BB says: Sorry this took longer then I meant it to. I volunteered at my little brother's spring carnival and was exhausted from running around in the sun. Since I was working the cotton candy machine, the only good thing was that my friend and I stuffed our faces with sugar. And spazzed. I think my mom regrets letting me go…
"'Sigh skid though the kitchen with all the grace of a drunken circus bear, ignoring the irritated voice of Leroy behind her. She dashed down the hall and took a sharp right, left, and burst through the doors of Madam Éclair's office.
She wasn't there.
The note on the desk said that she had taken the night off because her corns were acting up. Sigh frowned at the woman's carelessness, forgetting her dilemma for a moment. Honestly. As owner of the club one would think she had more work ethic. Sometimes she felt like the brunt of the work fell to her less experienced shoulders, and they skated by on luck alone. It wasn't that Madam was a bad person or a bad leader. She was just very good at passing responsibility. And procrastinating.
Sigh forced herself into a brisk walk as she neared Madam's bedroom door. Face to face with the flaking wood and the painted name 'Madam' Sigh took a deep breath and tried to brush off her own panic. Madam hated anxiety and rebuffed Sigh for her tendency to overreact to what she considered simple problems. Sigh could recall many occasions which she was sent to the 'naughty corner' for crying over literally spilled milk. Madam despised weakness, and saw it in every tear shed by the younger woman.
'Madam,' she forced her voice to be still, although there was a very obvious current of worry deep within. The room she entered was tacky, but not horribly so, with doilies and embroidered rugs littering the area. An old costume comprised of a glittery, short dress and feathered headband was framed and immortalized on the wall, a huge dresser with locked jewelry drawers beside a closet that was almost larger than the attic Sigh called her room. The bed had golden bed covers and blood red sheets, panes of mustard yellow gossamer surrounding it in a waterfall of fabric. Behind the translucent mesh lay a snoring mound on the bed.
Sigh carefully closed the door. She knew better than to wake Madam while she was sleeping. It could wait until morning.
'What the Hell do you think you're doing? Where the fuck are my groceries?'
'Oh God! My shoes, Sigh! I go on in like two minutes!'
'I'm hungry!'
No time to worry. Sigh headed back to her duties with a stiff upper lip.
'And five, six, five, six, seven, eight!' the tune, rambunctious and riveting, echoed through the empty room, the girls on stage moved to the new choreography with well practiced bodies. The sound of dance slippers and the girls' panted counting created a rhythm with the stereo as their instructor, Mr. Pop, clapped his hands in tempo.
'And turn, and kick, and pirouette and turn and wave and…Tulip! Lighter, dearest, lighter! From the top!' It was early Sunday afternoon, Forbidden Fantasy was closed, and its girls were practicing for their next performances.
Sigh watched them from the empty audience, cleaning the floors she had neglected the night before. She hummed along with the music, dancing with her mop and swaying her hips to the beat. Her shoes, comfortable house flats, clacked softly in the wake of her graceful steps, numerous wooden bracelets clacking on her wrists.
It had been nearly two days since her encounter with the reaper, and, needless to say she hadn't forgotten it. It haunted most of her thoughts, suddenly surging to the front as she chopped potatoes or washed windows or plunged toilets. Every time she began to relax it reminded her that she had been cast out into the public eye, a blood drop on a field of snow. And she had yet to tell Madam.
She held tight to the faith that the woman would come to her rescue, as she had done in the past (when it really counted). But, at the same time, she feared what her own safety would entail for the rest of the girls. What if Madam thought it necessary to get out of town? Close her life's work and sweep Sigh away? What would the workers do?
The girls were young, some had kids, some had younger siblings, but all needed shelter. A place of income that didn't look at their pasts or their scholarly prowess. Many came to raise money out of the hope that they could someday go back to school. A few sought to recover from the damage of their early years. Sigh didn't want to be the reason these good people were turned back out into the world, the dangerous, dark streets crawling with weirdoes and murderers like the late Joe Ball. It was a bitter thought, the idea that she could be solely responsible for ruining lives.
So Sigh came to a decision, tossing in her bed the night before. She would leave before they could come for her. She figured she had about a week before the reaper was able to track her down, a few more days at least. A bus ticket was hidden under her mattress, her clothes organized in order of what to take and her savings had been cleared out. She wasn't willing to shut down the only beacon to be had for these girls, but she knew she could survive on her own. Madam would forgive her eventually. She would tell her all about it someday. Until then Sigh's main priority was staying alive
She gave a graceful spin on her toes and came to a neat stop, long hair swirling about her frame with light caresses. Her body held the end pose as her mind wandered through her escape plan. It was only when she opened her eyes that she realized the music had gone silent, Mr. Pop clapping enthusiastically.
