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What is it you're good at? Are you good enough to survive the academy? |
| [Introduction]
Dear entrant, We are very pleased to confirm your place at Fame Academy. Please find inculded a list of costume and uniform requirments as are relevant to your school of subject. Please may we remind all musicians that you must own your own instrument. Dancers may buy the reccomended shoes from the Academy. We must also remind you that aside from your speciality subject lectures and classes, the following subjects are also compulsory; Mathematics, English Literature and Language, Movement (also known as Dalcroze), and combined Sciences. Failure to attend these classes will lead to a termination of studentships. We wish you well in your journey with us, and look forward to seeing what you make of yourselves. You have proven to have talent, drive and ambition. The question that remains is; what will you do to climb to the top? FAME ACADEMY ************************ RULES: No dying or killing of characters, no matte how desperate they are to be famous... 5 days to add before skippage Cussing/sex/relationships: there are NO rules HAVE FUN! Bios in first additions please! |
| Name: Jeremy Abcote Age: 19 Major: Dance - although he's majoring in ballet, he's actually more in love with jazz and street dancing. Sexualilty: Straight. He thinks. He's pretty sure. He thinks. Appearance: Jeremy is your classic English man. Strong jawed with curtainish brown hair he slicks back and serious brown eyes, the first thing people generally notice about him is his very roman nose. And by roman, we mean slightly large. Although it gives his face a character he cannot see, this means that Jeremy rarely smiles because he thinks it makes it spread across his face and look even bigger - therefore, he comes across moody and even a little aloof. Built at 6'2 he is muscular and, unfortunately, fairly light skinned, due to the fact that when in the sun he never goes brown, just pink. His feet (although precise) are bigger than he would like. Personality: Jeremy's straight face combined with his shyness at being completely alone in a new country completely overshadows the lust for life that hides in the twinkle of his eye. Being rather clumsy when not on the dance floor, he is very precise, concentrating on not making a fool of himself, causing him to seem very uptight and rigid. This is in complete contrast to when he slips up and drops/bumps into/falls over/breaks something, which starts a chain of unfortunately accidents in a very short space of time, usually ending with Jeremy landing on his butt with soemthing unflattering splattered on his shirt. At this point his shyness overcomes him so much he begins to stutter. On the dance floor, in tights and ballet shorts, he is the perfect English gentleman - precise and strong, with honest moves and a beautiful instep. However, when he lets loose (which is a rare occasion) in with some street dance styles, the risk taking, fun loving little boy comes out - the type of person only his very closest friends see. And should he take to you, no-one will ever be able to say a word against you. A true romantic. History: Jeremy attended just the best of private education in England, disappointing his single father and step mother very much when he broke away and auditioned for very school of arts avaliable in Europe and the US. He learnt to dance on weekends by his best friend at school who was a very reckless nad charming lad whose estranged mother was a proffesional latin dancer. Larry's interests went further south, where he teamed up with street dancers trained by his mother's boyfriend. Jeremy's mother was appalled when he exhibited his new found skills, and insisted that if he must dance he would be classically trained. He has a younger sister who he adores, despite her very snobbish view of nature, and the way she looks down on his dancing and refers to him as 'gay'. |
| Name: Alfie Scaffidi. Some call him "fonzi" "fonz" or "Scaff(i)" because his full name is Alfonso, and in return he creates absurdley general nicknames for everyone in order to create mass confusion. Age: 20. He thinks. Major: Actor Sexuality: Straight. Completely and unquestionably. Appearence: An Italian by birth and upbringing, Alfie has the classical dark wavy hair that reaches down to his eyebrows and can range from a mass of curls to a fairly controlled wave, which makes him look somewhat like a classical god and is very useful for Shakespeare castings. He has peircing green eyes, a straight, strong nose and a strong, defined jaw that is rarely cleanshaven. He has fairly dark and prominent eyebrows but they frame his face and, particularly, his powerful eyes. When stressed, his lips thin into what could be construed as a pout and his deepset eyes begin to show bags. Alfie uses, and pulls off very well indeed, the rumpled and fiery Italian stereotype to his advantage and keeps in shape. A womanizer, he wears what he has found to be comfortable, practicle and does not compromise his appeal- a uniform of a black tee shirt (well, at least half of the time, he has a fondness for leaving it off or donating it to his many admirers), well cut jeans, bare feet and, if needs be, a bespoke-tailored coat and some sort of shoe. On his right shoulder blade runs a long, silver ghost of a scar. Personality: Friendly with (almost) everyone, intelleigent (although not obviously, he actually has a fairly thourough and broad depth of knowledge, which allows him to befriend een the more quiet among his peers) and genuine, Alfie is a confident student, a joker, and suave and personable character with a fiery mediterranean temperament. He is a strange cross of pure, unadulterated womanizer and lad's lad with the strict morals of his upbringing, which makes him strangely chivalrous and renders him in posession of a set of values that baffles even his closest friends, and seems to keep him reasonably beloved. He nurtures a love for all things from his past in Italy, the football, the food and the women, but in reality he also has a fondness for eccentrics, literature and american rock music (albeit stuck in the classic mullet era) having been educated at the english school in Rome. Italian schooling is very strict and, a rebel there, once let lose on the freedoms of the US System he began to exploit it ruthlessly. Alfie gets by on the absolute minimum of work, flirting with anything female, bringing his puppy (a very young black fell terrier called Zepi) into class and chainsmoking backstage. He carries on at the school through reliance on his talent and wits, and through general amiability and quick wittedness. Alfie can become very byronic and philosophical at times and has a tendency to depressed isolation when confronted with serious issues, something that helps his acting but is becoming more grave due to the gradual descent of his mother into madness, his brother's nonchalance about it, and their location back in Rome. On these occasions he becomes unreasonable, and it is hard to judge whether he will go out, get drunk, and deliberately start losing fights, become withdrawn, act as if everything is fine, become reallr dedicated to his acting or just hit a punch bag really hard. Alfie thinks that everything designed or produced in modern America is ugly, and is strangely resilient against technology. This is not helped by his childhood in Sicily, Venice, Rome and Tuscany, which genuinely are beautiful. He calls Italian-americans "hybrids" and will spend hours picking peperoni off of a perfectly reasonable pizza (only to eat it later, seperate from the pizza) "for the principal of the thing." (he is fussy, attentive to detail, stubborn as a pig and eats like one too.) History: Alfie's father is a rich but increasingly distant and resigned man, and his mother has been removed to