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The Luxury of Daydreaming
Who: Edison & Alyssa
When: Midday
Where: The Throne Room Bar
It was a new day and she was still in the 50s style bedroom she'd gone to sleep in the night before. When nothing happened to help her get home and nothing else of note took place other than meeting Sullivan which was definitely a highlight, she had resigned herself to the fact she had no control over the situation and would simply have to ride it out. It was tempting to let it frustrate her but that was a waste of energy. Instead she ate the breakfast on the room service tray, indulging a little in some butter on her toast and a sugar cube in her tea. She wouldn't let it tug at her and make her feel guilty either, she decided.
Then she took herself downstairs to the lovely ballroom she'd seen. She'd put on gray tights and a gray leotard and tied a soft white wrap skirt around her middle. Her white slippers weren't on her feet until she got to the ballroom and sat to tie them on. Once she was all set, she slid a CD of Tchaikovsky into her laptop and began warm ups, one hand on a rail that surrounded part of the dance floor. And promptly lost herself in dancing, cleansing her mind of the frustrations and fears surrounding being trapped in this place.
Edison had talked to Ella for a while wandering with her before splitting off and letting his own mind take him where it wanted. The music caught his attention, something he hadn't heard before, which meant he was following it, ducking into the ballroom. Seeing her there, that slowed him completely, leaning against the wall and watching. For all his knowledge on other things, he didn't know a thing about ballet beyond tights, tutus and shoes. And beautiful women apparently. So sure, most guys wouldn't care about the stories or the whatever drew women to the ballet, but he knew standing here watching her dance, that he liked this much at least.
( We are on things that make us smile. Though that salad made your list is weird. )
When: Midday
Where: The Throne Room Bar
It was a new day and she was still in the 50s style bedroom she'd gone to sleep in the night before. When nothing happened to help her get home and nothing else of note took place other than meeting Sullivan which was definitely a highlight, she had resigned herself to the fact she had no control over the situation and would simply have to ride it out. It was tempting to let it frustrate her but that was a waste of energy. Instead she ate the breakfast on the room service tray, indulging a little in some butter on her toast and a sugar cube in her tea. She wouldn't let it tug at her and make her feel guilty either, she decided.
Then she took herself downstairs to the lovely ballroom she'd seen. She'd put on gray tights and a gray leotard and tied a soft white wrap skirt around her middle. Her white slippers weren't on her feet until she got to the ballroom and sat to tie them on. Once she was all set, she slid a CD of Tchaikovsky into her laptop and began warm ups, one hand on a rail that surrounded part of the dance floor. And promptly lost herself in dancing, cleansing her mind of the frustrations and fears surrounding being trapped in this place.
Edison had talked to Ella for a while wandering with her before splitting off and letting his own mind take him where it wanted. The music caught his attention, something he hadn't heard before, which meant he was following it, ducking into the ballroom. Seeing her there, that slowed him completely, leaning against the wall and watching. For all his knowledge on other things, he didn't know a thing about ballet beyond tights, tutus and shoes. And beautiful women apparently. So sure, most guys wouldn't care about the stories or the whatever drew women to the ballet, but he knew standing here watching her dance, that he liked this much at least.
( We are on things that make us smile. Though that salad made your list is weird. )