'Ah! Hiding in the back as usual, my pretty little attic flower!' he gushed. The girls on stage giggled, looking at one another as though sharing a joke. 'Will the allusive Belladonna be gracing the stage? I wrote a dance just for you~hoo!' Sigh smiled sheepishly, looking awkward at the stage name Mr. Pop was insistent upon giving her.
'Aw, come on Mr. Pop. You know that's not for me. I'm not very good at dancing.' The effeminate man scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically as he flowed across the room with grace.
'Lies! Filthy, dirty lies! You dare question the talent you were blessed with? Pish posh. You move like a goddess in denim and cotton,' he lifter her chin, looking her in the eye. 'Imagine you, the secret jewel of the stage, in one of my works of art! Ah! The world will quake with envy and joy! Lesser men will crumble beneath you as only the strong remaining standing to give you the applause you deserve.' Sigh clucked her tongue good naturedly, pulling her hand from his gasp. 'No thank you Mr. Pop. I-'
'-bitch out at every opportunity.' Sigh's eyebrow quirked as the voiced sounded from the stage. She chose not to respond. 'Anyway, Mr. Pop, I'm afraid Belladonna retired a long time ago. A one hit wonder.' The instructor, also choosing to ignore the heckler, pouted. 'I'll get you my pretty. Just you wait!' Sigh shook her head, moving to get back to her mopping.
'Doesn't he know it's pointless,' the loud whisper came again 'she's such a snob. She thinks she's too good for us, the-'
'Gardenia, your ass is showing. It must be hard keeping it hidden when your ankles are behind your head all the time, but please,' Sigh spoke casually, dipping her mop into her bucket. She heard the high pitched laughter behind her as the woman she spoke of turned her deep brown eyes. 'Oh? You hear me way up there on your high horse?' She laughed, white teeth flashing in a face darker than Sigh's.
'It's difficult to ignore a voice so similar to that of a vulture. Tell me, are all your dates too drunk to say no when you screech in their ears?' Sigh responded smoothly. She didn't look back, but knew Gardenia was fighting the urge to frown.
'Of course this is coming from the virgin. Like any guy would want to sleep with you anyway.'
'Goodness Miss Cleared For Landing. I didn't know our differences bothered you so much.'
'Please. I'm too strong to be bothered by a worm like you. You're too scared to even look at me!'
'I'm afraid looking directly at you without drinking myself stupid will turn me to stone.'
'Go to Hell, you uppity shitface.'
'I'm beating you there. I heard bitches live forever.' She heard the woman leap off the stage as she rang out the mop, a face of pure contentment on her face. The sound of high heels pounding towards her wasn't a concern, neither was the voice of Mr. Pop commanding the angered dancer to stop as others gave chase. All that she was worried about was that sticky spot under table four.
They caught Gardenia as she made to grab a fistful of Sigh's hair. 'Bitch! Whore! You think you're better than all of us, don't you? Think you can just run over us and laugh behind our backs.' Sigh ignored her.
'C-come on Deedee,' Lily spoke from her grasp around her fellow performer's neck. 'Calm down. She didn't say any of that.' The others murmured their agreements as Gardenia continued to snarl.
'Take five ladies,' Mr. Pop seemed winded by the whole ordeal, a thin hand fanning his narrow face. His voice was slightly put off by the whole display, although he had done nothing to stop it. 'A moment to cool off with do us all some good. Sigh, love, would you bring some snacks to the greenroom?' She nodded. It wasn't until she heard the last footsteps disappear (dragging the still raging Gardenia) that she let out a breath.
Gardenia hated her. Always had. From the moment she realized that the owner had a daughter who wasn't asked to perform onstage, she jumped to the conclusion that it was because she was too special. Too spoiled. The pretty princess of this paper castle. And no matter what Sigh did, whatever flips and tricks she performed to make friends, Gardenia mocked and ridiculed her. She insulted everything, from Sigh's cooking (which was good, thank you very much) to her skills as a seamstress (really? After all the adjusts Sigh made for her?).
It only took a week for frustrated Sigh to start fighting back. They had been at each other's throats ever since.
The door swung open as the young woman scrubbed at a stubborn scuff mark, brushing a loose hair behind her ear. Shoes tapped on the tiled floor as the visitor looked around.
'Sorry,' she didn't bother looking at them, pushing in a chair with her hip and straightening the candles on a table. 'We're closed for today. If you wouldn't mind coming back-'
'Are you Psyche Éclair?'
'Yeah. Wh-' her words died in her throat as she turned to look at the customer.
His eyes were bright amber in this lightening, his two demon weapons walking behind him in awe of the flashy décor. Both of his hands were in his suit pockets and he approached casually, as though trying to convince her of innocent intentions. She took a step back and he raised an eyebrow.
