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Post by Mary Campbell on Apr 29, 2011 0:55:19 GMT -5
It had been a while since Mary had gotten a chance to practice outside of the dorms. These children...this whole situation was just so much trouble. She'd even skipped a day here and there, not to mention the time she'd slept three days straight. Not that anyone had noticed. Not that anyone in this gottverdammten place ever noticed.
Mary wasn't sure why she held such bitterness towards them. It wasn't as if she hadn't endured being ignored for the majority of her life. She'd never minded before. Why now? Why worry? They were only children, in her care or no. The EnglishScotswoman let out a sigh as she smoothed the ribbons of her slippers over her ankles, stretching her muscles carefully to warm up before going over to the stereo and turning it on.
The first track on the disc was a slow one, just as she preferred, and as she crossed to centre stage she let the melody flow over her, allowed it to sink into her muscles and move her. The world melted away around her as she glided across the floor, en pointe and off, plie after pirouette.
Not once did it cross her mind that perhaps, just perhaps, someone may enter at any moment.
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Post by Alfred F. Jones on Apr 29, 2011 16:11:45 GMT -5
After slinging his backpack over his shoulder and shutting his locker with a low slam, all of his unnecessary books having been stashed safely away inside, Alfred meandered down the hallway, waving and bidding farewells to some friends along the way. When he came to the stairs, he began whistling the first Disney tune that just so happened to come to mind.
The blond had been feeling particularly nostalgic that day. For whatever reason, childhood memories had been flooding his mind since the moment he woke up. This could probably be blamed on how he was digging through his closet the day previous, originally in search of a particular comic, revisiting some of the old toys and keepsakes he couldn’t bear to leave behind and dragged along with him when he came to the dorm. Among the possessions were stuffed animals action figures, a cowboy hat from that one Halloween he dressed as Woody from Toy Story, some old coloring books Alfred and Matt had scribbled in, him mostly outside of the lines and Matt on the inside, his rock collection, some old video tapes, and his first baby blanket, the one his mother had knitted for him. He’d splayed his fingers over the soft and fuzzy material of the sky blue blanket, not able to keep away the soft, reminiscent smile that appeared on his features.
On second thought, maybe he was just homesick.
A puff of air escaped his lips, his whistling rendition of the Mickey Mouse Club March ceasing as he reached the bottom of the second staircase. He now trudged almost begrudgingly along towards the lobby. Another friend crossed his path, and he was waving to them when a faint sound suddenly caught his ever wandering attention. The sound of music?
Alfred glanced around, curiosity getting the better of him as he listened attentively. He turned and eyed two open doors a bit of a way back down the hall, positive he’d found the source: the auditorium. As he began to backtrack, surely enough, the music grew more and more clear. Confident, he peered through the doorway, finding an auburn haired woman, Mary, dancing on the stage, moving about in time to the slow tune coming from a stereo sitting at the stage’s edge.
The American couldn't help but stare, captivated by her grace and sheer elegance. He dug out his cell phone for a brief moment to check the time—he actually didn't have anywhere to be or anything to do, in hindsight—then stuffed it back into his jacket’s pocket and slipped into the large room, quietly taking residence in the seat closest, one of the many in the far back. Letting the music and elegant dancing carry him away, he, for once, sat completely still, almost as if entranced, lips slightly parted.
It wasn't like he'd never seen anyone dancing in person before. Not at all. In fact, he had some decent moves himself, but there was something about ballet that always caught his attention. Not that he'd ever partake in it or admit it to someone in conversation, but he, for whatever reason, loved watching it. It was.. well, for lack of a better term on Alfred’s part, beautiful. Again, not that he’d say that out loud.
Alfred hadn’t realized he’d been inching closer and closer to the edge of his seat until his backpack slipped off his shoulder, landing with a loud textbook, binder and notebook induced plop onto the hard floor below.
“Bob Saget.” He hissed at the bag before fixing his widened eyes back on the stage, sure he’d alerted the woman of his presence.
