Quinn Harlan (beflexible) wrote in willowbrookrpg, @ 2014-04-11 01:43:00 |
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Entry tags: | !thread, day: november 19, player: callie, player: thirteen, rasui munrose, reagan shepard |
WHO: Reagan Shepard + OPEN
WHEN: December 19th. Evening.
WHERE: Dance studio (I'm assuming there'd be something to that effect in the rec/training/gym center?)
WHAT: Dancing! DUH.
RATING: Medium. She can have a potty mouth.
STATUS: Open/Ongoing
It was getting colder and colder, which was a nuisance and hindrance to some. They complained about the temperature, growing more and more lethargic as winter settled itself in to stay awhile. Reagan, on the other hand, found ways to be more active. Sitting still had never been her strong suit, and when things got cold and dark she needed movement even more. If she sat around all day then she'd be tired all the time. If she was tired all the time then all she'd want to do was sleep. If she slept too much then she would feel depressed and useless. It was a vicious cycle, and Reagan had no intention of letting herself fall into it. So she made her way down to the studios where she indulged in dance when her training seemed to be repetitive and boring. Today was one of those days, so she'd changed quickly and hurried down so that nobody took the studio space she preferred. She didn't much care about the fact that it was cold out as she adorned only a bandeau bra-like top and short shorts under a half jacket. Once she started moving in the studio then things would warm up considerably.
While it was true that all the studios were technically the same, with one not being more advantageous than another, Reagan preferred the one she was heading towards because of its placement. It was located along a side of the building where windows ran rampant, and she had her fill of sunlight and all of New York to keep her company while she practiced. The view was gorgeous, and it felt a little like she was dancing out in the open, which she loved naturally. Setting her bag down, she stepped out into the center of the room before bending her body backwards until her hands touched the ground in a simulation of a bridge. Her frame arced in a perfect half circle, which wasn't that impressive for any self-respecting dancer. What was impressive was the fact that Reagan didn't even feel anything. She merely held herself there for several minutes before allowing her legs to follow the arc in a springy fluidity that many in the field of dance would envy.
After a few more flips and bends, Reagan felt she was ready. She maneuvered towards the stereo against one wall, hooking up her iPod without difficulty. She and this machine were intimately familiar by now, and Reagan was soon rewarded with the sounds of her music filling the room. With a smile, she began to move, losing herself in the sounds and motions instantly.