Awakening

5. 1900

Russia was cold. Morgana couldn't help but look on the bleak landscape with disgust. She missed the golden sun, the warm nights, the sweet air of her home. Everything was sharp and cold, and stone. She was happy to be dancing with The Academy, but she was constantly reminded of her abnormal height, and rear her complexion was too dark to be a true Principal. Since arriving in Russia, Morgana had spent most of her time alone.

"Hola Señorita," a deep male voice addressed her, speaking Spanish with a slight Russian accent.

Morgana turned to see a man who matched her in height, but broad where she was slim and pale where she was tanned. "Buenas Noches Señor" Morgana replied in her own Argentinian pronunciation. She nodded to him and he gave her a knowing smile.

"You are beautiful." He said, his Spanish was not bad. Morgana, starved for memories of her home instantly forgave his strangeness.

"Gracias Señor." Morgana said. She resumed walking, returning to her dorm at the school. It was just starting to get dark and she didn't want to risk missing dinner.

"Do you dance with the Bolshoi?" He asked, reverting to Russian. Morgana understood only little Russian, but managed to grasp the question.

She laughed. "It is my dream." She replied in broken Russian.

"Your name?" He asked.

"Morgana." She responded, the way he looked at her made her warm. She latched on to this strangers kindness and attention, after months of feeling isolated. She was nearly at the Academy now, the stranger had followed her at a comfortable distance, speaking to her softly and kindly. She smiled back at him as she came to the front step. "And your name?" She asked.

He smiled and pressed a finger to his lips. "We will meet again after you dance with The Bolshoi." He bowed and turned on his heel to leave. Morgana stood in the doorway, watching the tall man walk away without a glance back.

-----

"Morgana, We'd like to offer you a position in the Corps." The choreographer for the Bolshoi smiled as he stood, arms crossed in the corner of the practice room.

Morgana grinned, her skin glowing with perspiration, her dark hair sticking to her face and neck. Her audition had been worth placing her as a soloist, but she was happy to get a place in the corps. She bowed and thanked the choreographer and he grimaced in response. She tried not to read into it, her stomach fluttered with excitement. After a year and a half spent at the Academy, finally a position with the Bolshoi. She had thought she'd be sent back to Argentina, too tall, too dark to even be a soloist in Russia, and yet... She sighed and giggled to herself as she made her way out of the Bolshoi Theatre.

"Congratulations." A man at the bottom step of the theatre. He held a bouquet of roses. and offered them to her with a bow.

"You," She said. "From the other night outside of the Academy." Morgana said, numbly accepting the roses. "Did you have something to do with this?" Her stomach sunk, had all her hard work been bypassed by this strange man who guaranteed her spot in the company? Morgana's fine features contorted into a deadly glare.

The man laughed. "I told them to give you an audition, but you got in on your own." He smiled with large white teeth and raised an eyebrow at her.

Morgana clutched at the roses and stormed down the street.

"Morgana, Are you not excited?" He asked.

She took a deep breath and turned to face the tall man. "Who are you?" She asked, staring up into his pale face.

"My name is Draven, and I hope we can become friends." He held out his hand to shake hers. She placed her golden hand in his, I smiled as he planted a firm kiss on the delicate skin on the inside of her wrist.

Morgana yanked her hand away. "I do not know about that, Sir." She snapped.

"You will, Mi Pedacito de Cielo" He said giving her one last smile. "You will do wonderfully with the Bolshoi, I look forward to seeing you in their next performance." He bowed and left her on her own.