𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐀! claude de alger obelia

prologue

[english isn't my first language]
[ tw : passing out? idk lol ]

On a bitterly cold night in the heart of France, an ethereal atmosphere descended upon the world. The air itself seemed to shiver, mirroring the impending fate that awaited her. This night held the weight of significance, for within its embrace, she would surrender herself entirely to the dance.

Y/N, a dancer of remarkable grace and passion, had recently received a devastating diagnosis. A relentless disease had taken residence within her body, cruelly dictating her future. Its relentless grip threatened to strip away her ability to walk, robbing her of the very essence that defined her existence - the art of dance.

The news had shattered her world, plunging her into an abyss of despair. Dance had always been her sanctuary, a place where she could transcend reality and soar into realms untouched by sorrow. Yet now, this sanctuary itself had become a cruel illusion, a haunting reminder of what was slipping away.

Stepping into the darkness of the stage, her heart fluttered with anticipation, mingled with a profound sense of melancholy. As the spotlight gradually found its mark, illuminating the emptiness before her, she assumed her position. A solitary figure, bathed in a radiant glow, poised to enact a tragic tale.

The music began, a haunting melody that resonated deep within her soul. It whispered of longing, of fleeting beauty, and of the inevitability of mortality. With a hidden smile that danced across her thoughts, she prepared to embody the essence of The Dying Swan.

Her body moved with a delicate precision, each movement an eloquent portrayal of her inner turmoil. She twisted and turned, limbs flailing like a wounded bird, mirroring the plight of the dying swan. Through her graceful performance, she sought solace in the likeness between her own plight and that of the avian creature.

In her mind's eye, she envisioned herself as the swan, locked in a battle against the relentless grip of death. She empathized with the confusion that flickered in the creature's eyes, the desperate struggle to cling to life. With every pirouette and arabesque, she sought to channel her own defiance, her determination to persevere against an unyielding fate.

The dance unfolded with a foreboding sense of fatalism, the narrative of her own life unraveling before the mesmerized audience. The exquisite yet agonizing movements conveyed the bittersweet symphony of her existence. Each step, each leap, held within it a profound sense of farewell, a mournful adieu to a world that was slipping away.

As the final notes of the music faded into the abyss, a profound stillness settled over the stage. The audience, captivated by the raw emotion that had permeated the air, held their breath in collective reverence. Y/N stood there, a figure bathed in the remnants of her performance, a testament to the spirit that had surged through her veins.

It was a night that etched itself into the annals of time, a night when the boundaries between art and reality blurred. Through the medium of dance, Y/N had transcended her own limitations, weaving a tapestry of beauty amidst the starkness of her impending paralysis. And though the specter of her fate loomed darkly, for that fleeting moment, she had danced with a fervor and an intensity that would forever linger in the hearts of those who bore witness.

The audience, awestruck by her vulnerability and strength, rose to their feet in a standing ovation. Tears mingled with applause as they expressed their admiration, gratitude, and deep empathy for the dancer who had bared her soul on the stage.

Basking in the warmth of their appreciation, Y/N gracefully acknowledged their accolades with a gentle bow. The weight of her exertion settled upon her, mingling with the bittersweet triumph that coursed through her veins. She made her way backstage, each step an attestation to the resilience she had displayed.

Retiring to her dressing room, she closed the door behind her, seeking solace within the confines of the familiar space. The room enveloped her like a comforting embrace, offering a momentary respite from the world outside. Exhausted but fulfilled, she sank onto a plush velvet chair, her breaths gradually slowing.

Yet, as the silence settled, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over her. Her surroundings blurred, and a profound weariness seeped into her bones. Shadows danced at the edges of her vision, merging with the dimly lit room. In that fleeting moment of vulnerability, she succumbed to the darkness that beckoned.

Her consciousness slipped away, a fragile swan succumbing to the weight of its own frailty. Within the solitude of her room, she lay suspended in a state between dreams and reality, the world now oblivious to her fading presence. The night that had promised both triumph and despair had claimed its toll, casting her into a deep slumber where uncertainty and fragility intertwined.

In the silence of that dimly lit room, her form lay still, the echo of her final dance lingering in the air. Outside, the world continued its relentless march, unaware of the spirit that now clung to the edges of existence. And as the night wore on, a profound hush settled over the theater, embracing the sleeping dancer who had dared to dance with all her heart.