asthehawkflies | [#000] Appointments

The Audition.

[The neutrality flickers a bit, something low and bitter sliding in just under the civility of her tone. She starts into the sim and goes so far as to hold the door open for him. Walking away would be rude, after all.]

For the Paris Ballet. The one thing my sister and I have been preparing for since we were eight.

[He's slightly ashamed to say that he has no idea what she's talking about, her mind seeming to slip between threads too quickly for him to grasp.

It's a reminder that she does come from a world he can only imagine.

He slides in after her, looking around the sim curiously. Ballet. Well, that makes sense.]

Right. It went badly, I take it?

It wasn't total humiliation for the family. Marie made it. Of course she did, she's talented. A real prodigy. The art incarnate, etc, etc.

[Full on bitter, here. And she'd been warned, hadn't she. That it didn't matter. that she became something else. These weird little dreams. She shrugs out of her coat and sets her bag down, pulling on her pointe shoes as she speaks.]

Was even offered a position as the company's étoile for the upcoming season- the star. Prima Ballerina, I think is what Robert calls it and he's American so that might be what it's called to most Americans.

[Clint knows next to nothing about ballet, except what Nat has told him, and even he knows that that is impressive as hell. He doesn't let it show though.]

Who's Robert? Your fiance?

...I'm sorry, about the dancing.

Husband. We were married two months ago.

[For a moment she's smiling and it isn't at all bitter. They were young, yes, it could be foolish but for the moment they'd been happy.]

It would not have been quite so bad were it not for the insult of their final offer.

[She ties off the ribbons at her ankles, checks the fit of her shoes and stalks to the corner where she'd programmed in a record player, flicking through the available options before choosing a piece.]

They were gracious enough to extend a position as Quadrille. Chorus. Back up dancers- not for my skill, oh no. Because of the family name.

[ She gave a bitter laugh at that as she set the record into the player, adjusted the settings as required and walked to the center of the room as she spoke. Acoustic guitar began to play and she began the first few gestures for her audition. It's easier for her to rant while she's moving.]

Apparently my level of skill wasn't the issue. Technically, my audition was without issue. I know I'm good- you don't just walk in to audition for the Paris Ballet. You need to have won competitions, and I have.

Edited 2012-11-12 09:43 (UTC)

Husband, right.

[That did give him an idea of why their belief that they were married might have been so painful to her. If it ended badly...

He listens carefully to what she says about the ballet and a chorus position doesn't sound too bad to him, but he supposes from what he's heard of her family, and after her sister got the prime position, yeah, that could be an insult.]

Then what's the problem? If you're good enough, then why wouldn't they offer you a position suiting your skill?

Technically- my form is perfect. Or at least they said. I think they were trying to soften the blow.

[Why they would bother, she doesn't know. Another turn, another step and she's all but glaring at the mirrored wall. Her lines are straight, her steps certain. She never falters. So why?]

My technique is impeccable- textbook. Exactly as it should be...

...and my performances are utterly forgettable. Bland. Boring.

[He can see the skill that she has, the strength in her body, the clean lines and certain movements. He can appreciate stance, the control it takes to maintain such positions.

What was said to her though, that he doesn't quite understand, although maybe he understands enough.]

Your heart isn't in it.

I mean, I don't know anything about dancing, but I know when you shoot, you have to dedicate yourself entirely to the shot.

Apparently.

[She hesitates a bit before the next step, rolling it around in her mind.]

It was everything I have trained for, the better part of a decade has been dedicated solely to preparing for this audition. Drilling, competing, leaving Rouen for Paris- everything. This is something I could have been told. Should have been told at the beginning. You cannot learn to emote in dance.

Either you can or you cannot. All the steps in the world and all this time and no one ever...

Was it ever your choice? To dance, I mean.

[He'd always got the impression that she'd been forced into it because it was expected of her, not because of any great desire or love for the art.]

I'm sorry.

What will you do now?

I...I don't know. I enjoy it, yes, for all that it frustrates me to remain so very inadequate a performer but...I had to do something. It was the one thing I was capable of managing with any sort of skill. I always heard the same issue with every other variation of what we are expected to do.

[Did she simply force herself to learn to enjoy it because she had no choice? It seems quite likely. She falters in the next step, slows to a stop to stare at the mirrored wall.]

Technical. I was too technical for painting, writing, sculpting, acting. Dance seemed the one place where I would not be faulted for it.

...

I don't know. I. [Her voice cracks, her shoulders go rigid.] I've wasted a decade for this and for what?

[Technical. Almost anything else and technically perfect would have been perfect. And yet her family had just pushed her into things she had no care for. It made him hurt for her.]

You ever thought that maybe your talents lie with something where technically perfect is a good thing?

[He hears the crack in her voice and winces, then reaches out to rest a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it lightly.]

Oh sweetheart, I'm sorry. You're brilliant. Smart and talented and I'm sorry your family can't see that.

It doesn't matter if I consider that now, does it? It is what I will do, apparently. Surgery is as far from art as one could possibly be without going into theoretical physics.

[Knowing that, hearing of the apparent inevitability of it chafes. As much as medicine fascinates her, as much as she can rationalize why this wasn't the right path for her knowing she has wasted a decade on this, that she's failed so very clearly just. It burns. And she hates it.]

