Lost Tales
I
Audience of one
Chariot du Nord, newcomer at Luna Nova, and future Most Famous Witch in the World, took in a deep breath as she saw a group of three students coming in past the corner. These three looked friendly. Maybe they would listen to her.
"Hi!" she waved at them, her best smile – she practised – curling her lips upwards. The three witches, two blondes and a brunette – second year? – waved back.
A reaction! This was her chance! She walked right towards them, and handed the brunette a flier, still trying to smile as best as she could.
"Hi! My name is Chariot Du N-"
"I… uh, I know who you are," the brunette said. She didn't take the flier, withdrawing her arms like Chariot could pinch her, or something.
"It's that first-year weirdo," one of the blondes whispered to the other.
Any other witch would have found herself stricken at the palpable rejection, but she was no ordinary witch. She was Chariot!
Also, she was used to it.
"You know who I am! Wonderful! And you know tonight I'll give one of my super-amazing magical shows? There will be fireworks and songs and-"
"S-sorry," the brunette said, pushing past her, quickly followed by her two friends. Chariot turned to speak, but the brunette held up a hand. "We have to study, sorry," she explained. One could even think she was running away, as quickly as her legs brought her away from Chariot.
"At least take a… flier…" Chariot tried to say, but the trio was already farther down the hallway, out of reach of her arm.
"That was creepy," Chariot heard one of the blondes say to the brunette one. She at least had an apologetic look upon her face. Most didn't, and passed right by, without even answering her.
Chariot sighed.
So! That could mean this had been a half-success? Quarter of success? A slice?
Still the best that had happened to her the last hour.
Maybe the problem was in the fliers?
Chariot took one in her hand. Red paper was good, it made it stand out, and it made sure people would not just lose it in the middle of notes or books. It had been expensive to buy, but worth it. And they were hand-written. People liked hand-written things, didn't they? It meant time had been spent on them, that they had, well, value…
A solitary witch, readying from a book, walked past her. Chariot, busy looking at the fliers, didn't catch her.
"Hey…" she began, waving one of her fliers, but the witch didn't look up from her book, didn't even acknowledge her.
Chariot slumped against the wall. She took out a small notebook from her left pocket.
Magical Festa, it read, in Chariot's own fluid handwriting. Under the large letters of the title, another small line read seats taken, and then it was all empty white paper.
Chariot put the notebook back in her pocket.
Oh, well, she still had time! The show was tonight, and maybe someone would come anyway! There was one person in particular who…
Footsteps echoed around the walls, and Chariot, a smile once again upon her face, turned towards the source of the noise.
"Hi! My name is Char-"
Oh no.
A tall, black-haired witch had just appeared at the bottom of the hallway. She wasn't looking her way, her eyes drawn to something she held in her hands, so maybe she didn't notice her, and maybe, just maybe, Chariot had time to run. She stood up on swift legs an-
"Is this yours, dear?" The voice was sweet, sickly so, like a candy bar left too long in a dark, deep place.
Chariot turned her head to politely smile, but her legs didn't stop.
"Oh, hi, uh, Morgaine. Nice day, isn't it, I was just…"
The taller girl sprinted, and in three quick strides walked up to Chariot, who pushed herself against the wall. Morgaine languidly put her right arm up to stop Chariot from leaving.
Chariot smiled again, and looked left and right for someone else to walk by. Another student, a Professor… anyone.
The hallways was empty.
"I said: is this yours, bon-bon?" Morgaine opened her hand to reveal a crumpled mess of red paper. From a corner Chariot got a glimpse of the words ical festa.
"My name… is not 'bon-bon'." Morgaine's fake French accent sucked anyway.
"You are too sweet, bon-bon," Morgaine repeated, her arm inching ever closer to Chariot. Her clear azure eyes shone like corpse-lights. "May I see one of your fliers?"
Chariot had long since learned behind Morgaine' sweet smile only pain hid, but there was a little sparkle of hope deep into her. Even if it was Morgaine, one person at least asked for one of her fliers.
"Sure," Chariot said, a drop of good mood trickling back into her voice.
"Why, thank you…" Morgaine took one into her long, dainty fingers. The crumpled one fell to the floor, forgotten.
Morgaine held the new flier in her fingers, crumpled in her fist and threw it after the first one.
"Morgaine…"
"Sorry, my hand slipped. I'll take another one."
Chariot withdrew her fliers, but Morgaine was taller, and her arms longer, so she managed to take one. She didn't let it fall this time, and instead started to read it.
