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 Dance of the Marionettes, Stells owo

Myshonok Nevolin


I can't be something that never existed


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Feb 11 2018, 02:06 AM   LINK Quote
An empty hall. The padding of soft leather soles echoing as they strode with purpose, black polished tops shining like water in the light from arched windows. In a pale hand, a black briefcase hung on the curve of relaxed fingers.

It had been a few weeks ago when Myshonok had received the letter from his mother. He knew it had been hard for her to redeem the family name after the incident, and throughout these years she had held steady as she gradually brought dignity back to the Nevolin name. Being the charming woman she was it had not been a challenge for Morgana to regain the respect of many of the pureblooded families they were close to, but there was one that gave her trouble. Their neighbor's; The Drozdov's. A powerful family. Strict, as well, especially when it came to the family hierarchy. They had seen the Nevolin family incident as a gross mistake, and even with Morgana's efforts and silver-tongue were hard to sway from their opinion. So when Myshonok received his mother's message detailing the transfer of seven of the Drozdov girls to Hogwarts, he knew what he had to do.

A corner up ahead. The soft flap of air caught on a jacket's edge, the after effect of a sharp and precise turn on the heel. Down the hall a great door left just a creak open.

Even if the seven girls weren't part of the main branch, they could still serve to benefit their family ties if he could get on their good side. He had to make an impact. There was no room for failure. That was why he'd decided to start off easy and go after the youngest of the bunch. She was through no fault of her own the most naive of the bunch and would be the easiest for him to befriend. As a bonus, if he managed to get her opinion of him to be a positive one, then it would make her older brother easier to sway as well. After all, it was no secret that the Drozdov boy was close to his sisters. Well, at least it wasn't if you observed them closely enough.

Myshonok slowed down his steps as he approached the dance hall door. An anxious thumb slid over the handle of his briefcase as he carefully peered inside. If he was right, now was about the time that the young Drozdov girl would be practicing her hobby of choice; Ballet. Thankfully he caught the spin of a well-executed pirouette and gave a quiet sigh, relaxing his shoulders as he prepared himself. The mouse took a few moments to put together his facade before placing a hand on the door and pushing it open.

He took a step into the room and looked up. Veiled eyes landed on Elya and he faked a shocked shuffle in his step, pretending as though he'd been expecting to be alone. Mysh stared for a beat and moved a hesitant half-step back and reached back to grasp the door's edge with the fingertips of an unsure hand, index finger running up the rough wood edge of it in thought. Slowly, he let go and nudged the door shut as silent as he could manage. To Elya, it looked as if he'd made the choice to stay, deciding to become an easily dismissed shadow on the outskirts of her vision as he edged to a spot close to the wall behind her.

Setting the briefcase on the stone floor with care, Mysh looked up at the girl as he clicked the lid open. The curious square of his shoulders made him seem like nothing more than a casual observer, but inside the gears in his mind were turning like clockwork. He'd seen enough of Elya to get a basic idea of how to approach her. She was proud and a bit standoff-ish, so a direct approach wouldn't do him much good. Besides, she was perceptive enough to be able to see past that front if he tried. The girl had her own manipulative streak. Old tricks wouldn't work on her. Yet she was still too much of a child to successfully use any of his other tactics, and so Mysh had been forced to think outside of the box. Which is why he decided to look in one.

Strings rose out of the case as Myshonok pulled out a wooden cross. He flicked his wrist and a string pulled. With a soft "clack!" against the rim of the case, a fragile little hand rested over the edge. If he was being honest, the Russian snake hadn't expected his marionette skills to serve him beyond just a way to entertain himself and pass time, but even the silliest of skills had a use he supposed. A few more little tugs and soon the smooth white body of a petite ballerina sat on the floor by his case. Her pretty little white dress lay spread out over her legs in a daisy circle on the floor, the soft creases and folds of the fabric forming the flower's petals and her serene face the beaming center. Mysh felt a soft tug on his heart a he traced the elegant arc of her brow with an affectionate thumb. This was his favorite marionette. Pchelka. Her kind face and delicate limbs had kept him safe through even the most frightening of his nightmares.

The soft padding of ballet shoes on stone pulled his attention away to the life-sized ballerina in front of him, reminding him of his goal. Right. If he could not charm her with honey-coated words, then he would use humor instead.

Mysh stood from his crouch and brought his hands up as if he were conducting an orchestra. Facing away from Elya, he began to give soft sways of his wrists and arms, leading Pchelka in a simply walk to warm up. The doll obeyed his command with a warm grin, legs gliding across the floor in smooth steps, but every now and then her arms would drop as Mysh pretended to become distracted by Elya, clouded face slowly drifting to look at her from over his shoulder every now and then before snapping back to Pchelka. Soon her simple walks became dotted with little spins, then her legs raised in little kicks as she stepped, arms beginning to rise above her head before Mysh slacked her strings and returned her to a casual stride. He huffed and stiffened his shoulders in false frustration, ducking his head as if he was forcing his attention to stay on Pchelka and her simple stride. He stayed like this for a minute before glancing back over his shoulder, subconsciously taking a small step closer to Elya to see her steps better.
,
It continued like this, Mysh sneaking glances at Elya and Pchelka imitating her dance, reserved shyness slowly fading as he got into the rhythm of her steps and began to follow along himself, until he found himself besides the Drozdov girl with a glide in his step. His head was turned to the blonde girl with an inspired focus, right wrist turning the wooden cross side to side as his left hand curled gentle fingers around strings and plucked and pulled them like a harp. Pchelka's body flowed with the strings in a perfect imitation of Elya. The way the marionette fluttered across the floor on the tips of feather light feet, arms swaying beautifully as her serene face kept closed eyes, light catching the soft curves of her brow and pointed to nose like a painting, something about her seemed to come to life. She wasn't a marionette in the guiding hands of Mysh, but a ten-inch person, feeling the passion of dance as it twirled her skirt around her wooden hips.

Mysh followed along with ease. He was careful to move out of Elya's path as she danced, eyes catching every little movement and sending it down to Pchelka's strings with a skill gained over many years of practice. The snake had been so focused that he'd even begun to mimic Elya's steps himself! Taking light steps on the tips of his toes as he moved about, twirling himself as he pulled Pchelka's obedient strings in a pirouette. This trio act went on for as long as Elya herself moved, and when the Drozdov girl finally paused, Mysh let a soft chuckle bubble out of him as he brought Pchelka to a halt.

"Ah, sorry, sorry!" Embarrassed friendliness rang in his voice and he ducked his head in a shy apology. "I didn't think anyone would be here today. I thought it would be a good place to practice for a bit." Holding the strings taut with his right hand, Myshonok reached into his coat pocket with his left and pulled something out as he crouched down to place whatever it was into Pchelka's waiting arms. "But I got a bit distracted, it seems. I was intending to simply go through some walking mechanics with Pchelka here, but," He stood up straight and curled two strings around the index finger of his left hand and tilted his right wrist forwards.

Pchelka's head turned up and the doll took a graceful step forward, arms lifting up to offer a small flower bouquet to Elya, a twinkle about her as Mysh pulled her strings with care.

"I hope you don't mind when I say that your dance inspired me a bit. It was wonderful."


|Pchelka|
@Elya Drozdova

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