Carol… Madeline, why do they care so much about how they look? They are so beautiful…” Alaric watched the grace of the dancers with a wishful glance, and Madame Wenton had no choice but to sigh.
“That is what this world is made of,” she looked left and right and then she slipped into the shadows with her, behind the curtain, and he gently drew an arm around her, once again creating the relationship that was so organic and so right neither of them ever thought twice. They would be together when they could and that was all. Who Alaric lusted after didn’t matter, in the end. Together, they watched the dancers, clad in identical pink. “At least we don’t have to worry about Mary.”
“No.” Alaric agreed with a smile, watching the vivacious figure prance across the stage. Mary had always been larger than the other dancers, and it never bothered her. She kept a slim figure, for her bone size, and a healthy diet, and that’s all anyone could ask. Mary Wenton was beautiful as she was, an innocent blond, tall, wide-eyed, with a tiny waist and a large chest. Which she definitely didn’t inherit from her flat-chested mother - Alaric thought with a smile. No, the curves Mary was blessed with came from his side, from his mother, and he had passed them on to his daughter. “Is she keeping up in her studies?”
“When I can tear her and Carol apart. And speaking of studies, Rahab isn’t keeping her average in the sciences.”
Alaric’s eyes gleamed. One of his favorite topics.
“I’ll speak to her.”
They stood there for nearly an hour, watching, holding each other, like a couple who had been married decades, and in a way they had. They discussed their daughter mostly, made small talk, and Alaric was reminded how much he loved this ballerina, who seemed to grow more beautiful each day. No one could replace his first and always love, his first kiss, his first night….
“OWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!! MOM/DADEEEEEEEEEEEEE” They hadn’t been paying enough attention to the stage, and so both caught the end of the “eeee”
“She called you or me?” Madame Wenton asked, tensing in the one moment they had to decide who was going to rescue their daughter, who sat on stage with a turned ankle. Thank God it was only a dress rehearsal.
“You have to finish the show.” Alaric said, looking around quickly. “I’ll get Mary and meet you and Reb downstairs when the show is over.”
“Merci, Alaric.”
“Dernier.” He replied swiftly, and then she was gone. He maneuvered through the stage, reaching down to swoop up Mary. 15 years old and was she ever going to grow up? He sure hoped not.
“Dad?”
“You hope,” He replied sharply, shifting her weight, trying to find a space big enough for the two of them to dart through together. At last, with only a little shoving, and a little praying that his ears would recover from the shrieks, he managed to get off the stage, heading through the corridor and up and down the stairway, snaking through the trap wall in the Cathedral. At last, safe within the walls, he slowed down, allowing Mary to stop whimpering.
“My slipper lace broke…I slipped, Daddy, it wasn’t my fault….” She said, and Alaric looked up at her, as he examined her ankle.
“I’m not mad, Mary. I didn’t blame it on you, did I? Now….” Gently, he fingered the injured limb. “It looks like a strain, nothing more. A few hours of rest and ice will heal it. You should be able to dance tomorrow, if you are careful and wear proper shoes…Not like Rahab’s boots….” He muttered, half to himself, as he remembered that Del had plans to go out in high heels for lunch tomorrow. “Do you want to come down or shall I just take you to the dorms?”
Mary paused a second, looking down the dark corridor, and then up at the huge figure of her father.
“I’ll come down. Mom’s coming soon right?”
“After the show, as soon as she can…Come,” he picked her up again, carrying her almost
“That is what this world is made of,” she looked left and right and then she slipped into the shadows with her, behind the curtain, and he gently drew an arm around her, once again creating the relationship that was so organic and so right neither of them ever thought twice. They would be together when they could and that was all. Who Alaric lusted after didn’t matter, in the end. Together, they watched the dancers, clad in identical pink. “At least we don’t have to worry about Mary.”
“No.” Alaric agreed with a smile, watching the vivacious figure prance across the stage. Mary had always been larger than the other dancers, and it never bothered her. She kept a slim figure, for her bone size, and a healthy diet, and that’s all anyone could ask. Mary Wenton was beautiful as she was, an innocent blond, tall, wide-eyed, with a tiny waist and a large chest. Which she definitely didn’t inherit from her flat-chested mother - Alaric thought with a smile. No, the curves Mary was blessed with came from his side, from his mother, and he had passed them on to his daughter. “Is she keeping up in her studies?”
“When I can tear her and Carol apart. And speaking of studies, Rahab isn’t keeping her average in the sciences.”
Alaric’s eyes gleamed. One of his favorite topics.
“I’ll speak to her.”
They stood there for nearly an hour, watching, holding each other, like a couple who had been married decades, and in a way they had. They discussed their daughter mostly, made small talk, and Alaric was reminded how much he loved this ballerina, who seemed to grow more beautiful each day. No one could replace his first and always love, his first kiss, his first night….
“OWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!! MOM/DADEEEEEEEEEEEEE” They hadn’t been paying enough attention to the stage, and so both caught the end of the “eeee”
“She called you or me?” Madame Wenton asked, tensing in the one moment they had to decide who was going to rescue their daughter, who sat on stage with a turned ankle. Thank God it was only a dress rehearsal.
“You have to finish the show.” Alaric said, looking around quickly. “I’ll get Mary and meet you and Reb downstairs when the show is over.”
“Merci, Alaric.”
“Dernier.” He replied swiftly, and then she was gone. He maneuvered through the stage, reaching down to swoop up Mary. 15 years old and was she ever going to grow up? He sure hoped not.
“Dad?”
“You hope,” He replied sharply, shifting her weight, trying to find a space big enough for the two of them to dart through together. At last, with only a little shoving, and a little praying that his ears would recover from the shrieks, he managed to get off the stage, heading through the corridor and up and down the stairway, snaking through the trap wall in the Cathedral. At last, safe within the walls, he slowed down, allowing Mary to stop whimpering.
“My slipper lace broke…I slipped, Daddy, it wasn’t my fault….” She said, and Alaric looked up at her, as he examined her ankle.
“I’m not mad, Mary. I didn’t blame it on you, did I? Now….” Gently, he fingered the injured limb. “It looks like a strain, nothing more. A few hours of rest and ice will heal it. You should be able to dance tomorrow, if you are careful and wear proper shoes…Not like Rahab’s boots….” He muttered, half to himself, as he remembered that Del had plans to go out in high heels for lunch tomorrow. “Do you want to come down or shall I just take you to the dorms?”
Mary paused a second, looking down the dark corridor, and then up at the huge figure of her father.
“I’ll come down. Mom’s coming soon right?”
“After the show, as soon as she can…Come,” he picked her up again, carrying her almost
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