21st of July, 1892 - Ballet Rehearsal

Their fleeting encounter left Sophia… perplexed. On one hand, thoughts about Mister Dempsey didn’t reside at the front of her consciousness often, and she felt more or less unbothered by the idea that it may have been both their first and last meeting. It wasn’t as though he seemed too pleased with her by the end. Could she blame him? No one liked being strung along.

On the other hand… In the weeks that followed, Soph found that he did reside in her head, lingering somewhere between the tailend of seductive dreams and brunette strangers who smiled at her on the street. At the cusp of consciousness, Sophia began to realize something important happened, something she shouldn’t let dance away so easily. Perhaps the move back to Britain was the right choice. The only choice to really move on with her life.

When the bouquet arrived, Sophia knew who it was before opening the card. Who else might send roses after a performance of little consequence, near the end of the show’s season? Not to mention she’d seen him - in the dimmed light of the third act, granting his undivided attention for her principal solo. Soph would be lying if his look didn’t cause her heart to skip a beat. It renewed her spirit, giving her a final rush to deliver her most pristine performance yet. 

The witch quietly laughed at his note, pausing over the signature. “Ozymandias?” Goodness, he wasn’t kidding about poet parents. The name suits him like none other.

With this, Sophia gave herself some leeway for thoughts about Mister Dempsey to loiter. She found herself keeping a mental list to cross off her requirements. They had no family contacts. They have never run into each other, and likely never will. At the end, it came down to if a window of opportunity might present itself… Which it did, swiftly and serendipitously, in the form of a card she was asked to sign. Sophia’s little flight of fantasy was sealed in that envelope, and her will was out in the world. No taking it back now.

❦

The theater had a distinctly bohemian air to it during recitals, with none of the polish of full performances.  It lay brightly lit and nearly empty, save for a handful of audience members with a variety of excuses to linger: family or partners of those on stage, stagehands arguing about a type of knot at the far end of the theater, a single pianist rather than a full orchestra. An assortment of smartly-dressed men sat scattered in the empty instrumental seats in the pit, directors smoking pipes while exchanging notes in a mix of Russian, French, and English.

They had just finished warm-ups when Sophia saw the company owner move from the corner of her eye. He beelined to a special guest to shake hands and make smalltalk, causing Sophia to spin away with her back to the audience to hide a smile. So, Mister Dempsey elected to make an appearance. No doubt Seamus would insist he sit in the center front row.

A few minutes later, an older gentleman climbed up to the far right wing of the stage, brandishing a massive playbook. The répétiteur hollered at the stagehands in a thick Austrian accent, silence please!, which cued the dancers to arrange themselves on stage whilst the light dimmed. Even the directors stopped their idle talk, settling deeper into their seats. The pianist cracked his knuckles, and so began the second full run-through of their next production, The Nutcracker.

The rehearsal took a little over an hour, and played out more like a game of sport than the posh ballet it would become. Even with a minimal audience, the theater grew electric with everyone’s shouts and claps of encouragement with each upcoming feat, even from the dancers themselves. The room fell breathless during Sophia’s piqué manege, and erupted into applause with her exalted finish. “She makes it seem effortless,” one of the directors whispered to another, and indeed, only the rapid rise and fall of her chest indicated otherwise.

The performance concluded some time later. After short-lived applause, everyone seemingly scattered into action with their next destinations in mind. The dancers moved offstage in batches, some approaching the répétiteur downstage for notes, while the director climbed on stage to join him. The conductor moved to his pianist, still others headed for the wings to discuss matters with the stagehands. Soph made a swift dispatch, for she had a destination in mind, too.

“I hope seeing our work in progress was not too boring for you, Mister Dempsey-”-Ozymandias, she said in her head. The ballerina made no pretense of greeting when she emerged from the set of stairs coming from backstage right, allowing instead her smile to convey her pleasure to see him. “It’s quite different without the costumes, set, or enchantments, isn’t it?”

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Ozymandias Dempsey

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music inspo | wearing this

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   Ozymandias Dempsey

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thank you gin for the set<3

Oz had been planning to hold off a bit on the sponsorship, though he had never seriously doubted that the ballet would eventually part him from his money. He'd thought that being coy might lead to further interactions between him and the lead dancer, but truthfully he hadn't been entirely sure how or why such a thing would occur. Then he'd unexpectedly come into a bit of money when one of his designs had been sold for a tidy sum to a manufacturer, with a promise of royalties from future sales once the product was for sale, and he'd thought well, why not? This was his money, even moreso than the allowance from the estate that collected in his bank account or the lines of credit at various businesses. He could spend it how he liked. He bought Thomasina a new cloak, and sent the rest to the ballet.