'Don't bolt yet. Just listen to what-'
'Back off!' Of all the things he was expecting, it was likely that he wasn't prepared for a table to come soaring his way, thrown like it weighed no more than a toy. He leapt to the side, his taller weapon shrieking as a candle flew by her head.
'Wait! We just want to-'
'You're not taking me without a fight! I'm not letting you kill me!' A chair smashed beside him, the metal contorting on impact.
'I'm not trying to kill you!' Another chair came flying. 'Will you just listen?' Sigh had backed herself into the stage, vaulting up without any hesitation. From there she could go through the greenroom, up the stairs and into her attic. There was a window that led to the alley, where she could-
'Sigh? What's wrong? Did you break somethin-' Hearing the commotion, the dancers reappeared nervously, edging from behind the stage. Their lithe bodies had rushed, heads swiveling as they sought whatever travesty Sigh had encountered. All eye eventually settled on the visitor the shadows flocked to, the stern faced young man glaring up at the panicking Sigh.
It is strange, seeing death incarnate for the first time. Few realize that it impacts everyone separately, that it is impossible to put a definite face upon the ultimate end. Death, contrary to popular belief, is not a single being, nor is it completely comprehensible by any sentient being. It is more an entity than flesh, more an idea than an entity, bending and shaping itself to everyone differently. It takes a powerful soul to gaze upon it without being taken in by the extreme surge of shock and awe wrought by reapers. Perhaps that is why older shinigami wear masks.
For some, Death is beautiful.
For some, Death is terrifying.
Various reactions played out before Sigh as she watched the young women crowding the stage.
Some adopted glazed looks, seeing the wonder that is ultimate rest. His soft, golden eyes, pitch hair with the snowy stripes and flawless porcelain flesh. A walking statue, the embodiment of perfection and sweet wonder. He was toned but not bulky, a powerful body resting on a bed of dusk and soothing black. He was lovely to them, a strange, intoxicating beauty that they found themselves unable to part with.
Some froze, their faces draining of blood at the monster lurking in the middle of the room. His yellow, demonic eyes gazed up at them with the cruel chill of a sociopath, his spindly, lanky body coiled in preparation before he lunged forward and reaped their innocent souls. His hair was coal with skeletal white lines dragged across, skin the pale color of a long dead corpse. Their fear was all consuming to an almost a painful extent.
And Sigh. A powerful soul in her ability to just see him. As a being instead of an abstract. She knew there was nothing to fear in death, and yet she also did not look to the event for rest. She was indifferent to the idea, accepting the fact that she could die from any number of things and yet hoping not to. A happy medium. She felt neither extreme terror or longing thinking of the reaper himself; she was more afraid of what sort of chaos he could throw her life into.
And how she would fight until the bitter end.
'Go back,' she commanded the still crowd, waving her hand at them 'this is none of your concern.'
'What,' Gardenia was shaking, forgetting their fight in favor of hiding behind the planted Sigh 'what is that?'
'Can't you see it?' Hyacinth's big blue eyes were glossed, blissful smile on her face 'it's so peaceful. So amazing.'
'Move!' Sigh didn't understand the concept of reapers at the time, the reality that followed them wherever they went. To her, the dancers were merely being stubborn and silly, ignoring her in a vital moment. 'What is wrong with you guys?'
'That's enough,' the reaper spoke to her, obviously straining to keep his voice level 'come with me. No harm will come to you.' Sigh looked back. The crowd of frozen on lookers were blocking her only way into the greenroom. She snarled and glared. 'No. Go away.' He twitched as the last strip of patience left him.
'Come with me willingly,' his weapons came forward on a silent command standing on either side of him 'or I'll drag you behind me.' Sigh's hands balled into fists as her muscles readied for battle. 'Sorry. I'm not going anywhere without a fight.' The two women flanking the reaper took their weapons forms. In the light, Sigh could see they were pistols that he carried in a most peculiar way.
She leapt out of the way as a barrage of light pellets rained, carefully aimed to avoid the dazed audience. They seemed to snap out of their respective trances in time to shriek and flee. But it was too late for Sigh to run for it. She had fallen, miscalculating her dodge and tripping over the edge of the stage. She wasn't injured, but felt a bullet skim her arm, warm and pulsating, as she got jerked back to her feet. It did no damage to the stage behind her.
She bounded over and under tables, listening to the sound of deadly hail falling as she approached the reaper. She twisted her body midair, coming to land five meters from him. Another shot caught the edge of her shoulder, a direct shock hitting her soul's wavelength. She cringed but refused to fall, lifting the old platter she used for dirty dishes as a make shift shield. Glasses crashed to the floor, bullets glancing her protection without harming her. She tossed the silver tableware like a discus, catching the top of the reaper's arm and throwing off his aim. The bullet meant for her hit the curtain were Gardenia was hiding, fortunately not hitting the performer.
