Tiny Dancer (Costin)

[Dusty Fae]

Dust had found an empty classroom finally. A lot o’ the other ones were full o’ people ‘cause of clubs and other after school stuff that other people did. Dusty were too shy to join any clubs, even if she thought they were interestin’. She weren’t much fer bein’ good with people the way ‘er momma was. Her momma could talk with anyone without a care in the world. Dusty preferred ta stick to ‘erself fer the most part.

Anyway, she were gonna practice ‘er dancin’ and she didn’t want no one to see. So an empty classroom was the perfect place. She’d “borrowed” one of them CD player things from another classroom and she’d gotten a couple a CDs outta the library. The one CD that she popped into the player was one with Johann Strauss’ music. Mainly waltzes. He’d been real popular back in Los Avalos and Dusty found it comfortin’ to dance to somethin’ that she knew rather than all these popluar new songs.

She’d pushed the tables and chairs back so she’d have an open space. Then playin’ the music she took up dancin’ position, pretendin’ that she were dancin’ with someone. And yes, she’d admit that she were pretendin’ ta dance with Arkady. But anyway, she took a deep breath, counted the beats of the music and on the right counts she began the steps o’ the waltz.

[Costin Dracula]

When at least one of your fathers was nobility (albeit ancient, long-forgotten nobility of some place nobody actually knew the exact location of), you mingled in certain circles, circles in which you were expected to know things, specifically ballroom dancing. Costin had a firm grasp of the topic himself, far more than he wanted to go around publicizing. He didn't want people trying to drag him to stupid school dances and such, that would just be humiliating. Because Costin, while he tried very, very hard to maintain the same aloof approach to life as at least one of his fathers did, became very, very passionate when it came to dancing.

Music made him forget exactly how much he hated the way his life was going, and when he listened to it...well, it was the closest he got to feeling immortal himself. When he danced, it was almost like...like he knew how mortal he was, but he felt like he could be that way forever. It didn't make sense, but it made him content with his humanity every now and then.

He didn't mean to walk in on her. He was definitely going to laugh at her. But he understood what she was doing (even if he was going to mock her for it in a moment or two once he'd watched her long enough to critique her technique). She reminded him of one of the very few things that had ever made him happy in the full knowledge of his mortality.

He hated her for it. He sat down on one of the chairs she'd displaced, and put his feet up on a table next to it, and waited for her to notice that he was there.

"You look as if you're limping. Is this a dance you're designing for crippled people?"

[Dusty Fae]

It really weren’t fair that Dusty got dealt the worst cards on the entire planet. It weren’t so bad that she didn’t have a daddy. She could live with that. She didn’t really need one. And it were only marginally terribly that ‘er momma were prostitutin’ ‘erself. What was bad was that e’erbody in Los Avalos looked down on Dusty fer what ‘er momma done. And what just weren’t fair were the fact that Dusty couldn’t dance. Her momma could dance. She were the best dancer at the Saloon. Momma said it were ‘cause she danced from ‘er heart and only danced ‘cause she loved it. Well, Dusty wanted ta love it too, but she couldn’t love something she were terrible at.

But that’s why she were tryin’ her darnedest ta get it right. She wanted to show ‘er momma next time she saw ‘er and have ‘er be real proud. And she were concentratin’ real hard. That was why she didn’t notice the boy come into the room and sit down ‘til ‘e spoke to ‘er. And as soon as he did she tripped and fell, all ‘cause he’d almost scared ‘er right outta her skin.

The music were still goin’ as Dusty picked herself off the floor, blushin’ ‘cause she knew she were awful and weren’t at all graceful, but that didn’t mean ‘e had to say anythin’ ‘bout it. “No,” she responded softly, when she found ‘er voice. “No…I’m just practicin’. ‘Cause I ain’t any good at it.” Dusty also got the feelin’ that he were probably a good dancer, which made everythin’ seem so much more awful and humiliatin’. She weren’t even sure what ta say to ‘im. She weren’t sure she liked ‘im very much.

