on board with the changes while they take care of the stagelight and run a maintenance check on the rest, and I was told there's no plans for more rehearsals today... I'm not sure if you'll need to talk with your costumer for touch-ups to your outfit, granted..."

A quick glance at her attire was enough to make him grumble a little with displeasure. "It feels a bit faffed, since you were always given a role in the back where you weren't the main focus.", he couldn't help but comment seeing all the little imperfections on her clothes. Then again, he couldn't tell if that was something with her specifically or all the rest of the dancers too, instead raising his gaze to look into her own eyes as though he was asking for confirmation.

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Location: Backstage
Mood: Relieved

 

[EclecticSpica]

❝ River Thompson ❞
“A dancer’s life is fleeting… but how long can one dance on broken strings?”​

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LOCATION: Backstage
MOOD: thankful ​

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River blinked, her gaze lingering on Armand’s back as he walked away. Her brows furrowed as she watched him speak with the ever-dictatorial directors, their sharp gestures and clipped tones making it clear they had little patience to spare.

Her eyes scanned the crowd, searching for a clue—something, anything—that would help her understand what was happening. When she caught sight of a few actors smiling, some in relief, others in appreciation, her confusion only deepened. Then, just as suddenly as he had left, Armand returned. River’s brows shot up. “Wish?” she echoed, tilting her head as he explained. “Oh—oh!” Her gaze darted back toward the directors, who had already moved on, busying themselves with sorting out replacements. The remaining actors began to disperse, relieved to be dismissed.

River turned back to Armand, then glanced down at her costume. The tulle-like gown, designed to shimmer under the grand lights and fire of the stage, looked dull and unimpressive in the dim backstage glow. Worse, it seemed to wear her rather than the other way around. She lifted the skirt slightly, giving it a wiggle, only to frown as a fine layer of dust sprinkled to the floor. “If I do…” she sighed, considering his offer, “the costumer won’t have anything for me today. I know that much.” She tried to recall what the front-row dancers wore.

“I don’t believe there’s much difference, though. The only thing that separates mine from the others are the added details to hide the marks,” she admitted, suddenly feeling a strong urge to strip out of the thing altogether. Perhaps she would change—into her regular clothes, or better yet, her sleeping garments. Maybe she’d retreat to her bunk for the rest of the evening, let exhaustion take her before her mind could spiral any further. Her fingers curled slightly against the fabric before she exhaled and lifted her gaze back to him.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice quieter now, more uncertain. Her eyes met his, then shied away, unaccustomed to the feeling of gratitude—especially for something so… considerate. “For speaking with them. For finding out what’s happening.” A pause. She bit her bottom lip, considering his last words, then—unexpectedly—a small chuckle slipped out. It felt foreign, awkward even, but it was there. “Thank you, as well, for noticing me in the dancers.” Her lips twitched into a rare smile, warmth flickering in her gaze. “I hope you enjoyed the show, even if it was a bit… faffed.” She repeated his word back to him, amusement softening the lingering tension in her shoulders.

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𝄞 And so the music plays on... 𝄞​

 

[Gary Sue]

Though she did try to underplay what the differences between the two were, he couldn't help but groan a little at the sight of dust coming off her dress when it did, giving her a slightly worried look. Apparently hers was custom made too, and all that for... well, a dusty skirt nonetheless. He almost exhaled in disappointment before hearing her murmur, catching him off guard yet again. But this time the shock was much shorter lived, his face retreating into that soft grin once again by the time her eyes couldn't bear to keep looking.

Crossing his arms, he waited for her to finish after the pause and couldn't help but chuckle himself, a lot of his spirit having almost recovered with this second wind. For a shitty day, she sure knew how to help brighten the mood with suddenly getting flustered and showing this different side of hers. Hell, she even smiled and the look in her eyes was almost... soft. "Bar the falling headlights, the only faffed thing about it was you being shoved in the back. You deserve some time being admired too.", his words came out with near no hesitation as he chuckled and brought a hand up to his mouth slowly, trying to keep it under control.

Right.

Given that they'd be parting ways for the night soon enough, he kept that smile and lowered his hand, stretching it outwards to her as he locked eyes with her and nodded. "Let's make the next show worth it, then. I already know you will."

For how the day had started... this was a good note to end it on. They hadn't even gotten enough time to get to know each other, but just knowing that he could have her back and help her get back on her feet... it's definitely not what he sought when he tried to feed from her, but he would more than happily take it for what it is. Just a bit of this companionship was enough for him to feel more comfortable. No more practiced smiles, no more kind gestures for the sake of appearances and getting by easier... and no more trashing birthday cake either. At least not in the garbage, provided he could sneak her back into his dressing room sooner or later.

"Are you going to be heading back to your room then, to get some rest?"

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Location: Backstage
Mood: Content