Oscar Ashdown

Dancing on Air || Oscar & Isobel

It was apparent to Isobel in that very moment that her friend always knew just what to say to draw forth that nose-scrunching smile he had recognized so easily. One in a million she thought, letting a tittering laugh escape from her painted lips. He sure knew how to flatter a woman… Isobel was no longer bothered by the fact that he had recognized her so easily; after all, he had identified her by picking out only good qualities. He hadn’t looked at her and immediately been drawn to the tangled mess of blonde hair, nor had he seen her across the room flirting with some masked man and immediately thought of her…

It was a bit of a treat to see Oscar acting so freely. He was always so polite and quiet in her presence, but not tonight. She didn’t know if it was the atmosphere of the tent or the wine that ran through him that caused him to seem so light-hearted, but Isobel didn’t care. As long as he was having a good time, it didn’t really matter to her. A fleeting thought passed through her mind: perhaps it was her presence that brought him this freedom. She had to mentally stop herself from shaking her head. That was just ridiculous; what was so special about her that she could lift his spirit as high as they were now? “What do you mean ‘the acrobats have said I can’t do anything off my backside’?” she asked, her smile slowly morphing into a look of confusion with a hint of sadness. Isobel didn’t mind when people insulted her or talked about her, but the idea of someone talking about one of her friends that way… Well, it was just an upsetting notion. “They’re just fools who don’t understand why people don’t hurl themselves into the air like them. They don’t know what they’re talking about.” She spoke with a tone of finality as if the acrobats truly were just idiots that couldn’t find anything better to do than swing around in the air. At this point, it was an undeniable fact because they had insulted her friend and she could no longer see them in a positive light. The dance was over practically before it had begun in Isobel’s mind. Had they really just danced for an entire song? She felt Oscar release his grip, and she mentally willed him to ask for another dance. She was having a good time, and they had only danced for a song and a half… One more dance wouldn’t hurt anyone. But before she could voice her opinion, Isobel felt a light tap on her shoulder. She looked back, her eyes falling on a tall man with a menacing looking black mask. In all honestly, he was a bit frightening, but she didn’t stop him as he requested a dance. “Could you excuse us for one moment, please?” she asked, giving the man a small smile as he nodded and stepped off to the side of the tent. He was immediately lost in the crowd, but the woman knew he would be back. She turned her attention back to Oscar, biting her bottom lip lightly, betraying her unwillingness to part with him so early in the night. The light clinking and clattering of glass against the ground drew Isobel’s attention away from Oscar. Her head whipped to the side, eyes immediately falling on the waiter who was now scrambling to pick up the broken pieces that laid amongst the trampling feet of dancers. Isobel could easily admit that she didn’t envy the kneeling man. She was so distracted by the scene that Oscar’s words didn’t even register in her mind, and neither did his movement to press a polite kiss to her skin. She didn’t realize that as she turned her head to look at her friend once again, his forehead would collide against hers, and she certainly didn’t expect their breath to mix and mingle in the intimate manner it was now. But perhaps most surprising of all was the sudden clenching of her stomach and rising of heat to her cheeks— actions that were so foreign to her interactions with the storyteller. She could feel the sweat beginning to form in the palms of her hands, and her eyes widened slightly as she looked up at Oscar. She wondered how he was reacting right now or what he was thinking. Did he… Like this? Did he enjoy being this tantalizingly close? Maybe his palms were sweating just like hers, and perhaps beneath his mask his cheeks flashed a brilliant red as well. Isobel had no idea of knowing; her eyes were too busy flickering back and forth, never resting on one particular feature of his face for more than a moment. Their eyes locked for a second, but in that short span of time, it felt like someone had drawn the last bit of breath from her lungs and left them empty. For a fraction of a second, Jasper crossed her mind, most likely because of the similarity between the two situations. This was how she felt with the doctor, but why was this happening now? This wasn’t supposed to happen, nor was she supposed to prolong this closeness, but Isobel was cemented to the spot. Some part of her was resilient and stubborn towards the idea of breaking this connection. Their foreheads were not meant to part, and their lips were supposed to stay within this flirtatious distance. She fought to smother out the part of her that wanted to stay rooted to the spot while also fighting off the interjecting thoughts of Jasper. This was all so wrong, yet she did nothing to fix the situation. No, instead of righting this wrong, she simply waited, Isobel stood there, part of her curious to see what Oscar would do, the other part simply reluctant to break off and return to the dance floor. She had no idea why the notion of her ending this didn’t appeal to her mind, but she didn’t question it. The time to think and wonder was not right now.

The absolute indignation that appeared on Isobel's face was a true sign of the friendship between the two. As if an insult to Oscar was an insult to the fortune teller herself. He smiled bashfully at her vehemence that his act was just as important as the acrobats that risked their necks nightly was endearing. Just because Oscar, and Isobel too come to think of it, performed in the quiet safety of their armchairs did not make it any less challenging than the acrobats. Just a lot safer. Oscar certainly knew he felt much more comfortable when he had both feet firmly planted on the ground. "I did not mind too terribly, people who wish to insult others do not rate highly on my list of people I wish to impress, so I do not seek their approval." It was the closest the kind man could ever come to insulting another person. Unless of course, one counted the terrible fight he had with the Enchanter. He smiled again at Isobel, wanting her to know he wasn't worried at all about the opinions of others.

He was a little taken aback when Isobel requested her masked suitor to give the two a moment. He watched her expectantly, obviously she must have something she wished to say to him if she had requested for a moment alone with him. She seemed to be watching him with the very same expectancy. A long look crossed between the two, both waiting for the other to speak. He wracked his brains, for an intelligent man he certainly could be stupid at times. Did Isobel not wish to dance with the other man, was she hoping Oscar would make the excuse for her? That could be it. But he could be completely off in assuming such a thing, simply because it was what he himself wished. That thought struck him as some surprise, he didn't want to find another dance partner while Isobel was lead across the dance floor by this hook nosed stranger. No, as selfish as it was Oscar wanted to continue dancing with Isobel until the band stopped.

