Masquerade Ballet

Six

A/N: Hey guys! Happy Halloween! I wanted to get this chapter finished sooner, but due to school, rushing to finish a costume, and trying to find the will to do anything, I decided to hold on to it for a little while as a Halloween surprise. There's literally nothing scary in this chapter, but costumes are kinda Halloween-y, right? Also, should make like a ballet index to help with understanding what I'm talking about with like pictures or something???

"Hello?" I called, ducking around the fabric and ribbon that seemed to be stuck to any open wall (or ceiling) space. 

"Yes! You must be Marinette!" A petite woman greeted, sticking her head out from behind a shelf of sequins and rhinestones. Her fire truck red hair was cut in a short bob with random strands of black emerging from the depths of crimson. She smiled, then disappeared momentarily. "One second, just have to find my measuring tape," she sang. 

When she reappeared, she held a collection of safety pins in her mouth, a pencil behind her ear, a clipboard tucked under one arm, and a measuring tape hanging from her neck. Taking the safety pins from her mouth, she looked up at me and grinned. "I'm Tikki, and I will be your personal costume fairy." She stuck out a hand and I shook it. "Today you will have to wear only a mask because I haven't even started on your costume. I asked Mme. Gertrude to give me some time before rehearsals started, but she insisted we start now. Arms up please," she asked as she wound the measuring tape around my waist. She hummed lightly as she measured and jotted down numbers. 

"I don't think we've met before... Are you new here?" I pondered, placing my arms at my side as she measured their length. 

"You could say that," she answered, smiling to herself. "I've been here for a while, but they seem to be keeping me hidden, huh?" 

"Oh. Have you sewn other Ladybug costumes?" 

"Oh yes. In fact, I'm one of the most requested seamstresses for this production. When your director, M. Fu, lets me out of here, I usually take the jobs." 

"Who is M. Fu? I thought Mme. Gertrude was our director," I explained. 

"Ah, M. Fu used to work here years ago. But he wanted to come back for this production. Mme. Gertrude is the choreographer." 

Nodding, I followed her as she beckoned me to venture deeper into the sewing room. She was wearing billowy red shorts with black polka dots that resembled a ladybug, (which I found humorous,) and black thigh-high socks. Her heeled ankle boots did nothing to aid her height, and her black shirt was tucked into her shorts. Overall, she looked like the adorable, trendy college student we all aspired to be, even though she had to have been older than that. I liked Tikki so far; she seemed sweet and caring, almost motherly. I was going to be sad to see her go at the end of the show. 

She was on a step stool now, rummaging through a closet and holding up random tutus. She held up a romantic length, closed one eye, scrutinized me, then hung it back up. 

"A platter tutu would best on you," she decided, then crossed the hallway and opened another closet, this one stuffed to the brim with tutus of every color. Plucking a red one out from the stack, she passed it to me, then began walking toward the front. "I do have a mask ready, and it is a prototype of the one you will be wearing, so trying it out as soon as possible would be best."

As she rifled through boxes on a shelf, I looked around with curiosity. There were costumes everywhere; tutus hanging upside down, leotards draped over chairs, and spools of lace scattered about. It was messy. Very, very messy. But not like you would find on an episode of Horders, but almost what you would expect a gypsy's tent to look like; warm light and rich fabric coating everything.