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Post by kitkat on Aug 25, 2011 23:04:06 GMT -5
Outfit
Zilya always tried to get up as early as she could. Today, she'd gotten up at around 4:45. By the time she'd gotten ready, it was about 5:30. She slung her duffel bag over her shoulders and headed out of her dorm. It was silent in the halls, as it was every morning, and Zilya did her best not to make any noise. By the time she'd gotten to the gym, it was about 5:45. She smiled to herself, mentally giving a compliment on how she was 15 minutes earlier than yesterday.
Being new, Zilya wasn't sure how to work the sound system in the gym, but she'd learned to deal without it. She set her bag down next to the wall and pulled out her foot pads. After slipping them on her feet, Zilya stood up and walked a bit away from the wall. She started counting to herself quietly, going through her warm-up routine. Though simple, she'd found that the moves she did worked better than most.
After warming up, Zilya stretched. By this point, there was someone else in the gym. They were doing something on the far side, and, quite honestly, Zilya didn't care what they were doing. She rummaged through her bag, pulling out her pointe shoes. After they were securely on her feet, Zilya began.
She started with a few basic attitudes and other kicks before walking to the corner to start her leaps. She'd always liked to do leaps from a corner. It made her feel like she had more room (not that the gym wasn't big enough as is). She started her first leap, just a grande jete, the hard toes of her pointe shoes clicking on the floor with each step. She landed, turned quickly, and did another with her other leg.
Finally, Zilya came to her favorite part of her practice routine; fouettes. She crossed the floor to her duffel bag and pulled out bright pink duct tape. She ripped off a small square and placed it on the wall. After taking four large steps away from the wall, Zilya faced it and began. She plied up into a pirouette, and began whipping her leg out and in, propelling herself into multiple turns. As she turned, Zilya counted to herself. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5....
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Post by megan on Aug 25, 2011 23:56:42 GMT -5
If it wasn't for the pouring rain outside, Megan never would have considered going down to the school's gym. It was two floors underground and lacked all forms of windows. But with an early class to teach and a dog who hated when it was storming out, going through her morning yoga ritual in the comfort of her own home was simply out of the question.
So she'd packed a change of clothes and her class supplies, grabbed an umbrella, and made a mad dash for the school. Once safely inside and out of the rain, she took a moment to ring her hair out in the middle of the foyer. Then she headed for the stairs, steeling herself by taking a deep breath and trying not to think about it too much. Meg was terribly claustrophobic, so the sooner she got down to the gym the better off she would be.
When finally she made it, she took a few minutes outside the door to catch her breath. The gym (unlike the simulation room) wasn't that bad. It was spacious with different sections windowed off rather than walled, giving it an inviting, open feel. Even though she would not be able to see outside, once she got into her regular routine she would hopefully be able to relax enough to forget how enclosed she was.
One of the larger main rooms was already occupied, but it had one of the biggest windows and the girl seemed to only be using half the space so the older woman decided to chance it. Dropping her bag against the wall, she grabbed herself a mat from a storeroom and then laid it out flat. Several warmup stretches later she was sinking into the familiarity of her usual routine and could feel her heart rate relaxing. It was easier to breath now, and her body felt at peace.
It would have stayed that way too had the girl across the room not caught her attention. The amount of movement from the dance had been enough to draw her eye, and when the spinning started Megan found it hard to look away. A part of her stared for several moments, trying to figure out how the girl wasn't getting dizzy. The other part instinctively reached for bag, pulling out her sketchbook and a pencil. Next thing she knew she was sketching the young dancer, a series of gesture drawings (quick sketches meant to capture movement) filling up the page. Hopefully her unknowing subject wouldn't mind too much.
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Post by kitkat on Aug 26, 2011 22:33:25 GMT -5
Zilya had noticed the other person come into the room she was in, but it didn't phase her. She'd been dancing and performing too long to be distracted by the movement of others; even if their movements weren't to the same beat as hers. From what she could gather, the other woman was older than her, most likely a professor. She'd never had a class with her, though, so she didn't know her name or what she taught.
By the time Zilya had reached her 30th fouette, her leg was numb. She kept pushing herself to keep going, but eventually, she began to slow down. For her, it was never a good thing just to stop turning suddenly, unless she was on stage performing. It made her a bit dizzy, and the dizziness irritated her.
After she stopped spinning, Zilya headed towards her bag. She'd put a couple of bottles of water in there, and she was certainly thirsty enough to finish them both off at the same time. She took one and drained it about halfway before she realized the woman on the far side of the room had what looked like a sketchbook in her hands.
Zilya accidentally inhaled some water and coughed a couple of times, while, at the same time, turning towards the woman. Was she sketching her? Zilya suddenly felt a bit embarrassed. She didn't like to be photographed, drawn, or anything else of the sort. Of course, for performances at her academy, she'd had to have pictures taken, but that didn't mean she liked the process.
