71Full Summary: Waverly's a professional dancer on the cusp of fulfilling her lifelong dream of being the best dancer in the country when a voice from the water pulled her into an unfamiliar and strange world where a man named Rois claims her as his soulmate. His scarred face scares her, this world is unfamiliar to her, and the strange connection she has to this terrifying man are overwhelming and it's all she can think of to return home.
But this new world admires her as a dancer and honors her as a soulmate and the feelings she has for Rois aren't altogether terrible. With the way her soul and mind are pulling her apart, how can she decide which world she wants to live in? And when the fragile peace of this world begins breaking, can she even live to decide what she wants? Rois claims her as his soulmate, but will she claim him in return?
Water's Call
Water, clear as crystal and sparkling like the stars in the vast night sky, rippled around the man's waist as he waded carefully through the tile lined stone basin. Though his body was covered in sand, it didn't dirty the water he disturbed as he walked through, stopping only when it lapped at his waist.
His eyes moved upwards, searching through the dim shadows created from the mystically glowing water he stood within that danced high overhead. It was difficult to see, but he could just barely make out the distant shadows of the large stone face staring down into the large basin.
"My lady..." He called to her, his voice echoing distantly in the large, dark chamber.
There was no response and, when even the memory of his call had faded, his hands tightened into fists beneath the water.
"You promised me!" He yelled, voice shattering through the silence.
Something glimmered overhead and his jaw tightened as he watched more sparkling water gathering together, barely illuminating the stone eyes of the woman's face above him.
When the gathered drop fell, it hit the basin below with a delicate tinkling sound. He took in a staggered breath as he forced himself to relax.
"I apologize," he murmured, voice tight in his struggle to hold back his emotions. "But, you gave me your word. I have fulfilled my end of the bargain."
Another drop hit the water, louder this time.
"It is nearly done!"
Another drop."
He growled. "There is nothing more I can do!"
More silence. He let out a long breath.
"I apologize for raising my voice. I just..."
One drop, then another hit the surface. The ripples spread out, lapping gently against his waist and distorting the bright, colorful titles that seemed to rest just beneath the impossibly clear depths of the pool he stood within.
"I have given up everything in your name, my lady. I've devoted my life to you. I've killed for you. I've nearly died for you on countless occasions and would have gladly passed my soul to my next body knowing that my death served a greater purpose!"
A single, lone drop fell nearly silently before him.
"I did it for you. Of course, I did."
A series of drops fell, pinging against the surface as though striking glass. He listened without expression on his face as he watched the ripples crash together completely distorting the surface of the water.
"It is my honor to serve you, my lady." He mumbled, repeating the words without inflection or emotion. They sounded worn, as though he had said them countless times in the past. "We are merely tools to be used by the gods, and it gives me joy to carry out your will."
Silence followed his words and he let his eyes travel upwards towards the soft glow of the massive stone face that towered high above him. Even as he watched, the small light dimmed to nothingness and the visage was, once again, barely visible. No water fell this time in the wake of his words and he let the echo slowly fade into the darkness before continuing.
"It was my honor and my pleasure to serve you. But, you did promise."
No drops fell, but the water still rippled around him. It was stronger this time, more like a sloshing than just a disturbance of the calm surface.
Lowering his gaze, he wasn't surprised to find that the tiles of the stone basin were gone. In their place, instead, he seemed to be floating in a pool of infinite water that stretched impossibly deep below him, rays of light piercing through a surface that wasn't his.
Connected to his feet, standing like a shadow beneath him, a shadowy form that was clearly not his looked back down at him. Golden eyes glowed in an otherwise dark face. He could barely see her now that the illumination from the pool was replaced with the light at her back that broke through the infinite ocean she called her home.
He had seen her this way before, standing on the edge of her world and looking down at it. For his experience, it was no less of a terrifying experience. The sensation was not unlike that of standing at the edge of an impossibly high drop, knowing that you were about to fall off and being completely unable to do anything to prevent it. That heart stopping moment just before the fall, feeling the weight of your body tipping over, rested deep in his belly as he stood beneath her.
He wouldn't fall in. He never had, but the longer he stood there, the more overwhelming the sensation became. Talking to her this way was more direct, but it was also a display of her power, reminding him that he was a lowly human raising his voice to a goddess.
Facing the primordial being, standing in her shadow, he spoke to her in a tone that was as respectful as it was firm and unwavering.
"I know that there is more work to be done. I recognize that, just because the war is officially over, it doesn't mean that I don't still have responsibilities."
She said nothing, but her eyes narrowed on him.
"However," he continued, "I have fulfilled my end of the bargain. I have won your war for you, and now you owe me what is mine."
A voice whispered deep in the back of his mind. It wasn't audible in the air, but it still rumbled deep in his bones, thrumming through him with a depth and power that had the strength to bring him to his knees if brought to full volume.
"She is mine. You owe her to me. I demand only what is mine. What you have promised me. I have never asked you for anything else. But, I will have her."
The goddess' head moved as she stared down at him. He almost thought that he could see something like a smile pulling at her face.
