Jill Mastrano Dragomir (surpriseroyal) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2017-01-07 21:58:00 |
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Entry tags: | alak tarr, jill mastrano dragomir |
WHO: Jill Mastrano Dragomir and Alak Tarr
WHERE: At the ballet
WHEN: Early December
WHAT: Everything’s beautiful at the ballet
RATING: PG
STATUS: log; completed
Jill might be going to the ballet again in a few days with Bubbles, but that didn’t matter. She loved going to the ballet, and The Nutcracker was her favourite ballet of all. She loved the magic and wonder Clara experienced as the Nutcracker Prince took her through his world. It was much, much better than real Court, where people hid lies and plots behind polite smiles. And tonight, she got to share it with Alak, who’d brought joy and wonder to her. She met him at the theatre; she hadn’t yet let him pick her up at her place yet. If he did, he wouldn’t be able to miss the overwhelming security, no matter how discreet. The son of a Russian mob boss was probably used to picking up things most people wouldn’t. Jill felt bad every time she told him a partial truth or outright lied. And the longer she did it, the more she worried. Would he be really mad that she’d kept such a huge secret from him? Would he not want to be with someone he couldn’t trust to tell him the truth? She wanted so much to tell him, but she knew the importance of secrecy. Not to mention Rose would probably put her on lockdown - or, worse, hustle her out of the country - if she was discovered. Neither of those options allowed her to see Alak again. But if he found out, he might not want to be with her anyway. She waited for him, shivering slightly in the chilly evening air. The slim dress and light jacket she was wearing probably weren’t warm enough for the weather, but they looked good. It wasn’t the first time Jill had sacrificed function for fashion. When she spotted him, though, her smile was nothing but sunny. “Alak!” *** Alak had chosen to go with a full formal Castithan suit for his trip to the ballet with Jill. Castithans didn't feel the cold as much as humans. He felt warm enough in his solid white outfit with its myriad array of buckles, lacings, and hooks. His hair was pulled back partially from his face with a white gold clasp he'd inherited from his mother; since it was a formal occasion, Alak had chosen not to add dye to his white hair, leaving it in its natural state for the first time since he'd met Jill. "Jill! Glad to see you came. I think I'm still in that stage where I never know if you'll change your mind last minute and decide to stand me up." He swept his alien eyes over her before shaking his head. "You look beautiful. Cold, but beautiful. I went for formal. I can't have you embarrassed to be seen with me in public if I want to make sure I get the chance to keep taking you out. Or meeting you out. I'm good either way. I've been accused of driving like I'm in a war zone. I still maintain this was how I was taught to drive and rush hour here? It is a war zone." Alak moved closer to tug at the front of Jill's jacket so she bumped into him. He tilted his head down to rest his forehead lightly against hers. She smelled clean, pretty, unique. It was strange how intense his senses were in comparison to before the Dreams. Some days Alak hated being as he was now while times such as this? He was grateful he could appreciate Jill in a way he doubted anyone else could ever imagine. "I'd offer to warm you up out here, but I don't want to be too forward. Rose had a look in her eyes I don't want to test out. May I escort you inside, lovely Jill?" ~*~ Even without the albinism, even without the unique fashion that stood out even in the fashion-forward OC, Jill would have been able to pick him out of a crowd. He walked with a self-assured grace most people around here could only try to fake, so when he mentioned that he still worried she’d stand him up, she just laughed and shook her head. Who would ever want to stand him up if they got to spend time with him? “You’ve already warmed me up,” Jill assured him, her hands coming up to play at the buckles of his coat. She was suddenly curious as to how to undo them. But maybe that could be figured out another time, when they weren’t out in public and about to see her favourite ballet. She tipped her head back, disconnecting their contact - but only so she could brush a soft kiss of greeting over his lips. His lips were warm, firm. She’d like to taste more of them soon. For the time being, she took a small step back and tucked her arm through his. “I would never stand you up,” she assured him. “I’ve been looking forward to this way too much. And you look amazing. Come on; I want to get a program before the it starts.” She already had the tickets on hand; Jill was a romantic, but she was a progressive one. Since she’d asked him out, she was more than happy to purchase the tickets. They weren’t great seats: she’d bought them with her own money. She knew she had a lot of resources at her disposal, and if she’d just asked, she could have her own box - but that wasn’t the point of being here, away from Court and her family. This was Jill’s last chance to live a normal life, and she was going to make the most of it. They were seated in the middle of the mezzanine, where they could see the whole stage from above, and Jill flipped through the program idly as they waited for the show to start. She liked knowing who was dancing the parts, even if she didn’t know who they were. “Have you watched The Nutcracker before?” she asked Alak. *** Ballet had been a part of growing up privileged -by any standards- in Russia. The People, as Russians considered themselves, excelled in physical arenas which included most classic sports and ballet in particular. There was a reason The Imperial Russian Ballet Company was world famous; Alak had seen them in every stage of preparation for a show as his family had encouraged anything he took an interest in with a traditional leaning. Sometimes he wished he'd been blessed with the athletic fortitude necessary to be a professional dancer. It was a respected career. Dancers were athletes. They weren't considered playing at anything whereas Alak was constantly accused of playing at being a professional musician because he chose to DJ and run a podcast instead of making his own music or joining the philharmonic or whatever traditionally accepted public expression of musical aptitude his parents would have loved him to exhibit. A lot of his life would have been easier if he'd made different choices. Though. If he had chosen a different path, he wouldn't be here, now, with Jill who gave him sweet kisses and shy glances and made him smile even when he didn't feel like smiling. "Yes. I've seen The Imperial Russian Ballet Company from auditions to practices to dress rehearsals to the full performance. My parents loved me being interested in anything traditional. Me? I loved the music and the dedication of the dancers. Passion. I respect