[Costin Dracula]

Her reaction was more than he could have hoped for. He'd been expecting a little jump, maybe a hop, maybe she'd make a little girly noise and then get irritated at him for having startled her. Instead, she was actually falling on the floor like he'd scared her half to death. One corner of Costin's mouth quirked upwards in a half-smile.

"I don't know if you could practice enough to fix that," he said, frankly (even though he honestly didn't think she was that bad, he'd seen much worse). There was no backing down now, though.

Did he feel bad about it? Yes. He had a conscience that plagued him just as much as anyone else's did...but he was working so hard to overcome it. Saying terrible things to other people was his first line of defense, any psychiatrist could have told you that. It served a dual purpose...if he alienated other people, he wouldn't have to worry about forming bonds he'd have to abandon later. And if he drove them away before they had a chance to decide they didn't like him...well, he was still in control.

There weren't very many things in Costin's life that he had control over...he had to hold onto the ones that he did.

"Perhaps you should consider a different style of dance," he suggested. "Have you considered the type where you don't move your body?"

[Dusty Fae]

Dusty weren’t ever one to be cruel ta keep people away. She already did that on ‘er own cuz she were a bit odd. There weren’t any other girls in school that carried knives in their boots and had pistols hidin’ in their rooms. And Dusty talked diff’rent too. Not like e’erbody else. Her accent were probably the one that stood out the most, so she didn’t have ta push people away with ‘er words. They weren’t comin’ near her anyway. So she tried ta be nice and polite, just like ‘er momma taught ‘er.

But some people were just so cruel. Her face fell at the boy’s words and her blush rose as she stood there, feelin’ like a target that someone were shootin’ at. At that one hit the bulls eye. “Oh,” she said even softer and much meeker. Dusty now had the overwhelming desire to cry.

Dusty had ‘er own issues too, but she tried ta keep ‘em to ‘erself. She only let it bother her on the inside and didn’t take out ‘er feelins on anyone else, ‘cause that were mean. But apparently she were the only one thinkin’ like that ‘cause it seemed to be just one bullet after another. And all of ‘em were hittin’ the bulls eye every time.

She could feel tears wellin’ up in ‘er eyes and she turned abruptly. She didn’t want ‘im ta see how upset she were and if’n she started cryin’ ‘e wouldn’t see that either. And the music were startin’ to annoy ‘er so she walked over to it and began pressin’ buttons, tryin’ ta shut the darn thing off. And when it wouldn’t shut off she grabbed the cord thing that were plugged inta the wall and yanked it hard ‘til it unplugged. Then it were quiet and Dusty could think. Not that she wanted to ‘cause that boy were awful mean and had hurt ‘er feelins. “I should go,” she said softly, still not turnin’ around, ‘cause she were so close ta cryin’ that it were takin’ everythin’ she had not ta cry. She had ta at least wait ‘til she got ta the girl’s bathroom.

[Costin Dracula]

Oh, now she was going to have a little fit. Wasn't that sad? Costin observed dispassionately as she turned red, his own expression something of a blank slate. It didn't make him feel good, really, to make her upset like that, but it didn't bother him either, and it was interesting enough. Was she really that insecure about her dancing ability? If someone had insulted Costin's dancing skills, he would have either ignored them or done something about it...possibly something violent.

"Oh, don't go," he said, as she shut the music off (she did that pretty violently, come to think of it). "We were just getting acquainted." He wasn't surprised that she wanted to leave; most people didn't like to hang around Costin at all, and he had a pretty good idea of why that was - because he was awful to them.

"Where are you going to go, anyway?" he asked, feeling the slightest traces of discomfort...was she about to cry? That wasn't in the plan. She wasn't supposed to cry. She was supposed to get angry and have a fit and storm out. He didn't even have a handkerchief to give her if he had been so inclined. "I hope you're not planning to go do any of that gyrating in a public place..."

Yes, she definitely acted like she was about to go hug a teddy bear and cry or something. Costin frowned. Not fun. Not fun at all.

"Oh, come, come, don't tell me you're going to stand there and take that. If someone says things like that to you, you slap them, or you tell them they're a terrible person. You don't let it get to you, you can't take people like me seriously."

