The Sacrosanct Ballet.

The buttermilk haired fae child had of course heard about them before even arriving in Sacrosanct, the petite girl having been an avid follower of ballet since she could read, even before that she would look at the pictures, memorizing the shape of each of the names of the companies. Many times she had been able to make her way into ballet company performances and she would simply sit there in awe as she watched the dancers move across the stage with such beauty and grace she could not help but be captivated by their movements as her heart stirred with the promise to herself that one day she would move across the stage like so. And so every time she would put that hair of liquid morning sunshine into a bun and spends hours at the ballet barre perfect her technique down to the smallest of details, she would think of those performers and their beauty, and remember how they started right where she was, plie, after plie, tondu, after tondu, hours spent stretching and stretching, to get to that stage one day and deliver a flawless performance for the audiences to love.

The pale, lithe child with those delicately pointed ears had seen children in performances before, performing on pointe shoes Maeve had just started wearing last year. The golden haired child had a dream to play Clara in the Nutcracker at Christmas time, but having moved so often from foster home to foster home, she never had the opportunity. Well, she had, come this Christmas, it would have been two Christmases ago.

She had gone to school, her dance bag accompanying her because she knew she was not going home after class, but to audition at a large ballet company. The creamy haired child had everything in er dance bag she would need, her ballet flats, pointe shoes, black leotard, pink tights, hair ties, and bobby pins. The essential audition kit. Maeve had rushed out after class with hardly a glance backwards as the pale faerie ran down the halls of her school while attempting to put on her jacket before putting her light golden hair into a bun, an act that was as easy for Maeve at that point as walking. She then hopped on a city bus and made her way downtown to the studio where auditions would be held as she placed a final bobby pin in her golden hair.

After arriving at the studio Maeve hurried into the changing rooms, pulling on pink tights, inspecting them to make sure there were no runs in them. She wiggles into her black leotard, pulling it up far enough to show her rather petite frame, and her short torso, longer legs, the perfect ballerina body it would seem. The creamy haired child then puts on her ballet flats as the audition noticed had instructed they would begin with ballet flats before putting on pointe shoes. Golden haired Maeve then went into the studio room where dozens of other children around her age sat outside all with wishful thoughts within their heads that they would play the part of Clara. Their dreams no smaller than Maeve's own. But the difference between Maeve and the other children is that the fae child with liquid gold hair pulled back into a perfect ballet bun, were that most of them seemed to be accompanied by their parents, while Maeve stood alone, as she so often was during her short life thus far.

But she could not let that bother her, not now when the stakes were so high the blonde could hardly keep her heart from racing within her petite chest. When the group of ballet students who most likely seemed to be auditioning for the sugar plum fairy (a part Maeve hoped to one day play when she grew taller and aged a bit older) Maeve's group was invited to come each, each of them receiving a number as they entered. Maeve was number 5, and perhaps that day, it would be the lucky number. The golden haired girl looked around the room and realized she was a good deal smaller than most of the girls, due to the faerie blood within her, this would be Maeve's fate for the rest of her life. The pale girl then faced those strange violet eyes to the front of the room as the man and woman conducting the audition began to speak.

The blonde performed a series of moves at the ballet barre and then in the middle of the floor they performed a series of routines. They even had to improve for a few eight counts, something that still new to the young Maeve. Then, it was time to put on their pointe shoes which Maeve did eagerly. They would teach one last routine, and each child would perform the routine as a solo so the man and woman were able to get a good look at the children and their talents. Maeve found the routine beautiful, but challenging, though it wasn't anything the child couldn't handle. As she began to dance, any nerves floating away like a drifting cloud on a summer's day, purple eyes flared with a passion for her art as she shifts her weight from one foot to the next, feeling weightless as she leaped into the air, and boundless as she turned on top of her tip toes. And the audition faded away, just a little girl dancing remained.

The golden haired girl had finished the audition and all there had been was the waiting, and the waiting, but finally the man and woman called the creamy haired girl back into the room, which of course Maeve did with much enthusiasm, those multifaceted eyes bright with a child's curiosity. They told the fae child that they thought she would be the perfect Clara for the Nutcracker, they also asked where her parents were, so that they could discuss the rehearsal schedule. Which is when Maeve told them, shyly, that she was a foster child and that her foster parents had not known she came to the audition. Hardly able to get the words out due to the excitement wriggling in her petite chest.

Sounds like a happy story, right?
Spoiler: Maeve never was able to perform in the Nutcracker, she never even got to go to the first rehearsal.

Having a family of sorts had given Maeve the opportunity to finally dress in clothes that were not too large, nor too faded, or ripped, or stained. But brand new clothes that she didn't have to steal or use her powers of persuasion to get. She was dressed in light wash skinny jeans, a white shirt with black stripes on the sleeves, and a new pair of red converse. Maeve had pulled her long, pale golden hair into a pony tail and of course she had admired herself in the mirror before leaving, she finally looked just like any other normal little girl. Minus the striking, violet eyes, the way her cheek bones were almost sharper than the average eight year old, and the delicately pointed ears exposed by her choice of hairstyle for the day. But the golden haired child smiles regardless as she hangs upside down on the monkey bars at the park in the south side of town.

And just as a gentle and melodic laughter touches her pale lips, Maeve spots someone moving past the playground. She passes with golden hair, and despite the fae child never having seen this woman before, there is almost something...familiar, or maybe it was comfortable about her. Maeve reaches her small hands up to the bar and flips off of it, landing softly on the ground. She knows she shouldn't follow a stranger, that it could prove to be dangerous. Even from someone as harmless seeming as the blonde woman. Still, all of Maeve's friends here in Sacrosanct had started as strangers, so what really was the harm? Quietly and with as much stealth as an eight year old could harbor, she follows the woman to a gazebo. Patches of flowers stand around outside the covering, and Maeve darts into them, quick so as for the woman to not spot the fairy. Violet eyes grow wide with admiration as the woman begins to dance, an almost dreamy look coming over the small girl. She watches as the woman turns, graceful and beautiful, and it surprises Maeve when she sees she is wearing sneakers, not pointe shoes and her curiosity can no longer be contained. She steps away from the flower patch and moves to the entrance of the gazebo, question falling from her lips before there is even a moment to settle herself, or make her presence known. "Your relevé, it's perfect," the child says in those too high soprano tones, as she watches the woman with satellite dish eyes as her mouth curls into a shy, quaint smile.