The response had been swift and exactly what he'd been hoping for. He couldn't have expected anything too explicit from Mrs. Voss at such an early juncture, but the encouragement to share opinions in person was as much invitation as he needed. She had received the flowers; she wanted to see him. Perhaps she would have said the same to any new patron, but he thought there was a touch of sincerity to the note. Even if there wasn't — there was time for that to develop.

He shouldn't have been at the first rehearsal offered — it would have been better to leave her lingering a while, wondering whether or not he would come. Unfortunately, he had prior engagements that conflicted with the others, and it wasn't as though missing it had ever crossed his mind. So here he was, at the first open rehearsal, watching the woman he had already privately begun to think of as his ballerina spin gracefully across the stage on pointe. Being the only one in the audience only made the feeling stronger. They may have been rehearsing here either way today, but he couldn't help but feel her performance was for him.

"Madam," he greeted with a coy twitch of a smile as she approached. "It was a different experience, but not so different as I might have expected. The core elements, I think, were already present."

She would know what he meant — the last time they'd spoken she had talked about the joy of the body being an integral part of dance.

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MJ is the light of my life <3

Now that he was here, Sophia sensed a charge between them that certainly wasn't there before. Their little game is afoot. She anticipated something like his coy smile, and his gilded intimation,  like the anticipation felt before a dance partner makes their next move in a waltz. A good sign, she decided. There’s proper decorum to be followed, and it’s really the gentleman that should take the lead.

“I’m so pleased to hear that you enjoyed it,” she beamed, clear blue eyes glittering with amusement as his reference was not lost on her. Sophia didn’t do much to conceal that she was looking him over, from the shoes up. That vaguely familiar scent - it smelled nice. A well-matched suit. His hair looked insane. She internally praised her self-restraint in her strange impulse to play with it. “It takes an open mind to appreciate the full potential of a work in progress.” Take that however you’d like, Ozymandias. 

Sophia moved nonchalantly to stand beside him, turning her gaze up to the stage where some of the dancers taking notes were repeating a particular sequence. She rarely took the time to appreciate a show from this perspective nowadays, and already it granted some new inspiration.

“Do you have time to stay a bit longer?” she asked, offhandedly. Of course he could come here just to tease and dash away, though Soph liked to think the charming smile she leveled up to him might convince him otherwise. “As an inventor invested in the ballet, I thought you might be interested in a grand tour of the theater,” she explained, wondering if she might be able to catch a glimpse of the unflappable Mister Dempsey thrown off balance. “I’d love to show you, even as a small gesture of my appreciation.”

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thank you gin for the set<3

A tour was a delightful offer, though delight wasn't what showed on his features. He hadn't forgotten the unexplained magic from her party trick last time, and he was still eager to learn that secret. He didn't think that would come out during a tour, but if he could see what other enchantments and magical artifacts the place typically used, maybe he could narrow it down slightly as he continued to ponder the trick.

Of course, a tour of the theater would also present them plenty of opportunities to be alone. The implications were not lost on him.

"I'm sure I can make time," he answered. "For such an enlightening experience as this promises to be."

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MJ is the light of my life <3

So he decided to play a stolid bourgeois gentleman today, Sophia noted, though his choice of words granted a bit of satisfaction. He should play as cool as he liked, she decided. This would only make it all the more gratifying to see what wipes that impassive look from his face later.

“Oh, I promise to make it very enlightening,” she agreed smoothly, lips twitching into a smirk. The brunette then moved to coyly slip her left arm under his right, so that they might walk arm in arm about their tour. It was as much a bold gesture as it was a claim on her territory, and she didn’t much care who saw (there would of course be people who saw, though hardly anyone with an opinion of consequence to either of them). She guided them together up the steps to the stage, rounding to face the audience for a moment so that Mister Dempsey might enjoy a change of perspective. From here, he could see across the full theater - and the direct line of sight it afforded performers to his box seat from a few weeks ago.

They moved leisurely backstage then, to the left wing where Sophia paused to point out various points of interest. She was more knowledgeable than perhaps most performers about the inner mechanics of how things worked. But then, she was the only performer with her own share of investment in this business. This theater felt as much her property as any home ever did.