However, the shadows were nearly impossible to distinguish fully and, in an instant, the illusion was gone and he could see nothing again.
The voice spoke to him once more and he lowered his head reverently.
"Thank you, goddess. You are generous."
Something like laughter rumbled through him, rippling the surface around him. His goddess was a capricious type of woman, and there was never any way to tell how she would react to the way that people treated her.
Luckily for him, she often found his obstinance and forwardness endearing rather than impertinent or rude. Despite whatever deal they had made, he knew that she could strike him down for her pleasure if she wished and there would be nothing he, or anyone else, could do to stop her or save him. His life was in her hands and subjected to her whims.
As he stared down into the pool, she, and her infinite world, faded away from his vision and he was once again left looking at the tiles beneath his feet through the impossibly clear water of the stone basin.
He looked up, gazing at her statue, but it was lost to the shadows. The air was still and as pure and clear as the water around his waist. He knew that she was no longer listening to him but, out of respect, he still bowed his head to her.
"Thank you, my lady."
His soft tone did nothing to betray his true emotions.
The broiling fear, the gripping uncertainty. More than anything, the clawing, consuming desperation that had driven him to fight and kill and wage war against a people that had done nothing to him. In his goddess' name, at her command, he had committed atrocities and driven himself to the edge of questioning his own humanity.
While part of it could be contributed to divine loyalty and the need to serve his patron goddess, more than that, he had done it for her.
For the nameless, faceless her that he knew only by a seeking desire in his soul. She belonged to him, and he would have her regardless of the cost.
"Bring her to me." He whispered into the air, his hands hovering over the surface of the water as he waited for some kind of response.
The woman that he fought for, that he killed for, the woman beyond his goddess...
"Will contestants 31 through 35 please report to the backstage area. I repeat..."
Waverly barely heard the rest of the message blaring through the intercom as the music swelled in her earbuds, drowning out the others sounds around her. The song was as familiar as her own heartbeat. She had heard it over a dozen times in the last day alone.
The number on her ID paper marked her as contestant number 44. She still had some time until she needed to report to the backstage area. All around her, the other contestants, 36-50, were similarly standing and waiting for their group to be called.
Some were putting finishing touches on costume, makeup, or hair. Some were stretching. Those that had already gone on stage returned to this holding room only to get any belongings they might have left behind before going off to eat up time before the results were called.
Waverly had already finished her makeup. The bright red of her lips and glittering gold on her eyelids were stage paint and were designed not to come off with sweat, movement, or the apocalypse itself. She was going to spend the better part of an hour taking it off later.
Her legs stretched out in front of her, her torso folded over them, as she leaned into a deep stretch. It wasn't quite a warm up, she was only trying to keep herself from getting cool as she waited. The call from overhead alerted her that it was probably time to get dressed though.
Coming up from the stretch, she reached behind her to where her bag with her costume was waiting next to her water bottle.
It wasn't uncommon to see people dressing and undressing around each other - disregarding male or female company entirely - in the back rooms at these competitions. They were here for the competition and few, if any of them, had any modesty left after years in this profession.
Dancing competitively quickly erased any sense of concern for body image that may exist. Waverly had been put in so many skin tight outfits, undressed in front of so many people, that she sometimes forgot that others weren't accustomed to such things. True, her underwear would remain on, but she could, and did, begin taking off her looser clothing right where she stood.
The black capri leggings and old high school t-shirt were replaced instead with her beautiful and elaborate gold, white, and red dancing costume. It came in two pieces, revealing her midriff, and made her shine brightly with a heavy layer of sequins and rhinestones. She replaced her comfortable flats with golden heels that wrapped up her leg, straps visible through the long slits in the sides of her skirt. It was a costume intended to tease and flash at the same time.
Altogether, it was itchy, heavy, didn't breathe, and was exorbitantly expensive for something that she would wear maybe a handful of times.
In putting it on, Waverly smiled because she felt like she was finally back in her own skin.
For all that she had no modesty while changing here, that the costume was uncomfortable, and that she hadn't been able to eat due to nerves in preparation for today, this was where she felt her most comfortable. Her most alive!
Waverly was a dancer. She had been a dancer for as long as she could remember and had pictures from when she was barely older than a toddler wearing similar costumes, on stage, with the biggest smile on her cherubic face.
Even now, she found herself grinning as she checked to make sure that the plethora of pins holding her long, deep chocolate hair up and out of her face were still holding tight. She had put enough hairspray over them that she didn't think it would move even in an earthquake.
The final piece of her costume, the paper identifying her as contestant number 44, was pinned in place on her back, attached to her skirt since there was no back on the top of the two piece ensemble.
Only once she was properly dressed did Waverly start going through her warm up routine. The stretches and movements served the double purpose of preparing her body for the dance she was about to perform and settling in the costume so that she knew it wasn't going to slip or tear during her performance. She had already tried it on during rehearsal, but this was the real thing. It was time to get serious
The National Dance Championships, the NDC, had been ongoing for weeks at this point. It began at the state level, narrowing every competitive couple that applied in their state down to the single best pair that was then sent here, to nationals.