Out loud.
"Magical Festa! Tonight only! Go witness the greatest magical show in the world! Fireworks and songs and dances!"
"Morgaine, please, we are in the hallway…" Chariot jumped to take it off her hand, but Morgaine held it out of her reach.
"You'll be awed and leave with a smile in your heart! Tonight only, Magical Festa! With the one and only…"
"Morgaine!"
"… Shiny Chariot!" Morgaine threw the flier away and laughed, her shrill cackles chasing each other against the walls of Luna Nova's Academy. Chariot felt her cheeks prickle and warm up, like she just opened an oven door right in front of her face. "Shiny Chariot! Oh, bon-bon, you are too precious sometimes."
"You… Morgaine, just… please, leave me alone, will you? What ever did I do to you?"
Morgaine's corpse-light eyes shone with renewed vigour at those words. She pushed Chariot against the wall. Her long nails prickled her skin beneath her uniform. Her line of teeth seemed to shine, sharp.
"Bon-bon, you know you shouldn't question your elders." Morgaine's left index climbed to reach Chariot's right cheek. Her nail was cold and hard against her skin. "Why are you wasting your time doing such silly, childlike things, anyway? Aren't your grades a disgrace, bon-bon? You should study. Even more so now…" Morgaine inched closer, and Chariot turned her head to the side not to to smell into Morgaine's breath, sweet cold mint. "…that your four-eyed friend isn't here to help you."
Chariot balled her fists.
"Leave Croix out of this."
"I wonder how happy she is right now… two weeks without Shiny Chariot to drag her down!"
"Shut up…"
"Why are the two of you always hanging out together by the way? Is that French accent of yours, bon-bon? Or is it… something else…?" Morgaine's tongue darted towards her upper lip.
Chariot drew her wand. It trembled, pointed against Morgaine's left shoulder. Maybe it was the red rage battling in her chest for dominance against yellow fear and black hate, maybe it was due to her blurred vision. Chariot blinked away, and her vision cleared.
"Oooh… now you've done it, bon-bon…" Morgaine's smile turned thin and even sharper than usual. "Pointing your wand at another student… and a senior at that!" Morgaine drew her own wand in a flash. "I'm being attacked. It's legitimate defence!"
Chariot realized too late she'd been goaded. She tried to put her wand back in, but Morgaine was quicker. She moved her wand around, and white ropes of magic coiled around her ankles and arms, lifting her from the ground. Her wrist twisted, Chariot's wand clattered on the floor.
"Magical Festa!" Morgaine cried out, laughter rippling into her voice like noxious air bubbles from the bottom of a pond. "There will be songs… and dances…" the magical ropes swung in the air, and Chariot's limbs after them, without the need for Morgaine to say one single word.
"Let me go!" Chariot cried out, but there was no one in the hallway to help her… no student, no professor… no Croix…
Chariot, who still held onto her fliers, saw as they slipped one by one from her grasp, floating and dancing all around her, in a mocking choreography.
"… and fireworks!"
Chariot understood what Morgaine was about to do a second before her wand lit up in gold and red. Her no scraped against her throat, but it didn't leave her mouth. And it was in dead silence that Chariot saw her hand-written fliers, in red expensive paper, lit up like moths, all together, and burn down in white flames.
"With the one and only…" Morgaine took a step back, letting Chariot fall to the floor, surrounded by a halo of cinders, "… Shiny Chariot," Morgaine concluded, bowing down in front of Chariot, taking her witch hat off with a flowing gesture.
(|°|)
It took her the larger part of the afternoon to take the stains off her uniform, and to let it wash and dry. She didn't have time to write any more fliers, but tomorrow morning there would have been hell to pay if she showed up with a dirty or wet uniform.
And without Croix…
Chariot bit her lips and balled her fists against the dark wood of her desk.
Without Croix, she couldn't… Morgaine was a third year, an honour student, popular and beloved by Professors, everything Chariot was not. There was no way Chariot could ever beat her using magic. Damn, even Croix, who was… who was simply the smartest person ever only managed to beat her with a trick, all those weeks before.
Since then, Chariot had hoped the dark-haired bully would have left her alone. And instead, she had been goaded in the dumbest of ways.
Chariot looked at her empty bedroom. Her roommates had… to study tonight, so she had the entire room at her disposal. During the last few days, she had daydreamed about how she'd have to move things out to allow people to enter and watch her show. Maybe even take the beds out of the room… but it was all a fantasy, wasn't it?
