Dancing on Strings

Forever and Always

Finally he took a seat on the armchair to her left, stretching out his long legs then resting one ankle on the opposite knee, slouching in his chair as he held up a hand.

One of the birds flitted down and, as soon as he closed his hand around it, it stopped moving, like it had turned off.

He flipped open the lid of a small box on the table beside Mai's cup and drew out a dainty screwdriver, wherein he turned his attention to the little creation in his hand and began to work on it, carefully taking bits away and adding new, tiny, delicate parts and details while Mai stared at the fire for a long, long time until her tears dried away.

Finally she looked towards what he was doing, glancing at the little birds that sat on the table or on the back of his chair, also watching his process on their companion.

"Rabbit."

"Griffin."

"Did you make them?" she asked, her voice quiet even in the silence.

"I made them," The Black— Griffin said, without looking up.

"Why?"

He smiled slightly. "It was something I used to do before I took on this lifestyle. After I started doing this, I used my knowledge of making such creations to make the marionettes you saw in the other tent."

"You're sure you don't know what I mean by the dream palace?" she muttered.

His lifted his head slightly, like he was looking at her from under the brim of his hat.

"I saw them," she said, looking at one of the birds that hopped over to examine her drink. "In the palace. Just like I saw you there. I never saw them before tonight, why would I just imagine up mechanical birds?"

He watched her for a moment, his expression unreadable before his attention dropped again.

"When did your sisters disappear?" he asked instead, carefully turning the bird.

Mai looked away. "Some time during the show," she said. "Well... I assume. As far as I know, they were locked in their rooms until a few hours ago."

"Under guard?"

"Under guard."

They lapsed into silence for a time, Mai watching the fire flicker.

"Where did they go?" she muttered.

Griffin didn't answer, just changed the little sapphire eye for a ruby one.

"Is this what you meant?"

"Meant?"

"When you apologised for what you were going to do to me?"

Once again he was quiet and eventually she looked at him. His gaze was already lowering by the time she looked his way.

"No," he muttered.

She looked at him. "So you really are—"

"I can't talk about it, Mai," he said, and his voice was hard and cutting, like a knife slicing through the air, narrowly missing slashing her cheek.

She stared at him and he carefully set the bird on the table where it shook itself out and hopping away.

He interlinked his fingers and settled them on his waist, settling back in his seat as he looked at her.

"Ask the Griffin inside your dreams if you want answers," he said simply, looking at her. Then his mouth quirked in a small smirk. "But don't ask The Black Rabbit."