𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 ...

✧  .   𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙶  𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙾  𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙺,   𝚂𝙷𝙴  𝙲𝙰𝙽'𝚃  𝙷𝙴𝙻𝙿  𝙱𝚄𝚃  𝙾𝚅𝙴𝚁𝙷𝙴𝙰𝚁.  early  and  with  some  time  to  spare  before  her  first  class,   esme  pauses  outside  the  dance  studio  with  a  smile.  she  watches  the  other  woman  silently  for  a  moment  before  speaking,   not  wanting  to  interrupt  her.  "they  have  to  have  an  owner  who  loves  them very much  first,"  she  offers  gently,   easily  able  to  follow  and  tap  into  such  a  dreamy  train  of  thought.  "but  that's  a  problem  easily  solved.   you  know   — "  it  might  not  be  her  place,   but  she  can't  help  but  make  the  offer.   "it's  never  too  late  to  learn.   despite  what  they'd  have  you  believe.  i'd  be  more  than  happy  to  sign  you  up  for  our  adult  beginner  class, if you'd like to come inside.   i'm  one  of  the  teachers  here.   for  ballet,  as it would happen. but for ballerinas much smaller than yourself," she jokes with a warm smile.

hearing the hope in esme’s gently encouraging voice was like a breath of fresh air,  and corinne all but forces herself not to gasp down the open invitation as easily as breathing.     too familiar with turning down the offer she would keep getting,  whether that be from tutors or from new friends at the college,  her face contorts into a look of shame as she shakes her head at the other.     “  oh,  thank you so much,  but i really couldn’t…  perhaps i can just keep watching instead?  ”     she’s not lying to esme really,  corinne all but persuades to herself mentally,  as she remembers the warning to stay off her broken leg when she had been so little  —  the thing still had a tendency to get tired even now.     but there’s a gleam to the other woman’s gaze that hints to the songstress that a simple no would not quite be enough…     maybe she really could just sit in for one lesson, at least?

"You could always ask them," Peter suggests gently, deciding to offer his input even though he's almost certain her words aren't meant for him. "I expect they'd probably appreciate somebody taking an interest. Most artists do."

she’s so entirely caught up in her own thoughts that the suddenness of him almost startles the songbird,  head whipping around quickly to glance upon him as if she had just witnessed a true ghost.     but she’s safe,  no phantom in sight but simply the friendly firefighter that she could somewhat recognise from a calender-for-charity hung up in another girl’s dorm room.

"  NOT  YOUR  USUAL  TODAY,  HM?  "  staring  down  at  the  breakfast  platter  spread  before  corinne  with  mild  intrigue,  he  stands  at  her  side  in  the  isle  between  the  bustling  counters  and  seating  section  with  a  brown  paper  bag  in  hand.   it's  contents  were  fairly  habitual;  a  go  -  to  sandwich  he'd  get  on  his  breaks,   and  like  today,  on  his  days  off.   while  he  might  know  her  by  name,   only  because  of  her  signature  scrawled  onto  the  thin  paper  of  the  receipts  she'd  leave  behind,  that  was  all  he  knew  about  her.  otherwise  the  woman  was  a  mystery,  though  a  kind  one,  like a hint  of  sunlight  peering  through  the  clouds.

her head is buried down in her work as theo approaches with herself none-the-wiser until he speaks up ;     an open shakespearian novel propped open in the middle of its story on one side of her and sheets yet to be filled with music notes spread out on the other.     it had become an odd dream of hers,  to write her very own melody inspired by the words of those great authors she had often heard her father read to her as a young girl  —  and now with her feet planted faintly back upon earth,  corinne can at least try to study as she grieves.

"I think half the town is going." He joked. Though it was mostly true. "Thanks, I got time, so no rush." he added, looking around at all the other suits around the shop.

he tells her not to rush but faye is already moving with haste to gather her thoughts.     she can already see the perfect outfit in mind for the mechanic,  a fun homage to the work he does in enchanted falls :     the silvery-velvet tuxedo jacket that hung from one of the mannequins,  a fun glittery black tie recently delivered,  and the icing on her eddy cake  —  a pair of metallic brogues that she had guessed might be his size.   (  so what if he had only come in for a suit?     would a stylist not be failing at her job if she didn’t idealise the outfit as a whole look?  )

✧  .   𝚃𝙷𝙴  𝙵𝙴𝙰𝚁  𝙸𝙽  𝙷𝙴𝚁  𝙴𝚈𝙴𝚂  𝚆𝙷𝙴𝙽  𝚂𝙷𝙴  𝚁𝙴𝙲𝙾𝙶𝙽𝙸𝚉𝙴𝚂  𝙷𝙸𝙼  sends  a  fiery  rush  of  adrenaline  surging  through  his  veins.  god  only  knows  why  she's  so  afraid  of  him,  but  the  feeling  he  gets  inside  these  four  walls  —  it's  something  primal.  animalistic.  pure,  unadulterated  power  down  to  the  tips  of  his  fingers.  he  smiles,  and  there  is  no  warmth.  "your  beautiful  face  always  makes  me  smile."  his  eyes  are  cold  but  his  words  are  dripping  with  honey.  it's  not  a  lie.  not  technically.  sometimes,  the  truth  is  so  much  more  delicious.   "i'd  like  to  order  two  custom  gowns  from  you,  actually.  also,  do  you  make  suits?"  he  glances  around  the  counter,  speaking  quickly.  "they're,  uh.  is  there  a  chair  anywhere?  they're  all  for  this  thing  at  the  theatre.  i  heard  it's  supposed  to  be  something  ultra-formal.  so  it's  mine  —  the  suit  is  for  me."  he  chuckles.  "obviously."  duh.  "then  the  first  dress  is  for  my  lovely  girlfriend,  and  —  "  he  sucks  his  teeth,  face  momentarily  a  mask  of  exaggerated  unpleasantness.  "the  other  is  for  my  son's  mother.  i  think  it's  important  she  look  her  best  too.  don't  you  think?"  it's  unusual.  so  transparently  a  power  play  rather  than  a  gesture  of  actual  affection,  but  he  dares  her  to  question  him.