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Post by Mary Campbell on Apr 29, 2011 21:40:44 GMT -5
A lesser dancer would have hesitated at the intruder, or stumbled at the sudden ruckus, or giggled at the masked curse, but not Mary. Although truth be told she did find that last one terribly endearing. A professional to the last, having a great deal of experience handling a noisy audience, the ballerina continued and finished the track without so much as a misstep.
Mary sighed, breaking form to go turn off the stereo a note or three into the next song, making sure to hit the skip back button to restart the song before straightening and looking to see who was in her company. In all honesty she should have recognized the voice straight away, but nonetheless she was genuinely surprised to see Alfred of all people in the very back row.
"Ye know, there's no need tae sit all the way in the back, love," she called, brushing a wayward lock of hair back into place. "Ye'll get a far better view from the front row."
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Post by Alfred F. Jones on Apr 29, 2011 22:42:27 GMT -5
A little embarrassed, Alfred could only grin sheepishly in response to the Scotswoman’s calm demeanor. He was glad he didn’t seem to have angered her, because while Mary had always regarded him with the utmost kindness and patience, she still gave off this motherly vibe that the American couldn’t quite shake, which, in turn, influenced him to want to remain on his best behavior in front of her. Regardless, even though he hadn’t upset her, the blond still interrupted her dance.
He scratched the back of his head, rubbing along the back of his neck before pulling himself to his feet and plucking his backpack off the floor.
“Okay!” He laughed, bowing his head quickly and a bit awkwardly. “Sorry, Mary!”
Alfred, not wanting to cause any more delay, briskly made his way down the aisle and simmered down once again, this time setting his backpack on the floor beforehand on the off chance that it would fall a second time. Once he was settled, he offered her a wide, eager smile, urging her to continue.
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Post by Mary Campbell on May 5, 2011 4:50:03 GMT -5
The woman smiled, waiting for the boy to make his way down, her heart warming just a touch at the gigawatt smile he turned on her. Such a sweet thing, he was. It surprised her that Alfred should enjoy her profession at all; he struck her more as one to go out and play sports rather than sit in a dimmed theatre to watch people dance.
As he got himself settled, Mary rose, going over to the stereo again and skipping a track or two before closing her eyes and recollecting herself. Sufficiently relaxed, she pushed play, crossing to centre stage in the three second lead-in and taking position, moving at the first gentle note of the tune.
nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation
darkness stirs, and wakes imagination
silently the senses abandon their defenses...
The song continued, speaking to her body and soul, allowing her to move with its flow. Butler may have done an admirable job in the film, but in her opinion he had nothing on the sweetness, the fullness of Crawford's voice, so this would always be the version she danced to. Absently, she wondered if Alfred knew it.
His presence, while it did not interrupt her, did affect her choreography. Practicing on one's own was a different thing than performing for an audience, especially an audience of one. So, instead of dancing completely for herself, she danced for the boy, and to an extent, to the boy, miming what lyrics made sense to her at the time, generally making it up on the spot - her favourite thing to do in practice.
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Post by Alfred F. Jones on Jun 15, 2011 18:09:36 GMT -5
Alfred once again allowed himself to be lulled by the harmonious music and charming dancing, unable to keep a smile off his features as he watched Mary. He indeed, but very vaguely recognized the tune. He ran a brief, puzzled list through his head and confidently settled on the Phantom of the Opera. He recalled watching the movie version with Matt one late and boring Saturday night.
Regardless, at the moment, he was more focused on simply enjoying the performance of the woman currently on stage before him.
As she continued on, moving about in amazing ways he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen before, Alfred couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever done this formally, for a much bigger audience than himself. He knew she was an instructor at the moment, but to be an instructor, he figured that would require having experience elsewhere. It was so easy for him to picture her giving a bow after a grand performance while members of the audience cheered, whistled and threw all kinds of roses at her feet in some gigantic regal theatre with a curtain that stretched as high as something like a building in New York would and thousands of seats including ones on balconies.
In reality, it probably wouldn’t have been quite as big as he was dreaming it would be in his head, but such was the American's wild imagination.