Waverly and her partner, Cid, had passed through state two weeks ago. Nationals, which was held in their home city every two years - which was why both of them moved here to begin with - had been ongoing since early this morning.
By the time Waverly had dressed, stretched, and readied herself for the competition, the voice overhead was calling out again.
"Will contestants 36 through 40 please report to the backstage area. I repeat..."
Waverly scooped up her water bottle and took a long drink as the song in her ears looped back to the beginning to start over once again.
The tango that she and Cid had created for the competition was high energy, full of complicated poses and movements, and was set to a vibrant song that evoked images of passionate, desperate embraces. Waverly wouldn't call it romantic so much as she would compare it to the fiery, burning desires that flared brightest just before burning out.
As she was lowering the water bottle, someone behind her began to fall out of their stretch and hit Waverly's back. She choked on the water, the bottle spilling outward. She barely managed to lean back at the same time, avoiding soaking her costume through. Though the water splashed all over the floor, pooling around her feet and spreading quickly.
"Oh, my gosh! I'm so sorry!" The dancer behind her immediately cried, having already regained her balance. She was looking at Waverly's costume with horror, as though it were her own costume that had been put in jeopardy.
"It's all right, it's all right." Waverly assured her, chuckling. "No harm."
"Let me get a towel!" The other girl said, rushing for her own bag.
As the other girl was digging through her bag, Waverly capped her water bottle and stepped out of the slowly expanding pool. It wasn't particularly large, but it was still a hazard. Waverly checked to make sure her feet hadn't gotten wet as she guarded to puddle to prevent anyone else from stepping in it on accident.
"Waverly..."
"Hm?" At hearing her name called, she automatically lifted her head to check around the room for the source.
The voice hadn't been familiar to her. It was feminine, but oddly deep and rumbling as though echoing towards her from the bottom of the well. When no one met her eye as she looked around, she became convinced that she was just hearing things. It wouldn't be the first time competition stress had gotten to her.
The girl that had bumped into her returned, towel in hand, and began cleaning up the puddle and the call completely fled from Waverly's mind as she assured the other girl again that she was fine and none of the water had gotten on her.
With the spill cleaned, Waverly picked up her bag and put away her mp3 player inside before storing it into the long columns of cubbies that were lined up along one wall. A note on the side assured them that the facility wasn't at fault for any thefts leaving all of them on the honor system. Unconcerned about losing her work out clothing - or even the old mp3 player if she was honest - Waverly shoved the bag into the first cubby she came to before turning her back and walking away.
Stepping out of the room, she began looking up and down the halls for Cid. He had left to get his shoes from the car they had taken to get here some time ago but had yet to return. She wasn't particularly worried, as he had the attention span of a butterfly and any distraction could - and had on many occasions - completely derailed any plans he might be making to do things quickly or stay on task.
Still, it didn't hurt to try to find him and she walked up and down the halls a few times, enjoying the chance to stretch her legs while she searched.
Before she could find him, from over the speakers, that voice called again:
"Will contestants 41 through 45 please report to the backstage area. I repeat..."
Figuring that Cid would meet her backstage - there was no way he would miss a curtain call, regardless of any distractions - she began walking towards the designated holding area for the next dancers that would take the stage.
Nationals was split into two separate stages. Stage one featured one dance couple from each state coming forward to compete and half of them would be eliminated by the end of the day. The second stage, which would give them a chance to perform a different dance entirely, was going to be held in another two weeks for the 25 that passed today. That performance, however, would be televised.
Waverly was already nervous, however. For, although she had come to nationals last time two years ago, she hadn't progressed to the second round. She was standing at the finishing line for one of her dearest dreams and she was so close to the end that she could taste it.
The backstage area, unlike the holding room that everyone had been gathered in and around before, was dead silent. So as not to disturb the judges, performers, or those in the audience, there was a strict silence policy enforced in the area where the dancers were waiting.
A few were doing stretches, some were pantomiming parts of their dance. The couple immediately up next were standing together, facing forward with grim determination. There was a tension in the air that came from a combination of nerves, anticipation, and the knowledge that, statistically, half of them would be gone by the end of the day.
Cid, however, wasn't around.
Waverly lined up, standing between 43 and 45 by herself. The woman who was coordinating things backstage gave her an odd look before mouthing the question of where her partner was. Waverly silently assured her that he was coming and frowned towards the entrance.
42 had just taken the stage when he finally rushed into the room. His heavy jog became a light footed fast walk as he slid up towards her. In contrast to her, he was wearing black with red and gold accents, his brown hair was slicked back, except for a single strand that artfully fell into his face. It was made to look purposefully messy and sexy.
'Sorry' he mouthed at her, standing next to her in line, hastily adjusting the billowing black shirt that he was wearing. It was cut open along his chest to reveal the smooth skin of his pectorals and abdomen in a blatantly sensual way.
'What took you?' Waverly mouthed back, smacking his arm.
He shrugged with a grin that earned a narrow eyed glare. She would get the whole story later when they could actually talk to each other, but she had a sneaking suspicion that she already knew. Cid was a hopeless flirt and, if he spotted a particularly attractive man, he just couldn't stop himself from approaching him regardless of where he was or what he was doing.