she instinctively flushes a soft pink colour at the too-easy compliment that slips from his tongue,  her smile dimming as she feels the warmth beneath skin.     faye had to mentally remind herself that she couldn’t be one to be so easily charmed by him despite how desperately her lonely soul reached for the lovely attention,  again feeling how that unplaceable wariness comes to the forefront of her mind.     but she keeps her gaze trained downwards,  almost unreadable as she rifles through files and papers just for an excuse for something to do instead of meet his unnerving stare.

“  i think we all deserve to look our best everyday,  mr. prince. but especially so for an event such as jonathan's fundraiser masquerade.  ”     she replies calmly,  flashing him a very fleeting but polite smile  —  a shell of the woman she usually was,  all frills,  open-hearted and joyfulness in her workshop.     she catches mention of a chair as she thankfully turns her back to him to reach for another folder, gesturing to a few by the front window as she does so ;     seating placed perfectly for when she dressed a bride who invited her entourage.     “  we absolutely do suits too  —  i’m assuming you wish for something tailored,  rather than off the rack?   i can design you a one-of-a-kind piece.  ”     truth was that everything for sale in a dream stitch away was tailored by her to some extent   (  whether that be a simple decorative stitch or applique,  or entirely created by herself  )   a special faye-blessed personal touch for all her clientele.

Edward heavily debated not going to the party. He had nothing to wear and in all honesty, he wasn't entirely sure he was in the mood for it. He usually wore the same shirt and tie to most events, but it was running a little tight lately and he didn't want to stick out like a sore thumb. Anymore than he usually did at these type of events, so he had decided to push the boat out and get something a little more tailored.

As he entered the shop he already felt like he didn't belong. Draped in an oil covered tank top and some dirty cargo pants he looked around, until he spotted the owner. "Excuse me? You sell suits here?" He asked, as if he wasn't surrounded by them. "I need one for a party I got later, something real fancy..." he trailed off, looking around at the shop. Knowing fancy was probably the nicest word he could find to describe such a place.

faye was an ever-busy woman when nestled away in her workshop,  gently humming along to the bubblegum pop she played quietly in the background to numb the silence as she currently pinned a flurry of pages filled with new designs up onto her inspiration wall.     even from the front section of her shop,  this wall was impossible to miss  —  a waterfall of fashion sketches cascading down the broad wall at the back.

"It's not that" he replied, "I don't really give a crap if you're doing it or not. But a lot of this town is corrupt. I'm more worried they see you as an easy target to pin any crimes on, guilty or not" it's what they did to him, they just couldn't find the evidence. If he had things his way, no one ever would. But that didn't mean he wanted anyone else to live like that. Maybe they were committing crimes they shouldn't be, but everyone had their reasons.

dark and once-dulled eyes widen and light up with unbridled glee at his revelation.     how had jinyu never known that archer could pick locks until now?     but it made sense  —  he wasn’t as reckless as they were,  careful not to leave any traces of mischief unlike herself who blew through the adrenaline like a cyclone.     slowly but surely,  the pieces of this rogue puzzle were beginning to fall into place.

THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA (2004) 

familiarity  runs  so  deeply  through  his  bones,   the  marrow  shakes  at  the  thought  of  being  here.   his  suit,  dutifully  picked  out  with  the  help  of  his  best  friend,  sits  snug  at  his  waist  and  shoulders—  it  definitely  wasn't  of  the  man  he'd  become  during  this  life,   without  memories  of  the  old  one,   but  it  certainly  screamed  in  echoes  of  that  very  one  which  had  passed.  "  where's  the  cape  batman?  "  he  asks,  announcing  his  presence  behind  the  boy  and  his  mother,  picking  the  two  out  of  the  crowd  moments  earlier.  he  supposes  he  should  explain  how  he  recognized  them,  but  as  there  were  very  little  children  here  to  begin  with,  even  less  with  batman  masks,   he  need  only  make  an  educated  guess  on  the  identity  of  the  woman  holding  him.  his  best  friend.  and  sometimes,   a  partner  in  crime  when  he  wasn't  buried  in  steel  scraps,   and  work.  "  you  look  great,  odette.  "

if there was one lone thing that odette struggled with it would be her inability to say no to her darling boy.     they were both dressed up to the nines ;     her in sparkling black chiffon that cut out and showed the skin of her curves just perfectly,  and christien in his suit…   and that damn mask.     but he had giving her that oh so charming pout  —  how was she supposed to say no?     it was a masquerade event anyway.

♪ And I know it’s true that visions are seldom all they seem ♪