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Dance Studio
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message 1:
by
rose
(new)
May 31, 2012 06:02PM
A large building, with individual rooms with mirrors on every wall. The entire building is hard wood floors.
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Peyson turned on her music and went through her routine again. She exectuted it perfectly, but lost her balnce on the triple pirouette and arabesque. She groaned and ran a hand through her bangs, wich had fallen out of her ponytail. Focus Peyson, this is an easy step, you just need to take a breath and focus. After her little pep talk, she retied her pointe shoes and started again, this time landing th emove perfectly. "Yes!" she yelled, pumping a fist.((dinnertime, brb))
Madeline opened the door hesitantly, poking her head through. "Sorry to interrupt." she mumbled, dropping her bag on the floor by the door. "I'll wait till your finished." she added, sliding to the ground by the door to watch. Her blonde hair was in a signature bun, with a black leotard, and she wore no make up...as usual.
Peyson turned and smiled at the girl. "It's not a problem," she said. She crossed the room and opened her bag, pulling out her iPod. "I'll just use this." She looked at the girl, taking in her more professional appearance. Peyson was wearing a loose white tank and black leggings, accessorized with a pair of red leg warmers. "I'm Peyson by the way," she said. "I think I've seen you around the studio before, but we've never talked."
Maddy smiled, and unzipped her bag patiently. She slipped on her tutu, then sat on the floor to put on her slippers. "Yeah, I've seen a couple of your pieces, they're good. I'm Madeline...but you can just call me Maddy."
"Thanks. I'm trying to perfect a contemporary solo right now for a recital next week," Peyson said, beaming. "You're not too bad yourself. One of the best dancers here, I think. How long have you been dancing?" she asked.
"Since I was four." she said, not with any particular emotion. Madeline stretched on the ground, touching her toes and rolling her wrists and ankles. "I'm certainly not the best though. And I'm not currently scheduled for anything till the week after next. Not really...in it."
Peyson put in her earphones and turned the music down so that it was loud enough to hear, but she could still engage in conversation. She began marking her routine, clapping lightly on the spins. "I started when I was four as well, And what do you mean, not in it?" she asked.
Madeline shrugged. "I just don't feel like I used to about dancing." she blushed, turning to start warm ups on the bar. "I mean, its not like I don't like it or anything." Why I am telling this to a stranger? she asked herself, shaking her head. "But its not like I could quit even if I wanted to."
Peyson paused and executed a difficult pas de bourree en pointe. Then she looked over at Maddy with a slight frown creasing her forehead. "You can't quit? Are your parents forcing you to do it or something?"
"Something like that." she muttered, tightening her bun. Madeline thought about her parents, her lips pulling into a grimace. "What about you?"
Peyson stopped dancing and sat down on the floor to stretch. "I've always liked dancing, ever since I was young. But I didn't really love it until a few years ago. My dad got cancer," she said quietly, sinking into the splits. "And after he died, dancing was basically all I had left. At first, I was afraid that I'd be swallowed by all of the pain if I stopped dancing, but then I realized it was my way of remembering him," she explained, looking down at her hands.
"I'm sorry for your loss." she mumbled, dropping to the floor next to her. Madeline felt slightly uncomfortable. Here she was, almost complaining her parents made her dance. And Peyson had such a passion...
Peyson smiled. "Yeah, I'm just glad I found some way to deal with it." She switched to the butterfly position and pushed her knees down to touch the ground. "So, you said you're not scheduled for anything until a couple weeks. Is it a recital?" she asked.
Madeline wrinkled her nose, and shook her head. "Its an audition. All my other things got canceled to prepare for it. I'm on my final year of high school, so of course, my mom wants me working on my application to Julliard." she said, frowning. "I sound so ungrateful." she added, tone lower.
