The couches and armchairs had been shoved into the corners, orbiting Harper like haphazard, upholstered satellites as she lay stretched on the floor, leaning over a book. She was spread out in center splits, back flat and stomach pressed to the ground as she scanned the pages, every so often rolling her ankles and gasping quietly in excitement before turning the page. Behind her, there was a soft sigh as someone slid into a drooping armchair.
"You redecorating, Bambi?" Harper's head shot up before she twisted her hips and slid around on the floor like the hands of a clock to face Percy who was draped over the arm of a chair with a devilish half-smile. Harper waved the book at Percy as if that was the only answer she needed.
"Just reading." As if that explained why every piece of furniture had been shoved away to expose the wood floors. She had really spent hours waltzing about the living room to the lyrical sway of the writing, but Percy didn't need to hear how she'd danced trancelike in silence across the house, absorbed in her reading. Percy tilted her head to try and read the book's spine as it waved past her face.
"On Again?" Harper giggled and smoothed the page back open. "No, no. Onegin. You know, the Russian novel" Serina let me borrow it." "And when did you develop your taste for Russian literature?" "Since it's the first ballet I'm doing with the company. It's just a little research you know, to get a feel for it. And Serina's copy has all these little tidbits drawn in." Now it was Percy's turn to laugh. "What, like tiny aliens and flying saucers drawn in the margins" Does she circle every fifth letter hoping it'll spell out some secret coded message cuz it's all a Russian conspiracy' I tried borrowing a book from her once, but she'd folded all the pages into triangles. Took me ages unfolding them all just to get through one chapter." Harper tucked her legs together and kicked in Percy's direction playfully. Serina may have had her head in the stars, always chasing myths and tall tales, but she was part of the pack. And a pack sticks together. "Actually, no. Every time Tatiana appears she draws a little butterfly. I asked her about it, and she said that's what young Tatiana is. And Onegin is that bored, malicious kid who grabs them just to wipe the scales from their wings, just to keep them from flying because he never can. To him it's nothing, but to her it's shattering. And then years later, he meets her again and she's changed, not a delicate butterfly but cold and strong, and he's just stalled. He's still that little kid and she's left him behind. In the end they've come full circle and she leaves him broken just like he did with her." Percy raised an eyebrow, obviously not impressed. "And she got all that from a butterfly doodle, did she" Well, what did you get from it, doodles and all?" Harper chewed her lip, thumbing through the pages. She hadn't thought about what she'd pulled from the novel, as she'd been too caught up with the story itself. But in the end, that had been the goal, hadn't it' How do you bring words to life" How do you paint them across the stage with movement alone" What was it she'd be trying to say' Finally, she found the line she'd been looking for, and glanced up at Percy shyly from behind lidded lashes. "I guess it just means that love is as inevitable, disastrous, and transformatory as the seasons. As the narrator says, To love, all ages yield surrender; But to the young its raptures bring A blessing bountiful and tender- As storms refresh the fields of spring.?
"You redecorating, Bambi?" Harper's head shot up before she twisted her hips and slid around on the floor like the hands of a clock to face Percy who was draped over the arm of a chair with a devilish half-smile. Harper waved the book at Percy as if that was the only answer she needed.
"Just reading." As if that explained why every piece of furniture had been shoved away to expose the wood floors. She had really spent hours waltzing about the living room to the lyrical sway of the writing, but Percy didn't need to hear how she'd danced trancelike in silence across the house, absorbed in her reading. Percy tilted her head to try and read the book's spine as it waved past her face.
"On Again?" Harper giggled and smoothed the page back open. "No, no. Onegin. You know, the Russian novel" Serina let me borrow it." "And when did you develop your taste for Russian literature?" "Since it's the first ballet I'm doing with the company. It's just a little research you know, to get a feel for it. And Serina's copy has all these little tidbits drawn in." Now it was Percy's turn to laugh. "What, like tiny aliens and flying saucers drawn in the margins" Does she circle every fifth letter hoping it'll spell out some secret coded message cuz it's all a Russian conspiracy' I tried borrowing a book from her once, but she'd folded all the pages into triangles. Took me ages unfolding them all just to get through one chapter." Harper tucked her legs together and kicked in Percy's direction playfully. Serina may have had her head in the stars, always chasing myths and tall tales, but she was part of the pack. And a pack sticks together. "Actually, no. Every time Tatiana appears she draws a little butterfly. I asked her about it, and she said that's what young Tatiana is. And Onegin is that bored, malicious kid who grabs them just to wipe the scales from their wings, just to keep them from flying because he never can. To him it's nothing, but to her it's shattering. And then years later, he meets her again and she's changed, not a delicate butterfly but cold and strong, and he's just stalled. He's still that little kid and she's left him behind. In the end they've come full circle and she leaves him broken just like he did with her." Percy raised an eyebrow, obviously not impressed. "And she got all that from a butterfly doodle, did she" Well, what did you get from it, doodles and all?" Harper chewed her lip, thumbing through the pages. She hadn't thought about what she'd pulled from the novel, as she'd been too caught up with the story itself. But in the end, that had been the goal, hadn't it' How do you bring words to life" How do you paint them across the stage with movement alone" What was it she'd be trying to say' Finally, she found the line she'd been looking for, and glanced up at Percy shyly from behind lidded lashes. "I guess it just means that love is as inevitable, disastrous, and transformatory as the seasons. As the narrator says, To love, all ages yield surrender; But to the young its raptures bring A blessing bountiful and tender- As storms refresh the fields of spring.?