Selfishness, pride, Isobel was making him feel things he was so unused to feeling. And he was quickly learning they were not entirely such bad feelings to harbour. Maybe she didn't want another dance with him, maybe it would anger the man that had requested Isobel's hand to see the two dancing together for a third song in a row if she did accept his request. "Isobel would you - would you care for -" He began, his head held at an awkward angle as he tried to decide whether a polite kiss to powdery cheek was still in order now that he decided to be bold and ask for another dance. The crashing of glass, the sharp turn of Isobel's head broke his train of speech. The bumping of heads knocked the thought right from his mind.

Her hair smelled of lavender and honey, her breath of sugar and sweet wine. Her face was so close to his own he could taste her saccharine breath. Oscar felt himself tremble slightly. He hadn't been this close to a woman in the longest time, even though it was an accident, even though Isobel was merely a friend, just as Jasper or Arisu was his friend. The intimate closeness frightened Oscar, the fear froze him to the spot. Their heads were still touching, masks pressing uncomfortably into the others forehead. It had only been a few seconds but each second seemed to drag on for an eternity.

Isobel seemed to be just as stunned as Oscar as she too made no move to pull back from him. This Oscar didn't understand. Isobel was always in the company of men, she shouldn't be a stunned, unmoving statue like Oscar was. Unless perhaps, perhaps she liked being this close to him. It was no secret to anyone in the circus that Isobel had a fondness for men, she had even been known to kiss them in full view of others. She couldn't expect such a thing from Oscar. Oscar wasn't a daring, exciting, handsome man like her suitors, he was her friend. Merely her friend.

But did she see him as more than that? Was she sending him signs Oscar was too oblivious, too ignorant to pick up on? Their friendship had grown close in a short space of time, but perhaps Isobel had always thought it would lead to a kiss, or a courtship. She didn't know Oscar had a wife he mourned daily, she didn't know anything about him, not really. So why on Earth did Oscar think she could possibly want him to kiss her. It couldn't be like the dancing, he couldn't think she wanted it simply because he did. Oscar wasn't certain he even knew how to kiss anymore. Best to get out of the situation as quickly as possibly, his cheeks were burning a violent red, his mouth and lips were as dry as sand. He knew if he stayed here for a moment longer he would make an absolute fool of himself.

The story teller made to pull back, finally, he couldn't be sure if five seconds had passed or five minutes. He withdrew his head quickly, too quickly it seemed. He felt a sharp resistance, a honey coloured curl had become tangled in Oscar's mask. He could only imagine the pain it caused Isobel and he apologised profusely. "Miss Martin, I'm terribly sorry, so sorry. Hold still." He said in a voice that betrayed none of the shakiness he felt. Unable to see what he was doing Oscar attempted to gently untangle her hair, his other hand gently cupping her cheek to keep himself steady. Eyes prickled with shame, he knew the perfect night he was having couldn't last.

#para:dancingonair

Broken dreams have got to end // Oscar and Arisu

symphonicmelancholy-blog

It would take more than a few kind words and religious anecdotes to lift Oscar’s spirits, and though Arisu knew that she was still determined to pull him from the abyss that he had created. In the long run her words likely wouldn’t help – she had no disillusions about that much – but making it through the birthday of his wife without having a disaster would have to suffice; it would take time and patience, and Arisu had both in abundance.

When dealing with a lost loved one, Arisu could understand how a birthday would be cause for mourning. A day that had once been celebrated as the glorious moment of a person’s first steps into the journey of life was rendered horrific and ghostly; there was no warmth to fill the occasion, no smiles or cheer that could possibly make the illusion of that birthday being a happy celebration again. The cellist wouldn’t try to convince Oscar to continue to celebrate the life of his wife, but she would try to give him a small push in the right direction; while there was no need to celebrate, there was also no sense in mourning during a time that had once been so happy. Balance was required and Arisu herself had a knack for finding balance in most situations.

It had occurred to her that he might not listen to her words, but she continued to prepare the tea and speak as if she thought he was entirely attentive. Her deft hands moved in practiced motions, swiftly carrying out the task so she could turn to regard Oscar quietly – his face and posture would give her more clues about his mental state than anything else would. Truth be told, it was heartbreaking to watch the storyteller go through such pain – Arisu even chanced a moment to frown before resuming her mask of tranquility. A peaceful presence was what Oscar needed most… he didn’t need someone else to cry with him. Not now.

“I know,” she murmured when he confessed that thinking of his wife was difficult. She wanted to tell him that such things were never easy, but that kind of advice would only be counterproductive and so she instead gave a small nod. “Time will take the edge off the memory,” she offered, “and soon you’ll find that reminiscing will be happy. But it does take time… You wouldn’t be hurting if you didn’t love her.”

Pain was an emotion familiar to Arisu – a fact that showed through her music and occasionally her actions. There was a darkness within the seemingly cheerful woman, and that darkness was the very reason that she felt secure in reaching out to Oscar – she could relate to him on some level and she could offer stories that might stem the tide of his pain for the night. Tomorrow would be a new battle, but for now Arisu tried to offer all of the comfort and security that a story and comforting presence could afford.

She didn’t fully expect him to believe that his wife had turned into something of a lesser god, but the idea had brought Arisu comfort on more than one occasion. Her hope was that he would be able to look past the religious undertones and realize that his wife wouldn’t change – her energy would forever circle the lifestream, cycling through infinity to be rebuilt and reborn on into eternity. Could Oscar fathom such an idea? Could he accept it?

“We do change – even you must seem different to her – and if you look without fear, then you may be surprised about what you find.” As her attentions turned back to the hot plate, Arisu continued her thought with all of the confidence that she had within her soul, “She will make herself known to you when she thinks you’re ready to see her. Watching you suffer may pain her, you know…”

The purpose of the message wasn’t to make Oscar feel guilty, but Arisu realized a moment too late that she must could have seemed callous and uncaring in her approach. Though her voice was soft and her intentions pure, she knew that perception could destroy all of the positive qualities of a message without any care given to the message.

