[center][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/316071861521874946/525463806567251968/ambra2.png[/img][/center]
[hr]
[b]Time: Evening - 3 Weeks Ago, days after the Hounds attack
Location: Paris Opera House, Paris[/b]

[center][i]Meanwhile…[/i][/center]

Rehearsals carried on through the night, the pianist huffing away over a bottle of water while listening to the director’s notes - rising in frustration, slapping a leaflet of paper against the palm of his hand, dancers rolling their eyes as they rolled their shoulders. Reiterating none of them were ready for curtain, sloppy footwork and dancing lacking in anything genuine. They were by his words, not ready to perform their respective roles in [i]A Midsummer Night’s Dream[/i].

The soloists and principal dancers shared the stage with their director in the audience, while the leads that were cast were first, their understudies lingered in the left and right wings of the stage watching on. Stretching, keeping their muscles warm. Odette among them, squeezed her elbow with her other arm watched Manon tiredly work through the steps of Helena, a demi-soloist who eagerly picked up the role when Odette abdicated for ‘health reasons’ to be the understudy. Manon’s first time playing Helena, she was young and much like everyone else in the company - she lived and breathed ballet. Manon shot nervous looks Odette’s way, where she shrugged - her notes wouldn’t do well against the director’s building ire.

Her hair was pulled back into a tight small bun with a hairband pulling back the stray hairs. She wore black backless leotards with her wispy white romantic tulle tutu and soft pink pointe shoes. 

Manon missed a step and the director huffed angrily waving them all off the stage, calling angrily for the understudies to come out. The dancers retreated for a breather, some water and freely roll their eyes. 

Odette took the lead from the left-wing out to the stage, standing in the first position waiting for the music and the director’s signal to start. The pianist began the movement, Odette began to dance, arms opening outward she imagined Helena opening her arms toward Demetrius’s back as he runs away from her. As a dancer, a powerful imagination fuels the performance as much as the technique gives it shape, she allowed herself to feel the imagined pining for Demetrius’s love, allowed the emotion to course its way into her muscles and form. Ignoring the sharp glare of the director, eyes trained to correct anything that could mar his depiction of the classic.

She knew the steps, pirouetting as she did gently stepping out of the spin toward the back of the stage she prepared herself for the jump, fluidly without hesitation she bent and leapt into the air feeling a tingling sensation spread over her scalp, the edges of her vision began to blur away then darken completely. 

She landed, just not on her feet.

Crumpling to the ground, Gwyneth’s vision overtook her at that moment - mind racing to her words, her memory. Gasps of surprise followed by calls for medical attention, the director - exasperated pinched the bridge of his nose.

Deep in her mind, Odette saw Gwyneth speak to Miss Goudie, a crone of a woman discussing a new mother and her baby girl. She experienced it as if she was at Gwyneth’s side watching as they spoke. Everything was [i]real[/i], the sounds, smells, the floor beneath her feet, the warm beams of sunlight against her ballet shoes. Just as quick as the vision overcame Odette it dissipated, from the stage the sorceress shot up with a gasp, her head pounding. Pressing the heel of her hand to her temple, she groaned at the back of her throat.

Dancers around her jumped. Back to her senses, she took the hands offered to her to stand up - an ugly throb from her leg taking the brunt of the landing but thankfully nothing was broken.

Manon was at her side holding her elbow, “Can you walk? Do you remember your name?”

“[color=thistle]Yes, I am fine - my leg is sore but I can walk. I did not hit my head.[/color]” Odette said with a hiss of irritation, Manon frowned sadly.

“Let me help you to the medical ward-” She began gently,

Odette sharply replied, “[color=thistle][i]No.[/i] Pass me my phone and let me sit down, I’ll text my doctor.[/color]”

To the director, she said, “[color=thistle]Pardon me. I will not be able to continue rehearsals tonight.[/color]”

Sighing,  he softened, “Rest, Mademoiselle Favre.”

