Topic: Recommencer

Katarina Smith

Date: 2012-02-08 03:23 EST
"Hey," Andy placed a hand on Katarina's shoulder to pause her quickened movements. The entire practice room was in motion with rehearsal ending. The January month was over and much to Katarina's surprise, rehearsals continued and the ballet moved as if a hitch never occurred. A new leadership of board members and patrons had assembled over the past few weeks, and the ballet suddenly had a director and a choreographer in addition to Madame. Currently, she was having a difficult time thinking about all of the changes. Instead she was trying to throw all of her stuff together and reach her first destination: home. Andy was trying to get a word in, "Crazy stuff, huh? Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah, whatever." She didn't even try to cover up her lie. She watched Leo exit the room and nearly stamped a foot in frustration. He was the only person she had wanted to vent to and now he was walking away.

"Look, I know it's not easy, but-"

"Really Andy, I don't want to talk about it." She heard the anger and crisp words in her voice, and tried to relax, "It's ova, an' I jist wan'ta mov' 'n an' I dun wan'ta talk 'bout it."

Andy's face was doubtful, but instead he reached down to grab her bag for her and held it out, "If you say so. At least your friend - what's his name - Jolyon, is on the board? That must be something."

"Yep, sure is. He's good people." The words were automatic and things her brain didn't need to think about as she reached out and snatched her bag from Andy, "Kin we talk tomorrow? I jist.. I jist wan' ta go home."

"Yeah, allright. You call me if you need to?"

Katarina waved off his concern as her strong strides took her out of the rehearsal room and out of the theatre. Each step took her a step away from her point of anger, but it didn't seem to help. Instead she felt her bottled anger elevate grow and bring a red haze to her vision all the way home. If it wasn't for her exquisite control over her feelings, she probably would have jammed her key into the door and yanked the door so hard that it hurt her arm. Instead she made sure to do no such thing and closed the door quietly behind her.

Locke wasn't home, and it was exactly what she wanted and didn't want. She dropped her bag near the door and didn't bother to put things away. Instead she made a beeline for her previous bedroom and stripped her clothing off. She could feel the rage bubbling as she yanked her tights so hard that she heard popping noises - she didn't care. The leotard, tights, and flats were replaced with an old black shirt and stretchy leggings that she used to wear when it was particularly cold. It took a few minutes of digging, but she finally found an ancient pair of sneakers and hastily put them on. With that complete, she nearly stomped her way to Locke's room and would have rummaged through his closest if she wasn't respectful of his things. Still, she felt her control slipping and once she found what she was looking for, was quick to head down the stairs and out of her house. She pulled the sweater over her head that read "Universitas Magicas" and found that it was just a touch short in the arms.

Taking a deep breath, she turned her nanites off. It was freezing outside, and her attire was hardly adequate. Still, she stood there for several moments, and then started to run.

Katarina didn't run often, if ever. In fact, she didn't enjoy the exercise at all. A ballerina's body nearly always had something that was aching, and running brought all of those aches and pains into a new light. The constant impact was uncomfortable on her knees and it just made its way up her body. The anger that she had kept bottled through most of the day had built in such a way that Katarina didn't know how to release it. She didn't want to stay at the theatre, and she never participated in the catharsis of hitting something. Usually she danced, but she knew that Locke would run, and it seemed to work for him. Maybe his usual running sweater in the summer months would help.

She didn't have a particular destination in mind. She was more focused on wearing her body to exhaustion. She watched her breath come out in puffs and felt the pain begin in her shoulders. She focused on that pain instead of her anger. Her feet kept moving as her brain battled with the focus of her thoughts. There was no track of time and the only difference made was the gradual change of her location. She remained along the shoreline for a while before she nearly collapsed on a bench. Her muscled twitched in pain and her body felt on fire. It was then that she slouched her posture and placed her hands gently over her face.

Christophe had been killed in jail while waiting for his sentencing, and Alik had managed to hop a boat off-world. The lack of resolution and the abrupt ending to the chaos had been a shock at the beginning. Over the hours of the day, the shock turned into anger. Angry that the justice for Christophe had come too soon. Katarina wanted to be there, wanted him to know how much she loathed him for the trouble and fear he put her through. The experience in his office had been downright traumatic. She freaked at the sight of a pistol and squirmed with any talks of guns. She couldn't help it - all she could think about is having that blaster pointed at her chest. It brought a perception of weakness that she hadn't felt since Caleb had died.

Katarina had already informed her contacts about Alik's behavior. She was still unclear about everything that he had done to her, and all of the ways that she had been manipulated. She sent police reports and her own notices to every person in every ballet company and troupe that she could contact. Word would spread, and she knew that he would never dance professionally again. It wasn't enough. He was getting away.

She stayed at that bench until her body heat cooled and she felt the chill from the winter weather, until she was shivering. She didn't feel like she had the energy to run back, but she forced her body to move. She would push her body so hard that she didn't have the capacity to think about anything else.

