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  • Relax Captain Tightpants


    Shalheira Lahrithlyn

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    Lights continued to flicker, the silent whimpering of several people nervous in the wane emergency glow.  She understood, but patience was still thin. 

     

    “You’re fine,” came quietly from her lips, eyes closed as the back of her head leaned against the window.  Hood was kept low, avoiding catching the Exit sign flickers against the emergency lamps.  “This route stops all the time.”

     

    …and it was as annoying as hell.  It was the only route that ran a straight line to her performance hall.  Most of the time she chanced it, especially when she was running late.  Today was one of those days she should have minded her instincts and hit the other one.  The train had been still for almost fifteen minutes, she didn’t have much more time before she would have to take matters into her own hands.  She’d rather not put on a show for the entire car, especially with the recent Out-Worlder fears and bullshit, but if it went on much longer she would have no choice.  A few surprised gasps littered the steel room as the train lurched slightly and again settled to silence.  There was no other movement; she could feel nothing on this rail for probably miles.  Nothing was moving, and if nothing was moving it was a systemic problem that was not going to be fixed in the time frame she needed it to be.

     

    Damn.

     

    Clear blue eyes opened in the darkness and raised upward toward the ceiling, something she’d definitely wanted to avoid.

     

    *npc* What the hell

     

    “Don’t worry, I got my Green Card bub ,” the annoyed timbre of the answer was hard to miss.  It was a lie, but that was beside the point at the moment, she would worry about that mess later.  Granted, her line of work was making her a particularly bright target, politically.  How long was it going to be before they’d be knocking on the back stage door to fingerprint her ass.

     

    Over her dead body.

     

    Pulling her hoodie hood back, the red flickering from the emergency lights lit up the luminescence of her skin like the warm light of the moon, a flash of her characteristic ears under her curls.  Regardless of if it was red, it still twinkled off her skin like millions of tiny opalescent gems- giving the illusion she traveled under her own power.  Pulling her dance bag crossways over her shoulder, she walked the length of the train under flurries of whispers- trying to find the emergency hatch.   Lithely pulling herself up the standing poles, she snapped the handle and pushed it upward in a rush of air.

     

    “Sorry folks, I’m going to be late.  They’ll get it moving, they always do.  Stay in the car.”  Figure disappeared up through the hatch easily, snapping closed as the lithe form moved through the red-swathed darkness with agility barely matched in this world. 

     

    Leaps from car to car made no noise, carefully avoiding the tracks as she jumped down.  She could continue the C train route in the variable emergency light darkness, or she could hit the nearest station and go topside.  The C train route was shorter distance wise- it would get her there quicker.  She couldn’t be late this time.  Hood pulled up, she continued into the darkness.  Eyes kept glancing at her watch, for once she wished she actually couldn’t see that well... headliners weren't usually fired, but it definitely percolated the anger in her blood.  Lahrithlyns were not late.  They were never late.  Always on time, always ready.  She highly doubted they had subways in mind when her namesakes made the pact, but it was still a code to live by.  Powerful muscles propelled her quicker than a cab could've have puttered along in snarled traffic.  It meant she would also be tired for the performance, hoping the lighting was better this evening than it had been in a while because flushed flesh seemed to not sparkle as brightly, or so she'd been told by her boss.

     

    Leaping onto a platform, she took the steps two at a time to the street level and darted across the busy street with expertise of battle.  It felt like battle, the arriving patrons dressed to the nines having to be dodged and avoided like bullets.  Wouldn't be well to see the star of the show arriving late in a hoodie and jeans panting from a run on the streets…

     

    Slipping through the back door, she was already pulling off her backpack and clothes under a barrage of  hands that were tugging on and taking things from her to replace with others.

     

    *npc*  Where in the he...

     

    "Stuck on the C train again," she barely got the last word out as the costume assistants yanked on her costume corset.  She didn't need one, it just made the fabric lay flat like it was supposed to and had incredible flexibility.  "I don't drive Hugh, the only way I can get here is the C train."

     

    *npc*  You need to live closer or learn to drive...

     

    Stunning blue eyes snapped to her boss, he owned the place.  He could train the entire company at one time, now he was just a big mouth with a pot belly that was around to tell her things she already knew. 

     

    "Pay my rent to live closer and I will..." she snapped the tape and her shoes from the backpack, the costume assistant still struggling with the laces of her bodice.  "I have to sit..." she hit the bench hard with her rear, in doing so the crew shifted behind her to keep fiddling with her hair and jeweled accessories, the costumer tugging to get her into the clothes as she wrapped each toe individually to prepare for the pointe shoes.  The dress was custom made for her, most ballet soloists, if any, weren't anywhere near her height or had the scars she did.  One of the assistants had made the arrogant mistake of asking why she got specially made costumes.  The gentle smiles had turned cool, to which the “I used to kill monsters bigger than you and have the scars to prove it”- was responded.  It added to the exoticism of what she was, also making most leave her alone.

     

    Expression never changed as she heard the beginnings of the overture from the pit orchestra.  Moments, she had mere moments.  The panic from around her flapped at her skin like a thousand tiny butterflies.

     

    "You're all fine..." she said calmly, pulling the last of her ribbons tight and standing up to stretch briefly.  She didn't get a moment to warm up, the staff freaking out in their own way.  Luckily for her, she'd run all the way here... as good a warm-up as she was going to get.  The humans thought she was going to step onstage and fall on her face.. Let them.  She'd learned that trick from a television program she'd been watching lately... some head of engineering telling a captain it couldn't be done, then doing the impossible.  What was that quote again?  Done the impossible...  no...  We've done the impossible...  no...

     

    *npc* Shal!!

     

    "Cool yourself captain tightpants," she hissed under breath, soft clunking from the toes of her pointe shoes insistent as she took her place next to her partner- the man was always on edge around her.  Just barely taller than she was made the male dancers a bit grouchy with her all the time...  perfectly on cue, she stepped out, the warmth of the light on her skin echoing off with a soft pop from the spots when they turned on.  Lips pressed in a soft smile, the faint gasp from the crowd always one that stuck with her.  She could exploit their curiosity now to pay her bills... especially with all the crap happening across the pond.  Everyone wanted to see what the fuss was about.  But, after that, she was lost as to what her place was in this new world.

     

    Maybe join the fight, she was after all dumped into this place without her permission. Why the hell did she need permission to stay?

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