May 1, 2022 – 4:15 AM
30 April, 1892 — Ballet, London
Ozymandias was not a patron of the ballet, but he didn't have to be. Belonging to the level of society he did and counting other wealthy, influential men among his friends, there was hardly an attraction in magical England that he couldn't have gotten a sponsor's ticket to if he asked the right person. He was here tonight by invitation of someone he knew from the club as well as general society, who had raved about the latest ballet. Oz had been to ballets before, but tonight might have been the first time that he'd been to one sober, and he decided he preferred it to the opera. He didn't have the technical expertise to know what the dancers were doing up on the stage, but he could appreciate that it looked complicated to learn and was executed with precision. Overall, he'd enjoyed the show. He was enjoying the post-show considerably less. He'd never been invited backstage after a performance before, but his friend was one of the sponsors and enjoyed that particular privilege, along with half a dozen other men who had attended that evening.
For a brief moment Oz wondered at them all being men — surely at least one wealthy widow was a patron of the ballet? — but once he saw the way they interacted with the dancers he understood there was a reason for that. This wasn't about a love for ballet, or even about who had donated the most money — it was about sex. How tedious. Not that Ozy was opposed to flirting with attractive women by any stretch of the imagination, but he was opposed to having to watch other men do it clumsily, to women who were obviously only interested because they were obliged to be. Merlin, how long was this expected to go on? Did he have to stay for the entire thing? Maybe he ought to try and seduce one of the dancers himself, just to have an excuse to part from his host that much sooner. Oz could probably talk his way under someone's skirts faster than his friend, whose hands sweat when he was excited and who was already red in the face from the wine he'd been drinking during the show.
While he was considering his options, Ozymandias spotted a face he recognized from the show — the lead dancer. His stomach twisted. Her performance during the show had been so graceful — ethereal — and the scene she had walked into was so vulgar and common. It pained him to think one of these idiots might swoop in to harass her. It seemed so incongruous with everything that had come before. So, before any of the other gentlemen had taken notice, Oz cut through the crowd towards her. "I would have thought the star of the show might have a private dressing room to retire to."
For a brief moment Oz wondered at them all being men — surely at least one wealthy widow was a patron of the ballet? — but once he saw the way they interacted with the dancers he understood there was a reason for that. This wasn't about a love for ballet, or even about who had donated the most money — it was about sex. How tedious. Not that Ozy was opposed to flirting with attractive women by any stretch of the imagination, but he was opposed to having to watch other men do it clumsily, to women who were obviously only interested because they were obliged to be. Merlin, how long was this expected to go on? Did he have to stay for the entire thing? Maybe he ought to try and seduce one of the dancers himself, just to have an excuse to part from his host that much sooner. Oz could probably talk his way under someone's skirts faster than his friend, whose hands sweat when he was excited and who was already red in the face from the wine he'd been drinking during the show.
While he was considering his options, Ozymandias spotted a face he recognized from the show — the lead dancer. His stomach twisted. Her performance during the show had been so graceful — ethereal — and the scene she had walked into was so vulgar and common. It pained him to think one of these idiots might swoop in to harass her. It seemed so incongruous with everything that had come before. So, before any of the other gentlemen had taken notice, Oz cut through the crowd towards her. "I would have thought the star of the show might have a private dressing room to retire to."