Katarina Smith

Date: 2012-02-29 16:15 EST
"Okay, so, I thin' tha' addin' th' lifts'll help ta add some o' th' swing moves, yeah?" Taking in a deep breath, Katarina walked over to her bag to grab a towel and wipe her damp face off. "Er kinda hav' on' lead ta th' otha, ya thin'?" Setting the towel back down, she reached for a bottle of water and took a long drink.

Leo, went through the rock step out of the mentioned lift and nodded to the first part. "Mm, yeah. Also with the extra steps instead of the long strides, really picking out some of the beat instead of passing through it." He grinned and scratched at his sweaty hairline. "Not sure I got what you meant on the second part. Kinda have...what?"

She grinned, before clarifying, "Eitha havin' the lifts lead ta th' swing parts er havin' the swing parts be wha' adds the' lifts." She chuckled before setting her water aside, "I dun thin' tha' choreographin' was' eva my stronges' suit, yanno? An' definitely nah fer mor' 'n one person."

"Oh, yeah, yeah...sorry." He felt a little foolish and shook his head, but start up again into the latest series of steps they had decided worked best. "Music is interesting, but it really is the style of the singer's voice that gives it the soul. So, I guess are we embodying her hurt or replaying through the story? One or the other, means more or less lifts." He did a cut turn, leg out, hands down, back to where down stage would be, though they were working in one of the many rehearsal rooms. The sounds of others working on their parts only faintly creeping past walls and doorways.

?Maybe it's th' words tha' throw me off then. I like ta make my own interpretations." Walking over to the small music player, she pressed the 'play' button and heard the strong, steady beat of the bass. She listened to the song dozens of times, but it might help with answering his question. "I thin'.... maybe outlinin' th' story otha 'n th' hurt? I mean, we're gonna do both, really. Wha'cha thin'? There's a lot ta work wit' here."

"Lot to work with, but if the dance doesn't have a central theme, well...it'll be all over the place." He shrugged. "But let's give it a whirl. I think fewer lifts in the chorus then and to keep with the swing style, on the upbeats, not downbeats." He went through a few turn steps, hands out and arms stretched, long strides that broke into steps with the beat until he mimed a lift up over his head that cast on a quick upbeat. Then he slowed his steps again, miming drawing her down to the floor once more and a release. A flop of his hand down against his leg. "What do you think?"

She observed his move critically, rubbing an arm as she envisioned her mirrored movements with his. "Yeah, I like tha'. An' then maybe 'n th' chorus, we do more o' dancin' close er togetha withou'.. really dancin' togetha. Do ya know wha' I mean?" She walked up to him, and made slow movements of dancing in circles around him, "Er doin' lots o' comin' togetha an' breakin' 'part." She broke away from him with simple jumps, looking in the mirror to see if she liked the movement or not.

He turned into the nearness then out of it, combining a lean with a shuffle hop. "Yeah, I see it." He nodded. "So, I guess the question is will Madame and the director approve? Hmm." He grinned again, going once more of the series of steps they had concocted. "What do you make of him? He seems to get along with Madame rather well.?

"Mista Glasses?" She chuckled a bit, returning to their previous position and performed the jumps again, adding turns for a different effect. "I thin' he'll hav'ta get a feel fer us all before decidin' ta pull reign. He dun seem lik' tha' kinda guy. Hy may help wit' th' visuals a bi', bu' I dun thin' he'll interfere too much. He's too focused on th' otha groups. We've kinda been givin' th' okay ta do our own thin'."

He stopped cold and puffed out a breath. "That's the thing. You, yeah, I can see it. You've been part of the troupe longest, one of the primas, but me? It's like leaving candy on the floor and hoping a kid won't ruin his dinner by pouncing on it." He even did a little pounce to add effect to his words and chuckled. "Guess they felt your intimidating manner would keep me in check." He teased.

"Er, they're considerin' ya fer principal." She grinned and sent him a wink, "Dun worry 'bout it, yeah? Be confident 'n yer abilities an' ya dun hav' anythin' ta worry 'bout. I thin' yer doin' a shiny job. An'," she continued on a serious of arm movements, determining what she liked best as the song looped again, "ya've been here longa 'n 'im, an' tha's gotta coun' fer somethin'."

Joining in the practice of movements, even into the next lift. There was not a single grunt in his words -- there wouldn't be. This was part of what they did; their nature. "I suppose so." And he abruptly changed the subject. "You feeling better these days? Sure is easier to do the lifts now." He did not say 'now that there's some meat on the bones to balance.'

There was a slight hitch in her exit of the lift at his question, but she answered him as honestly as she felt comfortable, "Yeah, 'm feelin' a lot betta, thanks. We all hav' our demons I guess, yeah? Mine kin jist be more visible 'n mos'." She paused to listen to the second verse, to see where the words lead her thoughts to what the next steps would be, "Thanks fer askin', though."

"Demons. Yep. Some inside, and some that wear pillbox hats and pearl brooches." He muttered and stepped over to his bag to get a drink. Just a quick sip and he was back, just letting his body move how it wanted with the music, eyes closed, listening to the emotion not necessarily the words.

"Amen ta tha'." She watched him, taking the opportunity to watch his features with his eyes being closed, "I hope tha' yers didn' come back wit' th' whole Count thing." It was an opportunity for him to explain his more calmed behavior. It also awakened her curiosity to the craziest night she had experienced to date.

