Mystere La Amore
Red Bird's praise, Black Widow's vengeance
*All elements of Mystere are copyright Cirque Du Soleil
During the next few days (or was it nights? After all, exact time was not official in Mystere), the Man in Pink felt as though he were secretly living in a fairy tale story. Every time he passed La Belle, or caught her glance, she would smile at him, batting her eyelashes. At first he was a little hesitant, but soon he found himself waving back to her, or blowing kisses in her direction. In his mind, he looked forward to when they would get time to be alone, so he could show her the full love he was capable of…
He had much knowledge of love, after all, and he longed to share it. He wanted to hold her in his arms, look into her eyes, whisper sweet words of rhyme and passion into her ear…however, when his thoughts trailed anywhere beyond that, he would banish such daydreams from his mind. After all, he wanted to express his joy towards love to her, not to take advantage of her beauty, or whatever it was modern day non-Cirques did in temporary relationships. No, Moha-Samedi wanted true love, nothing like those lustful animals that went after the opposite gender for one night stands. The very thought disgusted him. Little did he suspect, however, that he would be sought after by such feelings…
About a week or so after La Belle's performance, after many exchanged glances and blown kisses, La Belle actually came to see Moha-Samedi as he was making his way up to his tower to turn in for the night. As he was just heading up, she appeared suddenly, almost catching him off guard. Then realizing they were practically alone, he felt the body temperature in the room rise…or was that just him? "Um, yes?" He stuttered shyly. "Is there something you need, my beauty?" He practically choked on the words 'my beauty,' not certain how she would react to it. She smiled, "I wanted to wish you goodnight, monsieur," she whispered in her sweet, melodious voice, which seemed to ring like bells. "Oh! Well, goodnight, Madame La Belle," said Moha-Samedi, bowing his head and secretly sighing in relief at the loss of awkward tension. After all, she hadn't come to tell him that the incident a few nights ago had not been a mistake, had she?
Apparently not, for as he lifted his head up, she whispered, "Yes, good night…"
Then she moved forward, placed her arms on his chest, and kissed him-this time, for real.
Instead of lasting a split second, she took her time, giving him time (after, once again, freezing for a split second) to relax, actually REMEMBER to breathe, and even wrap his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. It was the best full minute of his life.
As she pulled away, breaking the kiss, she whispered;
"…Moha-Samedi," and was gone as suddenly as she had appeared.
The Man in Pink must have stood his place for about a good five seconds, taking in the exhilaration of what had just happened before remembering what it was he was doing.
As he made his way up the left stage tower window, he stopped at the bottom of the ladder wall leading up to the window. He clapped his hands twice, and the window flew open. Only he had the power of such control over the stage, no one else in the theater. So it was he was able to climb up the laddered indents in the wall up to his little piece of home without worrying about intruders who didn't belong in the theater.
The other characters in the show, however, where a different story. In the turquoise and purple colored room, one could have easily mistakened it as part of the stage (minus the bed, bookshelf, wardrobe closet and desk drowning in papers and journals), but made it even easier for other residents of the world to get in. As Moha-Samedi was getting ready for bed, looking forward to the sweet dreams that would be conjured by his thoughts on his newly born love life with La Belle, he could have sworn he heard a noise from…under his bed? As he went to peek underneath, he saw...
Nothing as far as he could see, anyway. As he lifted his head up however, he heard a familiar 'chirp' next to him. As he turned around, he was caught and thrown backwards in the embrace of a mess of red feathers.
"Ruby bird! You mischievous little minx, how did you get in here? You know that I don't like to be disturbed now!" The female Red bird simply sat on the bed smiling at him, head cocked off to the side, as though to say 'whatever are you talking about? I sneak in here all the time! It's not like the door's locked!'
Moha-Samedi stared at her seriously. "What would your brother say if he saw you like this now, hm? He never used to sneak in here like this!"
At that, Ruby's head sank to her chest, a look of sadness etched across her face. That's when the emcee realized he'd crossed the line. It had been almost a year since the Fire bird had left to return to the desert to search for his roots, possibly finding his and Ruby's parents. Ruby, despite being young for an adult red bird, had really stepped up in taking his place in Mystere's theatrical world.
Moha-Samedi moved his hand forward, softly stroking her red feathers. "There now, I'm sorry, I didn't realize…" before he could finish, a piece of paper was shoved into his face. "What's this?" A hopeful look of almost-happiness on her face, Ruby simply gestured for him to read it. Carefully, he opened the paper…
A stick figure drawing of what appeared to be him and La Belle had been sketched onto the paper inside a giant heart. Around and inside the heart where signatures, some scrawled at an awkward angle, others done with perfect handwriting, by Ruby, the lizards, Birds of Prey, Stas, Bebe and Bebe Francois.