He was going far above and beyond the call of duty to be telling her that, he thought. He could have just given her a little push and then walked out, leaving her to sob hopelessly alone.

[Dusty Fae]

Dusty began ta pack up ‘er things, still tryin’ awful ahrd not ta cry. She grabbed the pile o’ CDs offa the desk where they’d been sittin’ and shoved ‘em in the leather bag she’d taken ta carryin’ with ‘er. The faster she could get outta here the better it would be. But she paused when ‘e asked ‘er not to go. She listened afore she said anythin’. And when she did it were real quiet. “I don’t think I wanna be aquain’ed with yah.”

She went right back ta backin’ up ‘er things and were tryin’ ta shove the CD player thing in ‘er bag when ‘e spoke again. She stopped ta listen. She didn’t think he should care where she were goin’. She didn’t even care where she were goin’ as long as it were away from him and ‘is mean hurtful comments. He’d been the one to almost make ‘er cry so he didn’t get ta know that she were goin’ home and have a good cry. And no she weren’t gonna hug a teddy bear. She didn’t even know what a teddy bear was. They hadn’t been invented yet. She would hug the dolly ‘er momma had made ‘er when she were a real little girl.

Dusty also didn’t know what gyratin’ meant, but she had a good idea. “Well it ain’t like you’d understand anyhow,” she told ‘im a bit miserably. And she were allowed ta be miserable. All ‘er life she’d only ever tried ta be good at dancin’, but she had awful big shoes ta fill. Her momma was onea the best dancers in Los Avalos. And Dusty’d never been able ta dance. This boy wouldn’t understand that, that were fer sure. No one understand.

And then, just when she were expectin’ another snarky comment, he didn’t do what she’d expected at all. Was ‘e tryin’ ta be nice, kinda? She turned around to face ‘im, real confused. She had no idea what ‘e were tryin’ ta say. Was this some kind o’ strange apology? Or was ‘e just tryin’ ta toughen ‘er up. “I don’t understand,” she told ‘im, soundin’ as confused as she looked. She cocked her head to one side, considerin’ ‘is words. “Are you sayin’ I should slap you?”

[Costin Dracula]

Costin decided that the reason he had faltered for a moment, the reason he had second-guessed himself, was because she was so young. She was obviously not his class, and she probably didn't have the same caliber of bullies surrounding her everywhere she went. It had been in the interest of pursuing a fair interaction that he had given her that last piece of advice...because it just wasn't fun to pick on someone who didn't fight back.

"Well," he hesitated, as he certainly didn't want to be slapped. That hadn't been the cleverest thing to say. "Not necessarily. I'm saying that you shouldn't believe something's true simply because someone comes along and says it. Except in this case, you really are a dreadful dancer. I hope you're not planning to do it with an actual partner anytime soon because you ought to warn him to tie pillows to his feet if you are."

There, that made up for the helpful advice, or at least it should. He was still trying to wrap his mind around her accent - who talked like that, really?

"Do you mind if I ask where you're from?" he inquired. It didn't seem to occur to him that going from openly insulting someone to engaging them in small talk might be odd...but then, a lot of things Costin did were odd to other people and he didn't have the first idea about it.

[Dusty Fae]

If’n Dusty’d known that Costin thought she were young she woulda resented ‘im for it. She weren’t that young. She knew girls back home that married men when they were fifteen or sixteen years old. A lot o’ girls her age were outta school and had plans ta either find a husband or get the heck outta town. There weren’t too many other options. And there were lotsa people who bullied ‘er. She just didn’t snap back at ‘em or nothin’. She just took the abuse and moved on. It’s just how things were fer Dusty.

But she listened while he explained. Well explained and then insulted ‘er! What were this? Shoot down Dusty day or something? Honestly it were startin’ ta feel that way and it made ‘er even more upset and a little bit angry. She huffed and put ‘er fists on ‘er hips. “Who do yah think y’are, comin’ in here like yah own the place and tellin’ me that I cain’t dance? I know I ain’t got the nat’ral talent that some people got, but I’m try’n’ awful hard. You, you’re just mean.” Her accent were a lot stronger when she were upset like this. “You’re a terrible person,” she cried, throwin’ ‘is own words back in ‘is face.

