Wordless

She had forgotten why she was here.

The ballroom was dizzying. Mirrors and glitter and white gauze. Everything in blacks and whites and greys. This was not her world and it was obvious that she did not belong. People behind masks and fans whispered. She could feel their whispers in the air pressing against her skin. They cut her sidelong looks with their eyes, sneering with a glance. She flushed and determined not to see them. A hum of noise saturated the space; a mixture of laughter, strains of music, but no matter how hard she tried she could not pick out a word. As a script mage she could sense their shape and form but nothing specific. Yet, as indistinct as they were, she felt their intention soak through her skin, reaching inside her with prying, fiddling fingers. They picked and plucked at her confidence, her self-reliance. A thread was loosened, tugged and she felt a portion unravel. Levy looked around her for the exit. She needed to leave before they unwound all that she was and re-knitted her in the shape they wanted.

Her eyes skimmed the walls, passing over couples pressed against it. In her world walls were lined with books, not mirrors, and the exits were clearly labelled. She caught a glimpse of herself in the reflected surface and stalled. No wonder the other guests stared. There was no overly puffed up ballgown obscuring her body. She was encased in a long evening dress of golden ochre tied with a white bow. The gold stood out starkly in the room, the only splash of colour in the monochrome background. She must have forgotten the dress code entirely.

The Levy inside the mirror looked bewildered and a little frightened so she straightened her back and smiled. The frightened mirror Levy melted away. She tilted her head to one side and the smile became more genuine. She looked nice. It was a jarring thought, the smile fading instantly, leaving a burnt taste in her mouth. She couldn't remember owning a dress like this or getting ready for…whatever this was. She couldn't remember how she'd got here…or why…

"I was searching for someone…" the words tripped out and she slapped a hand over her mouth. It felt wrong to speak here. Words could not survive in the atmosphere. It was too thick. Too cloying. Intentions and feelings; love, hate, envy, lust, fear, anger, mixing together as words were left unsaid. They infused the air until they could almost be tasted.

A flash of blue in the mirror caught her eye and she turned. Someone else here was in colour. Maybe they were who she was searching for. Perhaps they'd forgotten the dress code together.

Slowly she walked back into the press of bodies and laughter, her eyes scanning for the blue jacket. An irritation flashed through her. He was the only one wearing colour, he should not be that difficult to spot, and why wasn't he searching for her? She paused. He? Where had 'he' come from?

Ahead of her the dancers parted as though brushed aside, leaving her line of sight unobscured.

Levy stopped.

He stood above her on an ornamental staircase, with a careless air and a bored expression. A blue jacket encased his form over a foaming white shirt, black hair wild on his head, hands covered by black gloves. He looked at her. Really looked at her. She felt a strange lurch inside, at once pleasant and uncomfortable. She only had a moment. The crowds that had left the path between her and the stranger clear surged, as though suddenly released, and frothed across her eye line. Levy jerked her head in agitation, leaning around the obstacles, but he was gone. Panic infused her, eyes darting frantically, trying to spot him again. In this world, she was alone, different, a vivid splash of colour on black and white. A script mage in a place of no words. He did not quite fit either, which meant that, maybe, they could fit together. A flush crawled over her cheeks. Not like that!

As her eyes searched and found nothing annoyance quietly crept up her spine until she realised she was scowling. It didn't feel like this was the first time she'd been mad at him.

"He knows where I am, he can come and find me." She tried to say it in loud defiance, but it came out as an angry whisper. She pressed her heels firmly to the dance floor, arms folded, refusing to budge even as dancers swept around her, glaring at them if they got too close.

As she stood rebelliously against what she perceived to be the social constructs of this party (she'd already violated the dress code, she may as well go all out) two masked dancers approached her, one from the left, the other from the right. Levy froze, fear twisting her insides as she waited for the bruising grasp on her arms, the rough jostling to remove her, the very real potential for pain. Her eyes were wide, mind flashing between running or standing her ground, when they both, suddenly and simultaneously gave a flourishing bow and offered out a hand to her. Relief almost made her laugh as her eyes darted from one to the other, unsure what to do. As it happened, the decision was taken from her before she could choose. As quickly as the hands were offered in unison, they were dropped in unison as the two turned on each other and started to argue. Their words were inexplicably drowned out by the music, but she could feel the heat of the mounting fury. Embarrassed, eager to stop them, she raised her hands placatingly and took a step forward. She found them abruptly pressed to a navy clad chest.

'Gajeel.' Her mouth formed the word but did not put sound to it, plucking it from somewhere in her mind that felt coated in shadow. He tilted his head at her, as though acknowledging that she knew who he was even as she didn't. His eyes looked down into her own and her heart stuttered with a lurch. Her cheeks were hot like she was blushing, and she thought that she was supposed to be mad at him, but here he was, and she could not recall why. The arguing dancers were forgotten. Slowly he reached up and took one of the hands on his chest into his own, his other dropping to rest lightly on her waist. There was a beat, the space of an unspoken objection she didn't provide, and then they began to dance.

It was wonderful and magical. She could not take her eyes off his face; his eyes, his lips. He began to say something she couldn't hear, a crooning hum and she realised he was singing to her. Though she could not hear the words, their intent wrapped around her, soaked into her skin, binding her closer to him. She would stay here with him; safe, protected. Her gaze was fixed on his mouth as he whispered to her and she leaned closer as he dipped down to meet her halfway. She would taste the words if she couldn't hear them. Let their meaning be absorbed as his mouth moved over hers.

The shadows in her mind stirred.

'What about Lucy?'

Levy wrenched back, her lips untouched. The thought was digging in, shaking off the tendrils of shadow, becoming clearer.

She had been looking for Lucy, not Gajeel.

At her pull he had released her and now, as memory lit up her face, he stepped back. His eyes were suddenly cold as iron, and she felt a frisson of fear. The fear was not unfamiliar either. There was a bitter twist to his mouth that didn't match his eyes, but she couldn't let herself think about it.

She had to find Lucy.

Tearing her gaze away she ran to the edge of the room, her image growing larger as she drew closer. Her palms hit the cool glass, reflection staring back at her with wide eyes and a pale face, regret deepening the lines around her mouth. Behind her Gajeel's image watched, blue jacket sharp against the blurred background of greys. Levy swallowed around a dry throat, her eyes darting along the walls and up, fingers tracing the same routes, searching for a door.

'I have to get out of here. Lucy needs me.'

Levy's fingers slowed and stilled. With a steadying breath, she took a step back and raised her hand.

"Rock!"

The weight of silence lifted off her shoulders as she broke the unspoken rule, freeing her voice. The word ripped from her throat like a missile, gathering momentum and intention as it travelled through the air. The mirrored surface smashed spectacularly into glittering shards.

Wind tore around her and she was already falling. Behind her there were shouts and screams as the hurricane passed through the ballroom. As she fell the shadows reached out tendrils of dark and wrapped around the memory that had tried so hard to be heard. Even as Levy reached out to grasp the image of Lucy's face it disintegrated into wisps of smoke. Behind it Gajeel's solidified and stayed, fixed in that final moment as she'd looked back at him in the mirror. She recognised that expression. It was sad. It was pained. It was…was that…

It vanished too, before she was done.

Levy was left with nothing.

Just the darkness and the floating.

Then, with a clink of clutter, she landed.