Work Text:
If I feel broken
You will find me
These useless words
Were falling apart on me
I'm struggling in my world
I might be full of flaws
But you will crave my heart
I'm broken, so take me to the evening glow
And lay me down on the sun
The tender sun
- evening glow, wave to earth
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Odette has always loved the night. Evenings in the Korolevskiy Theatre after a show bring an unexpected stillness, when all the buzz has subdued and the dust has settled, and it's just performers and staff slowly winding down. The world seems suspended in the quiet, the soft tick of a metronome down the hall often being the only sign of time passing.
Odette cherishes these nights, pressing close to her heart the soft sounds of a vocalist warming down in the room at the end of the hall, so that the applause and the orchestra and the cheers of the crowd might never drown out what she craves most. Vodyanitsa is unaware that Odette lives by these nights outside her dressing room, finding refuge in the velvet chaise by the door and the solitary melody drifting out from behind it. They often wait for each other when their performance schedules align so they can head home together, so Vodyanitsa is rarely surprised to find Odette outside her room, but Odette knows full well the soprano has no idea just how grounding the minutes spent there can be for her.
Tonight is no different; this performance had been particularly grueling, and every aching step down the marbled hall heightens her eagerness to rest her feet.
But there is one exception to tonight's routine apparently. There is no metronome, and the song coming from Vodyanitsa’s dressing room is not the repetitive la la la of vocal exercises. No, tonight the theatre’s principal soprano is quietly singing a tune all for herself.
"She dances and dances... The gazes and hearts of all follow her every graceful motion, only to fall as the curtain draws closed ♪~”
Odette's pace slows as she recognises the melody.
“But Odette, oh Odette, Odette of Snezhnograd ♪~”
Embarrassingly, it matches a chant Odette's fans have taken to singing for her outside the theatre. The other lyrics, however, are unfamiliar. Up until now, “Odette, oh Odette, oh Odette of Snezhnograd” is the only line Odette has ever heard; her fans seem to have chosen to repeat that for simplicity, rather than opting for lengthy verses. But Vodyanitsa.. Vodyanitsa isn't stopping there.
“Odette of the Korolevskiy Troupe, Odette who belongs not to herself ♪~
Does your heart yearn to be the center of attention, or to dance alone on the snowy plains? ♪~”
Odette’s face burns as she processes the words, and her brows furrow in confusion. Why is Vodyanitsa singing this? Did she come up with these lyrics? They feel explorative, probing - searching. Are these the kinds of things Vodyanitsa wonders about her?
Odette has always been a closed book, rarely letting anyone see beyond either of the masks she wears for her two professions. As such, it has been mercifully simple thus far to conceal the thoughts she often finds herself having towards her dear friend. But hearing the way Vodyanitsa seems to be reaching for her.. perhaps she has been too guarded?
Even as she considers the thought, apprehension holds her tight. A degree of caution is healthy, surely. Even if Vodyanitsa wants to be closer to her and learn more about her, there's no guarantee that this curiosity takes on the same form as Odette's. There's no guarantee it translates to longing.
After all, Vodyanitsa is everything Odette is not. They are both performers, yes, but Vodyanitsa is a far more honest one. Her voice, her expressions, her lyrics, they all speak the truth and reveal whatever emotion she holds closest to her chest. If Odette allowed her body to do the same on stage.. even with her skill, she doubts she would be quite so popular as she is now. Her inner self is a mess, broken and scuffed like a discarded porcelain doll‒ an ugly contrast of shining talent, marred by cracks and holes of shattered trust and dark stains of bitterness and resentment. No, she could never bare her heart on stage like Vodyanitsa does. Vodyanitsa is pure and genuine, with all the shine audiences love radiating from her very soul.
Hmm. Perhaps it truly is for the best that Odette keeps her walls up.
Even so, Vodyanitsa’s soft hums are a siren song beckoning Odette into her room. Her body moves before her brain can catch up to it, slipping silently into the room and closing the door behind her. Vodyanitsa is unaware, eyes closed in a blissful reverie as she brushes her hair.
