I was a Dancer all along

A small shift signifies her uncertainty with the situation. Something is amiss, although she cannot yet say what. Rich hues take their time, analysing with apprehension. (she tries not to stare but it is, most likely, unsuccessful. Forgive the girl, she does not mean to be rude.) Smile arrives but it is out of sync with her words, not quite managing the final stretch to her eyes,          “Are you alright, сэр?”

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His head tilts, the image of the girl turning before him. “I’ve never considered myself much of a gambler.”

Good premonitions have become so rare that she takes great pleasure in the delivery of them. Such is shown in the mirth that sets her eyes ablaze with a new found confidence,

“Consider it an   --- investment, more so than a gamble.”

tagged by:  @dxvilhunter

name:  Jayne star sign:  Aquarius  gender:  Female height:  5′7 i think ?? sexual orientation: bisexual favorite color:  i’m all about that forest green tbh time right now: time i got my act together current location: kitchen table average hours of sleep:  it rly v much depends  number of blankets I sleep under:  so many favorite fictional characters:  omg--- Wes Gibbins, Allision Argent, Annalise Keating, Sansa Stark, --- loads idek?? favorite book(s):  Lang Leav’s poetry soothes my soul a wee bit  favorite artists/bands:  The Smiths, Keaton Henson, Amanda Palmer, Arctic Monkeys, Bastille, Carla Bruni, many many more?? what I’m wearing:  lmao I’m supposed to be going out tonight (in about an hour) bc my friend is moving to New Zealand and I am currently only wearing a hoodie and underwear.  random fact: I can guarantee I will be late to the party tonight & no one will be surprised bc i will probably be late to my own funeral.  when did you create your blog?:  Ages ago? But I lost muse for Mila so she’s only recently come back in the last few days do you have any other blogs?:  So many- although Mila is the only one without a body count. @cyniiic @cxlmtiiime @arsoniiist and a few others i think?

what made you decide to get a Tumblr?: It’s been so long I literally don’t even remember? do you get asks on a daily basis?:   I get several personal asks from the squad but otherwise not really?? why did you choose your URL?:  Saltator is latin for dancer and it’s also a type of song bird so I felt like it fit Mila quite well

Words barely leave her lips, not quite a whisper and yet to call them spoken word seems to be an overstatement. Lost in her own head she does not mean to address the other and yet, perhaps, topic considering, it is fate's own calling. A movement (or perhaps it was only her imagination) draws rich hues away from her own feet and she will note the present company. No doubt, an embarrassed flush of the cheeks will surely follow and she shifts, uncomfortable in her own skin, an almost apologetic smile curling timid lips, 

“My apologies--_ I was somewhere else entirely.”

She is content. That much is clear. Content and lost somewhere in her own little world. Head tilts back sending brown curls spiralling down her back and she smiles up at the green canopy over head, sunlight dappling her face. At peace. This place is at peace and so is she. 

(Jeremy is a dancer too. They’ll be married soon and then he has promised they will tour the world. She loves him. He loves her.)

C O M P L E T E.

Somewhere not far off a branch snaps and Mila finds at least the grace to look mildly cautious. Head twisting around brown hues search the foliage for some kind of source. Her heart will stop when she spots a mass of black fur in close proximity.

     A bear?

She stands slowly,  so as not to threaten the creature. (A laugh, truly, with her small figure.) It is a wolf, larger then any she has seen before. Caution turns to fear. At least, until her gaze meets with the beast.

    (Surely, if he had meant her harm,    she would already be between his teeth?)

Crouching low, eyes never leaving the wolf’s she will outstretch a hand, the way one might with a feral dog. It radiates an aura that is almost human, certainly, it is stronger then most animals. And, whilst she cannot get a clear reading of it, it is in her nature to trust quickly and blindly. 

He wouldn’t have put Turning in such metaphorical terms. D’Ablo describes it more as “you die, and if you’re lucky you come back to life but you’re still technically dead and say bye bye to your family because the first few weeks of vampirehood are all about learning to make sacrifices”.

And for some reason, no one ever comes to him for encouragement.

Don’t be so quick to brush off dreams. They often mean something.

Coming from someone whose nightmares dreams are really memories, it doesn’t mean much. He’s always believed that to have some sort of basis in truth, however.

But it sounds like a wonderful thing, to pass slip through death’s fingers and live for all eternity.

Well, it was and it is. He should know.

