Disclaimer: I don't own Fairy Tail.
White wire glowed across the sky ways, high above the patrons' heads.
Ice cracked and glistened in the corners of their eyes, as Gray Fullbuster secured the lines for his circus mates. The tented room grew completely quiet for one lone breath to sigh out in the silence. A young girl appeared on a white pedestal, sheepishly glancing down to the audience and waving to them.
Wendy Marvell stood straight and imagined the string pulling from her belly to her head. The pale color of her shoes stood out against the darkened heights of the big top's ceiling, trim and deft as her foot hovered above the thin string. Her pointed toe settled on the line amongst the rush of breaths and instinct seeped into her wry limbs.
One more step forward and twin pigtails the color of the night sky swept against her cheeks as she curled forward. Her legs straightened, the imaginary string pulled taut and strong as she landed. The audience's jaws hung in disbelief for a mere moment before deafening cheers of relief reached her ears. They stood from their seats, hands reaching out toward her and sixpences waving high over their heads for her.
Her smile beamed down like a star, her arms outstretched in a pose before she continued.
The audience quieted and sank to their seats in infectious anticipation. One flip, then two before Wendy feigned faltering, finishing the trek to the opposite pedestal by comically running across her high wire. Children's laughter rang in her ears like Christmas bells and fed her own laughter as she gave one more wave to them.
An elegant snap echoed around the big top, a sharp string yanking the audience's attention from the spry girl to the svelte silhouette standing on the other pedestal. Her glasses glimmered with the emerald sequins of her bodice and enraptured everyone with one all-knowing smirk. In that one instant, she had each spectator entwined between her gloved fingers.
She tossed the white boa from her shoulders and shucked the heels from her stockinged feet. A silk-clad arm stretched and bowed to the high wire, velvet wings of her own elaborate design stretched from her shoulder blades to catch in the tarnished lights from below.
Her strong arms flexed and wobbled from her weighted focus.
This time, the audience stayed subdued, too fearful of the beauty's possible downfall at any moment. The high life of these daring tightrope walkers was revered and inspired awe among the audience, as they performed without the safety of a net.
Her legs swung and arched in a blur, and she was upright and perfectly balanced on the wire in a blink.
She waited, the audience rocketing from their seats after their dumbstruck awe melted from their frozen limbs. Evergreen cunningly tipped her head in recognition to them and bowed, low and deep as if to a royal.
Evergreen pivoted toward Wendy and beckoned her back out onto the high wire. Her pigtails perked with excitement, a light bouncing in her eyes.
The younger girl flounced and twirled and flipped her way toward her partner. The line quivered in her wake, not one movement upsetting her statuesque partner. A drum beat rose from the dirt and pounded into the audience's feet on the floor. Ever offered her hand out, Wendy just a hair's breadth from her fingertips for their finale. The pulsing percussion stole the air and stopped time with one,
last,
audible,
crack.
The wire popped and curled and twisted in the air, falling from beneath calloused feet and swinging fast for the other pedestal.
Light outshone the sun and encased the room in white, blinding and ethereal.
Shaking hands lowered from shocked faces and watering eyes adjusted to the towering heights of the big top as giggling loosened hearts from their terrified lock. Wendy sat on her pedestal, laughing and smiling as her feet dangled and kicked in the air. Evergreen stayed suspended over the curled and hatted heads, wings outspread and shining in the aftermath of such turmoil.
One final snap and the beaten tightrope fell to ground in a defeated pile of dust.
Levy sat at the small table in Gajeel and Lily's shared compartment on the train, dazzled by Lily's handiwork with the kitchen knife as he prepared dinner for them. "Lily, why don't you perform?"
"I've not the knack for it. I'm afraid my few kitchen tricks are limited and only courtesy of getting roped into training with Gajeel."
Levy touched the corner of her eye. "That's not how you got that scar is it?"
Gajeel snapped his eyes open and cut them toward Levy, "Har har har."
Lily laughed anyways and winked at her over his shoulder, "No, petit moineau, this scar is older than Gajeel himself. But after all these years at the hands of his recklessness, I don't see how I didn't get more."
"Real riot you two are, thinkin' about tackin' on a comedic act soon?"
"You have about as much of a funny bone in you as those iron swords you toss about."
Gajeel spluttered, settling all four legs of his chair on the floor as he shot forward, "Toss about?! It's hardly just-"
This time it was Levy that spoke up, "Gajeel." She good-naturedly nudged her elbow against his own, "Lighten up."
