La Danse || @dancingdevilbendy
────﹙ ⧖ ﹚─ QUIET is welcome for the sniper--familiar. Left with herself and her own thoughts as she breathes in and finds targets. Here, there are no targets--not yet--and she surveys surrounding in a hope to gain familiarity with the terrain. It’s useful information.
There’s noise nearby ( melodious humming ) making her way toward it quickly to figure out its source. Ah, something familiar. She does not approach, staying in her spot as she watches--but she is caught and he approaches himself. Hands grab her own--something she is not used to as no one touches her cold skin often nowadays--she goes along with it. The words strike a chord--dancing.
❝ ...Danse...? ❞
Quiet tone, almost lost in a distant thought she can’t place. How long had it been? Even still her body aches to dance, the professional ballerina still in her--in her muscle memory that the most thorough brainwashing could never take. She gives in.
❝ I only know ballet. ❞
She illustrates.
❝ But I can learn. ❞
