fairytaleknight: (lost in a fouette)
[personal profile] fairytaleknight
[Before: "Drosselmeyer killed them," Fakir breathes. "And he used me to do it."]

The first gray shock is turning into anger by the time Fakir finds his way to the Milliways ballet practice room. Fakir wants to pour his rage into leaps and fouettes, to dance until his mind and body are one, utterly focused on the demands of each step.

Unfortunately, Fakir's initiation wasn't even a full day ago, and his legs and feet have not recovered from sixty-four hours spent standing.

Begin at the beginning.

Fakir grips the barre and moves into first position. If he can't throw himself into a sequence of leaps, he'll throw himself into the warmup drills.

Date: 2015-02-04 04:22 am (UTC)
reallyaduck: (observing)
From: [personal profile] reallyaduck
Duck's been looking for Fakir since losing him in the bar. (It seems like she's always looking high and low for somebody, these days.) She had every intention of dragging him back home, to get a proper night's sleep in his own bed --

-- but now she's caught in the doorway, watching Fakir move his exhausted body through the discipline of the doors, struck still with the same wistful fascination as when she sees Rue at rehearsal.

Even after three days of deprivation, he's got the focus she can't ever see to master. It's painful to watch him, and beautiful, too.

Date: 2015-02-05 03:08 am (UTC)
reallyaduck: (listening at doors)
From: [personal profile] reallyaduck
Without any conscious direction, Duck's own foot starts to move in sympathy, her hand braced against the door. Forward, side, back, again --

-- but a door doesn't provide the same kind of support as a solid grip on a barre, and it's not too long before her left foot starts to slip out from under her on the smooth wood floor. She skids backwards hastily to straighten herself out.

Date: 2015-02-05 03:35 am (UTC)
reallyaduck: (le gasp)
From: [personal profile] reallyaduck

Duck flails around in an attempts to get herself straightened out and separated from Fakir; it doesn't work so well.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry --"

(A long time ago, she'd stood in the doorway and watched Mytho dance; she'd leaned forward so far that she'd fallen. He'd caught her perfectly.

Given that she had then gone straight into a frozen panic, that had not been less awkward than this.)

Date: 2015-02-05 03:53 am (UTC)
reallyaduck: (le gasp)
From: [personal profile] reallyaduck
"I really am really sorry though! I didn't mean to interrupt --"

Bracing herself on Fakir's offered arm, Duck manages to scramble back up.

"You looked like you were really practicing hard, and -- I was just watching, and --"

Now that she's on her feet again, she realizes belatedly, there's no need to hang onto Fakir anymore; she puts her hands together behind her back instead, shifting her weight absently from foot to foot as she looks up at him.

"-- and you know, you haven't been in class for a while, so I haven't gotten to see -- I mean -- you know, I don't get to see you dance all that much anymore, and -- it's cool to see you even do the exercises! You're really good!"
Edited Date: 2015-02-05 03:54 am (UTC)

Date: 2015-02-05 04:32 am (UTC)
reallyaduck: (uncertain but effortful!)
From: [personal profile] reallyaduck
"I mean -- I didn't mean you had to --"

Duck frowns, unclasps her hands, crosses her arms in front of herself, tightly.

She's about to ask if she should go -- maybe he wants his privacy -- when, abruptly, she remembers why she's here at all, and why she didn't want to leave him alone to begin with. He's just been in an ordeal for three days; he must be exhausted. He probably shouldn't be practicing, even --

-- but he's a dancer, and if you're a dancer, you practice.

She moves a hesitant step closer into the room, not wanting to interrupt, not wanting to leave him be, and not quite able anymore to just watch.

Date: 2015-02-05 11:28 pm (UTC)
reallyaduck: (personal manifesto)
From: [personal profile] reallyaduck
Does she want? Duck stands awkwardly in the middle of the room. It's been a long time since she just went into the studio just to practice. There's things they've got to do, if she could only figure out what -- Mytho's getting worse every day, and Rue's pushing everyone away, and --

(-- and she didn't get her toe shoes with everyone else, and Mr. Cat thinks she can't focus, and he's probably right, she can't, not with all this, and --)

-- and it wasn't all that long ago that all this had been about dancing. It wasn't long at all, but it feels like forever.

With a sudden abrupt motion, she scurries across the room towards the bar and grabs for it, then extends her leg in a stiff echo of Fakir's dégagé.

"Okay! I'm gonna practice!"

Date: 2015-02-06 05:13 am (UTC)
reallyaduck: (frustration)
From: [personal profile] reallyaduck
Duck flings her leg backwards in her third degage arabesque, a little too high and with too much force. She tightens her grip on the barre to steady herself, and then catches Fakir staring at her.

"What? What?" she demands belligerently, still balanced on one foot. He knows she sucks! It's not like it's a surprise!


fairytaleknight: (Default)

February 2015

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