With help from Manon she walked behind the stage to the dressing rooms being sat down, she hurried off to bring her phone and water bottle. Odette drummed her nails against the vanity, frowning over the vision, Manon returned shortly with the quick tap of her shoes placing her water bottle down and her phone next.

“I’ll go and get you an ice pack.” She promised, holding Odette’s hand.

Odette feigned gratitude, sweetly thanking her, squeezing back appreciatively. Manon smiled before disappearing again. Odette rolled her eyes at her back, turning to her phone.

Sending an irritated text to Marie, she wrote “[i][b][color=thistle]Thank you for making me look like a sickly fool during rehearsals, that vision could not have been timed better than when I was attempting a [i]Grande Jeté[/i]. You are extremely [i]lucky[/i] I did not break my ankle.

I will call you to discuss the vision when I am no longer being fussed over.[/color][/b][/i]”

Glaring at the screen she hit [color=green]SEND[/color], opening up the emoji panel she tapped the angry emoji several times sending that off afterwards. Angrily she huffed, tidying stray hairs around her head in the mirror. All was quiet, the voices and music of the rehearsals far away as Odette’s thoughts drifted far past that.

The small sound of a bell ringing brought her back in a blink she paused looking to her periphery, the temperature in the room seemed to climb quickly. In her reflection standing directly behind her was the grinning mask of a bright, ruby-gold glittery jester - the apparent source of heat. In his hand he gently held an ice pack, he shook it for good measure as a way of saying hello. Odette didn’t bother to turn, she resumed her task at fixing her hair. Rhys had no respect for boundaries no matter how often she threatened to drop him into the middle of the Atlantic. Flamboyant, jewelled, painted and the equivalent of a walking-talking roaring fire Rhys was neither faerie nor mortal. He Who Consumed the Fire.

“Darling, My Lady Ambassador.” He began, his voice pitched high and English enunciation clear. The small bells hanging off the long bits of hair artfully twisted to keep shape and form around his sharp angular facial features, pulling up then back against his head. Sauntering to her side, he placed a bottle of red wine on the vanity. Two glasses appearing at both sides of the bottle, an invitation. 

Odette looked to the bottle then up to Rhys, into the mask he held up. Not much time had passed since their last party to appease him, she hoped she wouldn’t have to host another one amidst everything else she had on the go. There was no time for revelry. 

Removing the mask, he dropped the ice pack on the vanity and pulled up a chair, “Manon is such a sweet young lady.”

“[color=thistle]Rhys, please. Wine or not, you cannot be here at the Opera House.[/color]” Odette snapped, “[color=thistle]As I have said many times in the past.[/color]”

Rhys amused, he smiled, “Come now, My Lady at least [i]try[/i] to sound menacing in your delivery. No one would believe you are upset to see me.”

She held her glare for a few moments before dropping it, relaxing,  “[color=thistle]Please tell me why you are here.[/color]”

Rhys pulled the stopper out then poured the wine, “I am here for you, Ambassador. I have heard the strange and frankly quite concerning quest you have taken on from Mister Robin Goodfellow. It’s truly an affront, this instrument of destruction.” He spoke with an airy solemness that was uncharacteristic, picking the glass up by the stem he swirled it to breathe in the aroma. Without looking up, he commented, “I am surprised Bach would allow it. The staunch purist bending your ear.”

There was a reason why The Ambassador had been charged as Rhys’ keeper, he moved among the fae but was not bound to any rules. He was among the few allies she had who did not recoil at her mortality, he was chaotic as they came but there was a level of equal ground they stood on. A measure of mutual respect. Had Rhys the mind or interest to worm his way into any Court, Odette believed he would do well. Rhys at least got along well with Captain Esen, the pair of gossips.