“Don’t force yourself to let her go,” she added, “because the time will come when you’re ready. Keep her close while you need her… and find happiness along the way. That is the best way you can honor her memory, and though it might seem like you’re forgetting her… you know that isn’t the case.”

Was the idea foolish? Arisu paused to consider the question as she pressed her gloved hands together and took in a deep breath that she released on a contemplative sigh. “No. It isn’t. It’s human.”

After another long silence, Arisu picked up one of the teacups and held it delicately between her fingertips. “Tell me about your wife,” she asked as she turned her gaze toward him, “tell me a happy memory?”

#para:brokendreams #so sorry this took me so long love!!!!

Time.Time healed all wounds and Oscar knew it would take many,many long years to heals the scars the loss of his wife cut across his heart and soul. It had been less than a year since he had lost her. Them. Because he lost so much more than just his wife that day, his little son or daughter that would never see the world, it's life stolen before it ever began. It was so hard to think of the child he never knew so he pushed the innocent from his thoughts as best as he could with some guilt, he could only face the loss of one loved one at a time, and even then barely. He wondered how much time it would take before he could think of the two without a crippling pain squeezing at his heart. It had been less than a year since he had lost them yet it felt like an eternity. He wondered if he had enough years in his life time to heal from the pain.

Arisu was so full of advice and kind words. She was a good friend. Oscar wished he could show his appreciation for her more. But one of the things he appreciated about her the most was that she seem to need it. She wasn't trying to help Oscar to feel better about herself, but because she truly wanted Oscar to feel better.

She helped Oscar see things in a different way, even if his distressed and distorted mind couldn't see things for what they really were at the present time. Her words were resonating deep inside him, building up an echo he would be able to understand when he was ready. He had never thought about how much Lilian must have changed. Oscar himself was a different man that he was when she was alive. She had gone through so much more than he, torn from one world and sent on to the next. Her body was gone but her soul had changed so drastically. Oscar had tried so hard for things to stay the same when she visited him, perhaps that was why she had stopped coming, Oscar couldn't live in the past, in their past forever. He was trapped in a life he could never return to. He understood he couldn't have it back but that didn't make moving on any easier.

Did he look different to his wife? Could she even see him from where she was? Oscar just didn't know, he had no hope of knowing. He thought if she was around he would always have a sign of her presence but now he had nothing. "I don't - I don't want her to feel any more pain from my suffering. She already went through...far too much when she..when she-" Oscar broke off. When she died. It was so hard to say that word. The man who could spin words into magic couldn't say that four letter word without it getting stuck in his throat.

"Thank you Miss Eto." Oscar said in a tiny voice. He could never explain just what he was thankful for. Everything, her company, the tiny sliver of hope that one day he would be able to think of this in a normal way, the belief that all was not lost for the man who felt that right now he had nothing.

He picked up his tea with shaking hands, porcelain cup rattling loudly against it's saucer. Hot liquid spilled over the rim, almost burning his finger tips. He set his cup down on his arm rest and stared at the deep brown ripples on the surface. Arisu's question had left him utterly stumped. He wasn't sure how he was going to be able to talk about her when thinking of her was hard enough.

He took a deep breath and tried to pick up his teacup again, but his hands were shaking more than before. He looked up at his friend with eyes shining wet, feeling as hopeless as a child. Another attempt to hold his cup long enough to drink, finally it was a success. Well somewhat successful, he drunk more than he spilled at least. "She-" Oscar didn't know where to begin. He never talked about her.

"Her name is Lilian." It was the first time since her passing that he had spoken her name aloud to another person, he had only said it to himself a few weeks ago. Oscar didn't even realise he was talking about her as if she was still alive.

"From the moment I saw her I knew she was special. Oh she is the most special woman on this earth. She loves music - she would have adored yours. She could...create stories in the same way I do. We would do it together and my very best stories were the ones I made with her. She wrote poems too. Far better poems than I ever could. Every time she laughed it was like she had never heard anything so funny before, and he laughter was infectious and far more beautiful than any music I have ever heard. She couldn't cook. While I was courting her she told me she could because she thought I would be more inclined to ask her to marry her. She didn't realise I wanted to make her my wife the moment I laid eyes on her. We tried to teach ourselves together with some success. We did everything together, learned so many new things."

Oscar didn't realise it would be so easy to talk about her once he started, the words flowing quickly though still rough and shaky.

"She would annoy our neighbours to no end, always running through the house in her petticoats singing and laughing at the top of her voice. I loved it. The freckles on her shoulders looked exactly like the starry skies in summer. I found several of the same constellations, I told her she was descended from the stars. She shone so much brighter than any star I had ever seen. She loves reading books out loud. She would always put on voices for all the different characters. She eats chocolate for breakfast every day. So did I." There was a ghost of a smile playing across Oscar lips, his eyes were glassy, he was utterly lost in his thoughts. "When she found out she was with child she made me tell stories to her growing stomach every night-"

He stopped abruptly. He hadn't intended on mentioning the child. He couldn't. Hasty, shaking hands reached for a cigarette, knocking over his teacup with a loud shatter. "I'll clean it tomorrow." He said, not wanting Arisu to think for even a second to tidy up his mess. He would do it, but he couldn't right now. He light his cigarette and stood to fetch another teacup. As he tried to lift the teapot he found his hands were too heavy and shaky. He couldn't even lift it from the table. "Arisu - could you please?" Oscar asked helplessly, unable to even make eye contact.

richardsbrook

#oscar

s-sybil-blog

Hopeless Wanderers | Oscar & Sybil.

sinnett

Sybil looked around the room after asking her set of questions. It was something she had always tended to do even as a small child. That was her way of getting people to not focus on her too much. She figured that if she didn’t look at someone then there was no need for them to really look at her. When he said that he’d been telling stories for as long as he could speak, her eyes finally settled on him. She believed him. He had a way with words that she figured it must go back to long before she had even been alive. Maybe his father passed down the tradition or something like that. Sybil had read in her father’s books many great tales but they usually had nothing to do with anything Sybil remotely cared for so she’d quickly dismiss them. His stories, however, seemed to have a twist to them that made her feel as if they were indeed directed towards her. But those were foolish thoughts, she told herself.

