All That I Ever Loved

The Soul of the City

The story is mostly based on the Disney ver with elements of the book. Also, I will be using the slur gyp*y as little as possible and will be referring to 'gyp*ies' as the name they call themselves, Romani. This book will get a little dark so be warned

translations:

Bibi= aunt  Romni= woman (singular)

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The sun softly shines down onto your rigid form, fingers moving quickly over the smooth wood of the flute, constricting the air and turning it into high pitch whistles. You try to remember the notes of the song, desperate to complete the piece and stop the pain inside your chest. Your lungs burn from the strain of playing for so long, but you have to keep going. How else is La Esmeralda going to have music for her magical dance?

You flicked your eyes over to your sister, a broad smile painted onto her slender face. Gracefully moving her feet in a fast sequence, she dances on the warm cobblestone street, jingling her tambourine in the direction of any onlookers, hoping to lure them into coming closer. Esmeralda looks over to an audience member, a balding middle-aged man with red cheeks and a stream of liquor dribbling out from his rotten mouth. His bloodshot eyes stared lustfully at the young dancer. Esmeralda stopped for a moment; the sunlight glistened against her bronze jewelry as she turned to the drunkard and flipped her shiny black hair over her shoulder to face the man. Winking sweetly in his direction before turning to dance across the pavement. 'He better give us good coin,' you think, glaring at the man lecherously ogling your kin. You resist the urge to sneer at the piggish old man. Drunk perverts are never far from a performance, coming to leer at a woman half their age. You knew Esmeralda felt the same. She's complained to you about it hundreds of times after the performances, hating how the stares seemed to pierce through her. You would always listen to her laments, no matter how much it pained your heart. You had told Esmeralda that she didn't need to dance, that you could find some kind of work and she wouldn't have to deal with perverts anymore! She would always deny your offer, saying that any work you could find would pay pennies, and besides, she loved dancing, it made her happy. It hurt how right she was. Dancing was Esmeralda's pride and joy. The rhythm of her tambourine filled her with life like no other. Esme would be miserable without it, and you both knew it, but you still think you'd prefer the low pay of a back-breaking job to watching your dear sister be harassed by gross men.

Your upper lip twitched at the thought, making your flute admit a lower note than you would have liked. You winced at the scratchy note and focused intensely on controlling your instrument. You swear Djali side-eyed you from his spot beside you as you played louder to hide your mistake. You ignored the rude gaze of the little goat as you focused on the song, playing faster as Esmeralda neared her grand finale. Quicking her pace, colorful skirts whirled and spun around her as she danced quickly on her heels. Twirling back toward the small space behind her, Esmeralda stopped for a moment to gauge the distance of the crowd in front of her before running forward, jumping off the balls of her feet and somersaulting herself into the air. Flipping into the sky before landing gracefully on her feet in front of the cheering audience.

Esmeralda gave a weak bow to the crowd as they tossed coins to the tiny cap placed on the pavement. You watch as the shiny slivers fly through the air and into the hat, most missing and landing on the stone around it. Esmeralda smiled as she saw the many coins clink on the stones. Your lips quirk up, smiling with her as you move to give Djali a little pat on the head, his tiny head rubbing into your hand. As much as the both of you hated performing in the streets, you can't deny how much it supported you. Esmeralda's dances bring good money and a family with full stomachs, and to Esme and you that alone made everything worth the pain. Your eyes slide over to the woman of the hour, watching out for any grabby men as she collects coins from her adoring fans.