Chapter Text
“I know it’s a little sudden but… would you guys like to go cheer Leo on at the New Mork City theatre hall?”
Emma could tell even just from the look in Balan’s big, golden eyes that he was psyched. She wasn’t sure if it was the words “cheer,” “Leo,” or “theatre hall” that excited him more but his wide grin only spread wider before he clapped his palms together.
“Of course, my dear! If it’s for my friends I’m always excited to cheer! Give me a moment to get myself spiffy, I’ll get us there in a jiffy!”
“Hold on now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You’re obsessed with the why and not the how.”
Lance clicked his tongue, pausing just as dramatically as Emma’s come to expect from the older of the two Balance Brothers, and finished flicking the wing of his eyeliner and touching up the edges before he even looked at her. Wordlessly he passed his kole eyeliner over to his brother, earning himself a quick thanks, and turned to face the human girl. He hoisted himself up onto the edge of the vanity, crossing his long legs at the knee.
“New Mork City's many miles from our world of wonder, I’d like you to know. We grow weaker even an inch beyond the door, and flying to New Mork City would be quite the blunder.”
Balan’s lips pulled into a rare, contemplative frown as he held up the edge of his hat and painted just under his right eye. Standing at the doorway of the room, Emma was at an angle that she couldn’t see the upper half of his face through the mirror without leaning suspiciously far over behind Lance.
“I suppose you’re right, Ol’ Chap. But just because our binds are tight doesn’t mean we should call it a wrap!”
Lance stared his brother down for a moment.
“Balan, no, let’s be realistic--”
“Lance, yes, we’re idealists!! Our magic may carry us far, but I have a solution, and it rhymes with…”
Balan pushed himself up and away from the vanity, taking one long step away from his seat and out into the middle of the dressing room. All he had to do was raise his hands and Emma saw the dread creep onto Lance’s face. The palms of his gloves came together in a crisp clap, the golden sparkles she’s begun to associate with the younger brother’s magic fluttering around him.
Then she’s swept off her feet, literally, by Lance’s arms beneath her legs and against her back. She’s pulled firmly to the older maestro’s chest as he floats a solid five feet off the ground, the world beyond his arms a crescendo of noise. The crunch of wood, the woosh of magic, and then, the blaring of a car alarm as the dust settles, and Lance’s death grip on her shoulders finally lessens.
When she looks down to the ground, she’s greeted by the sight of a sparkly white and gold 1955 cadillac coupe DeVille with chunks of wood strewn across it’s hood and one very confused Balan sitting in the driver’s seat. Just staring forward in visible bafflement with his fingers around the steering wheel.
“Seems like someone didn’t think that through.” Lance hissed, easily sliding Emma down to hold her against his shoulder, letting her sit easily on his hip. As if he were holding a child. Which, well, perhaps she was but Emma still had the shame enough to pout and cross her arms. “Not your smartest move, brother. If it weren’t for me, we’d be bidding our young friend adieu!”
Balan pressed his lips into a thin, vexed line, his hat bumping against the windshield as he dropped his forehead down onto the wheel.
“Do… Do either of you even have a driver’s license?” Emma asked. Lance grit his teeth and made a wishy-washy gesture with his hand.
“Red means stop, green means go, red and blue flashing means punch it before you’re caught by the cop?”
Emma visibly paled at that. He’s not… technically wrong.
“Balan, please tell me you know how to drive.”
“I do indee-dee-deed!” He chirped, kicking open the door and standing up out of the driver’s side as she heard the jangling of keys, and then a beep as blissful silence overtook the room for a moment.
Balan clapped his hands again, and the car faded away with a puff of gold, giving Lance some room to settle down on the ground. The older Maestro made a displeased grumble as he looked over the amount of damage Balan’s stunt caused, but with a snap of his fingers, it’s all undone. The wood paneling slides back up and into place, sparking wires mend, and the carpet is dust free.
“That’s transport solved, but what of our looks? Humans will question us with appearances so…” Lance gestured at Balan in his entirety as he set Emma back down on her feet, finally trailing back into a sarcastic, “...Involved.”
Lance was right. The last thing Balan was was simple. The gold luxury car alone would put them on the radar. Lance could pretend to be an average human being, but they’d need to downgrade the two maestro’s ensambles.
“Worry not! I’ve given it some thought! Lance, to my side if you please! With you, a quick change will be a breeze!”
Lance gave his brother a skeptical look, but relented anyways. He sighed and slipped right in beside Balan, raising one hand to settle it against his brother’s.
“What did you have in mind?”
“A little this, a little that. But bare in mind, I will be keeping the hat~” Balan said with his characteristic cheeky smile. Lance huffed at him and rolled his eyes.
Every one of their tricks seem like genuine magic to her, even just the smallest slight of hand. But as the two maestros circle each other, their facades melt away into two brand new identities. Their fingers interlace and they twirl around, until they come to a stop, and Emma has to take a moment to try to recognize her two friends.
Her two friends that now looked… bizarrely human? Balan’s fuzzy, felt-like black skin had turned to fair flesh. His thick teal yarn hair was actual locks of human hair now. The man Emma could once describe as doll-like, was human now. Even his clothes were different, sporting a pair of simple white slacks, a dark blue dress shirt, and his red cravat. And, true to his word, he kept his signature white tophat, resting just above his brow.
Lance, on the other hand, wasn’t quite as dramatic a change. There’s a little extra color to his pale skin, and instead of pouring free over his shoulders, his white hair is tied up into a high ponytail. His signature tear is gone, and instead, there’s a black beauty mark on his cheek. Purple leggings under white shorts, and a white and gold crop jacket.
The older of the two looked himself up and down, appraising his appearance with a soft hum.
“Not bad. I would tweak a few things, make it darker by just a tad.”
Emma watched on in amazement, the gears churning in her head. Maybe, just maybe, this would go off without a hitch after all! Assuming Balan can drive them there without attracting too much unwanted attention, they could make it there in just a few hours!