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love_bingo FIC] "Cruel Wings" (Black Swan, PG-13)
Mar. 28th, 2011 11:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
matrixrefugeeMy first ever "Black Swan" fanfic and I'm rather proud of her (one of these days, I am going to write a semi-AU with Nina as a shapeshifter going through a tough and traumatic Awakening)
Pairing: Thomas/Nina
Prompt: "Dancing together"
Word Count: 537
A late night in one of the smaller rehearsal halls: Nina danced alone, still trying to get Odille's intricate yet sensual dance correct. Alone, except for her and her mirror image playing across the shiny surfaces of the mirrors. She tried not to look at her reflection, tried not to let herself be distracted or seduced by her double. That only diverted her from the dance and so defeated her purpose.
For the past few days, she had had trouble with simply looking at her reflection: she sometimes thought she saw her shape changing, shifting, her face growing longer, sharper, with a beak like some half-human half-birth creature in a Heironymous Bosch painting, her arms growing broader, black quills breaking through the skin, her eyes gone red and black instead of brown.
A shadow moved in the mirrors as a figure crossed the room behind her. She startled at this movement and nearly stumbled.
"No, keep going, Nina," Thomas said, pausing, standing several steps behind her with one foot extended behind him en tendu as he often did.
"You don't have any corrections for me?" she asked.
"You're warming to what I've told you, but you're still not quite there," he said, stepping toward her. "You have the desire to seduce your audience, but you need to make everyone want to take you or be taken by you." He put a hand on her waist. "You have to make yourself want to be seduced by *you* yourself." She felt herself start to stiffen and quiver instinctively at his touch, but she made herself lean back against his hand. She felt him lean in toward her in response, lifting her in the pas de deux. Rather than stiffen again, she relaxed into his touch, relaxed into the lift, presenting her body even as he lifted her up.
"Better," he whispered in her ear as he lowered her.
As they continued the pas de deux, she breathed deep, but with short breaths, drawing in his scent: a hint of sweat under his aftershave. His cheek brushed hers as he raised her in another lift: the slight bristles that had grown out this late in the evening scraped her skin, but she did not wince. Rather, she quivered with delight. He supported her as she began to take flight, her arms undulating in slow beats, and she could hear the blood rushing in her ears, the crackle of harsh quills breaking through her skin and the crack of pin feathers unfurling from their sheathes, the rustle of dark wings beating the air...
Cruel... cruel... cruel...
She heard Thomas yelp, startled and he pulled back as he set her down. She snapped out of her dark trance and stared up at him as he stood rubbing a large red blotch on his cheekbone.
"You struck me," he said, straight forward yet surprised, no hint of a rebuke.
"I'm sorry," she apologized, her voice cracking timidly, all darkness gone.
"No. Stop apologizing. I could feel it in you that time," he said. "Swans are graceful and beautiful, as you are, but remember that they are also cruel. Tomorrow, let yourself feel that cruelty, but this time, try not to strike your partner, even if you want to," he said, with a twist of an approving smirk.
Pairing: Thomas/Nina
Prompt: "Dancing together"
Word Count: 537
A late night in one of the smaller rehearsal halls: Nina danced alone, still trying to get Odille's intricate yet sensual dance correct. Alone, except for her and her mirror image playing across the shiny surfaces of the mirrors. She tried not to look at her reflection, tried not to let herself be distracted or seduced by her double. That only diverted her from the dance and so defeated her purpose.
For the past few days, she had had trouble with simply looking at her reflection: she sometimes thought she saw her shape changing, shifting, her face growing longer, sharper, with a beak like some half-human half-birth creature in a Heironymous Bosch painting, her arms growing broader, black quills breaking through the skin, her eyes gone red and black instead of brown.
A shadow moved in the mirrors as a figure crossed the room behind her. She startled at this movement and nearly stumbled.
"No, keep going, Nina," Thomas said, pausing, standing several steps behind her with one foot extended behind him en tendu as he often did.
"You don't have any corrections for me?" she asked.
"You're warming to what I've told you, but you're still not quite there," he said, stepping toward her. "You have the desire to seduce your audience, but you need to make everyone want to take you or be taken by you." He put a hand on her waist. "You have to make yourself want to be seduced by *you* yourself." She felt herself start to stiffen and quiver instinctively at his touch, but she made herself lean back against his hand. She felt him lean in toward her in response, lifting her in the pas de deux. Rather than stiffen again, she relaxed into his touch, relaxed into the lift, presenting her body even as he lifted her up.
"Better," he whispered in her ear as he lowered her.
As they continued the pas de deux, she breathed deep, but with short breaths, drawing in his scent: a hint of sweat under his aftershave. His cheek brushed hers as he raised her in another lift: the slight bristles that had grown out this late in the evening scraped her skin, but she did not wince. Rather, she quivered with delight. He supported her as she began to take flight, her arms undulating in slow beats, and she could hear the blood rushing in her ears, the crackle of harsh quills breaking through her skin and the crack of pin feathers unfurling from their sheathes, the rustle of dark wings beating the air...
Cruel... cruel... cruel...
She heard Thomas yelp, startled and he pulled back as he set her down. She snapped out of her dark trance and stared up at him as he stood rubbing a large red blotch on his cheekbone.
"You struck me," he said, straight forward yet surprised, no hint of a rebuke.
"I'm sorry," she apologized, her voice cracking timidly, all darkness gone.
"No. Stop apologizing. I could feel it in you that time," he said. "Swans are graceful and beautiful, as you are, but remember that they are also cruel. Tomorrow, let yourself feel that cruelty, but this time, try not to strike your partner, even if you want to," he said, with a twist of an approving smirk.
