Pas De Deux (Brennan)

[Nik Nak]

Just on the outskirts of Ordon Village resided the holy spring. It has been said that one of the four spirits of light dwells within this spring. It was quite a sight, but the one who came to observe the tranquil spot found it to be nothing more than a candle compared the other bodies of water she came across in her travels.

The night-winged oocca known as Claire wanted to check out this place for herself. In her eyes, she saw a different beauty within this spring, something that no other place had. It was quite homely if she did say so herself. Then again Ordona Province was just a small countryside compared to other grand places such Lake Hylia or Faron Woods.

Landing in the utmost graceful fashion onto the ground, she crept up ever so carefully to the edge of the spring, and knelt down. Her dark eyes peered into the surface of the water, seeing her reflection, and a smile came across her lips. Beautiful.

Yes, she was vain enough to compliment her own image. Vanity and pride has long coated her words and actions that it was hard not for her to be lavishing in the admiration. Scooping up a handful of water from the spring, she began to pour it onto her obsidian black feathers, rubbing it tenderly in between her wings.

She stretched out her black wings, and began working from one wing to the other, and continued that patterned of cleaning her feathers. If there was one thing she shared in common with birds, it would have to be that she loved to bathe her wings in pure spring water. Feeling the cool droplets drenching her feathers couldn't stop that smile of bliss from forming on her lips. When she finished giving her wings a thorough cleaning, she didn't hesitate to get en pointe, and start dancing with her wings spread wide open in order to dry.

It was no pose, because when she dances, she goes, and goes.

[Brennan Gallagher XVII]

Brennan didn't know where he was going. He didn't really care either. His feet ached from walking so far and his shoes were no longer shiny, but his feet dragged along the paths as his blue eyes widened at all the things he'd never seen before. He knew he was being impulsive, a trait his mother had always detested, but he couldn't care right now.

He had never been to the holy spring. In fact, he didn't even know one existed. It was only until he heard the maids gossiping in the castle did he learn of it. He had been sticking on wet red wax on the envelopes he had carefully filled before, tediously pressing the seals in the exact spot he had picked, when the maids came rushing by with their arms filled with clean laundry. They had been talking about the spring, speaking of its excessive beauty and how a light spirit dwells within. His blue eyes watched as they rushed away and he thought about the spring as he continued to burn his fingers on the hot seals of his letters.

He had left work that afternoon and then, before he knew it, he was asking for directions and buying a light dinner to accompany him on the long journey. He ate his sandwich and walked and looked at everything on the way. When he was a child he had always been impulsive, something his mother always made a point to hate. He would run out of their grand mansion with his arms flailing, feeling free from the dark forbidding feeling his mother coated their home in. But she would always snatch him up before he reached the iron gate, dragging him back to where he didn't belong.

Now he felt free again, like that little blonde boy he used to be. He smiled and took off his jacket, flinging it over his shoulder as he came upon the spring. He even untucked his white shirt underneath, becoming that carefree boy he always wanted to be, but was never allowed to. He was looking at the dirt path beneath him when he emerged from the trees ready to discover the wonderment of the spring.

But instead of being greeted by glittering, pure waters, he saw a girl dancing.

A girl with great black wings spinning and spinning and spinning.

He stopped short, his mouth open as a small gasp escaped his lips. He watched as her thin limbs drifted to and fro, as her wings rustled in the wind created from her dancing. Night was falling upon them and the deep orange light gave her an eerie glow as the water tossed the light back, creating spots of bright light that glittered in the trees.

He wanted to turn back, but he couldn't. She was such a graceful dancer. He felt like he was intruding, coming upon a private moment uninvited. And though he could hear his mother's screams and tantrums ringing in his head, he still didn't turn away. Brennan knew he should be the proper gentleman and leave her alone.

Yet, he just stared.

"Beautiful," he finally murmured.

He was surprised how easily his voice traveled in the enclosed space. And he was shocked that he was so honest. A blush rose to his face unbidden and he quickly took a sharp step back.

"I-I mean... your dancing--your dancing is beautiful!" he cried, shaking his head innocently, looking like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

He knew very little about Ooccas and even less about dancing, but the combination was stunning. But he would never, ever say that either.

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[Nik Nak]

From the tips of her toes to the ends of her fingers, she could feel the joy of dancing wash away her worries just as the droplets of water that dampened her wings purfied her obsidian feathers. It came as second nature to dance, and she twirled around, and around letting her raven black curls toss in the air wildly as her passion was released. It had been a long day, and all she had been doing endlessly was traveling.

Her curiousity had been fulfilled when she finally reached the end of her destination, satisfied with the results she found. Claire couldn't agree more that dancing was a relief, and she desperately needed to quench her need to perform even if she had no audience. Practice made perfection. She wanted nothing but perfection.

Though she came to abrupt but nonetheless graceful stop when a voice broke the music silence sang. Returning back to the heels of her feet, she turned her pretty little head on over to where the carrier of that said voice came from. Her dark eyes glittered with amusement as a pursed smile slid onto her mouth. With a small, but perfect curtsy, she replied, "Thank you, wayward traveler."

Her only audience appeared like an average joe to her, which in most case would bring out a spiteful noble, who scolded the poor for being ratty or ill-mannered. Though something about the boy was pleasing to the black swan. It was probably that mop of blonde hair he had. Shimmering so bright in the twilight as he looked upon her with awe and wonder. Yes, she had enough gall to inflate her own ego by making such observations, but digress. "It's been a while since I've had an audience," she chirped happily, "But I am glad I have not strayed from my talent... my only talent."

If you had something you were good at then you might as well be the best of the very best. Claire spared no second best to anybody, but alas, the prima donna was one of a kind so she felt no need to worry about competition. Though she was drawing her attention elsewhere when it was suppose to be on the young man in front of her. "Forgive me, I haven't properly introduced myself. I am Claire," she spoke serenely.