Post by Riley Sorsa on Dec 3, 2020 14:55:09 GMT -8
The sounds from the club were muffled by the brick walls of the green room, leaving only the distinct drumming of the bass that felt as if it rippled through the floor. The backstage area was quiet, a handful of women scattered about preparing for their time slot, several were packing their bags for the evening. Everyone was keeping to themselves. Mirrors lined the back wall, separated by small wooden dividers that emerged from the walls. At the far end, in the back corner, was Riley.
The Mirror before them was dimly lit (not ideal for makeup work), by a corona of lightbulbs along its frame. Half of the large tungsten bulbs glass were stained black, burned out, and no one had bothered to replace them. Cluttering the frame of the mirror, tucked between where the glass met the wood was a collage of faces. Photos of dancers throughout the years, pushing back towards the early 90’s. Some of them were still around, others were ghosts of strangers.
These however were not the faces Riley was focused on. They sat one leg up on their chair and arms wrapped around it. Their hair swept to one side, and only their left eye had eyeliner on it before they had been lost to thought. Their attention was fixed upon the two faced reflection in the mirror. They weren't Riley’s face.
The first face was a mask, that of a woman, cropped blonde hair, blue green eyes and thick dark eyebrows. It was a mask that belonged to a young girl from Austin Texas, from a family that couldn't understand her. How could they? She didn't understand herself. That girl became a young, angry, lying woman. Who couldn't face failure, and was desperate to escape. Tonight, that face was not Riley’s. It sat wrong on their bones. It was like a book bound with the wrong cover, suggesting a story that was misleading of its true content. Tonight Riley hated the assumptions this false face conjured for others, it made their stomach twist.
The second face was a private one, at least most everyone in the audience tonight would not see it. It was younger than the first, but as familiar, and as alienating. It’s skin was pale, leached of light. Across this canvas was painted faded geometric patterns, like a beautiful rug, rubbed and worn of its past beauty. Their eyes were pitch black, large, and mirror like. The obsidian pools were highlighted with the corona of the mirrors lights, almost like diluted stars. Crowning their head was two silver feathers antennae. One was erect, straight and full, the other half crooked in the middle like a drunk against a wall.
This face. Felt less a lie, more a poor rendering to Riley. Like a child's attempt to recollect a dream. A shadow of something greater, more beautiful. It was painful to look at, knowing it was more, once. They hated it for that.
It didn't feel this way all the time, most nights were fine even. But tonight it weighed on them, pulling them downwards like drowning. Riley's eyes glanced over the two faces watching their impossible dance of both being real at once. If they focused hard on one face the other manifested softly, out of focus on the peripherals. They could spend hours observing them, trying to place which of these false faces was more real than the other. All the while knowing they were more, or should be more.
It was the light that glowed from within that made Riley certain of this. It was cloaked by their faces, their skin and clothes, but there none the less. An illumination which pulsed with life. They didn't know why, or how, but Riley could never shake the feeling that light held the real them, but it was trapped.
The Darkling raised their hand to their face, running their cold fingers across their cheek. The skin was taught and tight, a sharp pain to the touch. It reminded them of a pimple. The ones they got when they were young, deep and red and never came to a head. They remembered as a teen standing in front of the bathroom mirror pressing them hard , the skin would swell and ooze a clear liquid. The flesh would in time crack and peel, dry and scaly. It was painful, and it hurt more and more they touched it but afterwards the relief from the pain was satisfying.
Riley pressed two fingers against their check, pressing the skin together. It felt, in that moment, that if they pulled, and pulled, and tore. They could pry away that false face, let the light inside ooze from the split skin and swollen pores. Their hand trembled as they squeezed, the flesh beneath growing red with agitation.
“Hey Dallas!” The voice shattered the spell like a rock through a windshield.
Riley’s eyes shot back into focus, their hand pulled away from their face, a small smear of blood smeared beneath the cheek bone.
“You alright?” Asked the young woman by the locker, her brown eyes concerned.
“Uh. Yeah just a small cut. Nothing a little makeup won't fix” Said the moth, turning to gaze over their shoulder at their fellow dancer.
“Okay, your time slots are coming up.”
“Thanks for the reminder”
Riley turned back to the mirror. Their looking back was their two faces. They took a deep breath, reaching down to grab their eyeliner.
The Mirror before them was dimly lit (not ideal for makeup work), by a corona of lightbulbs along its frame. Half of the large tungsten bulbs glass were stained black, burned out, and no one had bothered to replace them. Cluttering the frame of the mirror, tucked between where the glass met the wood was a collage of faces. Photos of dancers throughout the years, pushing back towards the early 90’s. Some of them were still around, others were ghosts of strangers.
