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How often Amelia dreamt of her Franz she did not even know maybe her Franz was no longer the man that had once danced with her hand in hand but she knew he was as real as the character. the coldness of her skin was not warmed by the velvety white dress which flew like the wind while she twirled the faded red silk accents of her sleeves and corset danced like fire. in her prime at the Paris opera ballet school the crowds would cheer the name Amelia she would bask in the glow of the spotlight and like a flower she would bloom on the stage she paid no mind to articles or blogs her art was not for them. in the time of her success her dreams of Franz had long since been nothing more than a mirage for in the eyes of all her dance partners she was her Franz. in the dressing room behind the stage a fellow performer asked her what she meant. "My first ballet performance was 10 years ago. I was in troisieme. that year the performance would be Coppelia." at the time the performer didn't know the play and so Amelia told her the story. the inventor of a dancing doll who could dance ballet which the town loved. one day a prince came to down and fell in love with the doll's performance, not knowing she was a doll he swore he would take her as his bride. and Swanhilda, a local girl dressed up as Coppelia and would dance with Franz for several nights Franz would fawn over her eventually ending with them wed. the other performer thought happily of the story. talking about how much she wished a handsome prince would arrive and fall for her. Amelia was disappointed in the performers understanding. "its not about a handsome prince and a beautiful princess Franz didn't love Swanhilda because she was beautiful Franz loved her because her skill her talent showed more passion and love for something than most people can ever express. its a story about loving someone for what they ARE like not what they LOOK like."
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She had met Gerard at a gala she was 24 then comments on her beauty were common from the men there all the same things her dress choice her eyes which were describes as pools of amber these were meaningless very shallow and she knew it. but a man in the corner of the room watched her sway as she danced with the men who has asked to waltz eventually as the night grew closer to ending he reached his hand out to her not staring at her figure or her dress but at her eyes. and only those he was clumsy and quite a fledgling in terms of dance. but while the two swayed across tile patterned polished floors he closed his eyes and danced like the two were alone focusing on the movement of the dancing and the syncing of the two. he couldn't dance well but the passion was still there she had spent to long yearning for her Franz that when she felt the very quiet flame in him she was dumbfounded.
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On the balcony which outstretched around the ornate circular ballroom the two spoke she asked his name and he gave it he asked hers and hearing her name spoken by him with such reverence not due to a praise for beauty but a worship of her achievement he was a romantic talking about things like chaucer and voltaire. she told him about Coppelia and the Zakharova he listened intently behind his round glasses she could see a brightness in his eyes that every word was like its own story and it captivated him more than any man was captivated by her beauty.
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she was 26 when the two had danced the waltz thus time not at the bright checkered halls of a gala but in the bright stained glass halls of a church her husband was a hero a member of Overwatch he was her Franz. and so the two by themselves basked in a warm embrace Amelia was content just the two of them from then on.
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Amelia had always hit the drink more than she should have maybe it was due to the party maybe it was just personal choices but whenever she drank her memories always welled up. that's why she was here at Lena's apartment holding a bottle of wine and mingling with some pizza boy who was a major lightweight. he looked familiar she gave him that "you shot at me once." he said with little tact. he pulled his blue jacket up over his head and she saw it. "You?" she chuckled never did fate allow her to ignore her past it seemed. "if I remember you punched me with the doomfist." the boy chuckled he smelled like alcohol "who invited you?" she asked tipping the bottle towards him. "Lena told me that they asked to send the cutest delivery boy," Amelie scoffed at the explanation. the kid was intoxicated but he didn't feel like he was lying that's what the widowmaker thought "i saw you do ballet a couple months ago." Amelie choked on her drink "you were really something." Amelie looked at him slightly embarrassed "I haven't danced in years." she tried to deny it. "no I think id recognize you." "let me guess the blue skin?" she thought "the way you swayed and walked across the stage it reminded me of watching you fight." the boy staggered towards her looking at her olive-colored eyes "the prosthetic you used. it reminded me of that one story I saw on some old tv channel my grandmother used to watch. the porcelain doll. " Amelia looked away yet felt a warm hand touch her prosthetic one "Coppelia." Amelia kept looking towards the bright city lights and she saw the boy close his eyes "you danced like a dream like you were made for it. it was perfect. Widow." "Amelia" she corrected. "i liked your dancing, Amelia." He looked at her, his eyes were closed but his smile was contagious. "My names Brian." Amelia passed him the bottle "well it's nice to meet you, Amelia. I just wish this was the first time we met." Amelia chuckled Brian noticed her eyes didn't seem dark like before but shined like her porcelain arm.
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