He adamantly refused to acknowledge the warmth that slipped into his veins at her wide eyes and gentle smile. What business did she have being the exception to his disdain? Either way, he had to look away after only a few seconds because those eyes, her accursed hazel glims, felt like they were piercing right through his black soul.
"And, if you know what's good for you, you'll keep all of those chair legs on the floor." Lily eyed Gajeel right as he started to lean his weight back. Gajeel scoffed at him and rolled his eyes. Even after all these years, Lily still kept up the parental habits.
Levy watched the exchange and smiled at the familiarity between them. "Lily, how did you come to be Gajeel's guardian?"
"That-," the older man turned on the spot to point the kitchen knife in his hand accusingly at Gajeel, "-ragamuffin tried to snatch food from my house in the middle of the night. Nearly got himself a nasty swing from the bat I kept because of it. Didn't seem too grateful I saved him from a life of an even more unfortunate face-"
"Hey now-"
"-and cursed a mean streak when he got caught."
"Why am I not surprised?" Levy clucked her tongue and watched with amusement as Gajeel threw his silent temper tantrum to Pantherlily's back.
"I had just planned to cuff him on the back of the head and send him on his way, but then I noticed how skinny he was. Hollowed eyes and cheeks, I could almost count all of his ribs too." Leave it to a man like Lily to take in a rowdy brat like Gajeel and treat him as his own. It was still difficult for Levy to imagine a smaller Gajeel as a kid, stunted and sallow with malnutrition. The thought left her sorrowful; a child shouldn't have to go through those kinds of struggles.
"Oi, she didn't ask for my entire life story and I never said she could hear it, Lil'."
"Oh, I beg pardon Miss Levy, it all sort of flows together and I forget myself at times."
"It's all right, I don't mind. But I think I'll leave the rest up to Gajeel to tell me."
"And who said I would become your next conversational partner?"
"Gajeel, why don't you humor her and tell her about the time you commented on my name."
"Hell no." It had been his lowest moment and Lily had sliced down his pride when he forced him to eat those words with fighting swings faster than any normal creature that walked the earth. Lily had boxed his ears and sent him to bed without supper.
"Oh, I bet that's a good one." It was Levy's turn to giggle darkly at Gajeel's uncomfortable squirming. "I mean no disrespect, but how did you get the name Pantherlily?"
"When I was born my mother looked at me and knew I would grow tall and strong like my father and brothers, but she said, 'This one's going to be different. He'll be as gentle and graceful as a cat, just you wait.' With two sons already, the poor woman had yearned for a daughter she could name Lily. I could hardly blame her, my brothers were little devils when they wanted to be."
"That's lovely…It suits you. Your mother sounds like she had extraordinary foresight for character."
"Mhmm, an excellent judge of character to be sure. I swear, that woman could watch a perfect stranger cross the street and she'd know every lie they ever told and their blood type in the blink of an eye."
"Sounds like a real spitfire."
"She was, it's what made my father fall in love with her. She would have loved the circus. The two of you would probably have gotten along well, and she'd have had Gajeel whipped into shape in five minutes." Lily wiped his hands on the dishtowel over his shoulder and paused in his preparations. "Now Levy, if you don't mind my asking, what did you do before the circus? If I recall, you were quite young."
"My parents passed from a fever that swept through our tiny town like a tornado. Master Makarov has an unearthly way of sensing when and where he is needed. One day I'm simply a seven year old orphan setting up in the home and the next, I'm living every child's dream of running away to join the circus. He just showed up out of nowhere and approached me while I was making my bed. We talked and he smiled at me, offering his hand, asking if I'd like to stay with him and his children."
The man seated next to her rolled his eyes at the sheer, glimmering hope that poured off of her, "Right fairy tale."
"Minus losing my parents? I suppose so. Although, I don't see how you have any room to talk seeing as the man you tried to rob took you under his wing. Speaking of which, were you the one to teach him to speak French, Lily?"
"He pretended not to pay a lick of attention, but I know it's up there in that lug head of his. The only times he seemed eager to learn were when curses and insults were involved."
"Of course, the most romantic language in the world and your only concern is broadening the horizons of insult."
Gajeel shrugged nonchalantly, "To each his own." He gave Levy a sidelong glance and spoke up again, "You realize he calls you 'little sparrow', right?"
Levy beamed and shook her head, "I know."
"Lemme ask ya somethin' then. How's that any different from me saying anything about you bein' small?"
"Easy: it doesn't sound condescending when he says it."
Gajeel swung his head toward Lily, a smirk crawling up his features. "Femmes sont trop facilement prises par des mots étrangers."