In her night clothes, Chariot Du Nord was alone in her room. Few knew about her Magical Festa. Even less took one of the fliers. Could she ask them back? She would have like to put them away as a keepsake…
Still, there was nobody here, was it…?
An audience of none.
Chariot blinked away. There was this… prickling…
She balled her fists.
On her bed she found the sun hat she bought last summer in Marseille, before leaving for Luna Nova. It was a keepsake of happier times, when she had played around in the waves, her heart aflutter at the thought of becoming a witch, at last! And of her shows! Make people happy, make their lives a little brighter, give them good memories.
Chariot put the sun hat on her head.
Her bedroom door was closed. She was alone.
"W…" she drew in a breath, calmed down her chest. Chariot jumped on her chair, taking off her hat. "… welcome, everyone!" A teddy bear in the corner would do as the first attendee to her show. "This is Magical Festa! This is my show! You will be awed, you will be amazed! Open your heart to magic!" Chariot drew her wand and sprouted long lines of sparkles from its tip. She waved it left and right, drawing circles in the room. She put the sun hat back on her head. She looked at a bundle of clothes at the feet of her bed, and pointed at it. "You, sir! Are you ready?" Chariot jumped off the chair and did a somersault which ended with her atop of the upper bed, just shy of hitting the ceiling, but she pulled it off. "We have dancing here! And singing!" Chariot moved her wand around, as tinkling voices seemingly sprouted from the four corners of the room, a ghostly choir that caressed the air with harp strings, following Chariot's own movements.
Chariot pointed her left finger at an apple she brought in yesterday and forgot to eat.
"You, madame! Don't underestimate magic!"
Chariot conjured a set of dancing lights from her wand: they floated upwards towards the ceiling as the room's light dimmed: from up there, they hang in patterns, looking like a miniature firmament. Each star burned brighter in tune with the ghostly music.
"I am here for you, Mesdames et Messieurs, the one and only… Shiny Chariot!"
The stars shone bright and, one, by one, they burned and exploded in red, gold, blue, green, white and purple fireworks, each of them chasing shadows away.
"And I will always be here," Chariot said, more to herself than anyone else. Morgaine or not, this was what she lived for. Her heart beat one thousand per minute, like she had run a mile or flew at full speed or met Croi-
A knock on the door.
Chariot jumped off her skin.
Around her, the fireworks snuffed out. The room came back to her usual light.
A Professor?
Finnelan?
M-Morgaine?
Chariot thought it was best to ignore it an-
Another knock.
"Hey. It's me," a muffled voice sounded from behind the door.
It couldn't… it couldn't be. Chariot just wasn't the kind of person with good luck. The stars never smiled to her.
Nevertheless, she walked towards the door and opened it.
Dishevelled, panting, setting her glasses right, Croix Meridies, wearing civilian clothes, waited in the island of light her room cast into the dark corridor.
"W… what are…" Chariot began to say, only for Croix to look past her into the room.
"Is it over? Did I miss it?"
"What are you talking about?"
Croix blinked, then produced a carefully-folded square of red paper from her jacket's pocket. Chariot managed to think how good that jacket looked on Croix for a whole second before any other thought was washed away by the sight of one of her fliers.
How… how did Croix get one of those?
"Magical Festa," Croix explained, unfolding the flier and holding it against Chariot's chest. "I didn't miss it, did I?"
Chariot's chest felt warm. It felt like honey was dripping from its centre, warm and golden honey, covering her, and all the worries, the pain, the hate was swept away by the sight of Croix, panting and holding her flier.
"N-no. In fact, I was just starting."
"Wonderful," Croix exclaimed.
"Please, madame, enter the magical land. After you."
Chariot bowed and stepped aside. Croix went past her and sat on the bed. They were alone in the room. As Chariot closed the door behind her, Croix exchanged a quick smile with her.
Chariot nodded. Oh, well. Next time it would go better. And there was no better audience than…
Chariot coughed into her fist. Was she getting light-headed? She better focus.
"So, uhm…" she asked Croix, "why are you here? You still have two days of advanced studies, right?"
"I finished early," Croix answered with a winning smile. Behind her glasses, her green eyes twinkled with excitement.
"Wow! You are…" why were her cheeks so warm, really? Chariot coughed once again. "Well you… I'm happy you made it."
"Me too," Croix said. "I see at least you decided on a stage name."
"Yes!"
Shiny Chariot jumped on the chair once again. She put her sun hat on, bowed and got ready to do it all once again. Better. Brighter.
Encore.
