#liele

Originally drawn back in May '14 This is an OC one of my close friends created and asked me to draw my interpretation of them. Their name is Liele. My friend has a writing blog and it's pretty cool! Check his stuff out: http://tenebraethoughts.tumblr.com/

The make-shift theater went completely quiet as the gaudy, violet curtains that hid the stage began to rise. The audience still as if a tableau of anticipation. On display to them were six girls, of varying heights and hair but with a definite theme of figure. Slim, almost to the point that only the word dainty could describe them, even the tallest of the group. Each of them had a body-hugging dress, which stopped just short of the knees. Little, if anything, was left to the imagination. The silence was pierced by the screech of bow meeting strings as the fiddler began to play nearby, hidden from the crowd, to be accompanied by other instruments. A piano, drums and vocal chords. A rendition of “Sweet Dreams Are Made Of These” poured into the ears. But who cared what the songs were when you saw the girls start to dance. Spins and twirls seemed to pass through each other without as much as a clash of a hemline. They moved up and down as if on steps in the formed out of mid-air. Then a stop, and the slamming of shoes on the stage, echoing with the music around the hall. As if they’d seen the lightning move across the sky and this was the thunder, only to flow back into the graceful steps. That was Madame Ira’s show, poise and power. Then came the next bit, as the song lyrics asked who they were to disagree, the girls put on the show everyone came to see. Gyrating hips and quick movements that only just managed to hide putting anything on display.  Movements that made people sit forward in their seats, and a few people cover themselves awkwardly next to eyeing partners.  Whistles and cat calls came from the audience towards the girls as the music, and themselves, got faster. The music distorted and changed into some form of electro swing. A faster version of Minnie the Moocher mixed with something else that made it sound more modern. The girls managed to move and flaunt off so well it could almost be assumed they were flashing the audience, but not an inch of extra skin saw the pale light that illuminated them. It slowed down and the moves became more tense and sudden. Trombones and saxophones joined the mix as if going back in time. The beat could be heard from the drums, one, two, three and four. Loud enough to feel underneath the music flowing over the audience, and in rhythm with each dancers feet. With every beat the curtain behind the dancers came up slightly, as if being tugged at from the bottom up.  Shoes could be spotted from the small gap that’d begun to appear, and then stockings. That’s if people could tear their attention away from the dancing girls whose dresses now seemed to bloom out frills. The dancers clutched onto them, moving as if preparing to can-can. The curtain went up a little more, revealing a fiery skirt with a long fur, a sight only described as looking at a phoenixes tail feathers. Rising up, a crimson corset held her body hostage in its own cage, contrasting with red hair in loose curls. A necklace hanging between on show collarbones depicted a sapphire eye which, to someone paying attention, almost seemed to look around the room. Her lips held a bright red in place to enhance them, lipstick doing wonders. But where her eyes should be, instead there were silken bandages, starting just above a small nose and around her head a few times. Whispers were drowned out by the music, even as it seemed to die down. The dancers already on stage managed to disappear slowly, almost as if their shadows had stolen them away, as the girl stepped out. Liele Hawkin was her name, one of the main attractions of Madame Ira’s show. A girl completely blind but who could dance. Dance she did. The music flared up once more, something completely different and new. Flutes could be heard instead, as if it was from some countryside instead of this stage. She came out like a ballet dancer, a quick movement only to be slowed down mid-flight. As if you’d dropped something important and time had slowed down as you watched it fall to its doom. Then the music all of a sudden picked up, clashing cymbals joined in and with each one, Liele’s feet hit the stage. It all stopped suddenly and Liele was left in the middle of the stage, in a pose with arms outstretched and back poised to the side. A slow flute picked up again and she moved slowly on the spot, her arms moving like liquid. The cymbals hit again and Liele had moved so fast it was almost a blur, a thud resonating where she’d just stood, a knife in the spot she just was. A smirk drew across her face as the music continued, dancing on the spot until another cymbal rang out for her to dodge. She did it all whilst flaunting everything, mesmerizing her audience. Giving a peak of her ass underneath her ‘tail feathers’. Showing off a top of her chest to someone near the front row only to move back and watch their gaze go from breast to a knife in the floor. Watching the audience mix a fear of what would happen next with a lust for more. The music picked up and she moved more, the knives disappearing off the stage as if string had coiled around each to pull it away. Instead fire roared out behind her, as if a dragon had held its breath as long as the show had gone on. She danced away from it, just enough that it singed her ‘tail feathers’ and nothing more. She ducked in time for a gout of flame to shoot just over the top of her, then to the side as one appeared where her feet once were. The audience gasped and cheered. She took bows and flaunts. Vague kisses to members of the audience. One member of the audience in particular looked her straight in her silken bandages. A man with a dark suit contrasting with blue eyes. He made a motion with a hand that showed off far too many rings. Another man beside him nodded and leaned in as the first man whispered into his ear. Only he heard the demand that his boss wanted that girl, and wanted her soon. As a result, they hadn’t been paying attention when she walked off stage, flaunting her ass once more. As a result of That little display, nobody noticed the knives on the ceiling, floating after her, with little twirls on their way in tune with her fingertips. End of Part One. --------------------------- I want to thank Lauren for drawing a Burlesque style Liele, and for giving me a lot of inspiration for a fair few other pieces both here in my blog and in my mind. I definitely can't wait to write Part Two.