[#050, Time Travel] Smoke and Mirrors
Challenge Name and Number: #050, Time Travel
Title: Smoke and Mirrors
Word Count: 600
Warnings: None.
Pairings: Delusionshipping: PandoraxCatherine, takes place pre-canon.
Summary: Everything is an illusion, and Pandora knows this best of all. If only his life would be the dream that it once was-but that’s magic, real magic, like holding the moon in your hands when it belongs in the sky.
.
Smoke and Mirrors
.
"Each man kills the thing he loves"
--Oscar Wilde
.
.
We're living a dream.
The sounds of clapping and cheering filled the theatre.
We’re living in a dream.
The audience was on their feet, applauding the show. Onstage, Pandora bowed, motioning to Catherine to join him. Everything had gone perfectly, though it had seemed to pass so quickly-except now, facing the crowd. That moment stretched on in waves, pulses of applause.
It was a peculiarity of the lights that he couldn’t make out any of their faces.
“Do you remember when you asked me to marry you?” Catherine asked one evening after a show as she removed her stage makeup. “We were on the rooftop of the theatre and you said you could take the moon down from the sky and bring it into my hands.” As she moved her hand, the opal setting of the ring shimmered.
He had made that illusion into reality. “I remember,” he said, smiling at the memory.
“Were you nervous?”
“Of course I wasn’t.” Pandora had yet to change out of his costume; while the show’s final moments were his favorite time, afterwards he was struck with a sadness he couldn’t explain. “Besides, if you’d said no I would have just gone backwards and kept asking until you’d said yes.”
“Back in time? Another illusion?” She wiped away the lipstick but he could tell she was smiling at him. Slowly, he walked over to the clock hanging on the wall and turned the hands until they’d joined together, one overlapping the other.
“Exactly, my dear.”
The applause came in waves, louder and louder, and from the edge of the stage, looking out into the theatre, yawning and dark, he thought he saw her. That was impossible, it had to be, and as he tried to find something to say-anything, from curses to apologies-he found that his lips just wouldn’t form the words. Stumbling forward, he thought he would reach out to her but the roar in his ears was just too much, and their hands might have passed through each other, overlapping for only a moment, but he was falling and then-
he was awake, the applause nothing but the drone behind blinking, unchanging digital numbers.
.Pandora had covered each mirror with large swaths of white fabric that made the house feel ancient, like he’d only just moved in and not gotten around to unpacking the last boxes. With the windows open-he did like to feel sunshine, occasionally-sometimes they would ripple in the breeze, the movement catching the corners of his eyes. It was only when one corner billowed upwards, revealing a peek of silvery sheen underneath, that he would slam the windows back downwards and lunge to hold down the fabric, eyes tightly shut and heartbeat racing, counting out each second.
He wouldn’t perform any more tricks-there was a grander illusion waiting for him. It went off perfectly every time, although it seemed to pass so quickly; soon he was there, walking to the spotlight at the front of the stage. He squinted upwards at the smooth round light and thought that if only he could reach it, he could bring it down from the sky and into his hands. He was so high up already that he could feel the wind caressing his face and playing at his hair. The moon was so bright and full of life and promise, and he knew he could clasp his hands around it if only he stretched a bit further. His hand trembled, his balance wavering, but he reached out, he did it, and then-
he was awake.
Title: Smoke and Mirrors
Word Count: 600
Warnings: None.
Pairings: Delusionshipping: PandoraxCatherine, takes place pre-canon.
Summary: Everything is an illusion, and Pandora knows this best of all. If only his life would be the dream that it once was-but that’s magic, real magic, like holding the moon in your hands when it belongs in the sky.
.
Smoke and Mirrors
.
"Each man kills the thing he loves"
--Oscar Wilde
.
.
We're living a dream.
The sounds of clapping and cheering filled the theatre.
We’re living in a dream.
The audience was on their feet, applauding the show. Onstage, Pandora bowed, motioning to Catherine to join him. Everything had gone perfectly, though it had seemed to pass so quickly-except now, facing the crowd. That moment stretched on in waves, pulses of applause.
It was a peculiarity of the lights that he couldn’t make out any of their faces.
“Do you remember when you asked me to marry you?” Catherine asked one evening after a show as she removed her stage makeup. “We were on the rooftop of the theatre and you said you could take the moon down from the sky and bring it into my hands.” As she moved her hand, the opal setting of the ring shimmered.
He had made that illusion into reality. “I remember,” he said, smiling at the memory.
“Were you nervous?”
“Of course I wasn’t.” Pandora had yet to change out of his costume; while the show’s final moments were his favorite time, afterwards he was struck with a sadness he couldn’t explain. “Besides, if you’d said no I would have just gone backwards and kept asking until you’d said yes.”
“Back in time? Another illusion?” She wiped away the lipstick but he could tell she was smiling at him. Slowly, he walked over to the clock hanging on the wall and turned the hands until they’d joined together, one overlapping the other.
“Exactly, my dear.”
The applause came in waves, louder and louder, and from the edge of the stage, looking out into the theatre, yawning and dark, he thought he saw her. That was impossible, it had to be, and as he tried to find something to say-anything, from curses to apologies-he found that his lips just wouldn’t form the words. Stumbling forward, he thought he would reach out to her but the roar in his ears was just too much, and their hands might have passed through each other, overlapping for only a moment, but he was falling and then-
he was awake, the applause nothing but the drone behind blinking, unchanging digital numbers.
.Pandora had covered each mirror with large swaths of white fabric that made the house feel ancient, like he’d only just moved in and not gotten around to unpacking the last boxes. With the windows open-he did like to feel sunshine, occasionally-sometimes they would ripple in the breeze, the movement catching the corners of his eyes. It was only when one corner billowed upwards, revealing a peek of silvery sheen underneath, that he would slam the windows back downwards and lunge to hold down the fabric, eyes tightly shut and heartbeat racing, counting out each second.
He wouldn’t perform any more tricks-there was a grander illusion waiting for him. It went off perfectly every time, although it seemed to pass so quickly; soon he was there, walking to the spotlight at the front of the stage. He squinted upwards at the smooth round light and thought that if only he could reach it, he could bring it down from the sky and into his hands. He was so high up already that he could feel the wind caressing his face and playing at his hair. The moon was so bright and full of life and promise, and he knew he could clasp his hands around it if only he stretched a bit further. His hand trembled, his balance wavering, but he reached out, he did it, and then-
he was awake.