Chapter Text
The murmuring in the small theatre hall fills the breadth and width of the rickety stalls as you move down the aisle, patrons whispering in hushed tones and giggling breathlessly. Your eyes flick down to the fading letters painted on the floor, locating your seat with minimal squeezing and the odd “Excuse me” before you finally sink into the thin and peeling faux leather of the seat and settle in. The box office had been kind and given you a seat with ample views, just slightly so off-centre.
Your fingers run over the ticket sticking out of your pocket, and as you take in the sights of the dimly lit hall around you, it finally sinks into you with a wondrous euphoria.
Ever since you saw the advertisements on the bulletin board, a fervour had taken over you and you found yourself acting on nothing but what seemed like instinct. But, finally, weeks of budgeting and overtime and stretched-thin meals have finally landed you here in this theatre. One of Fontaine’s smaller ones, to be sure, older and worn and tucked out of the way, but a splendid place nonetheless.
A thrill runs through you, not for the first time in the evening, and you tuck the ticket further into your pocket as if it might make its escape and make yourself comfortable for the show. You idly hear the predictions of the upcoming show, the fawning over the magician or his assistant or both, the domestic chatter of daily life, and all kinds of voices. You wonder if these people, too, felt the same magical thrill you had when they settled into these seats for the first time.
The lights dim and swivel away to let the spotlights illuminate the curtains as darkness hushes the crowd, the doors to the outside clicking shut. Your breath slows down, and you lean forward, not allowing yourself to blink.
Then-
“My good and kind audience, welcome, welcome one and all!”
The curtains bow back with a rustle, and there he stands, arms outstretched as if he was welcoming the world itself.
Lyney.
He beams at the audience, hand reaching for his hat, giving it an easy twirl in his fingers, and dons it as deftly as he doffed it. “I am the star of today’s show - Lyney!”
A smaller spotlight breaks the formation to cross the stage and land on another figure to the side, poised and elegant. “And this, dear audience, is my sister Lynette!”
She dips into a demure curtsey, swanning over to Lyney who welcomes her to his side as she folds her hands in front of her. “She will be my assistant in this show, so please, give her a warm welcome!”
Amidst the roaring applause, you take your first honest look at the twins. Different but so alike in many ways, just as you heard, and you’re so entranced by them both that your hands unknowingly rise and fall as if Lyney himself has bewitched them.
The twins dip into a bow, moving as if they were never two separate beings at all. As the applause fades out, Lyney continues, “Now, I must thank you sincerely, that you have come all this way to watch our humble performance. But, my good audience, you are not here for simple entertainment.”
He scans the crowd, and you swear for a moment his lavender eyes cross paths with yours before he finishes with a lowered whisper. “You are here, my friends, for one and one thing only: true magic .”
The way he enunciates the last words leaves a pleasant tingle in your ears. You listen, senses lost to the stage, as he finishes his opening spiel and the curtains draw forward, ensconcing them from view.
You realise you’ve forgotten to breathe, and you swallow in anticipation as the curtains are drawn back again to reveal Lyney on stage again. This time, he has a deck of cards piled high in his hands, with Lynette by his side.
He flashes the audience another wide smile, filled with boyish charm and swagger that hooks you in, and the first act begins.
Between disappearing cards, a fountain of cards, a heartstopping escape attempt, Lynette’s deadpan expression striking against Lyney’s impish chuckle, and so many more things, you find yourself completely and utterly charmed. So charmed, in fact, that when the twins bow for the final time and the curtains close and the lights fade to normalcy, you sit there in your seat for a little while longer as the bubbling crowd filters out of the room.
Eventually, you come to your senses as the spell is broken, and you can’t help but smile so wide and hard that your cheeks will hurt tomorrow morning. You rise, hands automatically packing your belongings, and you drift to the doors in a half-daze before you see something that stops you.
Lyney.
He’s smiling at Lynette as they bow and take photos with gushing onlookers and adoring fans, and you find your feet taking you over to the crowd. Eventually, the mob thins, and it’s only you and another fan left before he eagerly thanks the twins and reluctantly leaves.
Then he turns to you.
You.
“I do hope you enjoyed our show,” he begins, bowing deeply. He smiles as he rises, and continues mischievously, “I noticed that you were quite the eager spectator, my friend.”
“E-eh?” You start, hand clutching the side of your coat. “Was…was I that obvious?”
Lyney can’t help but give a small chuckle. “Indeed, but it is of no offence, none at all. I take it this was your first time coming to our show?”
You nod furiously, the words tumbling out of your mouth as you take a half step forward. “Y-yes, very much so, it was my first time, I couldn’t believe how wonderful you were, the rumours really are true-”
He laughs heartily, and it’s a sound that almost lifts you off your feet. “Ah, you flatter me, my friend,” he smiles, waving a gloved hand in your direction. “But, I am glad that I could live up to your expectations.”
Then he purses his lips and studies your face with his gemstone eyes, and asks, “What is your name, good friend?”
You give it to him, a priceless gift in thanks for his performance. Lyney nods and hums in thanks, tasting the way your name rolls off his tongue, and he smiles thoughtfully.
“A wonderful name. I shall make sure to remember it well.”
Lynette peels herself from his shadow and gently tugs at his vest, casting a sidelong look at you that you can’t quite decipher even with her downturned tail and alert ears. “Lyney. We need to go.”
“Ah!” His brow knits in modest concern before he lights up and turns to you and bows. “My apologies to cut this short, but alas, time waits for no performer.”
Then, he reaches into his vest and pulls out a card. You recognise it as one of his signatures, with a simple backing that flips around to reveal a smiling cat in a hat. He rubs his thumb against the card, rolls it around in his fingers, and in the blink of an eye, he gifts you a small square of patterned silk in his palm.
“I am sure that our paths will cross again,” Lyney says graciously, and you take it from him with the reverence of a holy object and whisper your thanks. “If not in the theatre, then perhaps in the wider world?”
He winks and whirls on his feet, gliding off with Lynette before you even have time to return his words. You watch their wheaten hair disappear into the crowd outside, watching them leave until the night swallows them up.
The silk square continues to sit in your hand, and you marvel at its softness and rich patterning before looking back up at the empty night. Yes , you promise breathlessly, we will meet again .