It was the trait that drove Waverly nuts when it came to him. He was a fantastic dancer and an all around decent guy, but his flirtatious nature would distract him at the most inopportune moments, including just minutes before they were due on stage.
However, despite the worry he gave her at times like this, he was never actually absent. He could - and had - cut it close in the past, but he had yet to let her down.
The two of them turned to face each other and she smacked him again even as she was helping to adjust his shirt so that it fell open more around his collar bones. Meanwhile, he was fixing a stray strand of her hair backwards.
It was a quick once over, just to make sure that they were perfect for the stage. 42 finished their set and, after accepting their applause, left the stage on the opposite side. The judges would give their results at the end of the day. 43 walked forward and Cid and Waverly took their place on the on-deck circle, arms circled together.
Waverly took in a breath, feeling her nerves beginning to fade. They were by no means gone, but the anticipation of the dance eased them slightly.
It was always like this, every time. She was never nervous as she danced. Before she was slightly nervous, and afterwards, as she waited for the results, she was incredibly nervous. In the moment, however, she was focused.
Her earbuds were gone, but she could replay the music near perfectly in her head. Her muscles twitched as she imagined going through the steps. Beside her, she could see Cid mouthing the names of the poses as his eyes looked upwards and inwards as he did the same.
43 finished their set and Waverly heard the call over the intercom for the next group of dancers to begin making their way to the backstage area. There was a brief pause where the coordinator stopped them from walking onstage so that the judges could finish their notes. That brief minute seemed to take years.
Finally, at the signal of the judges, the coordinator turned to them and nodded, motioning them forward to their starting position.
Waverly's back automatically straightened and a smile pulled at her lips as Cid led her out. The man led during the dance, but she was the star of the show. It showed in the way she walked, the way her costume shined and glittered as it flowed around her legs.
For all the nerves that she would feel later while waiting for the results, in this moment right now, Waverly felt like a queen. She loved being on stage. She loved dancing. There was nothing in this world that gave her as much joy and purpose as the freedom and exhilaration of dancing. The smile that she wore as she and Cid stopped and curtsied/bowed to the judges and audience was as real as the excited blush in her cheeks under the heavy makeup.
The first half of Nationals drew a decent audience. Mostly made up of friends and family of the dancers, as well as competitors that had already danced and were only staying to watch the others, there were still some that only came to watch for the love of the sport or because they wanted to watch the beauty of the performers.
Either way, it was a decently filled house and multiple pairs of eyes stared at Waverly. Few people stared at the man. The majority of men, and no small percentage of women, focused on the female in a dancer pair. Which was why the female had to sparkle, had to be perfectly beautiful. When the bright stage lights shined down on her, she had to shine like a star.
Which didn't bother Waverly at all. She lived for it. As she and Cid got into their starting positions, standing apart from one another as they waited for their music to begin, she twirled into place and struck the first pose with no small amount of flair. Her nerves came from the competition itself, not stage fright.
Low and thrumming, rumbling like dark thunder, the music started slowly and Waverly whipped around to face Cid, sending her skirts flying around her legs.
Deceptively slow at first, the song quickly began building in tempo and energy as they moved through it together. It told a story without words of a dysfunctional couple that destroyed each other with their fiery passions.
Waverly would come to him, bending low and reaching for him. He would lift her up and drop her, turning from her as often as he turned back. Addicted to one another, unable to quit the other, it wasn't a love story that they told.
As the climax of the song reached full peak, when Waverly finally turned away from him. She tried to leave him and he chased after her. Capturing her, pull her back into him. Even as she struggled to get away, he conquered and dominated her.
If you were just looking at the dance, it was easy to misinterpret it as only a series of pretty movements. There was nothing inherently violent or disturbing about what they did. The story was subtle, interwoven through their graceful and beautiful positions and movements and only those who really watched could understand.
The passion story ended as violently as it began. Waverly's final attempt to escape ended with Cid capturing her by the neck and pulling her down. He caught her just before she fell and lifted her up in his arms as she fell back, arms falling down, as one leg hooked around him. She 'died' in his arms, their final pose ended with him holding her up in that position, head bent down over her belly in 'mourning' for the passion that 'killed' her.
The music ended as it began, thrumming and low, and as it faded out, they were given a loud chorus of applause. The sound it broke the spell over them as a smile once again pulled at Waverly's face as she returned to life.
Cid lowered her back down and they turned together to once again bow/curtsy to the judges. One was writing, two of them were applauding, and two were whispering together.
Their piece completed, the coordinator waved them off stage, opposite of the side they had entered where contestants 45 were waiting.
They walked off arm in arm, just as they had entered, and remained locked together as they left the backstage and walked out into the halls.
The moment they were out of the required silent area, Cid turned to her with a holler of excitement as he wrapped her up in her arms.
"That was perfect!" He shouted, lifting her off her feet with ease and spinning her around. "Wave, you were perfect!"
Waverly, laughing and squeezing his neck, squealed herself.