"Were you..... drawing..... me?" she asked between residual coughs from her water inhalation moments earlier. Her cheeks, she noticed, had turned bright red, which only made her more embarrassed. It wasn't until she looked at her feet that Zilya realized that she'd drifted about six inches off of the floor. She took a sharp breath in, and re-gravitied herself, landing back down on the floor with a thud. She looked away, now too embarrassed to even look at the other woman, and mentally kicked herself for losing control of her powers. Zilya hoped desperately that the woman wouldn't laugh or make some snarky comment as she waited for an answer.
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Post by megan on Aug 26, 2011 23:11:07 GMT -5
The sound of a voice broke the silence of the room. Seconds later Megan's pencil ceased its movements, the line of a leg coming up short due to the abrupt change in enthusiasm. She hadn't realized that the girl had stopped spinning or that now it was her turn to be watched. Now that she'd been caught, however, a single thought ran through her head. 'Busted...'
A sheepish smile crossed her lips as she met the dancer's eyes, her own embarrassment manifesting in the way she fidgeted with the pencil and bit her bottom lip. If she'd noticed the accidental display of the girl's power, she made no comment on it. Powers hadn't been what had drawn her attention, and considering the girl was now refusing to look at her she had a feeling that mentioning it would not win her any brownie points.
So instead she stuck to answering only what she was asked, hoping her typical friendly manner would be enough to win the girl over. It wasn't in her nature to exploit the misfortunes of others; if anything she regretted her rash decision because of how uncomfortable it had made the girl. Hopefully a little understanding and showing her exactly what it was she had been drawing would mend some of the damage she'd just intentionally caused.
"Um, kind of? Heh..." Shifting slightly, she ran a hand across the page she'd been sketching on, her eyes not leaving the form of the girl. It was filled with a number of intersecting, organic lines that seemed to vaguely resemble the human figure in various stages of the turns. Gesture drawings were not meant to capture details (which was probably what had the girl freaked out). "I was drawing your movements, really. Here, come and see. The way you move is just so... I'm afraid I couldn't resist trying to capture it." So maybe it wasn't the best explanation coupled with a veiled apology and half-stated compliment, but it was the best Megan's brain could come up with this early in the morning.
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Post by kitkat on Aug 31, 2011 22:34:47 GMT -5
Zilya almost sighed out loud with relief when no comment about her powers or anything came out of the other woman’s mouth. She let her lips tilt up into a slight smile, though it wasn’t quite genuine at the moment. "Um, kind of? Heh..." Well, she kind of figured that one. What else would someone be doing in a gym with a sketch pad? She didn’t have time to think of the answers to the question before the woman spoke again. "I was drawing your movements, really. Here, come and see. The way you move is just so... I'm afraid I couldn't resist trying to capture it."
Pink pointe shoes tapped on the floor as Zilya stepped over to the other woman. She peered over the edge of the sketchbook, getting an upside-down view of the many simple sketches of her in various stages of her fouettes. She smiled (this time, a more genuine one) at the little mini-drawings. “Those are actually pretty cute.” She said quietly, chuckling slightly. They were good, even if just basic sketches. “Um, so, how long have you been drawing?” she asked. It had to have been more than just a couple of years, and Zilya had a feeling that she was talking to an art teacher.
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Post by megan on Sept 5, 2011 16:27:56 GMT -5
Megan shifted the sketchpad so as to offer the girl a more right-side-up view. Then she smiled warmly, taking in the girl's growing appreciation. Clearly letting her see had been the right decision. Some of that nervous tension had drifted out of the room. The girl seemed genuinely interested now to; she was even asking a question.
Tucking a piece of dark hair behind her ear, she let out a light chuckle and shifted the sketchpad into a more comfortable position. Slipping the pencil within the spiral binding, she watched the girl with the same casual ease in which she approached everything in life. "Probably longer than you've been dancing," she joked with a short laugh. Then she gave a more serious answer. "I've been drawing ever since I learned how to hold a pencil, though I wasn't professionally trained until the last few years. I'm just lucky I've been able to make a career out of it. I'm Megan Zamorski. I teach Drawing and Painting one and two, and the Art and Symbolism class."
Her introduction was simple enough despite how informative she'd made it. It was generally a good idea to let the students know they were talking to a professor. Granted, Meg had a nasty habit of acting more like one of the students than she did the teacher she was supposed to be... But such an attitude came from living a relatively carefree life and it did help her build bonds with her students. Hopefully the knowledge that she was talking to an adult wouldn't scare the graceful dancer away. But to make sure, the woman asked her own question to keep the conversation rolling along. It was rare she got to talk to the students outside of the classroom or her office. "How long have you been dancing? I doubt I could move that gracefully even with training."
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