He was looking at her and though he was beating around it, Sybil knew he was going to ask her a question. She placed her hands underneath her legs and stood still, waiting for him to continue speaking. That was a question she’d rarely been asked. As if someone like her could possibly have a hobby. But, the truth of the matter was that she didn’t know if she’d continue to follow the Circus for as long as it reigned. Part of her still hoped that her parents would take her back in their care. She was still young, after all and that was a part of her she couldn’t brush away. “I do not..know.” Sybil admitted, the words tasting sour in her mouth. Admitting to it was like making sure that it came true - that she was forever destined to follow the Circus around and never do much for herself.

“I..I am not very good at most things.” She shrugged hoping that that would be the end of his questions but knowing that she’d provided too little information for him or anyone to possibly be content. “I am hoping that by traveling alongside the Circus I find something, though…that I am good at.” With that, she shut her mouth and started looking around the room they were in. There were so many stories in one single room. She’d always loved libraries, especially after the incident. Books were one way that she could forget about things if only for a couple of chapters. Sybil’s mother had been profoundly against her father teaching her how to read but he had done so and for that she knew she’d be eternally grateful.

#oscar #this photo is pure oscar #you are welcome Bunny

Oscar found the young woman to be vastly different to every other person he had met traveling the circus. Of course every person in the circus had been so utterly unique but most shared a vibrance, a lust for life. He hadn't met so many people with such electric positive energy that meeting someone without it really was a curious thing. Unlike most people who wanted to prove their worth to the world and show off their talent Miss Sybil seemed to draw further within herself the more Oscar talked She was a curious woman, there was a brightness inside her that shone through those dark clouds.He wanted to help draw her out of her shell, Oscar tried to coax happiness out of each and every person he met. He watched her as her eyes darted around the vast library, it truly was a grand sight. He smiled warmly each time she looked in his direction, he wanted her to see he meant no harm.

She looked nervous of his questions, even though Oscar was just trying to be friendly. If the girl was traveling along behind the circus she really ought to befriend the people within in. Oscar had at first cut himself off from most of the others, scared to leave the confines of his mind. But as he started to open himself up more to his new colleagues and companions he enjoyed the world within the circus so much more. Magic is always better when it is shared. Sybil out to have friends, perhaps she did. Perhaps the reveurs she usually traveled with weren't snowbound in the mansion with the rest of them, or perhaps she was taking a break to spend some quiet time alone. Or perhaps the last person she would choose for a friend was a man who must be twice her age! As always he had to listen closely as she spoke, her words small and timid. "You don't know?" Oscar repeated, "Never mind that, you are still young. You are lucky to be able to see the world with us, it's quite an adventure don't you think? You can decide what to do along the way." He gave her another warm smile, she had her life ahead of her.

"I am certain that isn't true." Oscar protested and shook his head. She was was young! There were so many things she had yet to try! Far too young to have such a jaded outlook on life. "If there is one place where one is almost certain to discover their talent is with the circus, I do believe we do a little bit of everything here." He hoped his positive outlook would rub off on her. Oscar found it must easier to be positive about other people than himself. He watched as she closed up again, a mouse disappearing back into it's hole. He stood to his feet and wandered to a bookshelf. Perhaps she would find it easier to talk to him if they weren't sitting face to face, it was less like and interview or interrogation. "So what things do you enjoy Miss Sybil? Even if you aren't very good at it?" Oscar inquired as his eyes grazed over the spines. To his pleasant surprise many of the titles were in English. He selected The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn from the shelf and held it up to Sybil. "Have you read this? It was one of my favourites when I was perhaps a just a little bit older than yourself."

#para:hopelesswanderers

heart-shaped-cupcake

That's how they do it, these girls! Othello charmed Desdemona by telling her stories, but, oh, didn't Desdemona charm Othello by the way she listened?

Agatha Christie

#words

Dancing on Air || Oscar & Isobel

Isobel was still in the process of realizing that her dancing partner was actually Oscar. Part of her wanted to deny the simple fact, reasoning that this man acted so unlike her friend that it was impossible for the two to really be the same person. The storyteller was clumsy and quiet whereas this man practically exuded confidence and demanded her full attention. The other part of her simply accepted that the two different gentlemen were truly one; his voice had instantly become recognizable, and she could connect the way that his eyes creased at their corners beneath the harlequin mask when he smiled to his persona. Physically, Oscar was still the same man that Isobel could easily call a close friend, but personality-wise, he seemed to be utterly different. He was still a gentleman in every sense of the word, but he seemed so sure of himself, and he carried an air of dignity that was strangely enticing. Finally, she managed to accept what half of her denied and gave the storyteller a polite smile, still feeling slightly guilty that she had been trying to deny what was clear— that Oscar had been morphed into someone so unlike himself for the evening.