"You nailed it, Cid. You were fantastic! And the refrain-"
"Without a hitch! I thought I was going to puke but it went perfectly!"
He released her back down to the ground. Despite only performing the one dance, both of them were sweating and out of breath. They had poured everything into the performance, far beyond what they would do in simple rehearsals, and it took its toll on them.
Laughing, holding onto one another, they practically skipped back to the holding room. Waverly retrieved her bag and, without changing, ran with Cid back outside.
It would take some time for the last fifteen of the dancers to finish, then an hour or more afterwards for the judges to finish their deliberation. Results would be announced by the end of the day, but until then they had time free.
Part of their ritual after finishing a competition was to go out to eat. In case the results brought them down, they wouldn't eat after they were announced, and they could always party afterwards if the results were good. However, Waverly hadn't eaten and Cid was hungry again already. They picked a simple sit down restaurant where they could get greasy food in large portions and eat as much as they wanted after so long watching their diet.
Waverly in particular had to make sure that she never weighed more than Cid could comfortably carry. It was important that she always meet his specific weight requirements. However, with competition over, for at least one meal, they would indulge.
Without bothering to change from their costumes, they got seats at a booth at a near homestyle restaurant along with more than a couple looks from some of the patrons and waiters. Since they were wearing costumes, Waverly wasn't surprised. She almost revealed in the attention.
"I say we get drinks." Cid declared immediately, opening the menu. "And those cheese sticks. Drinks, cheese sticks... and probably that brownie."
"I'm down. Except you're the one driving." Waverly grinned over her own menu.
"I am not going to get drunk off one cocktail."
"If you end up in prison tonight, I'm kicking you in the head."
Waverly's threat fell on deaf ears as Cid proceeded to order both of them the fruitiest, sweetest drink on the menu - watermelon flavored - as well as the cheese sticks, brownie, and sliders, telling the waiter that they would order their meals in a bit.
"Think we passed?" He asked her as the waiter left.
"I want to say yes, but I had that same thought last time." Waverly frowned, staring down at the menu without seeing anything it said. "Did you see the two before us? They were really good. I don't think they messed up once."
"I suppose. Her movements were a bit sloppy."
"You think?"
"I hope."
Waverly threw a napkin at his face, laughing. "Be helpful."
"I am. I ordered the drinks." He laughed and dodged the napkin that she had just picked up again. It hit the back of the booth and fell beside him. He proceeded to claim it and gently set it across his lap with all due ceremony.
Waverly crossed her ankles, sitting back in her seat, hands folded like a lady. They remained that way, full statues until the waiter returned with their drinks. He set them down between them, eyes darting when neither of them made any attempt to move.
"Are you two, er, okay?" He asked, hesitating.
"Staring contest." Cid announced simply, voice high and snooty like he was a high lord.
"Oh..." The waited continued standing there, staring between them until Waverly finally blinked, cursing under her breath as she relaxed.
"Undefeated champion." Cid announced, smirking victoriously.
The waiter chuckled. "You two are funny. What's with the costumes?"
"We were at the NDC." Waverly said, smiling at him as she lifted her drink. The pink cocktail had a watermelon wedge on the rim that she immediately lifted off to enjoy.
"NDC? What's that?"
"Dance competition."
"Oh, like a recital?"
Waverly frowned, lowering her drink back down.
Cid quickly cut in. "Yeah, something like that. It's a big national competition. One dance pair from each state comes to compete. We're actually representing this state."
"Oh, yeah?" The waiter smiled, obviously unimpressed. "What's your thing? Like tap or something?"
"Ballroom, mostly. We did a tango today, right, Wave?"
She gave Cid a dark look as she sat back into her booth, turning the stem of the drink around in her fingers where it sat on the table.
"Oh, man, my girlfriend and I took a tango class last summer. Super fun. The teacher told us we were the best in the class. Of course, most of the class was like middle aged and older, so we were probably also the only ones with all of our original hips and knees."
Cid laughed politely, pointing to the menu as Waverly's look darkened. "Hey, can we add the ice cream cookie thing? Extra chocolate sauce."
"Sure, no problem. I'll put that right in for you."
Smiling, the waiter walked off. Waverly couldn't help but glare at his back.
Until a napkin was thrown over her eyes. She pulled it away, turning the dark gaze onto Cid instead.
"Fix your face." He chuckled, lifting his drink.
"He called it a recital."
"He didn't mean to insult you."
"That doesn't make it any less insulting."
"You think you'd be used to it by now."
Waverly grumbled, resting her head on her hand as she continued to turn her glass. She wasn't even particularly hungry any more.
He wasn't the first person to refer to professional dancing in such childish terms. Most people didn't seem to understand that there were people out there who danced for a living. It seemed outside of most people's comprehension that the arts could lend themselves to a career.
"Bet if I was a mathlete or something he wouldn't talk like that."
"He might not, but I probably would. Mathlete? Really?" Cid was chuckling as he brought his drink up to his lips.
"You don't like it when they make fun of us either. Why are you making fun of mathletes?"
"Well, first, because mathelete is an inherently funny word. And secondly, because mathletes and math nerds in general tend to make better, more consistent money than us."