Odette pulled the glass of wine close, running the tip of her finger along the rim - making the glass sing, “[color=thistle]It was not an easy discussion, truthfully I wholly believed he would refuse to help,[/color]” She admitted, Rhys looked into the mirror as well mimicking her by fixing his hair, “[color=thistle]It is too good of an opportunity to have simply passed up.[/color]”

[hr]

[i].......Shortly after a night spent in The Red Devil[/i]

Parting with Marie after sharing a night at The Red Devil, The Ambassador was able to mingle among the strange, enjoy herself to some degree, Bach had inevitably noticed something was on her mind after her meeting with Puck. He was on her heels through the apartment door, Odette removed her hat with a sigh combing her fingers through her hair.

Bach removed his jacket throwing it to Vienna who took Odette’s hat, then huffed at his jacket. When their backs were turned she dropped it in favour of gently taking Odette’s hat away.

Bach followed behind her, yellow eyes narrowing at the back of her head. He adjusted the sleeves on his dark olive green shirt up to his forearms dark yew bark visible at the center of his arm, familiar flesh formed around it. Nails long and dirty, bits, bobbles and an assortment of necklaces hung around his neck, familiar leaves formed throughout his hair across his head, small horns poking out from beneath his messy mop of hair. Pointy elven ears a signature for the likes of Bach. 

“[color=darkseagreen]Odette. What did Puck have to say to you in private? Another prophecy?[/color]” He guessed, knowing it was certainly something else, she lost all composure at the first whisper of the future. He saw how it terrified her, the fear hung off her decision making like an anchor. He closed the distance between them when she stopped. Her body language seemed to tighten, shoulders pulling back, he could see her controlling each intake of breath. 

It frustrated him beyond words could articulate how she held onto such pointless things, when she was so close to being free, to blossom with nothing to stop her, to stop [i]them[/i] from getting what they wanted. It was akin to silently suffering through a harsh winter, wrapping burlap around the tree’s trunk. Placing your hope in the strong roots as the tree bent to the strong winds of a blizzard, pouring oneself into the tree’s survival. Praying for the quick arrival of Spring, a new beginning to thrive.

While his eyes burrowed into her back, willing with his thoughts, [i][color=darkseagreen]I can see you thinking about lying, Odette. You won’t and cannot lie to me.[/color][/i]

“[color=thistle]He offered me a job in exchange for three, honest, straightforward answers.[/color]” She replied, finally after a moment, half turning to now watch Bach in turn. His brows lifted in mild interest.

There was certainly more to it than just work.

“[color=darkseagreen]That is a hefty payment, what is he wanting in exchange? Something quite valuable I assume.[/color]” Bach said, neutrally, the tension was palpable.

Those watery blue eyes locked with Bach’s as she nodded. “[color=thistle]Invaluable, I would say.[/color]” He saw her jaw work through the side of her cheek.

“[color=darkseagreen]Odette, what is it.[/color]”

“[color=thistle]You will not like it.[/color]”

“[color=darkseagreen]But you agreed to it without me, knowing I would not approve?[/color]”

She hid her hands behind her back, turning to face him fully. He had no doubt she was gripping them tightly right now. So, so many bad habits. It was a wonder how they were able to get anything done anymore. Emotional, physical tells were the easiest to spot. 

“[color=darkseagreen][i]What did you agree to?[/i][/color]” He asked again, sharply.

“[color=thistle]To fetch Puck the Fomorian Blade. Three pieces to collect for three answers.[/color]” She answered quickly, casting her eyes down breaking eye contact. In another blink, she straightened looking him square in the eye - bracing herself.

Bach’s eyes grew wide with shock, aversion, then filled with anger. He knew exactly what the blade was.  “[color=darkseagreen]You are right! This is horrible. What were you thinking of agreeing to such a weapon? It is an affront to all faerie! If the Summer or Winter Courts find out what you are doing, they will shut their doors to us![/color]”

“[color=darkseagreen]It does not matter if it is Puck who is searching for it.[/color]”

She countered, “[color=thistle]Perhaps it is good that neither summer nor winter could be trusted with the pieces! It could mean my freedom from mortality, Bach![/color]” She said stepping forward, “[color=thistle]Puck is going to use it against The Witchfinder General, more importantly-[/color]” Bach saw ambition wash over her, as he had seen so many times before.