The practiced words rolled off his tongue smoothly and heated Levy's bones with his baritone. Gajeel's rumbling voice made honey seem like curdled milk in comparison. There was a richness to his speech that didn't translate to the English language and it caught her off guard, flinging her belly through a loop. She'd have to watch herself around him, lest he catch on.
Levy's eyebrows raised into her hairline and allowed Gajeel a moment to revel in the false belief he had gotten the best of her before opening her mouth, "Et pourtant, vous avez encore réussi à repousser toute compagnie féminine."
Lily's laughter boomed with its force at the gaping fish countenance on his old friend's face. "She got you there."
"You speak-?! You knew she spoke French the entire time, didn't you?"
"Moineau might've mentioned it once." The co-conspirators shared a cat-ate-the-canary smile that furthered to sour his mood, as Gajeel never took someone getting the best of him lightly.
"Traitor. And just how come you never told me?"
"You never asked, but Lily did. Now, are you done stuffing those legs into your mouth, yet?"
"I'm sorry, who offered you a meal for the night?"
The older man continued to slice cheese, having already finished with the meat and lettuce for the sandwiches he would fix, and rolled his eyes at the show going on behind him. Unabashed flirts, the both of them, and without even realizing it. Levy was smart and Gajeel was cunning, but they were dense enough to give anyone a gray hair by just listening to them carry on.
"Lily. I recall only hearing, 'Oi, get yer scrawny ass movin', shorty. I ain't got all day', from you." Levy puffed out her chest and furrowed her brows in a crude representation of Gajeel's version of an invitation to dinner. There was no real menace to her words. She appreciated that he had left it at the few words instead of provoking her further.
Levy had fallen asleep reading in Aurora's cage and when she had woken and stumbled out into the yard, dinner had already been served and cleared away. It was widely known that no one dared ask Mirajane to reopen her kitchen after she'd cleaned it up, no exceptions. It was the one entity in his operation that even Makarov could not change or control.
It was only by some warped piece of luck that she had passed Gajeel, still fighting to find her footing and vainly trying to mask the growling in her stomach. She was surprised he'd even stopped and even more so when he overlooked the chance to comment on the horrible gurgling of her traitorous belly.
"Ah, I apologize for my smarmy charge. He's a lost cause, I'm afraid."
"I ain't yer charge, now-"
"It's all ducky, Lily. Your agreeable company is more than enough to counteract it." Levy winked coquettishly up at the large man, who was desperately trying to hold back a snort from Gajeel's reaction to her comeback. She turned her attention back to him and smiled kittenishly "Careful, esbroufeur, you'll catch flies with that trap hanging open."
The sword juggler slammed his mouth shut, then his eyes darkened with mirth and opened his mouth to retort when Lily threateningly pointed a butcher knife in his direction. "Redfox, you say what I think's runnin' through that renegade head of yours and-"
"He doesn't frighten me, Lily." Levy waved her hand indifferently in the man's direction, a wry smile quirked on one side of her mouth as she kept her eyes trained on the juggler. A wolfish grin stretched across Gajeel's mouth, lopsided and gleaming with menace, at her bravery.
"That may be, moineau, but there are things you shouldn't say in the presence of ladies and you're conversing with the main contributor to that list." It was the look Lil' set upon him that ruined his victorious good mood. He leaned back in his chair, raking a harsh glare over the girl's tiny frame.
"Don't see how anyone could be considered much of a lady in that getup."
Honestly, the comment was degrees more appropriate than what he had previously been about to say, even knowing that personal wardrobes were a touchy subject among the women of the Tail. The immediate flushing of the girl's cheeks was exactly what he'd been aiming for. The puffed up frog look on her visage fueled his humor and drove his signature laugh from deep within his belly. However, the clamor of Levy's chair overturned, followed by their carriage's door being slammed with enough force to crack the glass window was not.
Tail wasn't exactly known for conservative costumes and considering the mechanisms of it all, the scandalous outfits made sense. The floor length hems popular of the day and corsets and crinoline would only sign their death certificates if they attempted the usual tricks in them. Half the men in their show didn't wear anything close to a proper collar on Sundays, let alone under the blazing circus lights. It was cheap and petulant of him to bring it up, but his threshold for being the butt of every joke had ran short.
Levy was one of the few that wore proper societal rags when she wasn't training or performing. Her show clothes were nothing but a leotard top that met the bottom of her ribcage, a turtle neck collar and sleeves that went down to her elbows being the only truly conservative elements of the outfit and harem trousers that had a wide band clutching her waist and ended at her calves with the same wide bands hugging the lean muscle. She wore no shoes for her show.