She were a little surprised with ‘erself. She didn’t usually do that, but it felt kinda good ta stand up fer herself, even if’n she were still upset enough ta cry. But then she were a bit taken aback by the boy’s next question. She shouldn’ta said nothin’. She shoulda told ‘im that he may not ask, but in ‘er surprise Dusty said, quietly, “Los Avalos. It’s out West.” Then she cursed ‘erself, ‘cause she weren’t sure she wanted him ta know. What right did he have ta come in here, insult ‘er, then talk to ‘er as if they were havin’ a pleasant conversation this whole time? None. No right at all.

[Costin Dracula]

Back where Costin came from, people essentially did what they wanted. There wasn't much you couldn't get away with in certain systems, so if you were criminally inclined, you usually knew where to go. People married who they wanted to marry, and they were violent if they wanted to be, towards whoever they felt it necessary, and if you didn't want to be killed, you learned how to defend yourself. Or you had vampire fathers no one would mess with, who could teach you at an easier pace than others might have had to learn at.

There it was, a little bit of fire. That was what he'd been waiting for. The slightest trace of a smile crept onto his face, tugging upward at the right corner of his lips, and he folded one arm over the other across his chest. She was right on the money, too. Yes, he was mean. Yes, he was a terrible person...no, he didn't really regret it. He was moderately pleased, however, that he'd gotten her to stand up for herself.

"That's more like it," he said, nodding. Out west, was it? That made a lot of sense, he supposed.

"I could probably have guessed that," he said, contemplatively. "You speak like an ignorant farmhand. Perhaps you could try a little enunciation every now and then?" He had been stalking towards her slowly the whole time he'd been talking, and at that last bit, he lifted a finger and tapped her lips with the very tip of it.

[Dusty Fae]

Dusty didn’t stand up fer herself too often. Most o’ the time she were too passive. She let people walk all over ‘er. She couldn’t help it. If’n she tried ta stand up fer herself, people could and probably would, call ‘er nasty names. So when she did fight back it meant a whole lot.

That’s why she were so confused that this other boy would be so awful to ‘er, then tell ‘er ta stand up fer herself, and then we ‘e insulted ‘er again and she called ‘im a horrible person he seemed pleased. He even almost smiled. She didn’t understand. What kinda person did that? Obviously not the kind o’ person that Dusty’d ever met afore and he musta been off ‘is rocker. That were the only explanation she could think of.

And then ‘e were back ta insultin’ her, but this time ‘e were insultin’ ‘er intelligence. And she weren’t a famhand! She didn’t know the first thing ‘bout farmin’. She knew more ‘bout bein’ a ranch-hand than a farm hand. And he didn’t get ta insult the West! At least it weren’t the like the East with even stricter rules, like ladies had ta have daddies ta be respectable. Not out West.

“Don’t you touch me!” she cried. “And maybe I like the way I talk. I wouldn’t ever wanna talk like you, tht’s fer sure! At least I don’t sound like…” she pause for a second, tryin’ ta think of the right word ta call ‘im. “Like an insufferable Scalawag who think’s he’s so much cleverer than ever’body else. Well yah ain’t! I’m just as clever as anybody! If’n you came out West e’erbody’d call you a greenhorn, but not me! Bet you didn’t know that, huh?” She crossed ‘er arms over her chest angrily. Any madder and she were gonna be madder’n a wet hen. And then she’d really show ‘im!

[Costin Dracula]

Costin thought she was just being stupid now. Why would anyone want to talk the way she talked? He at least talked like he had been nobly bred (if not born)...she talked like...well, like he'd said, like some kind of farmhand. He had to give her credit, though, "insufferable scalawag" was a fairly decent insult. Perhaps there was some intelligence in there after all.

She didn't seem awfully fond of him touching her, that was for sure. Costin could relate to that well enough. Ordinarily, he wouldn't have been the one initiating any sort of physical contact, but it had seemed to fit his point, and it wasn't as if he'd been forced to hug her or cuddle her or anything. And it had accomplished its purpose.