a mental institution in tuscany. He hates his only, elder brother (who is a white collar) and cusses at the mention of his name. A fierce Catholic, but to what extent this is his habit and what extent belief is questionable, especially since his priest has sore ears by the end of confession (which is fairly irregular) and his own voice is hoarse. He drives a grey Ducati motorbike as his mode of transport, and has a pilot's license with a timeshare in a small biplane. His schooling in the British School means that he speaks fluent English and is well aquainted with all of his subject material at the Fame academy, although he sometimes uses his accent for... beneficial purposes and out of innate stubborness that comes inbuilt into his personality, along with laziness. He is strangely out of touch with American popular culture post mullet rock era, knows how to (but refuses) to use a computer, and is frequently oblivious to popular references. Alfie listens to music off an old walkman and occasionally, a record player(It works for him!). He can't hold a note whilst sober, but years of drunken nights have given him a fairly good singing voice whilst almost catatonic, and his driving was italian to start with (grew up in venice) so it doesn't seem to affect that. He grows less certain on how reliable his father has become as the once honest man takes more trips down to sicily resulting in large amounts of money being diverted in his family's direction. |
| Name: Elena O'Conner Age: 19 Major: Acting Sexuality: Bi (though pretty much prefers girls) Appearancce: White hair; not blondish white or even creamy white. More like sheets or shirts or paper. Once it was a deep curly red, fire tinted brown, blazing ochre. Yet despite many complaints at destroying such a beautiful phenomenon, she had it bleached, permed and cut in short layers so that it sticks down and out from her head, short enough to reveal her slender neck, held back from her face with cute oriental clips. She has relatively large lips and imploring eyes, which are a clear blue. She never grew out of her pure, pale complexion with light, childish freckles on her small nose. She stands proudly at 5'3, and will hit anyone that calls her short. Personality: Her shockingly crude and laddish nature often surprises those who expect her to be as innocent as she appears. A teacher's nightmare, she is wild, confident and usually the instigator of practical jokes or student uprisings. Since childhood she would be put in leading male roles because of her distinctly boyish character. She pretty much sees guys as friends or competition, as having been close friends with a lot of guys she decided that girls were much more fun and challenging to go out with. Also she doesn't trust men as anything else, on the deduction that they become entirely different beings when lust is involved. A gender-bending tomboy for as long as she can remember, she recently started to add the odd feminine touch to her appearance, such as red lipstick (in mourning of her hair) and some of the many cute accessories her sisters bought her. History: She grew up in rural American countryside in a large family of seven, four brothers, (two older and two younger), and two sisters, (one older and one younger). Perhaps being the very definite middle child encouraged her to always stand up for herself and stand out, though it may have been spending her years playing football and building dens with her brothers that buried anything at all delicate about her. Whilst there was always problems with money, the overwhelming exuberance of her family dealt positively with troubles, and she has learnt never to give up. Her love of acting took her far away from them, but her homesickness has been overshadowed by excitment at new places and prospects. |
Name: Cores Priestley Age: 18 1/2 Major: Dance, mostly street but she's majoring in tap and modern. Does ballet on the side. Sexuality: Straight and confidant Appearence: She's a dainty, delicate thing with a heart shaped face and large, dark eyes like a deers. Her hair is dark and straight but with natural auburn and bronze highlights running through it. Coming down to her shoulder blades, she keeps it tied back, most often in a side plait or scruffy bun. Her skin is a light tan inherited from her Greek mother as is her 5'5 height and slender build. She's very slim and generally wears lots of layers in order to keep herself warm. Mostly she's the quint essential british prep school girl who has ended up wearing the preppy leggings and large tshirt combo with ugg boots and large warm hoodie underneath a tweed blazer. When she's not in her school regalia of course. Personality: Confidant and self-assured she's a happy hedonist who loves a party. She's not exactly laid back but will take a break when she really needs to, loving to push herself to her limits before giving in and trying again. She's a keen lover of all things fun and fast but not anything dangerous. Against all odds she's often scared by the littler things, such as failure, bad luck etc. However until she gets her 'scaredy-cat feeling' she's a bright spark that's simply trying to enjoy things and keep her goals in view. History: Her mother was a ballet dancer who didn't make it and her father a wealthy heir to an expanding entrepenurial business in the Americas. Hence, other than two years in London whilst her father expanded the business yet again when she was 12, Cores had never left her father's family home in Massachussetts. They weren't a close family but they weren't unhappy either. As an only child she was spoilt when she was younger but only with attention, not with gifts. However as she grew older her father began to care less and less about what she spent and what he spent on her, so she often ended up with the best of the best no matter what the situation. When she was littler she discovered she had had an older brother but he had died before she was born which was why they lit candles on the 28th May. This scared her because until she turned seven she'd had an imaginary friend who's name, just like her brother, was Kozma. This rarely comes back to haunt her but it did lead to her interests in philosophy. |
Name: Leo Daler-Rowney Age: 19 Major: Dance (break/street dance) but with great interests in music. Sexuality: Bi ('I just see beauty, no matter what shape or form.') Appearence: Leo stands out from the crowd for his ecclectic taste in fashion. Heavily influenced by the gothic, punk and classical lolitas, he's instantly noticable. Most of the time. His hair, dyed close to a white blond over dark roots falls carelessly over his smooth forehead and into his eyes, a strange grey that darkens with his mood. His skin is naturally pale and the shaped, arching eyebrows are dark, accentuating his defined bone structure and straight nose. His body is slender from all the dancing but well toned and muscular. The slim shoulders are bony and his neck long making him seem more of the ballet type. It's surprising to most who just look at him exactly what he can do. Personality: A strange one, he's the off the wall eccentric with a fashionista passion. Brought up in London, New York, Tokyo, Paris and Milan, he's travelled widely and adores blending different worlds together in him. His love for dance is only matched by his twin passions for fashion and music, particularly when combined. However, unused to having friends due to his massive unheavals through out his childhood, he can come off as abrasive, rude and sarcastic when he's in a bad mood to those who aren't familiar with him. Not content to obey orders or conform, most are used to hiim answering back and questioning judgements. However, when he wants to be, he can be charming, witty and suave, something mainly seen when he's had a few cups of coffee and a malborough light, his guilty pleasures. He's the sort of person that