"I'd hate you if that weren't true."
Winning nationals brought with it prize money. Most competitions did. It was usually a couple hundred to a couple thousand dollars, depending on what competition it was. Nationals, as a televised event to crown the best dancer, would pay very well. However, she could admit that it was hardly a reliable paycheck.
The worst part was that the reaction of the people who immediately discounted them wasn't entirely wrong.
Dancing competitively wasn't enough to bring in the money needed to sustain even their modest existence. They both had day jobs teaching at the same dance studio - where Waverly did host actual recitals for children - and neither could afford to give it up and be competitive dancers full time.
"I just don't understand why the arts aren't appreciated!" She snapped, throwing up her hands in frustration.
Cid rolled his eyes. "Here we go again."
"No, really. A mathlete makes a spreadsheet and that's enough to earn him money. An artist creates a masterpiece and, if he's lucky enough for someone to like it, then maybe he'll earn money. How is that remotely fair?"
"Wave, you're preaching to the choir here." He gestured to himself. "I'm on your side. We don't need to have this talk again."
Waverly sighed, sinking down into the booth. "Is it so much to ask for a little appreciation?"
"I appreciate you."
Waverly grinned, unable to help herself when Cid gave her that puppy dog eyed smile, holding his glass up expectantly. She lifted her own and clicked them together.
"There we go! Drink up." He laughed, taking a large gulp of the cocktail.
Waverly sipped at the drink but deliberately looked away when the waiter returned with their cheese sticks, sliders, brownie, and ice cream cookie. Cid proceeded to order for them, asking for chicken fried steak, grilled asparagus, french fries, corn, and a separate plate of fully loaded mashed potatoes. It was a feast for the two of them that they knew they wouldn't finish but would pick at until full then take the rest home to eat at their leisure.
Through the rest of the dinner, though Waverly threw herself into their conversation and laughter with an enthusiasm to match Cid's, she couldn't bring herself to talk with the waiter anymore. Every time he came over to check on them or bring them something, she would look away until he left.
Cid may have been tired of hearing it, but Waverly never failed to get fired up when it came to the subject of the dismissal of the arts. Whether it be something like dancing, painting, sculpting, or whatever the case may be, if it was something that didn't have an inherent monetary value, no one seemed to care about it. Regardless of the fact that they would certainly miss it if it were gone.
The arts weren't just there to be pretty and nice to look at. The arts defined culture and gave a sense of expression that the human race otherwise wouldn't possess. A mathlete could make a thousand spreadsheets but the endless rows of numbers still wouldn't have the same, lasting impact of a truly impressive piece of art. Art that was hung in museums, that was studied and debated, that defined a group of people or a place for centuries.
Was the caveman who invented fire or the wheel remembered? No. But the caveman who created his art on the wall had left his mark forever.
Yet she, as a professional dancer who devoted the entirety of her life to improving, practicing, and performing her art, was compared to a child's recital.
Try as she might not to let it bother her, she could still feel it eating away at her heart and soul even as they packed up their leftovers and carried them out to the car. They were riding in Cid's vehicle today because he had more room, mostly because Waverly's car was in desperate need of cleaning.
They left the food in the car when they returned to the theater. They walked in together, passing the elaborate fountain out front to go towards the auditorium.
The dancers had all finished performing and most of the audience had left already. The few that remained were the dancers that had performed and then remained to watch.
The judges were already gone. Waverly asked one of the near dancers how long it had been since they left and was told that it had probably only been about half an hour. It was still another half hour, at least, until the results would be posted.
With nothing else to do, she and Cid took a seat and spent the rest of the time talking and relaxing along with the others. Dancing was a rather tight knit community and Waverly knew more than a few of those that were hear today - either from other competitions or because they had somehow danced together in the past in one form or another.
Sometime later, one of the event coordinators took to the stage. She had a microphone in hand and addressed the dancers that remained.
"Just to let you all know," she called out over them, effectively shutting off their conversation like she had flipped a switch, "results are going to be posted in the back hall. Just back here, very shortly. If you're one of those that advanced to the final round, you will receive an email in the next day or two that will have your instructions for how to proceed from here. Thank you all for participating today."
An air of excitement and anticipation broke out over the crowd as they began to stand. All at once, Waverly's nerves returned full force.
"This is it." She said to Cid, smiling like she had a sore tooth.
"We did fantastic. I don't know why you're worried."
"Your confidence astounds me."
"I mean, not to say that there weren't other, more fantastic competitors, but-"
"You are not helping." Waverly got to her feet, straightening her costume. "All right. Let's go."
"I am not fighting the crowd to see if we made it."
"And I am not going by myself. Get your lazy butt up." Waverly grabbed his arm and began to pull ineffectively. Cid had already been distracted.
"Oh, there he is!"
"Hm? Who?"
"The guy I was talking to earlier." Cid stood on his own, pushing back his hair. "How do I look? Too flamboyant?"
"You're literally wearing a dancer's costume."
"So, not flamboyant enough, or...?"
"We are about to find out if we made it to the final round, and this is what's worrying you?"