She pointed to her chest, “[color=thistle][i]I want it.[/i] It cannot be stolen, it can only be willingly given.[/color]”

His brows furrowed, was she suggesting to double-cross Puck?

“[color=darkseagreen]What of me?[/color]”

Confused, she asked, “[color=thistle]What about you? What do you mean?[/color]”

“[color=darkseagreen]What would happen if you were to turn the knife upon yourself? Severing your mortality, what do you think that would do to us?[/color]” Bach said, his hand closing over hers, “[color=darkseagreen]Odette, that would [i]kill[/i] me, remove our connection and render me mortal instead.[/color]” A pleading note under his words.

She hesitated realization dawning on her, gnawing away at her cheek, “[color=thistle]Then- then we disconnect before I do so.[/color]” She looked up and into his eyes, Bach saw it all - she would do it for herself and herself only. Shed him like an old skin. “[color=thistle]Once Puck is done with the knife I will make my pitch to be its keeper.[/color]”

Bach scoffed with disbelief, “[color=darkseagreen]As if Puck would trust you with the blade. I am so happy to hear that you would disconnect us so easily, Odette.[/color]” He snapped, venomously, she flinched at his tone, “[color=darkseagreen]You have conveniently forgotten in your single-minded quest for immortality, that [i]we[/i] are together until the day [i]your[/i] ashes are tossed into the wind.[/color]”

“[color=thistle]I know that![/color]” She snapped back throwing his hand aside, “[color=thistle]It would not be easy! This is the closest we have been to a solution if disconnecting from you means we can be together for the rest of eternity. . . So be it! There are loopholes in the contract. It would never feel like home again, sacrifices must be made![/color]”

“[color=darkseagreen]Loopholes, yes.[/color]” He looked to the side, appearing hurt.

Moments passed in silence, Odette gently took his hand - slowly bringing it to her face, when she spoke it was soft, “[color=thistle]Bach, please I need your help. We can both be free, we would never have to say goodbye.[/color]”

Bach hated it, hated how she spoke stirred up conflict throughout his body, he said what she wanted to hear, “[color=darkseagreen]I’ll help you, My Lady. Who is to say where this path will bring us?[/color]” Pressing his forehead to hers, with a weak chuckle he added,  “[color=darkseagreen]Or at least a less risky route.[/color]”

“[color=thistle]You and I belong together, I will never leave you.[/color]” She attempted to reassure him.

“[color=darkseagreen]Nor would I leave you.[/color]” He said opening his eyes, seeing how hers were closed, they narrowed, “[color=darkseagreen]I swear on your life.[/color]”
[hr]
Rhys had finished drinking his glass, busying himself with refilling as she spoke, “Betraying Puck would come at a heavy cost. Even I would not consider it, the Pwca are not to be trifled with.”

He took another long sip, “The odd prank would be alright I suppose-”

“[color=thistle]I have a great deal of respect for Puck, it is a decision I will not make without a lengthy measure of thought.[/color]” She cut him off, “[color=thistle]Until then I can focus on finding the actual pieces first.[/color]”

Rhys held out his hand, without a word Odette placed her injured leg in his palm. A resonating warmth spread through her bruise, easing the soreness. His hand lingering as the spell was complete, Odette lifted her leg away to stand. 

“[color=thistle]You know where the next piece is, that is why you are here.[/color]”

Rhys giggled folding his hands over his mask, “My Lady, allow me to be your guide. I have spent time in the Spring Court, opened doors, been with lonely spirits - I have found misery loves company.”

Odette smiled then nodded, “[color=thistle]I accept.[/color]”