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Post by Mary Campbell on Jul 20, 2011 12:14:39 GMT -5
As relaxing as the familiar tune was to her, even with the on-the-spot choreography, Alfred's presence made the ballerina's thoughts perk. Her stereo, she recalled, had a small cord for which to plug in one of those newfangled music players everyone seemed so fond of these days. Mary had been meaning to get one of the more simple ones, but even then she really hadn't a clue how the bloody things worked, so she hadn't quite gotten round to it just yet.
Alfred, though...
The track finished, and she again came to rest, halting the music and coming to sit on the edge of the stage, looking at the boy in interest. "Have ye any music on ye, Alfred? I've worn this disc nearly out, and I'm lookin' fer a bit of a challenge." Mary's eyes sparkled with a bit of excitement, wondering what sort of thing he might have to offer her. Hopefully something with a bit of a faster tempo; she was looking forward to the exercise. |
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Post by Matthew Williams on Jul 21, 2011 2:26:14 GMT -5
It had been by chance that Matthew had walked by the auditorium while people were inside. Usually, the Canadian seemed to stroll by whenever there was nothing going on. It was almost eerie how quiet it seemed to always be. However, Matthew assumed that he always stumbled there at the wrong times.
He paused at the door, hearing faint music coming from inside. His head was telling him to just move along to his next class. But, that little devil on his shoulder was telling him that it wouldn't hurt to check inside and see what was going on inside. Matt gave into temptation and peeked his head through the door, ducking down to the floor as to not be spotted.
What he saw was almost too amazing for words. From this distance, he couldn't tell who it was, but he saw someone dancing on stage quite beautifully. He asked himself who could possibly preforming, but no one currently caught his mind. So, he just continued to watch from the doorway, making sure not to make any noise as to not disturb the preformance.
Once the dance was over and the music died, Matthew could help but clap lightly. And it was when he heard the woman speak that she recognized who it was. Still, he kept his distance. [/blockquote] |
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Post by Alfred F. Jones on Aug 4, 2011 2:46:28 GMT -5
When the music came to its end, Alfred gave plenty applause. He clapped much louder and faster than he normally would, enough so as to make up for an entire audience, even throwing in a whistle amidst this. As he continued to clap, the blond jokingly nudged at an imaginary person at his side, proceeding to not exactly whisper in their ear, “I know her, y’ know! Jealous?” He nodded. “Yeah, I betcha’ you are.”
Deciding he was done goofing, he directed his full attention back to Mary.
“Uh, yeah, I do!” Alfred replied, lifting his bag onto his lap and beginning to sort through its containments. “Not so sure you’d like the music on here, though.” He laughed. When he got a grasp on it, he pulled it out by the headphones attached to it. Discarding his backpack once again, he stood and moved over to the stage to offer it to her. “Here ya’ go, anyway.”
He was a bit more than ‘not so sure’ that Mary wouldn’t like the music on his iPod. It seemed to him that she had more refined tastes, while he enjoyed a mix of almost everything. Even so, he wasn’t sure he had anything that could be considered refined or maybe even classical, save for some Beethoven, something of which he was often teased for.
As he made his way back to his seat, he happened to catch a person in the corner of his eye who happened to be standing in the doorway much like he had been at some point within the past ten minutes. After squinting for a brief moment, his eyes widened in realization. He was crouching, but it was unmistakable.
“Yo, bro!” He called out, grinning ear to ear. “Come see Mary’s mad skills!”
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Post by Mary Campbell on Aug 4, 2011 15:47:26 GMT -5
Mary couldn't help but laugh at the boy's enthusiasm, taking the small machine from his hand when offered and looking at it quizzically. How the bloody hell did this thing work, anyhow? After a bit of poking about, though, she managed to figure it out, although just about everything on the somewhat extensive list was unfamiliar to her. What on earth was a Gaga? And how was a black-eyed pea relevant to music? With an apologetic smile, she offered the thing back to him. "I'll tell ye what, you pick somethin' out. Whatever it is ye most listen to these days."
At the shout towards the back of the auditorium, though, Mary looked up, seeing a slightly less welcome face creeping in the corridor. Today, though, she was in a decent enough mood to allow him; if nothing else the boy was quiet and respectful. He may as well come watch if he had nothing else to do. A little smile still on her face, she raised a hand to beckon the Canadian to come further in. |
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