Tavia Kincaid (![]() ![]() @ 2012-09-21 22:51:00 |
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Entry tags: | !dice, ice, {prince charming |
A New Art
Characters: Ice, Charming
When: Friday night
Location: Chance car
Warnings/Rating: None anticipated
Summary: Ice decides to try something new, in private
Status: Complete
Once upon a time, someone had compared combat to dancing. Some of her fellow trainees had scoffed and laughed, and pointed out there were no similarities at all -- but it had stuck with Ice. There hadn't been much time (or reason) for her to involve herself in hobbies like that, between one thing or another, but if nothing else ... the train wasn't home. It proved that every day. In China, she'd happened across a performance of ballet, and she'd been captivated. It was like combat, in a way. The strength required, the precision, the way the dancers played off one another -- and relied on one another. She knew she'd never find anything quite like that on the train, but Ice was interested in learning. Interested enough to search the train's video collection for any discs containing ballets -- but not quite brave enough to break out of her tiny social circle to make a request for teachers on the network. The odds were decent there wasn't anyone capable or interested or willing on the train anyway, and all it would serve to do would be to put herself out there to look silly. And if any of the others from her world caught wind of it ... Still, she thought maybe she could at least see if she could replicate some of the things she'd learned just by watching. She didn't anticipate advancing far, given the lack of formal teaching, but ... she'd try. Having played with the back car for almost a quarter of an hour before it coughed up something she could use, Ice was careful to close the door behind herself. She knew that didn't always guarantee she wouldn't be found, but she hoped it would help. Stripping out of the sweats and jacket she'd put on over her unitard for the trek to the back car, she tossed them aside before she moved to stand before one of the mirrors. Her hair was pulled up into a bun at the nap of her neck, and even though she knew no one else was present, she looked around again anyway. Refocusing on her reflection, Ice pulled up the memories of the basic ballet steps and she began to attempt to replicate them. |