Both eyes blinked open. "What? Oh, yeah, no." He stammered and shook his head. "No, thankfully, seems my past is still on holiday. What's that show? Death takes a Holiday? Love the movies. Do you go often? I haven't hunted down a cineplex here yet, but I'm supposing there is one. Seems this place has a bit of everything." Hoping he wasn't too obvious in the change of subject.

She was good with detecting the avoidance, but she let it slip too. He didn't press for specifics, and neither would she, even though she was dying to press further. "Yanno, I neva really did go ta th' movies er anythin'. There weren't any places 'n Hope, so th' only opportunities I had were travelin' wit' th' academy, an' yanno how ya barely hav' any free time durin' tha'. There's a studio ou' here tha' produces flicks. We should all go. Dunno if Locke's been ta anythin' lik' tha'." She placed a "hat" on her head, "I thin' this song would be good wit' fedoras. Too bad tha' wun work out too well, I thin'."

"Perhaps not fedoras, but..." he went to grab one of the exercise ropes from the side of the room and came back to loop it around her waist. "Perhaps some scarves. The fragile with the strong." He snapped it clear of her body, drawing it up high in a stretch of his arms and turn of his body, like he was hanging from a bar, but the rope/scarf filled in that role. "And yeah, we should all hit the pictures and see what's showing. Would be good down time."

"Oh, I lik' tha. I lik' th' opportunities ta hav' otha accessories er jist... somethin' differen', yanno?" She watched him with the rope, "We could use 'em an' all." She continued to try a different combinations of moves, now trying to focus on the transition of classic ballet to a more swing dance feel, "Yeah, tha' would be fun, an' we're th' type o' people tha' dun turn down fun."

He laughed and nodded. "I understand that. Right then. Next loop will take it from the top and see where it leads us?" He suggested, relaxing just the moment with a shake of his legs and spring of his feet to rebound energy.

"Yeah, sounds good." She rolled her neck and placed her hands on her hips as she waited for the song to end. She smiled in the break, and realized that the smile was not forced. Maybe she was doing better than she thought.

Katarina Smith

Date: 2012-03-29 03:15 EST
There were not many evenings during a production that Katarina spent away from home or without Locke. Her mother teased her anti-social behavior, claiming the "honeymoon phase" would last for some time. Katarina took the gentle teasing of her family and accepted that it was more than likely true. Even during the longest year of her existence, she stayed home with Locke to try and ease his suffering. Try as she might, she couldn't find the point in time when her life centered around his own. When she realized that not only could she not find an answer, but that it didn't matter, she embraced their lifestyle and fell into a comfortable rhythm. Most nights after a production she barely had the energy as it was.

There were the occasional evenings that she invested time into the board members; particularly Jolyon. His involvement continuously kindled their friendship and it helped to slowly tear away all of her worries and concerns. She had at least one ally in her higher ups, and she vowed to never have an experience like the year before with Alik and the Count. It helped to reassure the nagging distrust that seemed to have settled in the corner of her mind.

Then, there were nights such as this. Nights spent in the hot springs at the Glen. Practices with the additional productions made quick work on her body. There was a time where her body felt invincible, and she could dance without stop for days. That time had past, and the reminder left a constant pang in her heart. She was thirty. If she was very careful and very lucky, she could last another decade. The thought had her dipping lower into the warm water until it nearly touched her chin. Her age wasn't the problem; it was being in a field that was so unforgiving and was short-lived. So much of her life was defined by her ability, that she struggled seeing a future without it.

Andy slowly walked his way over to her, and rose a brow, "Are you about to fall asleep? Maybe you should step out." He mistook her contemplation for weariness.

She straightened up, and smiled, "Nah, bu' I'd be fully submerged if I could be. Th' spring feels great." She glanced away for moment. She didn't go nearly as much as her fellow dancers, but she also hated attending an event that excluded Locke by nature. She also hated to admit how often she missed simple things such as warm water and warm meals.

He smiled, then. "I know what you mean." He placed his hands behind his head, "I am starting to notice that my mornings begin with 'These old bones..'"

She laughed, then, and splashed some water his way, "I thin' 've been sayin' tha' since I was fifteen."

"Bodies can be so unforgiving." His smile turned sly, "But they sure look good." For good measure, he waggled his brows at her.

She didn't give him the reaction he was looking for, and instead rose a brow at him, "Is tha' wha' yer new lady-friend Michelle says?" When his cheeks turned a darker shade of red from more than the warm water, she laughed then. "'m sorry. Couldn' resist." She rose her hands up in surrender and apology.

"I haven't heard complaints." He attempted a sniff, and she snickered. Andy found it to be a good time to change the same subject, "Work for the next production will start soon. What do you think it'll be?"

"Dunno, bu' probably somethin' more well known, considering wha' were doin' now." She slicked some of her finer hairs back from her face to join the mess of hair atop of her head, "Thinkin' 'bout addin' somethin' else is makin' me tired." She teased, but then wondered how far away she was from truly feeling that way.