#no immortality

   She felt at home in the air. There was nothing up there but the motion and feeling of the dance and the slip and pull of the silks. There was no threat other than gravity and she flirted with the pull of the earth like an on-and-off lover. Quynh had embraced danger since she was little. The flood of adrenaline was always worth the occasional drip of blood or blooming bruise. She learned quickly what things would actually get her hurt and found ways to overcome them. It was a challenge to her and half the fun of life was overcoming challenges.

   The air opened beneath her as she lept from one silk to another, instinctively wrapping herself once again. In being bound with the flexible fabric she felt the most free. The music flowed through her and cued each fall, each spin, each push.

   I’m forever chasing after time

   The world around her blurred out of focus as she tipped her gaze upwards and contracted, the silk wound around her like a thickly corded belt. She spun there, hugging her knees like she did when she couldn’t chase away the whispers of hatred she’d heard time and time again, keeping her eyes on herself in the mirror to avoid the haze of dizziness.

   But everybody dies…. Dies

   The rolling falls were her favorite. In aerials every move was carefully constructed to lead to the next. With each jump and turn she’d deftly tied stays. She worked with the intuitive rules of physics to end up letting herself whip down and tumble end over end, unafraid because up there she was invincible. Up there she was free.

   If I could buy forever at a price, I would buy it twice

   As the faithful ties stopped her motion and cradled her, one leg pointing to the heavens and her back arching like the crescent moon, her mind went blank. The song continued on but she hung unceremoniously. Her hands went over her face in an effort to force the muscle memory to take over once again.

   But if the earth ends in fire and the seas are frozen in time

   There’ll be just one survivor

   She dropped the pose and admitted defeat, groaning as she hung limp. Going through the motions of disentangling herself from her silks to descend and restart was always an annoying process. To her surprise, though, claps echoed through the room over the music as her feet touched the floor.

   “Looked great,” Andy leaned against the doorway. She could watch Quynh for hours - in fact she had many times.

   “Until I forgot where I was going,” Quynh laughed and hugged Andy tightly. They both knew that this was a part of it all. Repetition was a dancer’s best friend. Countless days spent going over and over a piece of choreography until you could do it backwards with your eyes closed fogged over in their memories but the motions still remained in their bones. Some quiet, private nights they would spend hours doing old duets together that their brains had let go of but their muscles still dug up with ease.

   The memory that I was yours and you were mine

   “I figured you were still convincing those kids to work for you,” The music ran out and only their voices remained to fill the space.

   “Oh, no, they weren’t hard to convince. Although they might end up being a little more than I expected. Sometimes I forget what it was like to be just out of conservatory.” Andy let her voice betray the extent to which she’d underestimated the college students’ capacity for nonsense. Quynh laughed brightly, pushing at her shoulder with affection.

   “I told you!” Now it was Andy’s turn to playfully nudge her love. Quynh seemed eternal to her sometimes. The woman never slowed. It felt like she’d stumbled into infinity without noticing - her bright fire of youth used the weight of time as fuel instead of being smothered by it. Sometimes Andy needed Quynh to remind her they were children once too, even if she was starting to slow now.

   “I’m sure they’ll figure it out. They’ve got you to point them in the right direction.” A brief silence fell as Andy scoffed, though Quynh’s comfort was greatly appreciated. They both knew that the company was the gateway into something new. As long as they were next to each other, though, they would be fine.

   “Let me tie you up in the sky?”

   “Always.” Andy grinned, taking the sunglasses from where they perched on top of her head, and let Quynh lead her to the center of the room. It was a ritual they’d done for years now - Quynh would guide Andy up the columns of draped silk and deftly move around her, putting her arms and legs in place and binding her tightly. Though she knew very little about how to dance with the stuff there was something exhilarating about letting Quynh have her to hang in the air.

   “So what are you going to call this ragtag troupe anyway?” Amusement rounded her voice, a sharp sweetness in her touch as she tucked and prodded. Sometimes Andy would glance over and marvel at her even after all the years. The way she hung effortlessly poised in the air with her focus so intently trained on making sure the fabric would hold Andy’s weight knocked her breath away.

   “I’ve been thinking of The Old Guard - since we’re about breaking conventions and all.” There was a pause before Quynh let her go to hang over the air. The complex ties she’d made embraced her body and held her securely frozen in place. She’d barely had to do anything aside from hold her weight steady. Her hands gripped the silks tightly enough that her fingers turned white until Quynh tapped them softly, reminding her that she was secure.