everyone wants to be friends with but who rarely ever lets anyone become close to him because he doesnt trust that they wont hurt him. Despite his looks he's sensitive, a post-anorexic and is painfully aware of what others think of him although he tries to kid himself that he's not. Loves to have fun, loud and playful, but secretly simply trying to hide his insecurities. History: Born early on a ferry crossing the english channel, his mother named him after his star sign and then gave him to her parents to bring up until he turned seven. It was then that his mother returned, having succeeded in marrying an artist who travelled all over the world for his shows and galleries. He was home schooled except for his final two years in a school in the Swiss Alps called L'Aiglon. His grandmother had taken him to dance school when he was very little and his mother had continued to teach him and take him to various teachers throughout their travels. At L'Aiglon he had been terrified that all his work would be put to waste but was instead taken on by a local dancer who had retired ten years previously from russian ballet. However, ballet did not take him fancy and soon he was trying out break and street dance and combining it with all he had learnt from the dancer. Soon he was adding in moves he had learnt whilst snowboarding as well as free-running and gymnastics. The school let him take his exams early and he left to go to dance college for nine months in Paris where he chose to develop his tastes for visual-kei. it was also at this point when his anorexia, part of his life for five years, became apparent. Broken, he had to mend, but accepted his offer to come to FAME academy only part way through his therapy to help him overcome his problems with self-image. His step-father and mother are fully supportive of his decision but worry about him. |
| Alfonso Scaffidi pulled the helmet off his head slowly, kicking the stand for the bike and locking it as he finished smuggling it into the back of the auditorium. The polished greys and blacks reflected the burnt tanngerine and mellow reds of the worn theatre, inherited by the academy a few years ago, into his soft green eyes as he strained the muscles in his arms to pick up the stage light strapped to the back of the mororbike. Alfie was early, and it was still technically the dance school's session, but Cores had called in a favour and he had been powerless to resist... naturally. "That looks heavy Fonz." Came a slow drawl from the cloud smoke to his left, and he turned to glance at its creator, The street dancer, Leo. "Indeed, indeed. The thing these girls," He gestured at the dancers that littered the stage, "can get me to do. Honestly, playing on my good nature... I Haven't slept for two and half days, and now i'm carrying things half my bodyweight." He lugged it onto a seat in the back row and collapsed into the soft bucket chair, watching groggily as the dancers flew across the stage in feats of acrobatics that looked, well, painful. He turned over his shoulder to look at the boy, dressed eccentrically and takind a drag from a Marlborough Light, a black coffee in the other hand. Now there was a boy that had priorities. He grinned charismatically and looked up. "Any chance of a light?" "Here." The boy reached into his tailored emerald trousers and produced a black lighter and a cigarette. "Grazie!" He nodded, and they returned to smoking in silence, Alfie training his eyes back on the stage. As he allowed himself to relax to the pulsating swing of the music, cigarette stubbed out underfoot, he drifted into sleep. After 48 hours of caffeine and adrenaline, he didn't even notice the dozen or so eyes resting on his sleepy smile through the dusty warmth of the small theatre's chairs. When the phone rang he was backstage, blasting out Led Zeppelin from an old sony walkman that rested on the glossy smooth lid of the closed maple piano. He wanted to ignore it, not only because he was about to go onstage oposite Elena, who was a laugh, but because he couldn't be bothered to stretch, in his catatonic state, to reach the buzzing mobile. One eye opened lazily to take in the dark scenery of old props as he mopped his brow with his right hand, letting his fingers sweep the wild hair from his face as it crumpled into a petulant frown. He gave in to the annoying vibrations that were echoing on the hammers and strings and, standing up wearily, glanced at the glossy screen. A girl's voice greeted him at the other end of the phone. He sighed, remembering something, and smiled kindly as the full warmth of his voice was unleashed on the poor girl at the other end of the line. "Sorry Bella, you caught me in the middle of something, can you call back?" The black touchscreen slid into the pocket of his fitted jeans, where it clashed angrily with the tinny sea spray of his keys. Cricking his neck, he emerged onto the stage, a sculpted deer in the headlights, grinning broadly. Elena stood in the centre of the whiteness, her freckles ablaze and dancing across the bridge of her nose, her hair swept off her face, her hands akimbo, her head cocked and a grin across her face as she squinted at him under the lights. "Another one Scaff? Really, I thought you'd last longer than five pages..." She raised her eyebrows and allowed herself a smirk. Her voice was light and feminine, quite unlike her current appearence. Without the touches; red lipstick, hair clips and mascara, she could look very androgynous. "Hey hey Petit, I'm turning it off..eventually. Besides, you crazy. Have you not seen how I look?" He grinned back at her, letting his eyes trail by her feet, tracing the movements of a small and noisy bundle of fur as it danced by her feet. The italian lilt of his voice rang out throughout the auditorium and a few girl's blushed. She grinned, ignoring his nickname, and started mouthing at him over the bellows of the drama teacher at other students littered about the stage. <<Yes but I have control over my hormones and I prefer not to fuck up my friendships!>> On the other hand, it could have been: <<Yes you asshole and it's time for class and I have to become a bloody man>>. Whatever it was, it had little punctuation. He had never said that he was good at lipreading. Smirking amiably at the small girl as he bent over to scratch the dog's ears and allow it's velveteen nose to burrow in his fingers and explore the palm of his hand. A voice pierced the exchange of amused looks and silent puns. "Get that mutt off the stage!" Shrieked the drama teacher in her pipped falsetto. "How are you supposed to get in character if you have a puppy tripping you up?" "Are you stating that they did not have puppy's in 1940s england? How extroadinary!" Elena muttered, innocently blinking at the middle aged woman who was sunk into the red velvet chair like a sausage roll, half moon glasses askew on the edge of her nose. He elbowed Elena, and immeadiately both of their postures changed as they adjusted both mentally and physically, his body straightening and tensing, crumpling his face into a frown, his pupils narrowing, all changing him into the stoic British Army Officer that rivalled Elena's American RAF double-crosser. The dog became confused at their changed demeanours and paused, becoming quieter. A slight change of mood can do amazing things to a person's tone, let alone a small puppy's puzzled mind. Poor Zepi. The script was a fairly apalling attempt at dramatics that had been written by a fellow student and was therefore mandatory to perform. It was a cross between gay cowboys and blitzed london, full of overtly fussy imagery. With weary sighs over table reading, the dominant and talented members of the cast had managed to manipulate it, currently incorporating the puppy into the play, subtly changing the odd line here and there... to make sure that it didn't induce intense feelings of psychological hatred. Which is where it was going if the cast hadn't been so bored, and ever so slightly drunk. The best way to act, by far. You couldn't truly absorb a villain if you were sober, too nasty for a brain to handle unless you were a piece of work yourself... and you definitely couldn't become a hero by having your wits about you. |