There was a subtle shift in the situation that Isobel tried to fight against. Now that they knew each other’s identity, she could feel them both slipping into their normal mannerisms that they showed around each other; she could practically see Oscar retreating into his shell of nervousness and hesitancy. That was the exact opposite of what she wanted; she had to admit that she liked this change in his demeanor, no matter how small it seemed to be. It spoke volumes to the woman, and she decided that she would do anything to encourage it from this point on in the night. “I thought I would go the entire night without anyone recognizing me, but you saw right through my mask,” she laughed, crossing her arms and giving him her natural grin rather than the polite one she had been wearing tonight. He was right in saying that he was more perceptive than the average man; Isobel could have sworn that she had danced with several other performers tonight, yet none of them even showed the slightest indication that they recognized her. The fact that Oscar had become so accustomed to her personality and quirks… Well, the realization made her smile grow ever so slightly. In the span of their friendship, she had left enough of an impression on him that he could recall the simple unsaid facts of her being. In a way, she had been the object of his attention enough times that he retained bits of information that she subtly threw his way, and that was always her goal— to have people pay attention. To have them remember. “Your mask is doing a fine job, Oscar. I daresay that if I didn’t figure out your identity, then I probably would have come to your tent tomorrow to tell you all about my spectacular dancing partner without even realizing it was you!” she giggled, her hand covering half of her mouth after she finished speaking, finding the idea to be rather humorous. Her cheeks flashed red, a bit embarrassed of how she was laughing at her own thought. She knew that Oscar didn’t mind though; he was always understanding and as far from judgmental as one could get. Her gaze followed his hand as he placed the now empty wine glass on the platter of the server, her mind momentarily becoming distracted by the movement. By the time she was focused again, Oscar was asking her to dance once again, once again bringing a grin to her lips. She grasped the hand that he offered to her almost immediately, no longer feeling strange or odd at the the thought of her masked dancing partner being Oscar. Her other hand rested lightly on his shoulder, the tips of her fingers brushing along the skin of his neck just as they had before. Nothing had changed between the two of them, not really. If anything, Isobel felt more comfortable in knowing that she was dancing with a friend, not a foe. She felt comfortable enough that at the first note struck by the violin, Isobel began to move, momentarily guiding the pair for the first two measures or so. When she realized what she was doing, the fortune teller looked up at Oscar, giving him a sorry smile accompanied by a tittering laugh before relinquishing control of their movement to him once again.

#i thought i would throw in a bit more confusion for you #omg omg #para:dancingonair

Oscar was perceptive, and he was smart. He was sure it would have been impossible for Isobel to go the entire night without detection, he was merely the first to recognise her for who she was. He felt rather proud of the fact, a rather humbling pride, Oscar wasn't usually one for that particular sin. "I do apologise for seeing past the mask, but as I said M - Isobel, you are absolutely one in a million." It was definitely meant as a compliment, something the kind story teller believed should be handed out freely at every possibility. In the formal situation Oscar fond himself trying to revert to her formal name, always catching himself and calling her what she preferred. Isobel.

He found himself loosening in her presence, Oscar was usually knotted so tightly, but Isobel's infectious smile and laugh were tugging at his restraints. Or perhaps it was the wine that flowed freely through the elegant tent. Whatever it was Oscar was thoroughly enjoying himself, he knew if he were to stand next to Miss Bowen again her dress would be shining brightly. It felt good, to relax, it was curious, Oscar thought he did relax very often, spending most of his days reading, exploring, contemplating and creating his stories. But now it was different, like a balloon that broke free from its strings and was floating through cloudless blue skies.

A rich warm laugh bubbled up from the depths of his stomach at Isobel's comment. The idea of her showing up at his tent to tell him about himself, why it was very flattering. Another small wave of pride, that he should be so memorable in this crowd of beautiful, powerful revelers. Could it be that Oscar was more intriguing and memorable when his identity was obscured? That was more than likely, the man with a million stories knew how the unknown drew people in like moths to a flame. "Now you will have to visit the tent of someone else to tell them that I can dance, I do believe some of those acrobats have said I cannot do anything off my backside." Oscar laughed at himself though in truth the idea of anybody speaking of him when he was not around was more than a little unnerving.

It felt comfortable having Isobel lead them through the first steps of their dance, her steps were strong and comfortable and Oscar followed her naturally. Their dancing styles complimented each other greatly and so often they were moving in such perfect unison it was impossible to discern who was leading who. Her leading him was a good thing for Oscar was sure he would have stumbled through the first few steps. Isobel's fingers were every so slightly cold from the wine glass she held just a minute before, a shiver shot through Oscar's spine as small fingertips brushed over the highly sensitive skin of his neck. He felt goosebumps spring up underneath his collar but smiled warmly and didn't miss a step. All too soon the song was over, Oscar released his steady grip on Isobel's waist and hand, applauding the band and of course Isobel politely. He smiled a rather giddy smile.

He wondered if it would be terribly rude to request another dance, they had danced two in a row already. Though, he reasoned to himself, it really had been only one and a half, another certainly wouldn't hurt. He had just gathered the resolve to ask her but the question was only halfway out of his lips when a tall man behind a black mask with long bird like beak tapped Isobel lightly on the shoulder. In a rather muffled voice the man addressed them both as he made his request to dance with Isobel. Oscar knew it would unfair to the other men in attendance for him to try to dance with her any longer as much as he wished to continue doing so. "It's been an absolute pleasure dancing with you Miss Martin." Oscar said, his voice polite, not at all betraying his slight disappointment. "I do hope to get the chance to so again before this evening is over." He moved forward to press a respectful kiss on Isobel's shoulder, a waiter dropped a tray of glasses at the exact same moment.

#oscar

gavinurfree

♕: The Spinners of Tales. || Widget and Oscar.

Widget noticed the man’s hesitance, and knew the source of it instantly. “Ah, you are close friends with Miss Martin, are you not?” he gave a chuckle, one that resounded of embarrassment. “Perhaps she has slandered my name to you already, making me sound like some sort of Gorgon with fire for hair.” he ran a hand sheepishly through his shock of flame-red hair, making it even more brilliant as it stood up.

“A long night?” he smiled warmly. “Well, I suppose telling stories to others is so much harder than what I do. You have to work to capture the people’s attentions. In my line, the pure magic of having a story in a bottle does all the work for me. I salute you, sir.” he grinned, giving Oscar a small bow.

“As for that silly man who dared to criticize your story, he and the rest of them like him can go to the devil, for all we care. Here’s a toast, monsieur Oscar, to our marvelous careers and the stories that we will tell in the future.” said Widget with a flourish, producing a bottle of wine and two crystal flutes, seemingly out of nowhere.