These however were not the faces Riley was focused on. They sat one leg up on their chair and arms wrapped around it. Their hair swept to one side, and only their left eye had eyeliner on it before they had been lost to thought. Their attention was fixed upon the two faced reflection in the mirror. They weren't Riley’s face.
The first face was a mask, that of a woman, cropped blonde hair, blue green eyes and thick dark eyebrows. It was a mask that belonged to a young girl from Austin Texas, from a family that couldn't understand her. How could they? She didn't understand herself. That girl became a young, angry, lying woman. Who couldn't face failure, and was desperate to escape. Tonight, that face was not Riley’s. It sat wrong on their bones. It was like a book bound with the wrong cover, suggesting a story that was misleading of its true content. Tonight Riley hated the assumptions this false face conjured for others, it made their stomach twist.
The second face was a private one, at least most everyone in the audience tonight would not see it. It was younger than the first, but as familiar, and as alienating. It’s skin was pale, leached of light. Across this canvas was painted faded geometric patterns, like a beautiful rug, rubbed and worn of its past beauty. Their eyes were pitch black, large, and mirror like. The obsidian pools were highlighted with the corona of the mirrors lights, almost like diluted stars. Crowning their head was two silver feathers antennae. One was erect, straight and full, the other half crooked in the middle like a drunk against a wall.
This face. Felt less a lie, more a poor rendering to Riley. Like a child's attempt to recollect a dream. A shadow of something greater, more beautiful. It was painful to look at, knowing it was more, once. They hated it for that.
It didn't feel this way all the time, most nights were fine even. But tonight it weighed on them, pulling them downwards like drowning. Riley's eyes glanced over the two faces watching their impossible dance of both being real at once. If they focused hard on one face the other manifested softly, out of focus on the peripherals. They could spend hours observing them, trying to place which of these false faces was more real than the other. All the while knowing they were more, or should be more.
It was the light that glowed from within that made Riley certain of this. It was cloaked by their faces, their skin and clothes, but there none the less. An illumination which pulsed with life. They didn't know why, or how, but Riley could never shake the feeling that light held the real them, but it was trapped.
The Darkling raised their hand to their face, running their cold fingers across their cheek. The skin was taught and tight, a sharp pain to the touch. It reminded them of a pimple. The ones they got when they were young, deep and red and never came to a head. They remembered as a teen standing in front of the bathroom mirror pressing them hard , the skin would swell and ooze a clear liquid. The flesh would in time crack and peel, dry and scaly. It was painful, and it hurt more and more they touched it but afterwards the relief from the pain was satisfying.
Riley pressed two fingers against their check, pressing the skin together. It felt, in that moment, that if they pulled, and pulled, and tore. They could pry away that false face, let the light inside ooze from the split skin and swollen pores. Their hand trembled as they squeezed, the flesh beneath growing red with agitation.
Ị̴̚t̷̂̽͜ ̵̣̮̕w̵̦̎̽o̵̦̚ù̷̢l̵̛̺d̷̗̉̀ ̶̬͛b̴̛͍ė̴̢͉ ̵̬̄̊p̴̼͍̓̚a̷̯̓̓ỉ̸̬̝̾n̶̞̋̏f̶͙̂̉ű̶̟̻̽l̶̥̒̍ ̴̢͗́b̵̦̒u̷͚̲͌t̶̰̩̍ ̴̣̿a̴̼̯͒l̸͚̎l̴̪̔ ̸̩̿̑c̵̺̊h̶̼̗̀a̷̳̎͠n̸̳̆͛ǵ̵̺̦e̵̜̹͛̇ ̶̨̳̌w̴̘̓a̶̺̿̔s̴͖̲̈ ̸̯̒p̴͎̠̏̉ȁ̷͍̠͌ì̶̪n̵͉̖̅f̵̢̋̈́ū̶̪̂l̵̜̼̿.̴̥̈́ ̵͖̀ ̵͈̈́
Their nails dogged in, providing leverage to the grasping fingers on their cheek. The pain rose , a sharp stabbing followed by a hot heat across their skin. The pain was a barrier, stopping them, but knew the relief after would be worth it. A drop of blood pooled up under their nail from the splitting pores. “Hey Dallas!” The voice shattered the spell like a rock through a windshield.
Riley’s eyes shot back into focus, their hand pulled away from their face, a small smear of blood smeared beneath the cheek bone.
“You alright?” Asked the young woman by the locker, her brown eyes concerned.
“Uh. Yeah just a small cut. Nothing a little makeup won't fix” Said the moth, turning to gaze over their shoulder at their fellow dancer.
“Okay, your time slots are coming up.”
“Thanks for the reminder”
Riley turned back to the mirror. Their looking back was their two faces. They took a deep breath, reaching down to grab their eyeliner.