| Jeremy looked up, anxious and exhausted, from where he had collapsed on the floor. Cores glared at him from where she had landed on his legs. "I can't believe you just dropped me." "I-I didn't mean to, I'm so sorry, I just lost my balance-" "I'm only standing in as a favour, Jer." She pulled herself up and adjusted her slight frame. "The least you could do is not drop me." "Cores, I said I'm sorry." Jeremy brushed himself off and stood up, brushing his hair back out of his eyes. "You're being a great help." She still looked away moodily, unlike her usual sunny self. The fall must have hurt. "How about I buy yuor lunch for the next three days?" She eyed him, one eyebrow arched. "Anything I want?" "Anything you want." She smiled, and it was like the sun coming out. SHe stretched her hand towards him, and started the routine all over again. *** "I miss London." Jeremy complained as they stopped, yet again, in the middle of a road as a yellow cab beeped past them. "I'm not sure I do," Cores shouted back as they jogged across the road. "Out of school, living the life we always dreamed at school..." "Yeah I know. But sometimes I'd love to order 'chips' and actually get chips, not crisps." Cores laughed, and pushed open the door to the cafe. Alfonso, the italian heartbreaker smirked sexily at Cores and leaned back on his chair to kiss her on the cheek. "Hey babe." "Hey, Fonz." She kissed him back and went to the counter, ready for her lunch. Jeremy eyed Alfonso warily, the two having crossed paths not many times, and never well. "Hi." Alfonso inclined his head and gestured to the other seat at the table grudgingly. "Sit yourself down then. This," he indicated to the stunning (albeit unusual) girl beside him, "is Elena. Elena, Jeremy." "Nice to meet you," she extended a hand, which Jeremy found to have a particularly strong grip. "Hey." He sat himself down and put a hand on teh shoulder of the shockingly dressed young man beside him. "Leo. How are you doing today?" "Alright." Leo shrugged and shook his head. "It feels too early to be awake." "Jer!" Cores called impatiently from the counter, "Time to pay your debt for the brusies on my butt!" "Coming..." |
| Lunchtime, and Elena sat eagerly eating her way through sun-dried tomato pasta, toasted cheese sandwich, fries, Caesar salad, chocolate chip cookie, brownie and a diet coke. Really, Scaff hadn't known what he'd let himself in for when he offered to pay. "You sure that's okay for you Petit? I think you’re eating more than your body weight there" The Italian man received a thump on the shoulder for his impertinence, but Elena briefly detached herself from her sandwich to thank him once again for the meal. “I don’t know why you chose that useless imitation of a salad anyway” he replied, drawing on the singing tones of his home country to prove a point. Leo observed her with a slightly queasy but amused expression on his face, one arched eyebrow raised slightly. She had only just been introduced to him through Scaff, and had decided from the moment she saw his bleached hair and daring outfit that she liked him. She grinned at him and he smiled lightly back, one hand absent-mindedly brushing his hair out of his eyes. "You're lucky, being an actor. Try eating a meal like that before dancing and - well, you can imagine." The dancer's accent was indistinguishable, containing lilts of different countries and cultures Elena could only dream of. She had never travelled, and up till know knew few people from the mysterious reaches beyond America. The man's voice, just as Scaffi's often did, provoked longings to explore the world that echoed distantly at the back of her mind. But it was all right, she reminded herself. She would become and actress. She would travel. A cheerful tinkle of the bell drew the attention of the table to the door. Through it entered a tall, serious looking man accompanied by an elegant dark-haired beauty. Elena didn't need to guess that she was a dancer. Predictably, Scaff instantly turned on the charm, with a kiss on the cheek for the girl that he was doubtless acquainted with. However, his reaction to the slightly uncomfortable looking brown-haired man was entirely unpredicted. A wary tension filled both men’s stances as they acknowledged each other. With a slightly awkward introduction from Scaff the man sat down. Following an unusual beckoning from the tanned girl at the counter, Jeremy was off again, a resigned smile unexpectedly breaking the stern features of his face. Zepi’s small nose nuzzled its way out of Elena’s bag on the seat next to her moments later, and she subtly passed him some fries. Not having the heart to tie him up outside, they had snuck him in and hoped he wouldn’t make too much noise. “What was that about Scaff?” She raised her eyebrows and tilted her head in the Englishman’s direction. “Nothing much.” He replied distractedly, eyes following the movements of the slim dark-haired girl as she collected her lunch. Elena turned her sceptical eyebrows to Leo for confirmation. With a flicker of his eyes from one man to another he shrugged in agreement. Be it rivalry or bad experience, the two men didn’t get on. |
Cores had been friends with Jeremy ever since their first class together. He had been her partner, helping her with her excercises and she with his and then both practising their routines together. Almost every lesson they had worked together, not only because they were friends but because he was the perfect height for her and thus they were a perfect team. But then they had been put into different classes and now she was just his substitute... She mused on him a moment longer before turning to Fonz. She had been friends with him ever since she had realised that he was actually quite good fun for a guy who constantly checked you out and that, really, she had nothing to fear from him other than that one day he'd decide he was too busy to help her out. It was strange to think that two of her favourite men disliked each other so. "I could eat a palamino." She admitted as, finally, Jeremy managed to push past the two bickering ladies that had piled up beside her. "A palamino, huh?" He shook his head and smiled, "That's not going to be enough for me. That routine takes it out of you..." "And gives the girl being lifted big ass bruises." She quipped, winking and smiling as she did so, "Can you get me that chicken caesar wrap and the innocent lemonade?" He nodded, mentally noting them. He always had this cute concentration frown when he was trying to make sure he remembered something. Not because he was stupid and might forget, but because he wanted to make sure he definately had it right before he said it. Which was fair enough because her father used to do the same when he was remembering numbers, so she assumed it was just a guy thing. "You know what I do miss about London?" She said as they came up to the till and Jeremy delivered their order for a chicken caesar wrap, two lemonades and a large fries with chicken dippers, "I miss the anti-chav." Jeremy laughed, passing her what she had ordered as it was delivered by the poor sod with acne that resembled a volcanic island without any vegetation, "Yeah... it's just accepted out here." "It's not that! It's that the chavs are deemed 'cool' here! Like what-the-fuh?" She led them back to where she could just about make out the back of Leo's hair as it stuck up like a blond beacon, "I mean, they have the well-dressed and then..." A ganster in full baggy t-shirt and bling regalia passed then and she shuddered, "they have