Oscar smiled and bowed his head in assent, sharing the other mans embarrassment. He understood the man felt a little ashamed at the way he had treated Isobel when she entered his tent, he also knew the two seemed to have a less than positive history, the two bright personalities seemed to clash quite terribly with each other. "Yes, Miss Martin warned me not to come smashing any bottles lest you unleash your wrath and confiscate my most personal possessions as well. I am sure she exaggerated the encounter, she made herself out to be a positive angel." Oscar smiled a little uncomfortably. He wasn't prone to gossip, he didn't like it at all in fact and he felt the conversation was heading in that direction. He had an expression just as sheepish as the others mans on his face.

He was glad the conversation went easily to talk of their respective jobs, his smile grew easier, the fearful pressure on his chest relieved slightly. "I enjoy the performance, I've found when I enjoy it it is easy to hold my audiences attention captive, though I suppose finding the right words and stories helps me a lot too, I certainly can't take all the credit." Oscar was such a different man when he was performing, loud and confident as opposed to the rather quiet, awkward man who never wanted to cause any waves. "I do not believe for a moment your work here is at all easy, turning a memory into something physical, why it should be impossible!" Oscar knew it must be magic, real magic. Far more real than the spells he seemed to weave in his own tent, his seemed like mere childs play compared to what this young man did. Oscar couldn't help but feel just a little envy, a man so much younger than himself able to make the impossible possible, far more than Oscar could ever do. He returned Widget's bow respectfully, he admired the mans skill greatly.

He couldn't help but laugh as Widget cursed the unpleasant visitor to Oscar's tent. It was precisely what Oscar himself was too polite to say. It had hurt and upset Oscar and he liked being able to share his annoyance with the other man, and have him confirm it as a reason to be unhappy. He was a little astounded when the man proposed a toast with not a drink in sight, but in the blink of an eye he produced a bottle from the shadows and offered Oscar a glass. He accepted the heady drink gratefully, knocking his glass lightly against Widget's as he echoed the toast. "Our stories, and to our happily ever afters." He said in a quiet voice, taking a small sip of the sweet wine. "Thank you Mr Murray, I must say I certainly wasn't expecting such hospitality when I entered your tent. I must tell Miss Martin she had it wrong about you."

#para:spinnerstale

Broken dreams have got to end // Oscar and Arisu

symphonicmelancholy-blog

Returning to normalcy after such a traumatic event would take more than a single night but Arisu was determined to help Oscar as well as she could. She owed him so much that it only seemed right to sit with him as his emotions got the better of him and put him in a state that bordered somewhere on pitiable and pathetic. Having never experienced such an intimate loss, Arisu couldn’t fathom the pain that must have weighed heavily on the storyteller.

His beliefs of heaven had been considered before she decided to chime in with what she had been taught, though Arisu could only elude to her religious practices due to the fact that she was more focused on brewing tea for the man. She set to work as soon as she was directed toward the hot-plate and cupboard that housed the proper ingredients for tea, though she gave pause to explain that he shouldn’t have had any alcohol. After putting water on to boil, Arisu turned to look toward Oscar with an expression that was something of a reserved kind of pity. Initially Arisu thought to snatch the cigarette from Oscar’s lips but she decided not to risk offending him, not since she had taken his alcohol. He needed something to calm the shaking of his hands and one cigarette wouldn’t do much harm at all. For now, she could overlook the habit and instead focus on the words that Oscar had to give, though she did turn to begin preparing cups and things of the like as the water heated. “She is here,” Arisu answered simply, “you just don’t see her.” A few moments passed before Arisu felt the need to speak again, but at length she finally turned around and gave something of a small smile to Oscar. “Your wife exists in your every thought and action. You carry her with you, as you should; it is said that people die but twice, once when the physical body perishes and the second time when they are forgotten.” She gave a moment for Oscar to dwell on that fact before she gave a small sigh. “My family believes that exceptional ancestors go on to become kami — or gods, I suppose as you would call them — and they watch us and help guide our paths after their deaths. Once free of the mortal coil, the ascend to a level of heightened knowledge and joy.” She was peppering her words with minor alterations to her actual beliefs, but Arisu was no in the practice of making religious converts and instead she wanted only to make Oscar happy and put his mind at ease. A few well-placed and undetectable lies should have done the trick. “Your wife is not gone; she has merely changed.”

#this ended up way longer than i thought it was going to when i started #para:brokendreams

Oscar sat lost in his thoughts, trying to untangle the messy threads inside his mind, put them into some logical order. But tonight logic was beyond him, he couldn't separate one thought from the next and the more he tried the more confused and upset he became. Eventually he gave up trying to think, deciding just to listen instead to Arisu. First to the calming sounds of her putting together the tea and then the equally calming tones of her voice with it's soft accent.

He puffed away on his cigarette. She was wrong. Lilian wasn't here. She used to be, she used to fill the tent with her presence, watching over Oscar, joining him when he needed her. But she didn't come anymore, he hadn't had any sign from her and he knew that was supposed to be a good thing but he was just missing her so much.

He couldn't tell his friend that, that his wife had remained with him, physically, long after her passing. He couldn't tell Arisu, he couldn't tell anyone. They would think he was mad, confirm to him the suspicion that had been haunting him for as long as his wife had. Longer. She was gone now but the fear of insanity was still there, hanging over his head like a heavy cloud.

Oscar had gotten lost in his own thoughts again, almost forgetting Arisu was in his tent. She was still talking and he made himself listen, shaking his head slowly. It was true she still existed within him, though it pained him worse than death to think about her but he knew he would never be able to stop, his thoughts and memories of his wife were so deeply ingrained in the man he knew they would never leave him. He felt like he was stuck, he wanted her here with him, physically, completely. Or else he wanted all memory gone so he could move on and be happy. But he was stuck between the two and didn't know how to move.

"It just feels so impossible Arisu." Oscar spoke softly, his voice still sad and shaky. "I don't want to forget her, but thinking about her, it's so hard." Oscar didn't care about how weak he must be appearing to his friend, he felt so weak and he certainly didn't have the energy to hide it.

