magic_act: (wow! it's like you have a real job!)
[personal profile] magic_act
[there's a sizable crowd at the Wonderbar tonight. Trucy has just wowed them with her latest trick, which involved turning a pair of bunny slippers into actual, live bunnies, using the magic of her famous panties. as the show draws to a close, she takes the stage for one last trick]

Alright, ladies and gentlemen! For my final act, I'm going to need an assistant! Are there any volunteers?

[she makes a show of scanning the tables, looking for that perfect someone]
magic_act: (professional magician and CEO of the WAA)
[personal profile] magic_act
Trucy takes a final bow, having just completed an encore performance. (She had returned to the stage, declaring that her magic panties had gone missing, and a random audience member was selected to help her find them. She'd handed him her hat, from which he pulled all manner of object that had no business fitting in such a small space, yet not one was the item in question. Next had been her cape. It appeared to hide nothing, including the wooden man dubbed Mr. Hat, who had made an appearance earlier, or the elusive panties. Ultimately, Trucy had found them herself, hidden deep within the pocket of her red-faced volunteer, much to the delighted cheer of the audience.)

The crowd cheers anew, as Trucy disappears from the stage in an explosion of confetti. They continue to cheer well after she's backstage, packing her things to head home for the night, satisfied with another job well done.

Satisfied... and a little sad. It's not really home she's returning to, after all.

While she'd done her best to make a life for herself in this strange place, she still feels the absence of her dad very keenly. Time heals many wounds, of course. Most days, she's fine, and the days she isn't, she pushes herself onward with thoughts of what Daddy would say.

Buck up, kiddo. She smiles to herself, hearing his voice in her head. When life hands you lemons, you make lemon meringue! (The original saying had been altered at her insistence, since she hated lemonade.)

Realizing the noise from the audience has died down and that she's been staring into her prop bag for far too long, she snaps herself out of her funk, zips the bag closed, and slings it over her shoulder. It's late, and Uncle Miles will start to worry if she doesn't get back soon. She heads out the backdoor, making sure it's locked behind her, and begins the short trek home through the backstreets.
magic_act: (come on polly! we got this!)
[personal profile] magic_act
[hope you aren't in the middle of anything important, Edgeworth, because there's an insistent knock on your door]