people like that." Jeremy stifled a laugh, she could hear him coughing behind her. "I know I'm being a snob about it. I just miss the whole 'antu-chav vibe' that London had, despie being full of them." She sighed and rounded the last table to come face to face with Fonz who was standing in order to offer her his chair. She smiled, teeth flashing white and eyes crinkling ever so slightly with delight, "Thanks Fonzy. You're not go anywhere though right?" He politely asked the middle-aged woman behind them if he could have the spare chair from her table and the span it round so he was back and sitting on her right. Jeremy had managed to squeeze in between Elena and Leo. Leo was still looking slightly pale as he sipped from a large coffee that even without checking, she knew would be black. In front of him where the remains of a slice of vegetarian pizza and an apple core. She shook her head, he always managed to fill up on coffee before he ate enough food, it was no wonder he was pale, most of his energy had to come from the brown liquid he so carefully nursed. "Well what have we got later?" Elena asked, her meal nearly twice the size of hers but also incredibly tempting, "I mean... i've kinda forgotten where I left my timetable so I'm trying to figure it out from what you guys have got." Leo grinned and shook his head, catching Cores' sceptical eye as she raised an eyebrow and she giggled, "I've got jazz then English lit." She said, glancing skywards as she tried to remember if it was literature or language she was doing... The room was buzzing, the melody of 'Voices Carry' by vitamin C, making her feet tap lightly on the ground as she struggled to remember and tried to reassure herself that she was right. Elena wasn't in her english classes as Cores wasn't all that good at english compared to her tomboyish friend. They had combined sciences together though.... And maths. Neither of them were good at maths, "Yeah I'm fairly certain it's lit." |
Perhaps today wasn't the day to have worn an assymetrical, mini-ribbed knit tank top to dance in... Leo mused as he tuned out of the conversation for a few moments, gazing out of the window where the city streets were blustering in a freezing wind. His green trousers we comfortable enough, warm enough only because of the leggings he had donned underneath in order to dance in. For now he was fine, balled up in his cotton scorpio shirt and gloss jacket and hand made purple scarf but he shivered just thinking of having to take off anything in order to dance. He pouted to himself, sipping at the coffee that was giving his thought function enough to doubt the weather. He knew that it wouldn't make any difference in the end, no matter how little one wore to any of their classes, you always ended up hot and sweaty. He smiled to himself and tipped his head back down to the world of classes and food. In his head he was working on a new routine to Kokiriko Bushi and couldn't remove the irritating japanese electro pop from his head. It was fast, upbeat and yet macabre. He wanted to try and capture all of that spirit and mechanics in the dance... It wouldn't be hard to come up with the moves, just difficult to actually do them if the twists were going to be as fast as he wanted them to be. At least it wasn't Corridors by Mesmere any more. That had been almost dangerous to dance to. Slowly he realised that they were talking about what they had after lunch and he frowned. He had ballet and then they all had English though he had just changed classes so he didn't know who he was with anymore. Cores was giggling, her face, which was pretty already, becoming criminal in it's beauty as she laughed. It was true that she had almost all the men in the school wrapped around her little finger. She was talented, beautiful and no matter how much one wanted to dislike her for that, she was also good fun and a good friend. Sometimes she became pretentious but normally it was in the name of fun or was said in misconstruable naivety, "Elena!" She spluttered and he realised that both Scaff and Jeremy were close to bursting into laughter too. Turning to see what was so amusing, he came face to face with a girl he had only met today and who had made a curious, voodoo-esq doll. The little body was made from the stick which had held the toasted cheese sandwich together, a black jacket had been formed with the packaging from a brownie, the head was a sundried tomato with mustard on top and the legs... they were made from bits of crunchy green lettace. It was a miniture of - He couldn't help the snort of laughter, "Ohmigod that's me!" He rocked forward to see the little man and shook his head. How had he not met this girl before? She was grinning and now everyone was shaking with their own reaction to the deformed character that was himself in food form. The irony wasn't lost on him but it didn't matter. It was still funny and he still kept laughing, "What's your name again?" "Elena." She reintroduced herself and shook her head, "I knew you weren't quite with us." He grinned, "Yeah, sorry. If I hadn't have had to get up to come here this morning, I would have just stayed up. I'm kinda out of it..." He finally calmed down to apologise for being antisocial, cracking his neck as he did so, "Aow!" He moaned and Cores couldn't hold back another giggle. He glared and poked out his tongue which she pretended to take offense to, "Fonzyyyyyy he's being mean again!" she whined, putting on a spoiled and childish voice as she tugged on the italian's arm. Scaff chuckled then straightened his back and put on 'the father face' in order to give Leo a stern and serious look which he could only hold for three seconds before the corners of his mouth twitched and he fell back and grinned again. "To a new week." Leo lifted his coffee and sank into his chair too, content. There was a murmur of assent and then the day began to move on. |
| Crossing the street back to the academy, Jeremy found himself caught behind an onslaught of cars that zoomed past while everyone else drifted ahead. Everyone, but Alfie. The two men shared a look of mutual distrust, and then Alfie smiled, the muscles in his face relaxing as he lazily flicked his eyes over Jeremy's pressed shirt and jeans. "So you're still dancing with Cores," Alfie said pleasantly as they made a break for it as the traffic lulled. "Yes." The plain fact was, though he kept it well hidden, that Jeremy was just madly in love with the Greek dancer. From that first year of partnership, he had been totally smitten, drawn first by her delicate beauty, united by their dance and their british roots; and then finally, he had fallen for the way she teased him, the light behind her eyes, the way the world slowed down when she laughed. She was his best friend, but she meant so much more to him. And Alfie knew it. They had both made a play for her their freshman year, and as Alfie had brushed aside the delicate tendrils of her dark hair to whisper in her ear, Aflie had seen the look in Jeremy's eyes darken and he had known, the way any man with that much experience with women knows when he is in competition. And ever since that had been what it was. A competetion. As of yet, Cores had avaded Alfie's lazy smile and piercing eyes, and she was blissfully unaware of Jeremy's wistful eyes coming to rest on her every few minutes of the day. What infuriated Jeremy the most was that he wasn't sure if Alfie loved her, or if he just wanted her. The two men smiled tightly at each other and raced into the building, always always trying to out do the other. And as usual, they pushed roughly through the door, barging shoulder to shoulder, Alfie's broader shoulders forcing his way through a split second before Jeremy's. As always. Entering his street class a split second behind Leo, they acknowledged eachother easily and stood to warm up alongside one another. "Strange that we've never been in a class together before," Jeremy started quietly as he stretched to his shoulder. "Man, I swear I've never een seen you before." Leo turned and cracked his neck loudly. "Yes, well, I've seen you." They eyed eachother, and Jeremy started to feel his cheeks flush. He couldn't read Leo's expression, and to be honest, he made Jeremy feel a little nervous. I wish I was more confident. And in the middle of bodies stretching and warming up, he wished Cores was with him. |
