smartass_captain

From:

Hollow notes call through the air, bidding the audience to hush and settle. But for Isidor and the atronach it pulls a curtain around them. They face each other fully, a safe distance apart, the only two people in the multiverse. Isidor breathes, the atronach burns. Steady.

Isidor’s arms snap up suddenly as if only just realising ’There you are…’. Calm again, her hands slowly glide across her cheeks, fingers sliding into her hair until her joints bend, hands gripping her head in fear of ’regret’. She stares up to the sky, her shoulders heaving with slow, steady breaths. Opposite her the feminine figure spins gently and rolls her shoulders until their heads snap to face each other with ’a will’ and they mirror clenched fists being thrust beside their hips, one side then the other.

This is just an introduction. A tribute. A chance for Isidor to cast a spell on herself to keep her skin from burning. The mage knows this tune well enough that anticipation is already rising through her. This is it. This is where she must truly dance with fire.

The patron steps one foot outward and she looks across her shoulder to Magdra, jaw set but with pleading eyes that are only partially for show. Legs cross in strong strides towards the elemental and with an outstretched hand she lets the song beg for her, ’Take me away’. The pause that follows is a split second to the audience, but an eternity for her. And when Magdra takes her hand she lets her body and expression melt while she’s led into a spin that flares out the deep orange of her skirt as that simple command is drawn out. They pause together for a moment, but flames do not still themselves, and they’re acquainted now.

Isidor puts her hands together and faces the audience again, fire trailing from her hands so that it makes a circle as she lands into a crouch the moment the first clap sounds. A motion that highlights Magdra who lifts into the air and then dives into a somersault, effortlessly returning to hover behind Isidor. This time they don’t stop moving. Magdra’s fingers come together in elegant poses that switch with each snap of her hands while her hips and shoulders roll. She is a goddess and Isidor is her priestess whom she summons, twisting and rolling upwards to her feet, until she’s standing facing the audience again.

The singer cries and whispers simultaneously as Magdra trails a finger along one of Isidor’s arms that rises to meet her, leaving a line of fire behind. The mage jerks her hand closer, staring in unabashed awe, as if unaware of her other arm rising to Magdra’s finger drawing another flame. Only once the atronach is done does she look, wide eyed, at a feeling made real on her other arm. It lingers for one wonderful moment and then, on the last clap, vanishes.

No sooner has the fire on her skin been snuffed, then Isidor bends and twists and entwines her limbs with Magdra as the atronach loops her arms and moves her body around the mage: An elegant turning of shadow and flame. Burning hands cover Isidor’s face for a breath and when they pull away a jawless skull of fire hovers in front of her face, reminding her that she’s ’alive ‘til I’m dead’. Magdra comes to Isidor’s side where they face each other, the music rolling through their legs to their shoulders so that they’re almost touching until their ’pulse loses time’, and they cross each other rolling their shoulders, arms outstretched, as they lean back and then forward.

This time when Isidor offers her hand at the plea to ’take me away’, she pulls Magdra close and together they sway and swoon into a spin which ends with them standing side by side. The tune guiding them kicks into gear and sparks fire at their fingertips. Together they dance, hot on each other’s heels, spinning and twisting, casting trails of fire in the air that loop and wind through each other. The patterns are so intricately woven that if she were to pause for even a second, Isidor would be consumed by magic, the atronach’s and her own. They delight in changing the width of the flames and the direction of their motions. They revel in having found someone capable of matching their talent and their passion. They move faster and closer, around the bonfire and around each other. Hands and feet and fire spinning and whirling. Tighter and stronger until, finally, they turn to the centre of the circle.

It is not a whisper as the crescendo sounds and the carefully stacked bonfire explodes into flame. Their goal complete, Magdra and Isidor face each other once more, raising a hand each so that their palms touch. The magical mask dissipates from Isidor’s face while they circle each other, then spin and meet again to step in the other direction. Isidor twirls the elemental and together they spin. Calmer, more traditional motions as the music fades into a stop. Only once it has finished completely does Isidor step back and offer Magdra a low bow. It was an exceptional honour.