A small, twisted smile appeared on Oscar's pained lips. He liked that thought, but he wasn't Japanese and nor was Lilian, he wasn't sure those beliefs could traverse cultures just to suit Oscar's needs. And while Oscar knew his wife had been an exceptional woman, oh she had been the most exceptional woman he had ever met he wasn't sure if the rest of the world saw those amazing qualities in Lilian that had made her shine so bright. Was she bright enough to a a God, a Kami? He didn't know, he would never know because she wasn't there to tell him.

He liked the thought though, that Lilian was living her new life in the heavens, happier and more complete than she had ever been here on Earth. She deserved all the happiness in the world, he just wished they could have shared it together. No matter how he tried to justify it to himself or find solace in Arisu's words it was so hard because no matter what way the story teller looked at it they were separated by eternity. "But she seems to have changed in ways I cannot recognise. I look for her and I can no longer find her. I know I need to let her go but...but I think it might be impossible." Oscar said slowly.

"I want to be happy but I feel guilty for wanting that, as if I am disrespecting her by wanting happiness without her." Oscar confessed. "Is that utterly foolish?" He asked, feeling like a fool. He stubbed out his cigarette in the small glass ashtray by his elbow, immediately striking a match to light another.

Dancing on Air || Oscar & Isobel

You have a distinctly unique smile, Miss Martin. Isobel played the words over several times in her mind, letting her mouth curve up into a guarded smirk, refusing to smile cheekily in response to the compliment. If she was to be recognized by anything, then she would have wanted it to be her grin rather than some of her other defining characteristics: her flirtatious personality, constant giggling, and sometimes inappropriate and ill-fitting words. No, she was definitely glad that whoever this masked gentleman was had figured out her identity from something so simple as her grin. “Well, it seems that no one is quite as observant as you, sir…” she laughed, accepting the glass of champagne that he offered to her over the red wine.

Her lips curled over the edge of the glass, but her eyes remained locked with his. This was the first time that anyone had identified her all night; this gentleman was truly more perceptive than many of the other masked men and women running amuck in the tent as they scrambled for new partners. Isobel drank the honey-colored liquid quickly, placing the now empty glass on the platter of a passing waiter that didn’t even seem to notice her pale, outstretched hand.

It was truly aggravating for the fortune teller to be in such a powerless position; after all, her partner now held all of the cards and had yet to give her any inclination as to who he truly was. Everything about him suggested that he was just an average man, but something within Isobel told her that he was a circus performer. Perhaps it was the way that he so easily navigated the crowds or how comfortable he was even while surrounded by all of these people… She pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyes narrowed behind the dainty, shimmering mask in thought as she subconsciously began to rock on her heels.

And then he began to tell his little story. One hand flew to cover the woman’s forehead as her jaw dropped in a stunned kind of smile. There was no mistaking that voice now. Isobel began to laugh quietly to herself as her hand ran smoothly through her hair. “Hello, Oscar,” she managed between bursts of laughter. “I’m so sorry… You must think that I’m an absolute fool! I can’t even recognize my own friend… A dear one, at that.” Red hues indicating slight embarrassment flashed across the woman’s cheeks as she looked up at Oscar, her hands now clasped tightly behind her back as she swayed on the spot. How had she been so stupid? Who else could it have been but the storyteller? No one was as polite and courteous as him… She supposed that his appearance had thrown her off slightly, as well as his skill in dancing. Isobel knew that her friend was handsome, there was no denying that, but tonight he just looked so suave and unlike the goofy and bashful Oscar that she had previously known him as.

The smile she gave him was so different from her usual one, careful and restrained, so different from her usual wide and playful grin. She was trying her best to put on a show tonight, beneath her mask she could be whoever she wished to be. So of course Oscar, Oscar who could read people but couldn't understand them would have to ruin it for her by seeing through her facade so quickly. But she was still smiling, so Oscar forgot about his worry at offending her by admitting he knew her identity and smiled back happily. He felt a little happier around his friend than someone he didn't know, more comfortable in Isobel's presence than a masked stranger.

She kept her eyes locked on his and Oscar held her gaze steadily, the rest of the tent blurring behind her. "I do tend to see more than the average person." Oscar agreed, he was a very observant man, looking at and absorbing everything he saw. He had observed Isobel plenty of times before, he found the young woman endlessly fascinating. It was only a matter of time before he put the pieces of her puzzle and realised his friend and the woman standing before him were one and the same. He sipped at her drink a little slower than she did, taking the time to appreciate the rich flavours of the wine, it wasn't often he got the chance to drink such obviously expensive wine as this and he savoured every sip.

The look of surprise on Isobel's face (or what he could see if it at least) was priceless, hand to her head, painted lips hanging wide open. Her laughter, as always, was infectious and he joined in, a hearty but slightly nervous laugh. "Hello Isobel, my mask must be doing it's job." He smiled, his own cheeks colouring just as hers did. Her laughter died out and Oscar felt just a little apprehensive, had she hoped the man she had been dancing was someone more interesting than the story teller? Oscar hoped not, because he thoroughly enjoying dancing with her and didn't really want to stop. Oscar finished his wine and set it on the tray of a waiter who passed by so conveniently as the music began to swell again. "Shall we?" He offered, a slightly hopeful tone, extending his hand to her once more.

Would she want to dance with him again now that there was no mystery of his identity? Oscar hoped so and he waited with baited breath for her to accept.

#para:dancingonair

behindtheillusionist-blog

Dance Magic Dance // Oscar & Celia

The night was still young in the terms of those intimately acquainted with Le Cirque des Rêves when Celia entered the tent that had been transformed into a ballroom for the night’s festivities. The illusionist’s movements were graceful, giving the impression that there was a cloud underneath her feet as pure as the white of her dress. At least, the dress was white in that moment. The white was a reflection of the illusionist herself, pure despite all that existed within the memories of her past she kept hidden. It was also a base for the changes that would occur to the fabric throughout the night, absorbing the auras and emotions of others much as Celia often did herself, and reflecting their own selves back to admirers rather than the revealing the illusionist herself.