| Elena sat subtly flicking tiny balls of paper at the strawberry blonde head in front of her. After scouring the school she had arrived almost twenty minutes late to the right classroom, only to find she had maths with a dour and doctrinaire old lady, chins flapping uselessly as she snapped at the drowsy teenagers. Elena hated maths, and as usual when bored had become incredibly juvenile. The subject of her pestering half turned his head to glare at her over his shoulder, arms folded across the desk and head resting in equal boredom. Mimicking him she placed her head on her folded hands, and then stuck her tongue out at him. Shifting uncomfortably he quickly averted his eyes and turned to the front again. Muppet number one. Screwing up another paper bullet she lazily flicked it at the next candidate, a tall girl with glasses and ash blond hair. “Is my lesson boring you Miss O’Conner?” Yes indeed. How clever of you to work it out. Why did teachers always come up with the same lines? “Do share whatever is so amusing”, “I’m sorry to be keeping you awake”. As tempting as it was to tell the teacher that - no, it was not the lesson, she herself was just excruciatingly dull – Elena opted for biting her lip and looking shameful. Resigning herself to two more hours of hell she rocked the chair back on its legs and crossed her arms, consequently almost missing the neat aeroplane that glided to her desk. Checking to see that The Frog (for without a doubt the woman must have possessed some amphibian ancestry) had turned to the board, Elena opened the wrinkled paper folds to find a perfect caricature of the teacher glaring out at her. Looking up she could just see a smirk from the side of the tall girl’s face. A classic. At least someone in the class had a sense of humour. Slowly the clock ticked by and Elena half-heartedly took occasional notes, willing her eyes to stay open. How was it that she wasn’t even tired, and yet her eyelids seemed to have a will of their own, gradually coercing themselves closed? Once again the teacher turned to the board, and seizing the opportunity Elena snuck her i-pod earphones out of her collar. “Miss O’Conner, I do understand that this is your first lesson with me and therefore you may not be clear of the rules. So let me make it perfectly clear. Take out the earphones and stand outside the door.” A mix of sniggers and sympathetic looks followed her out, and although a slight worry at leaving a bad impression so soon niggled at her, stark relief overrode all misgivings. Taking out her earphones once more she happily wiled away the time, until eventually The Frog called her back in as the class began to leave. “I want you to understand. Although it seems unfair now, I cannot allow any lax of discipline to set the class a wrong example” the teacher admitted as she began to pack away pens and protractors. “I would rather not have to humiliate you again.” An attempt at reconciliation? Although there was no softening to her tone, there was also no reprimand, and Elena’s apology was slightly more sincere. Grabbing her bag she joined the last of the stragglers leaving the room. Another day survived! Distracted by her joyful deliberations she nearly didn’t notice that the blond girl had approached her with an equally pretty Asian friend. Once more the charmingly amused smirk played across the tall girl’s slim face, long hair half pulled back in misleadingly reserved neatness. “You do know there was a disturbing resemblance to that drawing don’t you?” Elena smiled in greeting. “Thank you for the compliment. You’re Elena O’Conner right?” “I am” She said in surprise, unsure how her name could have become known so quickly. “And you’re friends with Alfie Scaffidi?” She pressed on, the shorter dark-haired girl glancing hopefully at Elena. In disappointment she could barely retain a grimace. That damned Scaff. Always stealing the spotlight. Walking on she revealed all she could of his timetable to the groupies, not sure if it was out of good will or if she was secretly hoping they would royally piss off the ridiculously popular Italian man. |
Cores loved to dance because it made her feel part of a string of pearls. It seemed an odd analogy at first but it was ever so true. When dancing you were a necklace that told a story with each movement and each arc of the arm or bend of the knee or twist or leap was just a pearl that make that necklace beautiful. of course, Jazz dance wasn't quite as elegant as ballet which she usually preferred over all but at the same time this dance just made her tingle. It wasn't hard. That was what she loved about it. In fact, it was relatively simple. But dancing along to a sped up jazz-electro song, which had been written by one of her fellow students, made the simplicity seem much much more impressive. The teacher was shouting out the moves as they learned, the string of instructions making them pant. Even though it kept the rhythm of eight, it was still much faster than they were used to. "Hold on count 1, lift right leg and slap on count 2, hold on count 3, lift left leg and slap on count 4! That's right, lift and cross as fall on count 7!" The woman was a beastly creation with a face shaped like a plum and her dark skin making the glare of her green eyes all the more vivid. Striking, absolutely perfect dancer and evil as salt on ugg boots, the entity of Ms Abujhu was renown throughout the academy for her temper and excessive willfulness. She was the sort who would love youif you did it right but despise you until you reached that goal. But that was life it seemed at this school. It was a pass or a fail, never anything in between. "Now still for count eight in the silence and half break! NO JACK THAT MEANS STOMP ON RIGHT, STEP LEFT THEN KICK BALL CHANGE! TRY AND GET SHORTY GEORGE!!!" The routine went on. The beat spinning faster and steps repeating until they had made it the whole way through. It was only the first time running it through but that didn't stop their teacher from listing every single fault in their steps... She glanced to the side, half expecting to see the friendly face of Jeremy only to wilt when she realised the boy who had acted as partner, best friend and brother was no longer there to hold her hand as they were berated for their apparent 'stupidity' and 'inability to do the simplest of things'. "Cores, well done. You managed to make it through with only one mistake when you stomped on the wrong foot. But it's still not good enough. All of you. AGAIN!" *** English literature had never been her forte. "Why do you think Pat Barker decided to include the fact that once Prior speaks, Rivers' view of him changes? Cores?" She looked up at the teacher bleary eyed, "Ummmmm... Because a northern england accent makes him sound thick?" "Smart-ass comments like that make you look thick. Pay attention." But there was no malice in this teacher's voice which was nice, just a vague humor and a sense of understanding. She smiled weakly and went back to scrawling hearts on the margin of her copy of the book she'd forgotten the name of and couldn't be bothered to look up by glancing at the cover. The day malingered on. |