"Did you all do this for me? You all even practiced you hand writing like I suggested to complete this?" He asked in quiet admiration. True it was just a child's piece, but it was truly the thought that counted. Ruby nodded, wrapping her arms around his shoulders in a friendly hug. He smiled, hugging her back. "I feel more confident than ever about our world's future thanks to this, my friend. Thank you, Merci Boque! Now, why don't you tell the others of my thanks and get some rest? There's going to be many great things to look forward to starting tomorrow!" He said happily. She nodded, kissed him on the cheek, and headed off through the window. With a snap of the ringmaster's fingers, they automatically closed behind her.
'She's a good girl,' Moha-Samedi thought as he pulled of his original costume and pulled on the t-shirt and night pants he wore for bed, 'she's really come a long way since her brother left…she's no longer a child. She's a real female red bird now.' He smiled, taking the picture in his hand and placing it on his desk. His thoughts of La Belle and her beauty, the warmth of her lips, and the sparkle of her eyes sparked his imagination as he drifted to sleep.
Little did he know of the dark shadow awaiting outside, to mix his dreams with darker thoughts which he struggled to banish from his mind.
As the night grew darker, a figure made their way quietly to the man in pink's tower, hidden in the shadows. Dancing gracefully from shadow to shadow, only when the moonlight hit them right under the ringmaster's window did the light reveal a face:
The Black Widow, spiritual opposite of La Belle and half-sister to the same, had (in her mind) been neglected far too long in the darkness by her sister's beauty and good fortune brought by same. Now, however, that her sister had found someone to love, to kiss, and to hold in her arms, Widow was not going to let herself be ignored once more.
No, this time, she would win this battle, and show all that her beauty was truly worth the risked danger of losing one's dreams to nightmares.
Yes, it was true her dark, vamp-like touch could darken a man's mind with lustful fantasies of darkness, all sweet, innocent fairytales of a happily ever after forgotten, but in the Widow's mind, it would be worth it.
Quietly, she climbed the wall to the Pink emcee's window, softly pushing it open without a sound, predicting he would not be awakened. Of course, as ringmaster to Mystere, little would she suspect her presence alone would be enough to awaken him, even if not fully.
Moha-Samedi, feeling the presence of one of his familiars to the theater, was barely able to open his eyes from his deep slumber. As he looked up, he was just barely able to make out the figure in the doorway:
"La Belle?"
He could just barely tell…why had she come so late at night? As the figure moved closer, as their presence became clearer, he realized this couldn't be her…something was off, there was something definitely different, yet similar.
The Widow knew he was still half-asleep, so she didn't even hesitate in simply sauntering over to the bed and climbing on top of him. However, even though he was half asleep (and for some reason couldn't shake himself awake), as soon as the Black Widow's face un-blurred and became picture perfect to his vision, he panicked in the back of his mind.
Yet the rest of him was so tired, why couldn't he wake up?
The Black widow smiled. Now that she knew he could not shake her off, no matter how much he wanted to, she could start having her fun.
She stroked his hand, which had been raised in partial self-defense, and bent down to whisper in his ear; "Don't worry, we won't go all the way, I'm just hear to make you feel good…better then you ever will be with my paranoid other."
Widow's dark voice rang in his ears, like fire bells in a roaring inferno of flames. Even drunk on sleep, as well as the negative energy from her dark presence, he felt as though he were drowning. As her hands intertwined with his, rubbing up and down his arms, her lips kissing his neck, he felt that any where she touched where burning, like hot iron against his skin.
When her lips met his, flashes came to his mind. Horrible flashes of people screaming, eyes widened in fear, at one point he heard children crying bloody murder. He had heard of the nightmares the Widow's touch could put into one's mind, but he could never have possibly imagined it to be this severe.
Then her hands moved from his arms, and began to delve under his shirt, running across his chest and rib cage. If her touch burned running across his arms then by the good name of Apollo* did this SMART LIKE THE RIVER STYX*. He felt his back arch as a scorching heat seemed to climb its way from his ribs to his chest. If things couldn't get any worse for him, this was the exact sort of reaction the Black Widow was looking for, as she "rewarded" him for such a reflex, by kissing his lips once more, sending more portraits of disturbia into his mind.
Finally, despite his drowning torment between her negative energy, torturing touch and being drunk on sleep, he begged; "Please…stop this, let me go, I-I…" He arched his back once more as her hands ignited more flames around his rib cage.
Widow was surprised by his plea. She didn't think the fool would have enough strength to beg no less wake up. Then again, she did have her limits, even with those she had a grudge against. She helped pull his shirt back down, and whispered into his ear, "very well, I'll go, but I hope you remember this as a warning; I'm ten times better than my 'sister,' and what I don't have…she does not deserve, either."
As she lifted herself back up, he found himself gazing into her dark eyes, relieved she had stopped, and her face was the last thing he saw before blacking out.
*And SCENE. Whew, you can only put your favorite characters through so much before you just have to stop, and I've seen people put characters through a lot worse than THIS. (Shudders) anyway, About the Greek Mythology themes, the show (when it first started) was supposed to be loosely based off Greek Mythology, so I suppose that would be their religious belief. Anyway, I promise this is as dark as it gets. Though the drama doesn't end here…