"I have my priorities straight."
"Cid!"
"What?" He laughed, eyes following the other guy.
Waverly nearly lost hers to the back of her head.
"Urgh. Fine. I'll go by myself, and I am not going to tell you how we did. Instead, I shall allow you to languish in the bitterness of unknowing until I decide to put you out of your misery."
"Great! I'm gonna go get that guy's number."
Waverly gave him a look that he laughed at as he walked past her to go chase down the guy he had managed to spot. She sighed, head dropping back. She knew that he had been delayed before because he had been distracted by a cute butt or sexy smile but how wanting to know the results wasn't eating away at him baffled her.
It wasn't unusual though, and he always got it together in time for the actual performance, so she didn't hold any real grudge as she followed the others backstage.
The results weren't posted yet when she got to the holding room. However, there was a large group of the dancers gathered around. All fifty pairs from the day were loitering in place, waiting with varying degrees of patience for the organizers.
Waverly stood in the back where she would be relatively free of the fray. It took still another fifteen minutes before someone finally came out. The woman holding the results on a sheet of paper simply taped it to the wall and walked out.
The reaction was instantaneous. People rushed for the paper. Waverly stood back and watched as people either hollered in joy or walked away in quiet despair.
Waverly stood aside, waiting with her hands behind her back for the crowd to thin. It only took a few minutes. Everyone was on the board and if you weren't in one column, you were in the other.
Only once everyone had looked and were either hugging in excitement or walking away in sad dejection did Waverly approach for herself. Because she had waited, there was no one else to crowd around her as she ran her eyes over the list.
She began on the failed list, letting her gaze move slowly down the list of twenty-five pair names, searching for Cid's name as his would be listed first.
When she didn't see it immediately, she checked again just to be sure before finally, hopefully, moving her eyes to the next list.
They were third down the list of those that has passed to the next round. Waverly stared at the name and bit her lip to avoid screaming out her excitement.
She failed almost immediately.
Turning, squealing in delight, she danced in place before looking again. She fished her phone from her bag and took a picture of it before turning and running out.
Cid wasn't immediately out in the hallway so she called him. It only took him a moment to answer.
"We passed?!" He cried immediately, his voice breathless with excitement.
Waverly frowned at the phone. "How did you know? I didn't say anything."
"You wouldn't have called me if we failed!" He started whooping and hollering on the other end and Waverly laughed, jumping in place around the empty hall.
He had yet to retrieve the desired phone number so he asked her to wait for him in front of the theater while he finished the mission. Afterwards, he would fetch the car and pull it around to pick her up curbside. Since it was better than walking across the parking lot in high heels again, she agreed.
She practically skipped on her way to the front.
She had passed! After doing nothing for the last two weeks except for preparing that dance and working - because she still had bills to pay - she had passed! Of course, now they needed to start preparing for the next round in another two weeks, but she had passed this time!
Tomorrow, they would have to put their nose back to the grindstone to pick a song, begin choreography, and then practice and perfect the next dance, but for tonight, they were going to celebrate finally making it to the final round of nationals.
Cid wasn't waiting for her out front, telling her that he was still hunting down that phone number. To give her feet a rest, Waverly sat on the rim of the fountain that was trickling gentler out front and immediately began texting her family to tell them that she had passed. She was close to screaming it out loud right here.
While her parents didn't exactly understand her love of dance, they were supportive of it and she immediately received replies of congratulations. She told them that she would be on TV in two weeks, after which her father promised to record the event.
Humming in contentment, Waverly leaned back on her hands, eyes closed as she enjoyed the simple trickle of the fountain tiers falling down behind.
For the first time, she allowed herself to think of what it would mean if they actually placed at the national level. It was one thing to be the best in her state. It would be another thing entirely to be considered the best in the nation.
She might even be able to escape the need to remain at the small studio that Cid owned as a teacher. Not that she didn't like encouraging kids to pursue a love of dancing, but the parents generally made it a nightmare job.
Either their precious baby was the next star of stage and screen and Waverly wasn't doing nearly enough to encourage the little starlette to be better, or they didn't care at all and dance class was just something that the kids did to get out of their parents' hair.
Waverly supposed it came right back to that appreciation thing. No one appreciated dancers as artists, so teaching it was a low tier job.
"Waverly..."
Hearing her name, she turned, expecting to see Cid.
The front of the theater was still empty. A few people were walking back to their cars, most of them still celebrating. Cid, however, was nowhere in sight. She looked around, making sure that he wasn't standing around somewhere, but she saw nothing.
Shrugging, figuring that she was just hearing stuff again, she returned to her contemplation. This time, planning out what sort of dance she wanted to perform for finals. It was going to be on a larger stage, and they were allowed to use a projector to create a background as well as have up to three props decorating the area.
It should be something that the TV audience would enjoy, but also be technically proficient enough to impress the judges. Of course, she had to think of the story that she wanted to tell with the dance. This one had been about destructive passions, so then maybe the next one should be-
"Waverly..."
Sitting up straight, she frowned around more ardently, because she had definitely heard her name being called that time.