Sophia released Ozy’s arm when they rounded to some of the set pieces for Giselle, grinning over the tomb she descended into during the finale. The brunette flitted around it in a variation of the steps that turned her into a small circle in position in front of the cross, the back of her left heel almost imperceptibly tapping against a designated point on the grave marker. The move caused a small platform to appear, marking the space where a dancer could stand and descend gracefully into her tomb. From the perspective of only those on stage, the platform led to a small sitting room that even had a vanity for a mirror, powder and lipstick for touch-ups, and an empty cup for tea. Here she would wait, comfortably resting until the end of the performance. “There’s room for only one of us in there,” she teased quietly, waiting patiently for the gentleman to have his look.

While she did, her eyes alighted on what she had been working towards - a sliver of a spiral staircase, built so vertically that it very nearly was a ladder. “Are you afraid of heights, Mister Dempsey? If not, I must insist that this is very much worth the trouble,” she had moved from the tombstone to the base of the staircase, indicating their next adventure with a graceful gesture of the hand. This is what led to the catwalks above.

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thank you gin for the set<3

Oz took her arm and followed where she led. His ledt hand slipped into the pocket of his jacket and he idly spun his wedding band on his finger a few times. He didn't take it off. His wife wasn't a secret, and anyone who spent enough time in his company would eventually learn that he was married. Soon thereafter, they would learn that he was opposed to talking about his wife with most people; he certainly didn't want her brought up by women to whom he sent red roses.

The tomb trick was ingenious, and earned his first genuine smile of the day as he examined it. It wasn't made for someone as tall as him anyway, so her jibe about his not fitting inside wasn't a disappointment.

He smirked at her question, then glanced up towards the top of the staircase near the rafters. "One should never let fear stand in the way of exploring something new," he said, raising his eyebrows at her suggestively. He was not talking about heights, obviously.

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MJ is the light of my life <3

Sophia had few illusions about what this was mounting to, and even fewer about the circumstances of what she could assume of Dempsey’s personal life. A man with all the money and time of leisure does not simply abscond with a performer. No, they’re almost always running away from something - that something usually being an unwitting wife. Though it might make her curious, she wouldn’t pry. She wouldn’t know the first thing about a loveless marriage anyway. Moreover, it exposed too much of her - the word “shame” was not a part of Sophia’s lexicon, particularly not when it came to natural behavior.

“My sentiments exactly,” she emphasized, returning his look with something like a mischievous Cheshire-cat grin. Without much warning, she turned and began her ascent up the staircase, allowing the man to follow. “Don’t fall,” she threw casually over her shoulder, because really these steps are quite treacherous for someone who isn’t light on their feet. There were charms at the top to catch anyone from a truly catastrophic fall, of course - it was the only way they could morally accept the idea of sending stagehand kids to crawl up the beams for some of the enchantments. But Sophia was certain Seamus would never cease his bitching if she was responsible for the near-death tumble of their newest patron.

The staircase let out at the end of the catwalk, a long, narrow, and thinly-railed rafter that ran the length of the stage just above. It connected to other catwalks too, in a discrete web of pathways that in the darkness of performances and a well-placed charm, made the stagehands’ work up here completely imperceptible to the audience. Sophia strolled with confidence down the platform, placing one foot delicately in front of the other until she reached the spot above center stage. Here the platform was a bit wider, leaving room for a stagehand to maneuver with a spotlight. “This is where the magic happens,” she proclaimed once Mister Dempsey joined her. In more ways than one.

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thank you gin for the set<3

He'd thought she was being playful when she said don't fall, but he did find himself having to pay more attention to his feet the higher he climbed. He had to wonder if she'd considered how precarious this was when she'd invited him up here; she was as sure-footed as ever. In terms of privacy this would have been the perfect place to make a move, but up until the final platform he wasn't sure there was enough room to do anything without risking falling.

The platform wasn't large, either, which meant when he stepped on it was natural to stand a little too close to her. He reached out, toying briefly with the idea of putting his hand on her waist before he placed it instead on the railing just to her side. He put his other hand out to the other railing, so that she was framed in his arms despite the fact that he hadn't touched her.

"Literal magic?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her almost like a challenge. "I've been wondering how you accomplished that hat trick."

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MJ is the light of my life <3

Sophia turned to Mister Dempsey with a slight tilt to her head, curious as she clocked his right hand beside her first, then his left. If he expected her to shrink away, he'd be sorry to learn that she didn’t. In fact the arch of his eyebrow made her stand taller still, unflinching as she  relished in prolonged eye contact. It’s usually in this way you can get a real sense of a man's mettle.

“Well of course real magic,” she put innocuously, crossing her arms. Though a coquettish smile found its way across her lips as he asked about her trick, pleased to find it had left a lasting impression.

