The Spinners: The test

[fairytaleknight]

"Straighten up. Now I have to put you to the test."

Fakir gets to his feet, his eyes still on the family tree Autor showed him. I'm a descendant of Drosselmeyer? A direct descendant?

My ancestry is not the point.

"I'm ready," says Fakir. "Test me."

Comments

[herr_bookman]

--

If Autor were awake and could read Fakir's thoughts, he'd chide him for focusing on a silly thing like girls--especially that girl, honestly!--even when his own mind wanders horribly during these rites. But Autor is asleep, and he sleeps until mid-morning, as he missed the night before.

The boy stretches, groggily combing his fingers through his hair. He finds his glasses on the table next to the couch and dons them, blinking blearily as his eyes adjust.

Autor heads to the restroom to wash his face, and then crosses to the desk to pour a glass of water for Fakir out of the pitcher. "Break time," he says, offering him the glass. "You're almost there."

[fairytaleknight]

Fakir doesn't waste energy on nodding, or thanking Autor, or even making a sound. Instead he takes the water cup and drinks very slowly: a swallow, a breath, a swallow, another breath. There's a dizzy blackness at the edge of his vision. But he's still standing, with thirteen hours to go.

The walk to and from the bathroom hurts. Fakir's blistered feet will need attention when this is over. (If there's one thing the ballet school is stocked with, it's medication for blistered feet.)

When he returns, Fakir says nothing to Autor. He's beyond words and beyond memories; his mind, at last, is clear and empty, a blank page beside a sealed ink bottle.

[herr_bookman]

Autor recognizes the state he's in, having been in something like it himself. He carries the glass back to the desk and makes himself a cup of tea.

He's done well, Autor thinks, allowing himself the thought. Very well. He can finish the test at the oak tree and then... What if he hears its voice?

The boy nervously glances to Fakir. Well. I've heard it, too. He might hear a sigh, perhaps. Perhaps.

Autor sips his tea, comforted by the fact that he'll be the one in control of Fakir's tests.