This was enough to make the reaper hesitate, giving Sigh an opening. She tackled him like she had seen Madam's favorite rugby player do, pinning his arms beneath her legs and smashing the back of his skull to the ground with the palm of her hand.
The dark young man looked up at this strange woman with a mixture of fascination and alarm, her strange soul so close he could see every illuminating detail. The auras of his weapons -pink, although one was more electric than the other- jolted in alarm at their meister's predicament, but they didn't change back. She could almost feel the faith they had in him.
Sigh made eye contact and gave a little sigh of relief. It was over.
'Leave me alone,' she commanded 'I am leaving here, but not with you. You will turn around, walk out those doors, and never search for me.' The young reaper's eyes widened. He was much more difficult to persuade than Joe had been. Sigh could see his aura, as thick and intimidating as ever, thrashing against her binds with a force she had never felt before. It was like trying to grasp a greasy snake; it kept slithering in her grip, impossible to keep in a firm hold. She took this as a challenge. 'Leave! You will leave!' He grit his teeth, fighting her like he could feel her trying to control him.
'No,' he snapped 'I will not!'
'Psyche! Get off that boy immediately!' A voice, sharp and crisp, cut through the air, startling the room. Those on the stage spun their heads so fast their necks cracked, Sigh looking up from her captive with apprehension.
She was a tall woman, intimidating and thin with wiry grey hair in a frizzy halo. Acute, intelligent brown eyes peered out from the valleys of wrinkles, gnarled hands on thin hips in agitation. The thin pink mouth sneered as she glared at her ward and every other person in the room, her discontent tangible and frightening.
She looked very old. And very strong.
'What the Hell is going on here? Is it really so hard for you to behave without me looking over your shoulder?' Sigh sprang up like she had been stung, straightening her clothes and hair. The reaper followed, gazing at the new arrival with curiosity. 'And you!' He jumped as the woman pointed a manicured nail at him, his weapons changing out of their pistol forms to stand beside him.
'How dare you come in here and cause a mess? The fuck is wrong with you? Raised in a barn? Were your parents pigs? Honestly. This is the true degradation of principle and diplomacy this generation faces! I pity the future!' The reaper made to speak, but she silenced him. 'Shut up! I'll get to you.' He obeyed. One could not say no to Madam Éclair.
The woman stalked forward, slippers scuffing the floor as she approached the cringing Sigh. 'What's with you? And if you say nothing so help me Lord I'll make you scrub the gutters with your toothbrush!' Sigh nodded and swallowed, looking at the ground.
'He,' she referred to the young man watching them with great interest 'is a reaper, Madam.'
'I can see that, Sigh.' Of course she could.
'And he knows what I am. He saw me a couple nights ago and wants to take me away.' Madam narrowed her eyes further, screwed up mouth tightening at the corners. Her eyes darted to the boy shinigami and back again.
'Is that so? What's your name boy? What do you want with my daughter?' The reaper's brow lowered in remembrance of his frustration with the whole situation. 'My name is Death the Kid,' he seemed to hesitate before continuing. 'I want to take her back to Death City. To my father, Lord Death, for evaluation.' Sigh cringed and hissed, earning a glare from Madam.
'And why is that?'
'Because I can't figure out her soul.' Kid decided it was safe to approach the scary older woman and her growling daughter. 'I want to know what she is, and if her underlying hostility is a threat.'
'Hostile? I'm hostile?' Sigh snarled angrily, eyes dangerous behind her askew glasses. Kid narrowed his eyes. 'As a witch, you're naturally-'
'Shut your mouth! You don't know me! I'm not a witch!'
'Well you're certainly not human! I can see your soul and-'
'Read it like a dumbass! I would know if I was a-' Madam's look could kill.
'Shut the fuck up! Psyche, he let you speak and you will grant him the same courtesy!' She turned to the frowning shinigami. 'We have things to discuss, I suppose. The rest of you,' Sigh startled. She had forgotten about the crowd on stage. 'Go home. You'll all receive pay for today, so don't worry.' They were still a moment longer before slowly disbanding, granting Sigh, Madam, and the newly named Death the Kid wide girth as they went towards the door.
'Told ya she wasn't normal,' Sigh heard Gardenia stage whisper. The bespectacled young woman averted her eyes as suspicious looks bombarded her.
'We can talk in my office,' Madam turned and walked away. 'It'll be private there.' Sigh gasped. 'B-but Madam! You can't actually consider-'
'Enough Psyche! Come along.' The young woman followed, all too aware of Death lurking in her shadow.'"