Oh, and doesn’t she know it. She wonders whether her face shows as clear a sign of ‘you’re telling me’ as she thinks it does. Still, effort will be made, for formalities sake, to summon a polite smile and nod.

As much as she loathes disagreement of any kind she cannot help but find a qualm within his statement.

“I-- I am not so sure.”

She speaks apprehensively, evidently still uncertain about the man before her but more so cautious about simply voicing her own opinions. A meek creature, she would rather dismiss herself entirely and yet death is a topic she is well versed in and she finds the will to continue,

“It just seems quite...cruel. To watch those you love and cherish get caught up in the net and to have to walk by. After many years of it I believe it would be easy to become quite cold, to forget the joys of living in the first place.”

An uncertain pause and a twist of lips that fades quite quickly in an almost apologetic fashion. Her brow will furrow and she hastens to add,

“---Not that I would know much on the subject.”

The look the woman gave her was all the answer Viper needed over if she had seen it or not, and if it was in fact like Viper thought and it was her that was getting a gun pointed to her.

Well now that she knew the how, she could most likely avoid the when.

“Ahh, so it was like I thought. It was about me, eh? That is why there is that look in your eyes now..”

She mused it with a small smirk on her face, and no fear over what the other had told her at all. Why should she be afraid of something like that after all. There was no reason to fear it.

“Things like this is not something you should dismiss so casually, darling.”

Viper knew about these kinds of stuff, and even if she did not know, she would have believed in it. Hell her brother could turn into different animals for god’s sake.

“Hello, I am Viper, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

“---No! No. You just look similar. I’m sure it was nothing, really.”

It is not, she will remind herself, as though she can make a difference. If death has a plan then the girl has no power to intervene, a soul will be claimed one way or the other. No matter how strongly she empathises.

There is something about the way the other speaks, something that suggests more then just a superficial knowledge of the situation and Mila finds a shiver run down her spine. (she will blame it on this place.) Nervously the girl reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ears.

“Viper--- like the snake? Mila. Nice to meet you too.”

[ Well, ain’t she a charmer? Normally, Dante is the one pushing for more time with the opposite sex, but this time this woman is the one trying to spend a bit more time with him. And as much as he would like to stick round to see her dance more, he had somewhere that he had to be. Unfortunately sticking around to see what she could do was not an option t the moment, But he was definitely interested in learning more about this woman and what she could do. ]

I’d really love to stick around and see you dance and god knows I would love to keep you some company. But I’ve got somewhere I need to be.

[ It disappointed Dante to have to run so soon as well but he’s got a perfect way to make it up to this woman. He reaches into his pocket and he pulls out a pen in his hand. He reaches out, grabs her hand and he writes his phone number down on it quickly. A sirk appeares on his face and then he slips his pen back into his pocket as he starts to move towards the door. ]

What you can do is shoot me a text later on. I’ll take a rain check on the dancing and we can get to know one another better. Name’s Dante.

“!!! --.”

A flush will no doubt appear on the girls cheeks, unused to forward physical contact from---...anyone. None the less, any disappointment at his refusal has been short lived and the smile makes a hesitant reappearance. 

“Mila.”

She responds, although he is already walking away and the word is so soft she wonders whether or not he catches it. Her own steps are taken away from Dante, towards the back of the hall as though distance might help gain clarity over a rather peculiar situation. Curiosity has been awoken although conflict still remains on whether or not she will actually text the man. 

Or so she would like to think. But for all her shyness she has always been a inquisitive creature and she manages only until the following morning before she finds her mobile in her hands and her fingers moving on their own accord across the keys, 

[Text;Dante] Do you often give your number to people you have only just met? - Mila

She might not be good at telling when someone’s lying, but this is so blatant that even she can see the signs.

Hey, it’s okay. Even though it’s clearly not.

She hesitates to place a comforting hand on the other’s shoulder in case the other doesn’t like it, but then steels her resolve and squeezes it reassuringly, following her gaze and blinking curiously.

It’s none of Anneliese’s business, though. She won’t ask, though she is curious. Obviously, the woman has no obligation to pour her heart out to a random stranger.

Here, she gently grabs the woman’s hand, leads her over to a table outside a small café, sit down a bit. I’ll get you something.

Ever generous ( and ever pushy ), she’s ready to treat this crying woman to whatever she wants if it makes her feel better, and won’t hear any objections.

She will follow quite meekly, sitting where she is told without a hint of complaint. In fact, it is something of a relief to have someone else tell her what to do, to take the pressure away if only for a moment or two. She manages, after a brief struggle to gather some form of control and delicate hands begin to quickly wipe the tears from her own face.

