Ienzo sat in the dingy backstage corridor, one leg stretched out, one tucked in back against the grey cinder block wall, staring at nothing. It was hard to prepare for an audition when you had no idea what you were auditioning for.
"Aw man, did I miss something?"
He wasn't the only one in the dark, it seemed. Edym had been wandering up and down for the past five minutes like a lost puppy, bothering the occasional knots of dancers chatting between practices.
"Come oooon, someone has to know?"
He looked pleadingly in Ienzo's direction. Ienzo coughed nervously.
"Ah, well, the soloist roles in a traditional production there would be Siegfried, von Rothbart, Wolfgang, and Benno... though that role has tended to be backgrounded in more recent productions... and von Rothbart and Wolfgang has sometimes been cast as a dual role in parallel to Odette and Odile. But since Xemnas plans on bringing in elements from Undine, then... well, there are multiple possibilities..."
Edym flagged as he continued to ramble about historical variations on the two tales and casting options based on the selected dancers and Xemnas's (admittedly unpredictable) past behaviour.
"He's being all mysterious again... Hey! Maybe Xigbar knows..."
Ienzo just blinked at the interruption, long ago lost trying to vocalise his racing thoughts. By the time he had managed to bring them back to the here and now Edym had gone, no doubt in search of the company's head of sound. Some part of his inner monologue, one which sounded uncomfortably like Even, commented that he was probably going to miss the start of the audition going off like that.
The sound of shattering glass from somewhere in the corridors startled him out of his reverie. He glanced around, but beyond a few briefly turned heads no one else acknowledged the noise.
Ienzo got up and followed the sound. Muffled thumps lead him around the corner to the principal dressing rooms. More crashes, punctuating muffled growls of "fuck... fuck!" He edged closer. Room eleven...
Marluxia exploded out of the door in a shower of petals, stopping only to snarl at Ienzo as he passed.
"What?!"
Ienzo shrank back against the wall, looking down and mumbling an apology. When he looked back up Marluxia had stalked off and the door to the principal dressing room had swung to a rest, just open. Inviting.
He glanced up and down the now empty corridor, and slipped inside.
The room was full of Marluxia. Costumes, old posters, make-up. When Ienzo remembered to breathe the smell caught on the roof of his mouth; flowers over the usual dressing room musk. Not the cloying sweetness of artificial floral scent, but real flowers, complex and crisp with hidden sharpness and woody undertones.
Puddles of water and shards of a vase spilled over the dressing table and onto the floor. The fresh remains of a shredded bouquet. The mirror cracked, nothing missing, just a few clean, strong lines dissecting his reflection.
Ienzo let the very tips of his fingers brush reverently over the black leather of Marluxia's coat, abandoned over back of the chair. He sat down, looking his distorted self in the eye, trying to imagine...
His eyes drifted down to the scattered possessions on the vanity. The glint of a metal nail file caught his eye. He picked it up, balancing the length between his fingers, and ran a finger first along the edge, then the plane. Long and elegant, smooth and coarse, wicked sharp at the tip. He slid droplets of light up and down the length of it a few times, then froze.
He got up quickly, slipping the file into his pocket as he rose. Ienzo opened the door, barely a crack, and slid out of the room.
... ...\-\\|¨... ...
Piano music filled the wide, mirrored space of the rehearsal room. Xemnas had, eventually, explained the purpose of their being here, ignoring the murmur of scepticism and minor complaint. Auditions for the role of the White Swan.
He had known. Maybe he had been trying to avoid it, press away dreams and nightmares with the harsh light of rationality. No, he could not have known. Guessed, suspected, inferred, but not known. That kind of certainty was not...
And now he was dancing, trying both to pack in all he knew of the role, and follow Xemnas's direction: fluid, melancholy, prideful, wary, ethereal yet powerful...
The music stopped abruptly. Ienzo looked to Xemnas, searching for some sort of judgement.
Xemnas looked back, unreadable. He gestured to the pianist.
"Now, the Black Swan Coda. Show me your darker self."
Ienzo swallowed hard, breathed, and launched with the music. Perhaps the most famous sequence in ballet, yet of course he had never considered, he had never truly studied...
"Not so contained. You must seduce. The heart of the prince! The hearts of the audience! The heart of the world itself!"
Xemnas's words hammered into his mind. Up, pain, spin, down, relief, up, pain, spin, down, relief, pain, spin, relief, pain, relief, pain, relief, pain...
The door clattered open, breaking his overstretched concentration entirely. Muscles wrenched as he landed, stumbled, and bit back a hiss.
Lea strolled in, pulling out his earphones.
"Good of you to join us," Xemnas stated, with a hint of imperious sarcasm.
"Yeah, sorry about that," Lea told the room, scratching the back of his head. His obvious insincerity grated.
"Get warmed up."
"Nah, I'm good."
Ienzo tested his leg as subtly as he could. Some pain and his ankle had been twisted a little, but he would live...
Lea glanced at him as he crossed the room, and then to Xemnas.
"So are we going full Trockadero de Monte Carlos or...?"
The artistic director sighed.
"Definitely. Not."
"Right, gotcha."
"Should I go again?" Ienzo asked, not succeeding at keeping the urgent edge from his voice. Xemnas shook his head.
"No. I've seen enough. Edym, the White Swan variation."
Ienzo bit his lip hard.
... ...\-\\|¨... ...
Ienzo's cellphone shook and sang as he entered the underpass, the screen shedding a sickly glow through his pale coat. He fished it out of his pocket and checked the screen.
It said: EVEN.
His thumb hesitated before he pressed to cancel the call. It might be late, but he was on his way home anyway. Not far now.
Ienzo looked up as he put away the cellphone. There was a figure at the other end of the underpass, outlined in the dim light from the exit. Short. His height. Slight build. His build. Pale hair. Styled just like his own.
Long dark coat. Pressing a cellphone into his pocket...
Ienzo removed his hand from his pocket. The figure did the same.
He shivered but started down the underpass, pulling his coat tight around him. Eyes fixed on the grubby floor, spray-painted colors flashing past his peripheral vision.
His footsteps echoed oddly, as though there were others with him, behind and beside and approaching.
Someone brushed past him. Leather and rustling paper and high cold laughter...
His head snapped up and around, eyes wide. The other continued down the path.
Ienzo's cellphone rang again.