“Oh, I see,” she furrowed her brow in playful concern. “Is this why you’ve sent me flowers and come all this way? To steal my party trick? I doubt you’ll be able to patent it,” she goaded, blue eyes appraising his reaction. She might tell him, if he really insisted, though the trick itself was not so sophisticated, and frankly this felt more fun. “It’s not just one little thing that makes an illusion, but a combination of factors. Think of it as a step in a dance sequence, perhaps. I can share one step.”

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thank you gin for the set<3

Oz smirked. "I don't think you need be concerned about my stealing your party tricks. I'm sure if I tried it, the effect wouldn't be the same," he teased. As if he could even bend that way in the first place! No, Ozy had no intention of duplicating her trick; his interest was academic. If he understood what spell she'd been able to cast so seamlessly and without speaking, maybe he could apply similar principles in the future.

As interested as he was in the trick, though, he could not ignore that she had leaned in towards him. It would take only one fluid motion to move one of his hands to her hip and sweep her into him. Her lips were tantalizing; perhaps before they descended the stairs he'd have a chance to taste them.

"Go on. Show me a step," he said, leaning in slightly himself. They still weren't touching, but he was close enough to feel her breath. It was a good thing they had privacy up here; no one seeing them would have had any illusions about what they were up to.

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MJ is the light of my life <3

Even as he leaned closer, Sophia remained unmoved, matching his tease with a quirked brow. He was right, of course; even if he emulated the trick, there was a certain je ne sais pas to the technique that rendered an unparalleled effect. Timing had everything to do with it.

“Hmm,” she nearly purred, blue eyes alighting to his teasing brown ones. “How familiar are you with the Russians' brand of magic, Mister Dempsey?” Not very, she gathered, though if he was it might stir a clue about the bigger picture. Witches and wizards from the far reaches of the Russian arctic were particularly known for their ability to manipulate and create their environment, with innovations that worked at impressive scale for the sake of survival. Not that they had to worry about such survival techniques here. Sophia was thriving.

The woman met his height with a gentle lift to her toes, closing their distance another hair’s breadth so that their noses gently grazed against each other, so that perhaps he might feel her full effect. Turning somewhat demurely from his face, her lips sought out his left ear. Her left hand gently caressed brunette tresses there, smoothing his hair back in the way she’d been tempted to before – a confident misdirect. For as she leaned into his ear and her index finger grazed his earlobe, her right hand moved up as though to hook around his neck, intended instead for completely different purposes.

“Confundus,” she whispered her spell aloud this time, directly into his ear as her right hand doled the charm. Wandless magic - her most versatile skill acquired as a young teen touring world stages. 

Before it could catch up to him, the ballerina dropped to her feet and moved swiftly below the right arm that trapped her. She took great care to drag her fingers across his waist as she did, on the pretense of keeping her balance as she maneuvered around the tight space.

“Allow me to take your coat, sir,” she joked from behind him, moving quickly before the effect should fade. He had not been exposed to some of the techniques that left their audiences a bit more prone during performances, after all, and would likely come-to quickly. Wandless magic was never particularly strong without an accelerant. Her hands gracefully maneuvered over his broad shoulders down his arms, before working quickly to tug off his overcoat without much fuss. Sophia took great care to ensure he turned to see it - the second her lips feigned a dramatic ”oh!” of surprise as she balled up his coat and tossed it over the railing behind her.

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thank you gin for the set<3

He was surprised when she touched him, though he kept his expression neutral. They'd been dancing so close to physical touch that he expected her to tease him a bit longer. When her nose brushed against his he really thought she might be about to kiss him... but of course, it was a trap. He registered that she'd cast a spell a second too late to do anything about it; by the time he realized what it was, the effects were already spreading through his brain. His thoughts were heavy and he couldn't focus on more than one thing at a time. That thing was the feeling of her fingers on his waist — even though he knew it was a distraction, he couldn't force himself to move past it. Her fingers on his waist...

She said something. He barely heard it. He realized she had moved and turned to look at her, and didn't realize that he'd lost his jacket until he caught sight of it fluttering down to the stage below. His senses came back to him in a rush.

It wasn't often he was baffled by a bit of magic, but even after watching her cast it he still didn't know that he entirely understood her methods. He was intrigued. (He was entranced).

"If you were trying to undress me, you could have just asked," he jibed, leaning back against the railing in a position that looked casual enough but was partially defensive. She had just taken advantage of him, after all; this time she'd done so with his full consent but he didn't intend to be caught in another of her traps unawares.