Reluctant to shatter the daydream, Odette pauses in the doorway, simply watching for a moment. Seeing Vodyanitsa lose herself to a melody has always been one of Odette's favourite things, and for just a minute as the melody carries whispers of her name, she can allow herself to dream too. Gone are the dark thoughts that had held her back outside the door; in this room they have no place out in the open. Here Odette can pretend. Just for a little while.
At least until her eyes drift up to the mirror on Vodyanitsa's vanity, and the sight of her unguarded smile in the reflection startles her back into focus.
Blinking rapidly and schooling her expression to neutral, she attempts to get her bearings before speaking to get Vodyanitsa's attention. She still feels bad to interrupt, and worse still at the fact that it may embarrass Vodyanitsa to have been caught singing about her, but in the interest of self preservation, Odette has to avoid getting lost in the moment again and being the one caught instead.
“That doesn't sound like any of the songs from today’s setlist”, she manages, thankfully calm.
Vodyanitsa’s eyes fly open, meeting Odette's in the reflection.
“Odette! You have got to stop sneaking up on me like that, I didn't even hear you come in!”
In her flustered state, Vodyanitsa drops her hairbrush, and as it tumbles to the floor, Odette is swift in her approach to pick it up and resume brushing her hair for her. It's a habit she sometimes falls into, entirely unnecessarily, as Vodyanitsa’s hair is softer than silk and almost never tangles, but something about the process seems to soothe both of them, so Vodyanitsa doesn't question it.
“Should I take that as a compliment?” Odette muses. “Stealth is quite highly valued in my line of work.”
“Sure, whether I mean it as one or not, you'll take it that way anyway.” Vodyanitsa pouts a little as she grumbles, and despite herself, Odette can't help but crack a smile.
In the quiet that follows, Odette is tempted to ask about the song. But as she deliberates, the decision is made for her.
“How… much did you hear?”
She glances back up to the mirror to find Vodyanitsa’s pearlescent gaze nervously holding hers. Well, if she's the one bringing it up…
“..Enough.. Your voice does carry.” At her words, the prettiest blush decorates Vodyanitsa's face, setting off butterflies in Odette's stomach.
“I didn't know there were more lyrics to that chant though”, she attempts to tease, hoping and praying it won't be the thing that makes Vodyanitsa close off.
Mercifully, her only evasive action is to avert her eyes and laugh nervously. “I may have.. gotten the song stuck in my head, and come up with a few extra lyrics”, she admits sheepishly. “I mean, it's a catchy melody, so..”
“True, it is”, Odette concedes with a small smile. She wants to pry more. She really wants to pry more. But maybe, to get a little, she should give a little.
“It's the second”, she says quietly, answering the question from the lyrics. Her eyes remain fixed on emeraldine hair as she methodically brushes through strands that do not need brushing, avoiding the gaze she's sure will be on her if she chances a glance in the mirror. “I may be used to the stage, but I honestly don't do well with the attention - although that's probably hardly surprising to you. You tend to understand me better than most.”
“Mm. I had a feeling. So, you prefer the frostbitten hills. And do you… only dance alone? Or would you ever.. consider taking a partner?”
Odette's head whips up as she stares at Vodyanitsa in shock. That's.. she's definitely implying she wants to share a dance with her, right?
“I- you hate the cold”, she blurts.
She could be reading far too much into this, but it doesn't feel that way. Vodyanitsa is poetic and prone to metaphor; this feels like her way of reaching out and asking for more of Odette, but keeping things on her terms. Like she'll meet her halfway if that's what it takes.
Questions and doubts still blare in her head - Vodyanitsa could see the truth and find it too heavy to handle; hell, she could be meaning all of this platonically and Odette could be misreading the subtext, who knows? But Vodyanitsa holds her hands out to anyone without judgement; Odette will just have to trust the same treatment will apply to her, even if their feelings aren’t the same.
She searches Vodyanitsa’s face and can see her toying with a reply, face flushed. Despite Odette's nature, despite her past, despite everything, this really feels like -
“I suppose my partner will just have to hold me close so I can share her warmth.”
Oh.
Heart feeling impossibly light, Odette doesn't bother to hide her smile. “I'm sure that can be arranged.”