audette rousseau

A warm, knowing sort of simper touched the sweetheart lips of the sweet ballerina. Oh, how she knew that blissful look! The very sort of glimpse surely crossed Audette's own features anytime she considered those tender years she'd spent within the care of her very first instructor, much less her first year enrolled within the Opéra national de Paris. She had been eight at the time, surely not much older than the dreaming child that stood before her with sunlight glistening off her pale golden locks. Her own clove colored eyes watched with intense speculation as the child took center stage, moving with the fluid grace of one who had taken some sort of official schooling. Audette's attention was nothing short of astute to the fae as she danced with such glee, her hair all but whipping in the wake of those tight turns of her slender body. Audette was ecstatic, truly, to find any sole who took such delight within her own art. Although it was unlikely that the child might pursue such a passion into her adulthood, as so few children do, Audette treasured those tender years in which such dreams existed all the same. It was in their youth they enjoyed the simple pleasure of dancing before they became jaded with aspirations and the money and hardships of the professional dancing world. How she had missed this.

That sweet giggle upon Maeve's lips was all but infectious, as Audette's own ready laughter joined her. She was nothing short of pleased, however, her hands clasping in front of her in visible joy of that mock performance she had been given. That small curtsy only furthered Audette's applause, the young woman nothing but determined to further foster those sweet dreams of the child. She was almost unsurprised by the girl's whispered words of, one day, becoming a true ballerina upon those great stages that Audette herself had danced. Oh, if only Maeve knew of just what an undertaking it was! Particularly of a child of her socioeconomic status. Her resume, of sorts, was often looked upon as astutely as any ballerina's physical capability. Audette had been blessed that her parents had been as willing to embrace in her dream as they had, even if the salary of a Ballerina rarely outweighed the sheer cost of all they had invested. Her admittance that Maeve would surely need to work hard, however, hardly seemed to dissuade the child in the slightest as she was presented with a wide, warm simper. That enthusiasm was endearing and yet, Audette was hardly the type to shy away from such an offer. Her head bobbed quite readily, "I would love to come see you dance, mon cher!" She declared, altogether genuine in her own glee. "Do you take lessons somewhere now?" Perhaps visiting the child's dance class might be a nice...escape, when the pressures of her own world threatened to dull the beauty of her own art.

It was only once those introductions were made that Audette extended an offer of her own. The Nutcracker would be her second official dance with her new ballet company, the girl lucky enough to secure some role of noteworthiness. She was hardly oblivious that her company was providing her a singular opportunity. It was a chance to show them what she was capable of, with all those remarkable names that had so assisted in shaping and fostering the ballerina. That joy with which her offer was accepted, however, caused Audette to nod her head ever so slightly. "I will make sure tickets are waiting for you at the front booth then. The show is at seven on the twenty-first, oui? Don't be late!" Audette hardly anticipated that the very mention of that ballet, however, might produce yet another uttered dream from Maeve's lips. A warm smile crossed her fair features, however, in response. "I will look forward to maybe dancing with you next year, Maeve." The French woman uttered, hardly doubting the child in her capabilities, as competitive as such a role was. What Audette didn't anticipate, however, was the girl's sudden step forward, her small fingers tugging lightly upon her shirt. The ballerina slowly shifted downwards, her head tilted in a small glimpse of inquisitiveness. Those whispered words caught her entirely off guard as her clove colored irises glanced curiously at the petite child. Her head shook ever so slightly, "No, I can't say I do." She uttered, entirely oblivious of just how false her words were, those gossamer wings had yet to extrude from her pale physic and yet, somewhere, in the depths of all she might one day be capable of, those very appendages lay dormant.