Thread: All the Right Moves | ockeroid and colada

Charlotte glided through the basic positions with ease. It was years of training that allowed her to move with grace, her exemplary poise appearing natural instead of forced. Her pointe was executed with flexibility and suppleness. There were no awkward positions as she progressed through the exercises. In essence, there were no mistakes. The only mistake that could be accounted for was the rigidness behind her transitions, something her mother insisted on ingraining into her mind despite the fact that such firm movement did not belong in twentieth century ballet. She smiled with gratitude as he complimented her form, and she was compliant as he used his fingers to mold her back into a more appropriate stance. She loosened up a little as Kirov told them to return to the first position, and even more so after he finished his rounds and reappeared in the middle of the studio. She listened with inquisitiveness as he spoke to the class as a whole, describing a routine they were expected to perform. Not that description did a lot for her, so she paid close attention as he performed the routine. She could not help but to furrow her thin eyebrows as he continued his routine. This is . . . so different. Huh. Coming from a background of performances such as The Nutcracker and Swan Lake , Charlotte found this contemporary approach to be unlike anything she had experienced. Needless to say, it also provoked her interest, and she found herself growing deeply attracted to what she considered an exotic style. It was something her mother would disapprove of in a heartbeat. The thought of rebelling against her mothers preferences definitely improved her outlook of this routine. So, she waited patiently as each student in front of her got their thirty seconds of fame all the meanwhile, she played out the routine in her head, trying her best to remember each minor detail. She knew it was impossible to perfect every little attribute of the performance, though she still wanted to do her best. As the newest student, she had no clue what she would be up against. She watched the others as the line grew shorter and shorter, and when it was her turn she assumed her spot next to Kirov. The scent that lingered around her body was neither lavender nor chamomile, though it imitated the latter sweet, apple-like, and herbaceous. She should have been nervous, at least more nervous than she was. Fortunately, Charlotte was able to tune out distractions in this case, the students who were eager to see how well she measured up and focus on the goal. As she lifted her eyes to meet his gaze, she could tell he was tired. The subtle flush of his cheeks was more than enough of an indicator. Smiling so that the dimples of her cheeks were evident, she shook her head in polite refusal as he reached out his hand. I really dont need someone to spot me, she said, hoping she had not sounded arrogant. Just to be safe, she chimed in with, You look like youre exhausted. She merely assumed that he could have used a break, and besides, what was the worst that could happen? She had fallen countless times and could reminisce about sprained ankles and broken toes. If anything, she would bruise her ego. She could live with that. Charlotte played out the routine once more in her head before she dived right into it, the rigidity of her previous exercises almost gone as she nailed the spins, twirls, and pirouettes that comprised the routine. There were a few instances when her mind blanked, forgetting how the original routine had gone, so she improvised with whatever classical ballet move came to mind. She could not completely forgo the stiff movements that her mother prized, yet she still managed to make it seem elegant and flawless. Almost . She pulled herself from the final stance, allowing her back a moment to straighten out. It was at that moment her knee decided to lock up, which in turned caused her to stagger backwards. She would have toppled over on the ground had Kirov not been standing where he was unintentionally, he had broken her fall as her back brushed against him. Now she was embarrassed. Biting down on her lower lip, she twisted away with no regard for how her knee was feeling. Im sorry, Mister Antokolsky, she exclaimed, now tending to her knee with her fingertips. Im not sure why my knee decided to lock up.