The cirque's staff had been in more than one snooty magazine story, exploiting a lack of morals and class. Since the elephant rider was a showcase in the bigtop, she was one of the more discussed women of Tail alongside Evergreen and Wendy.
Pantherlily refrained from cursing, as he believed Gajeel more than made up for it for the both of them, but the string of words jumbled between languages was enough to serve a chill down Gajeel's spine.
"You will apologize."
The mysterious Strauss siblings always arrived adorned in black and silver. Masks hid their features and shadowed the familial stark blue eyes.
Mirajane Strauss, the oldest, led the way, followed by her younger brother, and left her youngest sister, Lisanna, to end of their miniature parade of suits, resembling a funeral procession.
Victorian styles of the highest fashion had been catered for their event; no expense was skimmed in their vividly silk gowns, and Elfman's vest was shadowed in inky paisleys and mock fleur-de-lis. Their boots shined with pristine care despite the dusty ground and a circus infamous for rough housing.
They each moved slowly and deliberately to a heavy drumbeat. The pounding enraptured heart rates and demanded attention from the audience members. Their steps occasionally swayed, as Mirajane fluttered a handmade fan in front of her coy smile and Lisanna set a delicately gloved hand over her mouth, their pale complexions enhanced in comparison to the pitched shade of material.
The brother, a giant among men, gracefully escorted his siblings to the front of the ring with a gentlemanly elbow offered to both of their free hands. His unkempt hair was the only clue to the lucky show goers that they were about to a receive a gift of untamed transformations.
The drumbeats burst and stop before a melodious harp mirrors the movements of Mirajane's elegant turns as she swings her skirt out in a flurry of color. In a round, one-by-one, the siblings turn and transform. Depressing blacks lightened to vibrant cerulean, blood red, and lush emerald to a chorus of harps and sharp 'aahs'.
The harps are cut off with shrieking violins and ominous cello scratches as the blackened eyes slits in the masks grow red and white and yellow as smoke pulls in over the trio's heads. Villainous laughter and growls filled the room as the smoke cleared. A satanic silhouette squared off with a beastly counterpart, the once beautiful assortment of clothes shredded to the floor and masks abandoned at the edges of the ring.
The two monsters of hell circled each other in a threatening dance, each waited for their opponent to make the first move. The beast howled and lunged for the maleficent woman. His claws aimed to clasp around her delicate neck. The demon's beautiful features tugged into a smirk, the predator ready to cut the life strings on its prey. She raised her own clawed hand and jumped forward.
As the two devils hissed out animosities through clenched teeth, delivered with faux blows to fool the audience, white feathers began float from the ceiling. It called scrutiny to the fact that the youngest had gone missing. Women's high pitched whispers were hushed by their husbands. It's a circus, the other girl was sure to be perfectly fine.
The curtain of white feathers drifting above them thickened and their pace picked up. Nothing could be seen past the downy feathers in front of their faces. The same whispering wind from the start of the show slipped through their hair and clothes, dusting away stray feathers and clearing the audience's view. The remaining feathers settled to reveal the youngest Strauss. She stood elegantly poised in the ring by herself, her savage brother and sister completely vanished from the spot.
Light conquered dark.
Good defeated evil.
Her arms were outstretched, her chin pointed with grace. Pale swan feathers sprouted from her arms, a glittering wing span magnificently dazzled her crowd. Lisanna waited for the moment of lull in applause and cheering, she swung her arms low and dipped her head down. She looped her wings in a circle that arched her arms out over her head. A flurry of feathers erupted with her choreography, shielding the ring from view one last time.
The room had gone silent besides the occasional squeak of shifting on the benches as bated breath counted the disappearing feathers. One by one. The drum beat out of time with the feathers' last dance and the quick breathes that swelled in the room.
The Strauss siblings stood at the forefront of the ring their funeral procession of midnight suits. Mirajane fluttered a handmade fan in front of her coy smile and Lisanna set a delicately gloved hand over her mouth; their pale complexions enhanced in comparison to the pitched shade of material. Their brother offered gentlemanly offered his elbows to their free hands.
No one dared breathe before the trio slowly bowed at the waist and freed the audience to praise their performance.
glims: eyes
French:
cirque: circus
esbroufeur: smooth talker
Femmes sont trop facilement prises par des mots étrangers: Women are too easily taken by foreign words.
Et pourtant, vous avez encore réussi à repousser toute compagnie féminine: And yet, you still manage to repel all female companionship.
A/N: Let's face it, as much as I love a more thoughtful and subdued Gajeel, he does have his lackluster moments.
I did use google translate for the phrases, I'm sorry my French is limited to basic greetings and my last name.