Work Header

The Aerialist

Work Text:

The story starts with a doubt filled aerialist and a nervous girl, both shyly smiling at each other before the real world interrupts, sending him away before she can even think to try and speak with the face that suddenly captivated her. She's handed a poster by an old clown who can see the loss in her eyes, a picture of the same man, The Aerialist. She couldn't help it, she had to see him again and so headed into the babble of the circus crowds.

Their eyes met as he swooped gracefully across the big top. He faltered, losing grip as the dreams behind their eyes collided. Stunned the graceful acrobat plunged to the floor as their eyes locked. She followed him, plunging into the sand of the arena to find The Aerialist. Then awoke in a place that shouldn't have been, and yet was.

Plains of grey were interrupted by billowing swathes of fabric lit from within, drawing her nearer with their enticingly bright entrances. She moved forward clutching the picture, hoping to find the man she had followed to this place.

But they were still strangers for all the magic in their meeting, and so they were lost, for each to find the other they must travel through their combined dreams to learn how to find their other half. Nothing means everything and everything means nothing, or perhaps they both mean something not yet made clear.

Both lack confidence and as a result have to fight the often frenzied bursts of activity that seem to burn through the too-vibrant-beautiful-fabric draped worlds only to leave behind drifting rose petals and a softly played cello for a slowly dancing girl.
She shows his picture to anyone that will look and he travels across the empty plains following lucky rabbits and water stained moons to find the woman that somehow followed him to this world.

He fights off his captors and she finds him from time to time and yearns for him as he flexes and shines, effortlessly manipulating himself around the glowing cube he so casually handles with a joy that takes grip in his/her/their chest.

She wants him, but she's still afraid and so he fades away, waiting for her to discover the right dream to make her reach out for him. And after dancing jellyfish, floating beds and boating umbrellas with beckoning clowns they touch.

Her expression soft but flushed with desire as she places her small hand into his palm, trusting him to hold her as they dance in the air. While they both wonder how they lived or died since the fall without the touch of the other. What cruel trick of fate deprived them of this deeply joyous feeling?

The seamless sensation of her pressing against him as they spun, wrapping themselves in a chrysalis of a perfect moment as his lips seared against hers seeking reassurance that she was here, and felt the same.
They had both been lonely in life, but in dreams they had each other and she could fly as well as he. After all the journeys the fighting, the fear and the joy there was no room for doubt.

If either were ever to fall again? Well they'd be falling together, no matter what.

What they had was too beautiful for words to express, in their eyes and the gentle caress amidst a mid-air ballet with each motion and reaction heightening the feeling that you were watching something too intimate for two people to share with the world.

And it was, so that's where we'll leave them both. Hanging by an arm each, intertwined with her soft body pressed against his gleaming chest as their dark eyes meet and pull strength from the other so they might never have to stop dancing until the day they stop dreaming.

In a circus ring, worlds away, a young woman in a blood-stained white dress stares blankly into space as she kneels in the sand holding the broken body of The Aerialist…