AN: Please note that the category is Tragedy/Romance. When I say tragedy, I mean that it's not going to turn out well. This chapter isn't really the plot yet, just a way to kick it off, Moulin Rouge style.
I own nothing except my ideas, which essentially are my self.
~*~
Satine waited nervously, high above the nightclub's flamboyance and energy. Clowns weaved in and out of lines of the moneyed patrons. The very underworld was there, dancing and pulsing and selling. It was hell disguised as heaven, and people threw themselves greedily in. What could they gain? The only ones who made anything out of it were the whores with their diamonds, and they threw those into the fire, just the same as they had with their chances at society.
Funny, how the richest men in Paris loved them but didn't give a damn.
And there sat Satine, ready to float down among them, into the wild and crazy life she had long craved. Some could be fond of this life, but so many more ended up miserable. Satine had heard about the ones who hated it, but she knew she would never be one of them. She knew it.
"And, now," came a melodramatic voice, escaping from cherry-red lips almost in slow motion, "an angel descends among us!"
At angel, the ropes that held her up gave a light jerk and her heart caught for a minute. But in moments she was slowly descending, her feathered wings catching pieces of foil that were sprinkled down. Her crimson lips parted and the mezzo of the expectant orchestra seemed deafening to her ears. The first note sounded, clear and perfect. The harmonies slipped from her throat. Her heart beat.
Her throat, that had never tasted warm blood.
Her heart, which had never loved a man.
When the first slippered foot hit the ground, its soundless thump was audible to every enraptured ear. Her breath had taken only a second's rest, but every eye in the building had been fixed on her, hungrily wanting more. The men on the dance floor had parted, leaving her like Moses in the Sea of Reads.
Satine, in the Sea of Tuxedos.
Each had his gaze directed toward her and his hand on his pocket full of money, but none seemed to be able to move. Little boys who usually ran from dressing room to dressing room with garters or more kohl for one of the Dogs hurried up to her and unhooked the ropes that had held her. She held one hand above her head and turned her face heavenward, watching them unfasten her wings through the corner of her eye. The feathers had reached to her toes and now the four boys carried a pair of wings among themselves like they were pallbearers.
The music changed and the pitch died in midair. Red hair shook and the quiet, holy beauty of a moment before was forgotten to a glamorous star. Wings gone, she should have just been a woman in a white dress. But somehow, she wasn't. No one could figure out what had happened.
Even then, she had great skill as an actress.
Only later would her life become an act and Satine the reality.
The men crowded around and the dance continued on, riotous and fanatical and the absolute embodiment of energy.
Satine loved it.
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AN: More later…