Break a Horn / Fantoccio X Reader

7 / Settled In

"And this—! Is where you'll be staying," Fantoccio gestured to the messy, spare dressing area, "there's no mattresses here, so make do with the costumes in that closet over the— No! Wait! Let me look through that," he interrupted himself, quickly floating to the closet and shuffling through the hangers.

Occasionally, he would let out a giggle and pull back a costume, loudly reminiscing on the part he played before throwing it behind him.

In the end, he cleaned out the entire closet, "oh Shakespeare, there doesn't seem to be anything you can use as a mattress... hm... use your own clothes, they're unfashionable as it is anyway."

"Pick up those costumes—with care! And bring them to my dressing room, stagehand," Fantoccio ordered. You followed his orders like a worthless dog, gathering up the articles of clothing and getting scolded if you accidentally folded one.

What a dick.

Once you've hung up the costumes in his closet, numerically ordered by the order of the plays he'd used them in, he dismissed you. Before you could go to your room, however, you uttered a 'goodnight' to the puppet to try and get on his good side.

He seemed to have taken the simple words strangely, and his eyes darted across the room as his mouth opened and closed. "I... err... good... goodnight...?" He responded, looking awkward.

You guessed he wasn't used to interaction, seeing that he was all alone in the theater. You nodded and left.

While laying on the hardwood floor, you thought about Aristotle, and what he would think when he found out that you're probably not returning to the real world. Your heart ached at the thought of Aristotle believing that you were dead.

You told yourself that what you were doing was correct. There was no way you could storm the crazed village yourself, you would, unfortunately, need Fantoccio's help, which he was unwilling to give. You pulled off your coat, wrapping it around you like a blanket.

"Maybe... this won't be so bad for now... at least I have another person here, maybe we could get along eventually," you coped with the idea.

Then you started panicking on the more important things, like what you would eat. Fantoccio probably didn't eat normal food, if he even ate at all, and any food in the village was bound to be spoiled. If you were going to die, you would rather be killed by the cursed villagers than of starvation.

"No! No! Stop thinking about death, you will live!" You thought desperately, hugging your body closer and slipping your coat over your head, "for now, be nice to Fantoccio. Your friendship with him would be your only chance in getting your life back together."

///

You didn't even realize you fell asleep. When you sat up, your neck was in agony from the uncomfortable floor.

You could hear faint shouts and bumps from the stage, so you decide to check it out.

As you reached the stage, you noticed Fantoccio there, dressed in some kind of knight armor, swinging a sword around in a calculated manner, as if he were actually engaged in a battle.

He would occasionally lean backwards as if he were dodging, hopping from one foot to the other, and using his sword to block the opponent's attacks.

In a weird way, it was kind of charming to see.

"Inspecting me now, aren't you?" He suddenly spoke.

You jumped ever-so slightly, "huh? Oh, I just woke up and heard noises, I thought you were getting attacked."

"I'm not surprised you were fooled, my acting skills are quite veristic," he buttered himself up, grinning.

"Yeah... did you need me for anything?" You asked. He stuck his sword into the hardwood stage and hummed with a finger on his chin, "well... not right now. But! It would do me good if you sat with the audience and gave a thorough review of my most recent show."

You headed towards the seats, which you were shocked to see were filled by cardboard standouts of people, faces drawn with black marker.

For a second, you turned back to the stage to ask if you could move one of the cardboard people to take their spot, but found that the curtains were already drawn, and Fantoccio was gone.

You moved one cardboard person and took its seat, awaiting Fantoccio's show to begin. From the backstage, you heard him shout, "act one, scene one!"

"When shall we three meet again, in thunder, lightning, or rain?" He said. The curtains opened, revealing Fantoccio dressed in a witch's outfit, speaking to two prop witches around a fake, dead tree.

"When the hurlyburly's done, when the battle's lost and won," said another voice. You looked around, there were no other people speaking, Fantoccio's mouth wasn't even moving, either.

"That will be ere the set of sun," said another voice, completely sounding different than the other. "Where the place?" Asked Fantoccio. "Upon the hearth," said the second voice. "There to meet with Macbeth!" said the third voice.

Suddenly, Fantoccio stood up straight, raising his arm and speaking in a loud, clear voice, "I come, Graymalkin!"

All three voices mixed together, speaking as one, further confusing you. "Fair is foul, and foul is fair. Hover through the fog and filthy air."

Then, Fantoccio did a slight bow, walking away while exclaiming, "exeunt," as he slipped into the backstage. However, he came right back out, dressed in his normal clothes, shockingly enough, "grand spectacle, was it not?"

You nodded, "it was good, but what were those voices? Some kind of speaker?"

He smirked, "you mean me? Ventriloquism, my petite chérie. Impressed, I presume?"

Your mouth was agape at the admission, "wow, that's actually really cool." "I'm aware," Fantoccio replied in a way that made it sound like a fact.

"Seriously. Why haven't you tried this talent out in the real world? You would be famous," you pushed. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to flatter him, only make him look down silently before he changed the subject about his next scene.

Despite his bossiness and his taste for being in the spotlight 24/7, you found the act genuinely entertaining, and deserving of recognition. Dare you say... it left you wanting more of the play.