    “Oh---     Goodness, No! I couldn’t let you.      Thank you but---”

A smile, more water then substance although the effort could be called valiant. She appreciates kindness, was raised on it throughout her childhood and for the first time she will take a genuine look at the comforting stranger. Gold. An aura of pure gold. Kind to the core. Flecks of blue too, something sad, but gold running strong.

She will take a breath, steadying herself a little before she takes hold of the woman's hand. Smile is stronger now, 

     “Please, let me buy you something.      ----If you are in no rush.”

"Some things, once you've loved them, become yours forever."

"They become part of who you are."

"That was beautiful, kid."

"Be careful, you are not in Wonderland."

"I've heard the strange madness long growing in your soul, in your isolation but you fortunate in your ignorance."

"You who have suffered find where love hides, give, share, lose, lest we die unbloomed."

"You wrote that?"

"You asked me to."

"Another lover hits the universe. The circle is broken."

"But with death comes rebirth."

"And like all lovers and sad people, I am a poet."

"First thought, best thought."

"I was a kid, and you dragged me into your perverted mess."

"How can you say that?"

"You know that's not true."

"I will never give up on us."

"You're pathetic."

"It's brilliant, no?"

"It's missing some periods and commas."

"It's better than anything you've ever written."

"I use periods and commas."

"Fuck you! You're a phony."

"You said I was everything to you. You are everything to me. Everything to me, do you hear me?"

"You got what you wanted."

You were ordinary, just like any other freshman and I made your life extraordinary."

"Go be you, now all by yourself."

"Leave me alone!"

"You don't mean... you don't mean that."

"Or they destroy you."

"You can't show this to anyone."

"You weren’t even there. It’s your truth. It’s fiction."

"Then tell the truth."

"You wanted him gone too. You sent him to me."

"Please. You'll kill me with that."

"You’ve got to get me out of here."

"Don’t ever leave me."

"Were you even going to tell me you applied?!"

"It was a dream anyway."

"Let's hear a bit, shall we?"

"Alert the press!"

"There can be no creation before imitation."

"Finally. An oasis in this wasteland."

"Only the most anti-social have to go to an event actually called one."

"You drink in your room?!"

"I love first times. I want my whole life to be composed of them. Life is only interesting if life is wide."

"To Walt Whitman, you dirty bastard."

"Are you a writer? Because I’ve got a job for a writer."

"You're not anything yet."

"He’s not home. He left."

"You make me too smart, they’re gonna suspect something’s up."

"There's more life in those five pages than in the dozens of bad sonnets we've read in class."

"I was wrong. Maybe you're not up for this after all."

"It's complicated."

"I love complicated."

"He is a goddamn fruit who won't let me go."

"Then let’s get rid of him."

"Right now, I just need you to write us something beautiful."

"The Germans call it the “wonder drug.”"

"You're not allowed to be here."

"That's odd since I'm the only thing keeping him here."

"What are you, moving in?"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"If you’re going to stay, don’t hog the blanket."

"The damn cat!"

"Both of you! Quiet!"

"I was aiming for stew."

"What do you want me to do? Eat shoe leather? I'm hungry and what you do in the kitchen is unholy."

"You thought my novel was shit?"

"I’m not even sure why I bothered to come back."

"Fuck you. What does that even mean?!"

"I think I just puked on the inside."

"I'd be lost without you."

"I was going to die there."

"We’re going to say it was an “honor slaying”."

"Please don't leave me here."

"Let’s get out of the city. Anywhere you want. I’ve saved up."

"You needed him as much as he needed you."

"He'll be with you in a minute. Please, have a seat."

"How did you expect us to react to this?"

"It is smutty and absurd."

Another owlish blink; Maria has no idea what the other’s  t a l k i n g about. Rehearsal? General public?

“I don’t … think … I am. I think I just wandered in here.”

When she’s in that state of mind, there’s no  u n d e r s t a n d i n g  what’s going on in her head. Feet move, carry her places.

“What sort of dance is it?”

“Ah...”

And here the girl seems almost concerned. A timid gesture to the surrounding hall, lined with mirrors and a wooden bar.

“Ballet.”

So hindered is she with her own self doubt that the statement almost sounds like a question. Her arm will drop back to her side, twisting uncertainly with the hem of her skirt. Perhaps she should offer her a glass of water? A place to sit?

“Are you quite alright?”