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   Sophia Lissington

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MJ is the light of my life <3

Sophia took great pleasure in watching the fog drift away from his eyes, his entrancement truly obvious to her until the spell faded and he quickly schooled his features back into something a bit more calm and collected. Despite his condition he did not miss a beat, impressively delivering an aloof observation taht earned a genuine laugh from the ballerina. It sounded different from the performative laugh she usually employed; her natural one more lilting, and accompanied by a hand that flitted to her chest as though to contain it.

“I was simply demonstrating my point, Mister Dempsey,” she parried demurely, having kept her own distance on the opposite railing where the platform narrowed, suspecting that he wouldn’t chase her there so easily. “Not to worry, we can retrieve your coat,” Later, her eyes added. “I only have a penchant for collecting tophats, as it is.”

With a smirk, the witch took a single step closer to him, feeling every ounce predatory. Now that she’d seen him off balance once, Soph was quite sure she needed to see it again. Though she’d allow him some time to keep guessing at what it was, and she cast her right hand towards a beam to their right. With a gesture that emphasized the proper technique to beckon something without a wand, perfected over a decade to the imperceptible flutter of a ballerina’s hands, her charm pulled on a rope attached to that beam. It soon brought them an unassuming bucket, which bumped gently into the railing to Ozy’s right. The witch dipped her fingers into the bucket, lifting from it a soft powder that glittered blue as it sifted back into the bucket.

“We used something similar in Moscow, to more convincingly represent the oppressive heat of India in our production of La Bayadère,” she murmured thoughtfully. This had been her late husband’s innovation, as it was, now belovedly adopted by magical ballets across the European continent. “Mixed in with the smallest sprinkle of a plant with properties that create a similar affect to the Confundus Charm. It helps make our guests more… open-minded, shall we say, to take a flight of fantasy with us, and better ignore the blights of the day before they arrived.” ‘Agreeable to mild and temporary intoxication for duration of performance and backstage entries’ was a term of agreement printed on the back of any performance ticket where this particular formula would be used, like Giselle.

The woman withdrew the smallest quantity of this powder, blowing gently on her fingers to direct it at Ozymandias. The effect would feel like a chilling, cool fog, which he undoubtedly felt during her final act as the Wilis.

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thank you gin for the set<3

Ozymandias tensed his hand against the railing just slightly as she approached, wary of what she might do if he allowed her to get close enough. His curiosity would be the death of him no doubt, because even knowing she'd just enchanted him he still couldn't bring himself to interrupt as she described the blue powder in the bucket. He wanted to know what it was and what it did — and then she'd blown it in his face.

Stop this foolishness and kiss me, he thought, but imagined that was the powder and the accompanying flight of fancy talking. When he'd blinked the sensation away, a smile spread across his face. It was genius.

"I believe I've made a very clever investment," he said appreciatively. "Though at this point I must insist you save any further demonstrations until we've our feet back on the ground."

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MJ is the light of my life <3

Ah, that smile. It looked nice on him. It gave Sophia reason to match it, her heart swelling with the small triumph of knowing she put it there, a lot like the feeling gained at the end of a performance. It was no equivalent to the applause and adoration of thousands, but... it would do.

"I see," she said softly, leveling him a look of pure mischief. He hadn't escaped her toying yet, and seemed to relish it as much as she did. "That can certainly be arranged. Follow me..." She turned her back to him then, moving deftly down the catwalk in the opposite direction from where they'd came. There was a connecting one beyond them, and from there, a small staircase which gave them a secretive entry to the backstage supply closets - and private dressing areas. The ballerina descended from the steps with aplomb, patiently awaiting her companion to join her back on earth.

The corridor was dim - and deserted. No one had a reason to be there now, though certainly a more private area would could be arranged. Though she was certain she wasn't alone in the frenetic pace of her heartbeat, Soph wasn't about to suggest that she had any more interest than he did.

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   Ozymandias Dempsey

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thank you gin for the set<3

At her smile, Ozy thought she might deny him and sneak in another trick or two. He followed her with a double dose of caution, one to beware of any mischief she might be plotting and one to be especially sure of his footing as the catwalk once again narrowed. He wasn't afraid of heights, but he did grip the railing tightly as he made his way back, to be sure he wasn't caught off balance should she whirl to face him again.

They descended into a hallway, apparently unremarkable. Still, he suspected she had something up her sleeve. She wouldn't have followed that display in the catwalks with anything mundane.

"Well," he said with an eyebrow raised. "What magic happens here?"

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MJ is the light of my life <3