"Hello?" She called, getting to her feet.
No one answered her. Even those that had been walking across the front were gone now. Most of the contestants had cleared out even just in the time she had taken to wait for all of them to approach the results before she did. There was no one around that could have called out to her that she could see.
Where was Cid anyway? Why was it taking him so long to either seal the deal or crash and burn? They had to hurry up and party so they could get back to work.
There wasn't another call, but Waverly continued to turn in place until she was facing the towards the fountain instead.
She crossed her arms, frowning. Was she just hearing things? That last one had sounded so close that she felt like it had been whispered in her ear.
Maybe she was working too hard. She had been doing basically nothing else for the last two weeks and was going to be doing it for two weeks more. Maybe, instead of partying tonight, she should celebrate with a full night's sleep.
That was hardly any fun though.
Waverly sighed, staring down into the water of the pond.
She wasn't really looking, so it took her a long moment to realize that the reflection staring back at her out of the water didn't look right.
Frowning, head tilting curiously, she leaned towards the fountain.
The reflection repeated the movements. But it still looked wrong.
The sun was bright overhead, so her reflection should be perfectly clear, broken only by the ripples created from the falling teirs of the fountain. So, then, why did it look so dark? And why did the shape seem so dissimilar?
"Waverly..."
It called to her again. That voice that she realized she didn't recognize. It was too deep and yet, at the same time, too feminine to be from Cid. It whispered almost directly into her brain, pulling her in closer to the reflection.
She didn't realize until her hand moved into her line of sight that she was actually reaching out for the water.
And that the reflection wasn't doing the same.
Frowning, she pulled her hand back, holding it to her chest, even as she continued to frown at the oddly dark shape that rippled on the surface of the water. It took her another long minute to realize that it was staring back at her.
Golden eyes, like flashes of sunlight in the tumultuous surface, glowed beneath the surface, somehow steady despite the rippling above.
An uncertain rumbling of fear made Waverly take a step back. Only one. But the reflections reaction to her movement was instantaneous.
A hand, dark and fast, shot up from the water.
Screaming, Waverly fell back, landing in an uncoordinated heap in her haste to escape the hand that grabbed onto the rim of the pond.
She was out of its reach now though, and it didn't attempt to search for her. Instead, it slid, like the tail of a snake, back into the water. It disappeared beneath the surface and all that remained of it was a long trail of wet stone where it had landed.
Shaking, breathing quickly, Waverly got to her feet in a way that was not at all graceful. She nearly tripped on the hem of her skirt in her haste to get up. She moved a few steps away, but the shadow that had existed beneath the surface was gone.
Waverly took a cautious step forward, ready to run at the slightest sign of anything else happening, but the reflection was well and truly gone. She couldn't see any signs of darkness in the sunlit water. Only the clear and clean stone bottom with a few dark coins scattered messily throughout.
"Waverly!"
Jumping, a small cry escaping her throat, she whipped around. She had already recognized this call as coming from Cid though. She hadn't seen him come driving up, as focused as she was on the dark hand that had come up after her.
"What are you doing?" He called from the front seat, frowning through the open passenger side window at where she stood.
"Did you... see that?" Waverly pointed.
"See what?" He leaned up a bit to get a look at the fountain, but he could barely see it from the curb where he had stopped the car.
"It was... a snake or something..." Waverly's lips felt numb as she struggled to think of an explanation for the odd hand thing she had seen.
Because she certainly hadn't seen an actual hand.
"Wave?" Cid called to her again, hand on the break. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Yeah..." Waverly straightened her clothes, stepping back from the fountain again. "I'm just... tired, I think."
"Uh-huh..." Cid looked unconvinced but he kept his thoughts to himself as she quickly made her way back to the car.
She threw one last look over her shoulder towards the fountain, hesitating by the door.
What she saw caught her heart in her throat.
The reflection, the shadow, wasn't in the pond anymore. It was hovering, impossibly, in the curtain of water created as the fountain poured down. It was still disturbed by the rippling and breaking. All except for those eyes.
Those eerie, golden eyes continued to stare at her, unmoving and steady, sending a shiver of terror up her spine as they gazed seemingly into her soul.
"Wave? What are you looking at?"
The shadow washed away with the flowing water, like it had never existed. But Waverly could still feel those golden eyes searing along her flesh.
"Hey, Wave?" Cid made for the door of his car. The sound of it popping open broke the spell over her and she turned to look at him.
"You all right?" He asked, about to walk over towards her.
"Did you... Did you see it?"
"See what? The snake?" He looked back towards the fountain, taking hold of her arm protectively as his eyes scanned the area.
Waverly shook her head, grabbing for her temple. Was she seeing things now on top of hearing voices? What did that say about her sanity?
"Maybe we should call management." Cid was saying. "If there's really a snake in the fountain, it could hurt people. We should warn whoever works here."
She barely heard him. His voice sounded like white noise in her ears.
It wasn't a snake. Snakes didn't make shadows like that. Distinctive, human shaped shadows, staring impossibly through the water and calling her name.
But, then, what was it?
And why was it calling for her?