"I have no intention of ever going 'out West,'" he told her calmly. "If everyone there talks like you and insults as poorly as you do, and dances as terribly, I can't say that there is anything in this universe or any other that would possibly interest me in visiting your village or town out West. What do you do out there, anyway? You're too old for school there...and you can't possibly be a professional dancer."

A wet hen? Really? Was she making up these metaphors, or did people where she came from actually talk that way? Either way, Costin thought it was preposterous.

[Dusty Fae]

It were one thing ta insult Dusty. She could take it. She were a big girl. But it were another ta insult the whole of Los Avalos. Dusty were the only one here ta defend the town and that just weren’t fair at all! “Well no body wants yah ta come out West anyhow. We don’t like Greenhorns who think they know more’n we do. And my momma is the best dancer in all of Los Avalos. She can dance really good! Probably better’n you can!”

Dusty were dreadful mad now. But if she weren’t mad then she’d probably be cryin’ and she really didn’t wanna cry here. Not in front o’ this person. He would probably make fun of ‘er or somethin’. “If’n I were back home I’d be graduatin’ from school this year,” she told him hostilely. “And what I do back home ain’t none o’ yer business. I wouldn’t wanna be a professional dancer anyhow!”

She would never wanna be a professional dancer! Never ever! Even if she coulda danced, she’d promised ‘erself a long time ago that she’d never be ‘er momma. Never. Not even if it were that or starvin’ on the streets. She’d take starvin’ on the streets.

Dusty glared at Costin, tryin’ ta keep tears from wellin’ back up in ‘er eyes. She were awful close ta cryin’ again, but she wouldn’t. She would just be angry ‘cause he’d pushed all the right buttons and made ‘er feel terrible. “I hate you!” she cried. And then she did what she’d been tryin’ not to. She burst inta tears and buried ‘er face in ‘er hands.

[Costin Dracula]

Well, really. Costin stared at her, a little taken back by her ridiculous behaviour. He didn't care what kind of dancer her mother was, because it was obvious she hadn't inherited any of that ability anyway. Apparently she didn't want to be a dancer, but if she didn't want to dance on some level, what was she doing practicing it in a dark room by herself? Her logic was flawed, Costin decided.

"You do realise how ridiculous you're being," he said, dispassionately. "Stop crying. Really. It's absurd. Tears should be reserved for things that actually matter, like when someone you love dies, or when someone slaps you across the face hard enough to make your nose bleed. You're wasting your tears on something utterly unimportant. Whatever are you going to do when something awful happens?"

He gave her shoulder a tap, like he could pull her attention away from her hopeless sobbing for a moment.

"See here," he said, looking a little uncomfortable. It was quite difficult to insult someone who was already crying, because there wasn't much farther you could go with it. "Stop that noise. You sound like a train. A really terribly out-of-service train."

[Dusty Fae]

Perfectly absurd? Is that what she were? Well, it showed how much ‘bout girls he knew! Girls were allowed ta cry when their feelins got hurt awful bad. Girls were allowed ta cry whenever they felt like it. They had a good cry and then ever’thin’ were moderately alright.

She looked up at Costin a bit incredulously. Then she brought a hand up ta angrily wipe away the tears that were still continuin’ ta fall. “I told yah not ta touch me,” she told the other boy a little angrily, but really alla the fire had gone clean outta her when she’d started ta cry. “And what would you know ‘bout awful things. I s’pose by the way yah dress yah ain’t ever wanted fer much in yer life. And I don’t sound like a train. I know what trains sound like. They come right through Los Avalos and I most certainly don’t sound like one of ‘em. You are very rude and I don’t like you.”

Dusty turned and grabbed the CD player thing outta her bag and began ta fish around in it, lookin’ fer a handkerchief. There had ta be a handkerchief in there somewhere, there just had ta be! Honest, she musta thrown one in there at some point. But she couldn’t find one anyhow. “By gum,” she muttered. She rested ‘er hands on the desk and closed ‘er eyes, willin’ ‘erself not ta cry.