Oh, You Sweet Summer Child.
Fawn smiled back at her, her brow raised in a hint of confusion to the comment. Adorable? She raised her eyes up as if attempting to look at her forehead. Did she look strange? Had she said something funny?
As the Madame spoke she kept her back straight despite the ache in her muscles from the long days journey. Truthfully, it had taken from her more than she'd expected. Five days on horseback, nearly six hours each day with a few rest stops, and most of it through hills and snow. The furthest she'd ever gone, and likely would ever go. It wasn't like a carriage didn't pass through town towards Kalzasi every week, but the price for a nearly weeks long journey was more than she could have afforded, even if it might have kept her out of the storm from the third day. But now in the comfort of a lavish Cabaret, her lungs were thankful for the warmth it had been offering. It relaxed her muscles from their tense, shivering states, and as she sat in the chair listening to the Madame she was suddenly appreciative for the extra time.
Fawn waited until the woman had finished speaking completely. She reminded her of her mother in many ways- a good barn is run by people who care for each animal as strongly as they care for themselves, by only producing and selling the best livestock, and doing so with scrutiny. And the Madame cared for this Cabaret as strongly as her mother cared for her farm.
After a few seconds of thought Fawn smiled and shook her head lightly. "I don't appreciate the spotlight, Madame. As it stands, I have never stood under one." She said, standing from the chair with no rush to her movements. No hurry to her audition.
"But the spotlight isn't what makes a performance. The spotlight won't feel your sadness, your glee. It won't listen to your story- but people will. So, I perform for the people." She circled the chair slowly, her finger tracing the grains of wood as she let the perfection of polished wood glide under her skin. She took in the smells of the room with a deep breath and held it. She recalled the woman dancing on stage, the contortionist, the sultry men and women and everyone in-between moving with charm and grace and excitement.
And then she sang. It was a traditional folk song, one of a man finding his love by a fireside, one likely only those born fifty or so years ago may remember, but it was also new. She took the beat of the song she'd heard when first entering the cabaret and entwined her words with it. Her voice was fluid and sweet as honey and clear as a bell echoing in a temple, spinning her song in the lavish room as if it were a stage. It was romantic, it was flirty, it was like a fire that sparks and bursts to life and then settles, only to roar up again in it's magnificence and shine it's light throughout a darkened room. She moved her feet in a similar pattern to that of her peoples folk dances. Circular, rhythmic, upbeat, light on her toes and twirling and added a sway to her hips in the same way she'd seen on stage only moments ago. Sexy, though perhaps not the word she would first think to use. Alluring, enticing.
And as the last note left her lips, vibrato trailing off softly, she came to a slow stop and let her fingers come to rest softly on the chair in front of her. Just as they had done at the start of her song.
16 Frost 120, AOS
As the Madame spoke she kept her back straight despite the ache in her muscles from the long days journey. Truthfully, it had taken from her more than she'd expected. Five days on horseback, nearly six hours each day with a few rest stops, and most of it through hills and snow. The furthest she'd ever gone, and likely would ever go. It wasn't like a carriage didn't pass through town towards Kalzasi every week, but the price for a nearly weeks long journey was more than she could have afforded, even if it might have kept her out of the storm from the third day. But now in the comfort of a lavish Cabaret, her lungs were thankful for the warmth it had been offering. It relaxed her muscles from their tense, shivering states, and as she sat in the chair listening to the Madame she was suddenly appreciative for the extra time.
Fawn waited until the woman had finished speaking completely. She reminded her of her mother in many ways- a good barn is run by people who care for each animal as strongly as they care for themselves, by only producing and selling the best livestock, and doing so with scrutiny. And the Madame cared for this Cabaret as strongly as her mother cared for her farm.
After a few seconds of thought Fawn smiled and shook her head lightly. "I don't appreciate the spotlight, Madame. As it stands, I have never stood under one." She said, standing from the chair with no rush to her movements. No hurry to her audition.
"But the spotlight isn't what makes a performance. The spotlight won't feel your sadness, your glee. It won't listen to your story- but people will. So, I perform for the people." She circled the chair slowly, her finger tracing the grains of wood as she let the perfection of polished wood glide under her skin. She took in the smells of the room with a deep breath and held it. She recalled the woman dancing on stage, the contortionist, the sultry men and women and everyone in-between moving with charm and grace and excitement.
And then she sang. It was a traditional folk song, one of a man finding his love by a fireside, one likely only those born fifty or so years ago may remember, but it was also new. She took the beat of the song she'd heard when first entering the cabaret and entwined her words with it. Her voice was fluid and sweet as honey and clear as a bell echoing in a temple, spinning her song in the lavish room as if it were a stage. It was romantic, it was flirty, it was like a fire that sparks and bursts to life and then settles, only to roar up again in it's magnificence and shine it's light throughout a darkened room. She moved her feet in a similar pattern to that of her peoples folk dances. Circular, rhythmic, upbeat, light on her toes and twirling and added a sway to her hips in the same way she'd seen on stage only moments ago. Sexy, though perhaps not the word she would first think to use. Alluring, enticing.
And as the last note left her lips, vibrato trailing off softly, she came to a slow stop and let her fingers come to rest softly on the chair in front of her. Just as they had done at the start of her song.