You were right. It's. Family's overrated. Marie or my mother or my grandmother would have been able to tell me years ago and they didn't. [A bitter little laugh follows.] They probably didn't care.

I don't know. I don't know if it's set in stone for you, or if you can change it.

And, maybe it's not traditional art, but... for me at least, there's art in something like that. Even for me, something like shooting, there's beauty in working out the vectors and trajectories, a perfect arc and a clean shot.

Not dancing, but it's precision, and that's art too.

[And he probably sounded ridiculous, but words had never been his forte.]

For what it's worth, it doesn't sound like they did it maliciously. People are pretty good at seeing what they want to see.

I don't remember this place when I return home. I think it a dream. Nothing more. Why change one's life over a dream?

[She sags, dropping back onto her heels. While not eloquently put Clint makes a great deal more sense to her than all the pretty speeches she's heard about the grand nature of art and emotion. It fit.]

The clarity of mathematics and physics.

[It takes a moment before she starts to reel everything in, like usual. Playing the good little LeBlanc and tucking away her frustration, her discontent.

And then thinks. No. Fuck it. She's tired of that. And here? No one would judge her for it.]

It's always been fairly easy for them to ignore me. I can't blame them for it, they don't know what to do with me. But it still...it fucking sucks.

[Alright. Swearing? Liberating.]

People have changed the world over dreams. It's not that strange.

[He gives a brief nod at that. She puts it much more eloquently than he could.

And then she's swearing and he can't help but grin at that. Considering last time they'd talked, she'd spoken about how swearing was beneath her.]

It does. Feeling like you're a burden, like you're unwanted. It's pretty fucking crap.

Now you sound like my father.

[The thought pulls a faint smile from her. A little bitter, mostly sweet.]

It's shit is what it is. Being told from day one during my stay in Paris that I'm only weighing my sister down, and then proving them right, more or less? There will be no living with them anymore. I do not look forward to the phonecalls I'm going to receive over this.

[She pitches her voice in a mocking falsetto.]

"You should have worked harder- drilled more." Fuck that. If I wanted to lame myself, I would have. I happen to like being able to walk.

Better than sounding like mine.

[He says it in a low voice, muttered and bitter, more talking to himself than to her.]

So don't live with them. There any way you can leave?

[His idea about how to live on your own are vastly different to most people.]

Walking is helpful, yeah.

[He glanced around the set up of the room, the barre and the mirrors.]

You want to shoot this place up?

Mm?

[It fit a bit with what he'd muttered that one time. There was a story here, one she might know later. She wasn't sure.]

...Robert an I can afford to get a flat. I think. He has some money in savings and I can earn a bit on the side playing piano I suppose.

Shoot it up?

[She quirks a brow and looks around. There was still that simmering resentment. It could be cathartic.]

I like the sound of that.

[He's smiling instantly. He hadn't said anything, really. Nope. Just your imagination.]

That's good then. You'll figure something out.

[He positively grins when she agrees and goes to call up some weapons for her to use.]

What's your poison? Bow? Guns? Grenades?

A revolver?

[What, they were the classiest sort of gun.]

Actually, why not all three?

All three it is. Lady after my own heart.

[It takes a few moments to get the computer to simulate a selection of weapons for her perusal. Some handguns and revolvers, a couple of machine guns, a bow and, as promised, a selection of explosives.]

Take your pick.

[It never ceased to amaze her how easily this system works.]

I'd always wondered what I would do with a holodeck or something similar. Shooting up a practice room wasn't on the top of the list, though I really think it ought to be.

[She peers over the selection available before selecting a modest revolver. She handles it carefully, checks the cylinder with a measure of some familiarity, gauges the weight of it before nodding to herself.]

Well, you get to add it to the list and cross it off all at the same time, right?

[For himself, Clint chose his typical sidearm, automatically checking the clip despite it just being a simulation. He smiled at Adele when she chose.]

Good choice.

Well, since this is your simulation, please, ladies first.

How very efficient.

[She huffs a soft laugh and picks a point along the far mirrored wall, sliding into the firing stance her father taught her. One foot slightly behind, firing arm slightly bent, supportive arm perpendicular to the ground and bent. She takes a slow breath, squeezes the trigger and adjusts for the recoil of the revolver while the miror cracks in a large spiderweb from the bullet.]

[Action] November 11th, Battledome

[Action] November 11th, Battledome

[Action] November 11th, Battledome

[Action] November 11th, Battledome

[Action] November 11th, Battledome

[Action] November 11th, Battledome

[Action] November 11th, Battledome

[Action] November 11th, Battledome

[Action] November 11th, Battledome

[Action] November 11th, Battledome

[Action] November 11th, Battledome

[Action] November 11th, Battledome

[Action] November 11th, Battledome

[Action] November 11th, Battledome

[Action] November 11th, Battledome

[Action] November 11th, Battledome

[Action] November 11th, Battledome

[Action] November 11th, Battledome

[Action] November 11th, Battledome

[Action] November 11th, Battledome

[Action] November 11th, Battledome

[Action] November 11th, Battledome

[Action] November 11th, Battledome

[Action] November 11th, Battledome

[Action] November 11th, Battledome