"Yes well I've seen you." Leo smirked, holding Jeremy's gaze for a long moment before the other flushed and turned away. It hadn't been quite true that he had never seen him before, he had... just only in relation to Cores who he knew because of Scaff. Anyone who was friends with the 'little ray of sunshine' was bound to be thrown into the limelight at some point or another. When and where were the only factors that changed. It hadn't really surprised him either, that Jeremy had noticed him. Almost everyone knew of him just as everyone knew of Alfie or Cores. Though his was a different sort of known. Where everyone loved them (bar the odd feminist) for their good looks and charm, they recognised him for his eccentricity when it came to fashion and not everyone liked him for it. There were plenty of bitchy comments and ridiculous rumours which had on occasion made him feel sick with himself… Sighing, he tilted his head to the side in order to make it crack and then again the other way. He could still see the Englishman out of the corner of his eye. He was frowning, obviously mentally kicking himself for one thing or another. By this time they had all finished stretching, he could feel his muscles relax into his body's state of preparation. Stripped down to just purple leggings and the scorpio asymmetric, he felt a little chilly but knew that even that would feel too much in the hours to come... When it came to contortions in break dance or street it was like he was part of an ecstatic flow of music, becoming a part of it and losing himself in it. Whereas when it came to ballet, despite having done it for longer, it didn't ever feel as natural and often felt as if he was swimming in a thick, invisible liquid that made life seem in slow motion. Ballet, though the most graceful was also one of the hardest and compared to some of the other forms of dance he took part of, it didn't feel as natural. Of course, at the same time he loved it. The beauty of it made him feel beautiful - if that were the right word? It made him feel as if his body were not his body at all but part of a delicate, intricate story that was built on the harmony of bodies moving to the magic of a stolen language. Some said dance is the most perfect art. Ballet therefore had to be the most perfect of all. But street made him powerful. The muscles straining and performing things no untrained man could ever perform. The motion spiralling. He could be out of control. He could be crazy but no one would care because that was what it was all about. It scared people, made them feel emasculated. But then it would fill people up and make them feel omnipotent and strong. And he would embody those thoughts, feelings and emotions. He became the dance. It was a dance they had come up with themselves. They had all contributed, having been told to come up with an idea for a routine before hand only to be told to perform it and then for the others to chose which parts they liked so they could put them into the final show. It meant that there was always one person who would lead the next part and it was almost a showing off contest in the sense that the person leading would come into the centre and then the others would follow only for the next to replace the other etc. It wasn't exactly his favourite dance. It was a little too clichéd for him to really enjoy like he did some of the others they had come up with. However, it wasn't bad as a piece and it gave them something to work on alongside their individuals and smaller group routines. Finally he realised it had come to his turn and happily he took centre. He noticed Jeremy would be following after him and as he finished made to flash a small smile before taking up his position. Dizziness swept over him for a moment, though he shook his head and ignored it, knowing that he hadn't eaten enough at lunch but also telling himself that he was going to be having a large supper to make up for it. * "I'm beat." He heard someone complaining as they moved off to their last classes of the day and he couldn't help but agree. Slipping on his jacket, his could feel his muscles were becoming heavy, adrenaline finally wearing out. Jeremy was there again, this time apparently waiting for him and he was almost glad, though slightly amused that the other guy would do that having only just met him really. Then again, they were linked by their friends and he seemed nice enough so he probably ought to make an effort. "Thanks for waiting." He said, coming to walk beside him, "What do you have?" "English something…" "Ditto. I have that poorly dressed frog lady." He grinned and shook his head to move his hair from his eyes. "You mean Mrs Beggs? The Australian?" "I didn't know she was Australian but - yes." They opened the door to cross the campus. He shivered, suddenly very cold compared to how he had been inside and feeling the heat of his body prickle as it was so rapidly cooled. * They had set seats in this class. Their names put on a piece of paper they had to check before they sat. It was in alphabetical order. And he noticed almost as soon as he entered that Elena was in there, if only because, from where he was sitting, what she was doing was endlessly amusing and the teacher in the front, who was apparently a New Zealander rather than an Aussie, was incredibly dull. Elena didn't notice him. But he was trying to keep his head down and not be noticed away, deciding that it was better to conceal the dizziness that kept on ebbing and flowing into his mind. Do you have any food? He scrawled down onto a piece of paper, folding it and passing it down the tables towards Elena and then another one to the Brit who was settled somewhere at the front of the room with the early alphabetas. It was only then that Elena was told to go and stand behind the door and he winced, partly because she was his best bet for having some kind of food, even if he didn't really want it… He saw Jeremy turn around as the teacher turned to the board and mouth an apologetic 'NO' and he smiled and shook his head and rested his chin on his hand, wondering if he had enough change to buy a coffee on the way home. His body was tired… He needed a cigarette and a coffee…. More than anything in the world… that was what he needed. |
| **Note: Because you loveable lot have f****** up the timetable royally, I had to work out a timetable for that afternoon: Cor: Lunch, Jazz, english lit, maths, science Ele: Lunch, English lit, monologue, maths*, science Leo: Lunch, English Lit, Prep, Ballet, Maths Jer: Lunch, English Lit, Dalcroze, Science, prep Alf: Lunch, Prep, Dalcroze, skipped maths, science. (*chucked out of maths and EL) The english teacher and maths teacher are freakishly similar, and Elena's addition is forward in time. Also, I set it in Boston for convenience sake (big, easy to find out about, but the closest thing to a european city for those off us who are europeans) but go right ahead and change it if you want. Also, change the restaurant name if you do that because wagamamas is only in England and Boston.