passion. Have you ever danced The Nutcracker?" ~*~ No one who knew remotely anything about ballet could be ignorant of the skill and talent possessed by Russian dancers. Jill had had the pleasure of watching the touring version of the Moscow Ballet’s Giselle and had been entranced by the dancers’ precision and athleticism. She would’ve loved to watch them in that journey from auditions to final performance. For all that she’d toiled in the decidedly unglamourous ballet classes of New York City Ballet’s academy, she’d never lost her love or wonder of the dance. “That’s amazing,” she said, her eyes wide with wonder. She wasn’t flipping through her program anymore; she wanted to hear more of his stories of Russia. “What was it like? They must’ve all been so good. I don’t think I would’ve been that good, even if I’d been able to keep dancing. Once, I finally managed to complete Odile’s thirty-two fouettes, after months and months of practice, and my teacher said it was the most joyless piece of dancing he’d ever seen. He wasn’t wrong. I was sweating so hard just to make it through, there was no seduction or flirtation or anything Odile was supposed to be in my dancing. But you asked about Nutcracker. I did it several years in a row for our academy’s Christmas performance. I was a shepherdess, a Chinese dancer, then a Spanish dancer. Once, I was the understudy for Clara in the Balanchine version - you know, the one where Clara gets to dance the role of the Sugarplum Fairy? But Marnie Jacobson - she was the one who got the role - was ridiculously healthy the entire season and I never actually got to perform it.” Once, before the assassination attempt, all that would’ve come out in one breath. Now, she had to take a few breaths in between to make it through, but her penchant for blurting out long strings of sentences hadn’t gone away. *** "It was like most of Russian life: hard, focused, and determined. There is a reason most people don't think of Russians as weak. We survive in a land dedicated to trying to kill us---or that's how it feels when living there." Alak chuckled softly. He loved the way Jill spoke. There was a passion to her in everything she did. Life itself seemed more exciting and fulfilling simply being with her. It was hard to imagine her as a joyless dancer. Jill was joy as far as Alak was concerned. She was almost glowing as she spoke about dancing, how could her dancing have been anything other than joyful? There was the possibility she was the same as him when it came to music: better at appreciating the skills of others than cultivating the same skills for herself. "Don't think me evil for saying it, but I wish the girl had gotten ill at least one night so you could have danced before an audience. I'd love to see you dance." ~*~ Jill laughed slightly, sheepish. “It’s nothing I didn’t wish every single night she went on,” she admitted. “But it never came true.” Sweet she might be, but she was also human. A chance to dance Clara on the same stage as the real New York City Ballet did? That would’ve been the opportunity of a lifetime. But her chance had never materialized, and now it never will again. With a small sigh, she shifted in her seat to be closer to his and rested her head on his shoulder. “I guess I was lucky to even get to be the understudy. The dance mistress always used to tell me I could never be truly great unless I stop eating all those chocolate mousse cakes, but…” She shrugged. “I don’t think I could ever give up good food like that, even to be a world class dancer.” *** Food was one of the many things Alak had taken for granted before the Dreams had turned his life upside down. He'd loved chocolate. He'd loved fruit and salad and the majority of his protein had come from mixtures of nuts. His biggest worries had been getting his tracks in order before a show. Now he was sitting beside a beautiful girl who had once danced The Nutcracker without ever making it on stage in the role she was clearly perfect for while she rested her head on his shoulder--- "You smell like chocolate. Exotic and sweet and irresistible." Scent was something he could appreciate now in a way he'd never been able to as a human. Alak rested his cheek against Jill's hair as he whispered to her. It was almost as if they were all alone watching the performers dance solely for their amusement. Nothing was intruding on them if they just--- "If I close my eyes, I can see you dancing. You're better than them. Down there. You're everything the part requires and you're more than any audience deserves. That's why I'm going to say I'm glad you never danced the part on stage. This way? I'm the only one who gets to see you as Clara and I like being the only one to get to see your performance. I'm special, see? Your own private audience." ~*~ No one had ever said anything like that to her before. At best, Jill had heard herself being described as “cute”. Sometimes even “beautiful”, when she got dressed up for Court. But exotic? Irresistible? A better dancer than what they were seeing below? Jill took a moment to let the words warm her. She wasn’t so egotistical that she believed she was better than the principal dancers on the stage, but she believed that Alak believed it, and that was what was so amazing: that she’d found someone who saw so much potential in her. She smiled up at him and leaned up just enough to kiss his cheek. “One day, I’ll dance a piece for you,” she said. And, maybe, one day she could also share her secret with him. He was going to be important to her, she could tell. He had a right to know. *** "One day, I'll compose a song for you. Music without words." Alak opened his eyes to smile at Jill for her kiss. She was close enough he could have tried to steal another, but he didn't. His family was made up of thieves and theft; Alak would never steal anything he could be granted for having earned it. Jill was the kind of girl worth dressing up for, worth waiting for a kiss from, and worth fighting to earn her affection. It wasn't easy to imagine himself being good enough for a woman as good as Jill. He was willing to try all the same. "Thank you for this dance, Jill. It is beautiful enough simply because I get to share it with you. I'd be willing to bet any performance I saw with you as my companion would always be considered better than a performance I saw alone. I look forward to seeing you dance. In the meantime, I am most grateful to have been chosen as your companion for this show." He wrapped his arm around her as he turned his attention back to the dancers. They deserved the respect of their attention in exchange for their devotion to their performance. It also helped he knew the distraction of the dancing would keep him decent regardless of how Jill smelled. He could almost understand the words 'sweet torture' sitting with her in the dark; Alak hoped he was able to give her a night as nice as this one in the future. It went without saying they would have another night together in the future and one more was better than no more. |