In the 1820's an elf who went by the name "the dancer" created a new style of dance that made use of a mythical bird in their performance. It was long believed that it was his own creative genius that brought about this common street performer routine that has taken the world by storm. However, recent studies have uncovered that this partnership was originally forged in a small nomadic village of fairies that relied on tamed phoenix's fire to keep warm in the hostile environment of the Qyt mountains.
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The dancer shed his coat, carefully transferring the hooded bird from one arm to the other. From under its strappings the fiery red feathers poked out. Slipping off his large boots revealed the dancer's bare feet. They left warm impressions in the soft dusting of snow. He ignored it, he would be warm soon.
The market square was busy, a lot of foot traffic, which was perfect for what he was about to do. What would be difficult was getting them to stop. On a bleak day like today everyone wanted simply to get where they were going and not linger outside where their breath puffed out white in the sharp air.
Off a little ways his partner sat on a wooden stool, his flat drum and mallet resting on his lap. The dancer gave him a small nod and the drummer slapped his un-gloved hands together and released a long warm breath into their shell. His slightly thawed fingers picked up his instrument and positioned himself to begin.
The dancer whispered into the bird's ear, words of encouragement and a warning against messing up, he hesitated before pulling off the mask. This was the busiest place the bird had ever been, and their small eyes darted around the square, taking in their surroundings. The dancer wouldn't take off the lead... not yet at least. There would be a time for that.
This was it. Years of practice has led up to this moment. It was their debut and by the gods he would make sure it was a show stopper.
Sensing that his partner was ready, and taking a quick look around to ensure that enough space had been reserved, the drummer began to beat a tune on his drum.
The dancer took a deep breath, counting the beats before the beginning to move.
The initial movements were slow. Slow enough that the bird remained perfectly balanced without the slightest ruffle of a feather. His costume was seafoam green with fabric so translucent and fine that it nearly floated. Tight arm bands expertly hid old and fresh burn scars.
The drummer and dancer slowed and came to a pause in perfect unison.
With a loud bang on the drum the dance resumed. The dancer threw his hand up and the bird took flight in a golden, fiery burst revealing its true colors. A phoenix.
The music perfectly matched the pace of the dance as the dancer spun around. The bird climbed upwards and dove down wards, creating a line of fire as it flew.
A foot carefully placed here, a slight pause of the hand there before continuing. The phoenix flew with quiet, elegant flaps. With a long wingspan the phoenix made a wide circle in the snow, melting and eventually boiling the water underfoot. But the dance was moving so quickly that there was not enough time to burn the feet.
The drumming reached a crescendo, the phoenix flying close, tight circles around the dancer who tightened his own dance but never stopped moving.
When the phoenix cleared the top of the dancer's head it climbed ten feet into the sky and let out a wave of flame that rippled through the empty sky. He remained in that position for a moment. His wings outspread and beak pointed towards the sky like a magnificent painting, before twisting its body to a dive only to pull up at the last second and gracefully land on the dancers out-stretched hand.
The dancer glanced around, aware of his surroundings once more having forgotten it existed while in the movement of the song. A wide circle had formed around him, with more distance between them than was necessary to avoid the flames, but watching him none-the-less. It was clear they didn't know what to do, so in a clear signal to them, he bowed. It was long, low and slow, so as not to disrupt the fiery mythical being perched on his arm.
The crowd erupted into applause. The drummer stood from his stool, took off his hat, passed it to the nearest person and joined his partner at center stage. They bowed again, together this time. They followed the hat as it was passed around, and watched the money that was dropped into it.
The dancer smiled at his partner. He had done it. He had created something new and interesting. Something worth watching. All it took was one dance.
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