** "A normal person at least brings the book to the lesson." The small blonde wrinkled her nose at him, freckles dancing over the translucent bridge of her nose as her clear blue eyes sparkled with mischief beyond their pale depths. The corridor was clinical and white, cardboard tiles leaping from their positions so that rusting pipes were could snake freely above their heads. It was a Kubrick corridor, and the smell of burnt magnesium floated in the air like white snow. Alfie shook is head, feigning disbelief as he swung the girl around by the elbow to bring her level with the steady pace of their footsteps. "Stop changing the conversation. You, of all people, know that Lynch is better than Scorsese. Highway... Blue velvet? HELLO? Why can't americans even appreciate their own bloody film directors?" "You're stuck in the 90s mullet head." Elena muttered back fondly in her mellow southern accent, grinning as she turned away from him and caught Cores' eyes. The little torturers. Her voice rang across the blank corridor like umber paints and fireflies, imbuing it with the dust and sweet smells of the south west. It could possibly be stated that Alfie's imagination was overactive. At this point, anyway. Cores, brown hair swaying as she walked, raised a dark and finely arched eyebrow as she observed the flamboyant pair with a cold gaze from her dark, liquid eyes. "I would like to point out that tapes are foolish, and that you two need to progress into the era of DVD, Chick Flicks and movies with the words 'snakes' and 'plane' in the title sequence. And preferably, Scaff, learn how to use an MP3" Elena's eyes narrowed as she ducked behind Fonz' back and coughed the word "Honey" Loudly, repeatedly, and resonantly into Cores' ear. "Okay, okay. I relent. But can we stop talking about films? There are members of this corridor party that don't dance around in tights and speak at the same time." "But you do dance. In body con. Which includes tights. I feel talking would disturb the prettiness....." Alfie muttered jovially, a friendly smirk loping across his features lopsidedly as he looked up at the ceiling, a picture of false innocence. At this, Cores flipped him one and smirked right back. Alfie looked across his broad right shoulder at her sadly, emerald eyes boring into hers with all of the effect of a puppy-dog. Or a sea otter. Or possibly a demonically cute monkey. "But I would never be imagining that now... you're far too cute. And I do try not to ruin friendships." "What about ka...." Elena started muttering, digging him in the ribs with her sharp and pointy elbow. Cold skin brushed with warm teeshirt and he turned back to his left, swiping her chemistry textbook as he injected a sentence into her speech, cutting her off abruptly as he studied her petite frame for signs of seriousness. Noting the relaxed posture, he realised that she knew only too well the crazy, all-singing, all-dancing stalker he had acquired. "Petiiiit," he drawled slowly, lengthening the vowels into what could easily have been turned into a purr, but was still recogniseable, "She got me drunk and pounced on me. That girl is...is....is...a..." he paused, face crumpling into concentration as he searched his mind. Golden skin rippled into folds of intellectualism, his green eyes obscured as a soft brown curl fell inconveniently into his view. Absentmindedly, Elena swatted at it like a cat. cat... "a...selvaggio....no! English..... A PUMA!" "A puma huh?" Cores laughed, snatching the textbook from his right hand and replacing it with the coffee she had been holding for him. "Sounds like you were..." "Chasing her for days?" Elena added, voice deadpan but the corners of her reddened mouth playing upwards into a curve. "Or perhaps suddenly trying to make up an insult on the spot as a cover up for your deep, unbridled passion." At this they cracked up, and Alfie's lips thinned into a pout as they turned a corner towards the glass doors which led out into Boston. "Bullshit. That girl is psychotic and you know it. Not the kind of girl I would take to meet my mother. Or anyone else's, for that matter." He grinned, a pang echoing through him as he thought of his poor mother, locked away in a room not unlike this corridor. Except with flowers. "I mean... accosting my poor lips... I don't care if she's hot, she's never heard of Zeppelin!" "You have peculiar standards Fonz." Cores noted, almost absently. Well, except for the smile playing across her full lips. "Well... you have a besotted dance partner, greca" "Bullshit. Stop feeding me that crap scaff, I'll never be able to look Jeremy in the face again! The boy is *not* in love with me... I think I would notice..." Fonz had the decency to look semi-wounded, because love was no joking matter to him. Sexual relations? Maybe. Love? No. However, he smiled at her calmly and noted that she wouldn't have to look into his eyes if she kept on trying to take flying leaps from Jeremy's hands to the floor. For this, he got a cursory glare, but the conversation moved on to who got to ride in the front of his Black Impala fairly quickly. Scaff managed to lose out to the two girls, entirely through their feminine wiles, which seemed to consist entirely of the words, "Alfie, can I drive?" and a brief pout from Cores as she was allowed to grab the keys from his pocket. Crafty females. They played him constantly. Like a drumkit. Or a sport. The evening sky was lit up with silks of pink and turquoise, reflecting the water that surrounded the city. As Alfie absorbed the skyline bathed in the golden light before dusk, he heard Cores mutter something about going to the Wagamamas on Newbury street, and then meeting Jeremy to rewax her ancient Barbour in the store nearby. Captured by the view, Alfie followed numbly, his mind echoing with thoughts of love and religion in instinctive response to something so incomprehensible. The girl's barely noticed, until they had to get out of the shiny vintage car to move him into it's warmer interior, the engine purring like a Jaguar on chocolate. |
| "Scaff you lanky shit you weigh a ton!" Elena grumbled as she and Cores half dragged the spaced out man to the car. "You know I wouldn't call him lanky" Cores mused as they both sat themselves in the front, she flicking her hair and adjusting the seat, Elena balancing her feet on the dashboard in front of her. "More like toned but unexpectedly strong. Like an American movie hero or football player" "Sto-op, his heads big enough already. Besides, there are only three types of guys - lanky, flabby and weight-lifter" "As fascinating as it is to hear you girls' opinions on my physique" Scaff protested from behind them "I object to being put in the same category as 'movie hero's' and 'football players'. And Elena, feet off my car! You may hate me but don’t take it out on my property!” “I don’t hate you Scaff, I just take it upon myself to remind you that you are not omnipotent” Elena grudgingly lowered her feet as the car glided between concrete giants, silently enchanted by the blur of unknown faces that streamed past. “I understand that my perfection may surpass your own understanding, but I think it's time you acknowledge my godliness and admit you find me simply irresistible" Scaff had his arms up in front of his smirking face before Elena could whip round and take a decent swipe at him, laugh as deep as honey as she knelt on her seat to reach, slapping at his arms in an equally childish retaliation to his childish teasing. “But Scaff” Cores drew out her words till they glowed softly, speaking up once the toddlers next to her had calmed down “aren’t you both a football player and the stereotypical movie hero? Besides, I was just using analogy Your Godliness” with a flash of a smile and a flicker of her bronze eyelids she glanced at him through the mirror, and Elena could guess without looking the smoldering gaze he sent in retaliation. They managed the rest of the short journey with reasonable civility, finally easing into a space surprisingly close to Wagammamas. Scaff leapt out of the car and opened the door for Cores in the few seconds it took her to turn off the engine and grab her bag. She smiled appreciatively at the typically flamboyant display of gentlemanliness, and as she swept ahead of him seemed to give that illusion so common of dancers that her feet weren’t even touching the ground. Following behind, Elena noted yet again the glances that trailed the beautiful pair from all around the street. The two where aware of it, she could tell from their stances - everything was an embellishment, a flourish. They thrived off the adoration of others, it made their golden complexions glow even brighter and their eyes shine with still stronger vitality. It was fortunate, Elena mused, that when it came to her two friends she was at her most uninhibited but also most unattached. A heart of stone could protect her from even the brightest rays of the sun. |
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