The dress began to shift the moment she entered the tent as performers and reveurs alike, it was nearly impossible to tell with the masks obscuring their features, approached Celia to compliment her on the beauty of her costume, of the ingenuity of her idea. It was nearly impossible for her to hide behind her silver mask, for it was known among the circus that none but her would have created such a dress for the event. Finally finding a moment of solitude as those she had been speaking to moved to the dance floor, Celia settled herself on the edge of the excitement, surrounded by people but engaged with none. Her dress continuously shifted in color as those around her moved about the tent, but the illusionist remained still, observing all but showing nothing more than what her dress would reveal.

She noticed the sudden shift in her dress before she noticed the man approaching her. How odd a color for one’s aura to be at a ball; it was the first dark color Celia had seen her dress become all night. The color spread quickly, and soon the deep inky gray of stormy waves covered the dress, contrasting beautifully with the ivory skin and dark hair of the illusionist, her mask providing the lightness of the ensemble in that moment. Intrigued to see the one who caused such a change, she lifted her eyes just as the man arrived at her side. Her smile shifted to a more mysterious smirk as she noticed the red spreading over his cheeks when she saw him admiring her dress, and her eyes sparkled with the childlike happiness that had been glittering in them all night as she met his gaze. As quickly as the smirk had appeared, it faded like all other illusions, leaving her usual half-smile adorning her face.

Perhaps she knew the man who had come over to her, but it was impossible to tell beneath the mask. All Celia could see of him was what he hid inside, the pain and sadness this masquerade brought him for some reason, though she couldn’t see his outward identity. The man’s smile was charming however, and Celia curtsied in response to his bow, murmuring a soft, “Good evening,” in reply to his own greeting. Dark eyes flickered from his extended hand to his masked face and down to the dark fabric of her dress, before her mysterious smile turned momentarily sweet and she accepted the hand, sliding her own smaller one into it. “It would be a shame to waste such a beautiful night without dancing, so I shall permit it,” she murmured, letting the man lead her to the dance floor.

#words that perfectly sum up Oscar #pretty words

A little too late Oscar realised he could have probably gotten away with not asking the woman to dance. He had gotten caught up in his nerves and the sight of men asking woman to dance of both sides of them. He didn't really want to dance, he just didn't know what to do. He didn't want to stick out as the man refusing to dance at the ball, he just had to suck it up and do it. It would be far too rude to make an excuse not to, the thought of doing so was mortifying to him. He had made his bed and had no choice but to lie in it. He wore a courteous smile as he lead the woman onto the dance floor, determined not to let her true feelings show through, he knew it would be an insult to the woman. His eyes were on the hem of her skirt, trying to decide whether the colour on the very bottom kept changing slightly as they walked through the crowds or whether it was just a trick of the light.

He was watching it a little too intently, Oscar almost stumbled over his own feet. His cheeks had just returned to their natural hue and they flared up brightly again. He should have worn a mask that covered more of his face Oscar reflected a little glumly. He needed to snap out of this mood but he just felt like he was sinking even deeper. Another smile to his partner as he waited for the right beat to start, maybe if he kept smiling it would eventually be a real one. He hoped he wouldn't be as clumsy on his feet when he danced, he hadn't done it in a long time. It would be just typical of Oscar to go sprawling face first onto the polished floor surrounded by all these people and surely bring this sophisticated looking woman with him.

A little hesitantly Oscar placed his hand on the womans slender back, his other sweating ever so slightly as it held hers a little limply. He started to lead her through the dance moves, paying more attention to the music than anything else in the room. He was surprised to see that even though he was nervous his feet were not, they remembered the steps as though it was just yesterday since he last danced. He felt a pleasant tingling in his feet and legs, as if they were celebrating. The music slowly absorbed the man, trickling between his flesh and bones, what a beautiful feeling. Oscar smiled what was probably be considered his first genuine smile of the evening. He caught the eye of his dance partner and smiled warmly to her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze before spilling into a turn smoothly.

The weight was slowly lifting until he caught sight of a quick flash of red hair and was hit once again with the memory of his wife. Another small stumble and the man mentally slapped himself, he saw the fabric of the woman's dress flash and shift as he did so. So curious. During a quiet lull in the song Oscar had to inquire about it, he was a man with an unquenchable thirst for knowledge and this dress was such a mystery. He suspected he knew who he was dancing with but chose not to say something, it was a night for mystery after all. "You've probably been hearing this all night so please excuse me, but your dress is simply fascinating. Is it one of Madame Lefroy's creations?" Oscar asked, no point pretending she couldn't be part of the circus in a dress like that.

#para:dancemagic

Words to keep inside your pocket:

Quiescent - a quiet, soft-spoken soul.

Chimerical - merely imaginary; fanciful.

Susurrus - a whispering or rustling sound.

Raconteur - one who excels in story-telling.

Clinquant - glittering; tinsel-like.

Aubade - a song greeting the dawn.

Ephemeral - lasting a very short time.

Sempiternal - everlasting; eternal.

Euphonious - pleasing; sweet in sound.

Billet-doux - a love letter.

Redamancy - act of loving in return.

♕: The Spinners of Tales. || Widget and Oscar.

“Ah, Mr Ashdown.” Widget smiled, despite the fact that the fellow storyteller had ruined his bottles. He rather liked the shy man, and had always wanted to trade stories. Yet, he could not find the right time for it, exactly.

“Legend says that Scheherazade was a very jealous storyteller. She would secretly find those people who retold her stories and behead them one by one. Strange, isn’t it?” he grinned. “But don’t worry, I have no intentions of beheading you.” he joked.

“But then again, what brings you here?” he asked, looking at the man. He noted that he had smelled a scent that particularly appealed to him, as shown by the bottle that he was grasping tightly. “Oh, do cork it. The magic will escape otherwise.” he said, quickly corking the bottle in Oscar’s hand.