(Untitled)

[fairytaleknight]

[Millitimed: Between Princess Tutu episodes 7 and 8, after the canon OOMs that will be posted this evening.]

Fakir doesn't tell stories. But if he did, this is the story he would tell as he stepped through the Milliways door, his practice sword and scabbard hanging at his left hip:

Once upon a time, there was a Prince who loved everyone in the

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[fairytaleknight]

At some point -- perhaps late afternoon, by Milliways time (how odd, wasn't it evening when Fakir arrived?) -- Fakir goes out to the meadow beside the lake and begins to practice the sword.

It's been some time since Fakir last received a lesson from Spoon, and despite his regular practice, he's losing track of the sequences Spoon taught him. Fakir's steps and the turns of his wrist tend to revert to the graceful curves of ballet, rather than the precise moves required by Marozzo.

[river_meimei]

River's bare feet aren't silent on the grass -- it whispers along her ankles, bends with quiet rustles under her heels -- but they're close. She moves with a dancer's soft steps: toe, arch, heel, each foot settling precisely into place.

She's watching Fakir, her head cocked a little to one side. Her expression is distant, halfway between assessing and wistful.

[fairytaleknight]

Fakir hasn't noticed River yet. All his attention is on the turns of his wrist and the extensions of his arm as he moves through a sequence of guards and attacks, his sword cutting swiftly through the air.

[river_meimei]

River's sword is back on Serenity.

It doesn't matter.

(Doesn't mean what you think.)

Slow steps forward -- and then quick steps, five of them, swift and precise, and a pivot in a swirl of hair and skirts, and a fallen stick sweeps up into place to meet Fakir's sword.

River's back is straight; River's hands are steady, and her body is pulled up, all ballet. This stick is stout oak, but unseasoned. It won't hold up to a sword, not in a real fight, not for long -- but this isn't a fight.

This is a dance.

[there_is_a_me]

Spoon's out back, helpfully, with his own sword out and pounding away cheerfully at the pells.

[fairytaleknight]

Fakir, sword and scabbard still at his hip, walks out towards the pells, and bends his head in a quick nod to Spoon.

A different boy might say, out loud, "Good to see you," or, "I've been practicing," or "I was hoping to find you," or "How have you been?" Fakir's nod says all of these things.

[there_is_a_me]

"Hallo, Fakir. How are you doing?" Spoon is fluent in nod, but rather more - loud.

[fairytaleknight]

"I want to practice with you."

That faint hint of a smile -- was it there at all? -- is gone now, and to a werewolf nose, Fakir probably smells of something that Fakir himself hasn't yet recognized as fear.

(The answer to Spoon's question, if Fakir were inclined to give it, would be something like, Badly Or I think my enemy's coming back or I'm losing control of the story or I don't want to die.)

[river_meimei]

The dance ended, as dances do.

(Dancing, perhaps, never does -- but a single scene, a single conversation.)

River has been leaning on a paddock fence, some distance around the lake (and with a big clump of trees between Fakir and Spoon's practice yard and herself), watching the horses with a tiny, soft smile.

[fairytaleknight]

Fakir isn't going back to the bar now. Too many people there might see him. Instead, he sashays strides around the lake in search of a place where he can be alone. Maybe he'll encounter a demon bunny. That would be a relief, actually. Fakir wouldn't mind stabbing a demon bunny in the heart.

The stables look promising. Perhaps there are horses there; raised in a smithy, Fakir's used to strange horses.

But Fakir stops still when he sees River. "Oh, not you again." Whatever brief camaraderie he might have felt with her before, he doesn't want to see her now.

[river_meimei]

River's gaze slides sideways, to the air more or less near Fakir.

"It's optional," she informs him, with a certain dryness.

How nice to see you too, dude.

[fairytaleknight]

Fakir could go away and hunt demon bunnies at this point. He doesn't.

He doesn't show any other sign of enjoying the conversation, though. "I don't know what you're talking about."