? 彡𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐃𝐎 ࿔*:･ﾟ
━━ ❪ 𝗮 𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗹 𝘅 𝘁𝘃𝗱 𝗰𝗿𝗼𝘀𝘀𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 ❫
╭──╯
❛ but i got smarter, i got harder in the nick of
time, honey, i rose from the dead, i do it a...
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1991 , SIBERIA
As a new century approaches, a cold washes over Russia. Even in the daytime, the sky was a grim white - grey colour, even the ground matched its lack of colour. The brisk winds carries the frosted tips of December, and a new world for the girls of the Red Room Academy.
So delicate, so graceful; like swans.
All in long, flawless straight rows, moving almost perfectly in sync, staring forward with matching blank expressions; twirled graceful girls to the beat of the gramophone. They didn't blink, they didn't even flinch; their eyes glued forward, set permanently in a pirouette until the tone changed and they split into the next section of the dance. If one had not seen the slight twitch in muscle from the tight pain, or lips part to take in a breath; one might've thought they were human.
It was a process that happened every single day, without fail; even during an examination. The girls varying from age, skin tone, hair shade, eye colour, shape, weight, height, would spin and twirl and guide as ordered; completely and utterly compliant to their trainer. It was a room filled with elegant but deadly machines, ready to carry out each sin asked of them. Like a broken wing of a bird, they lifted their right arm above their heads, chin tilting up towards it and the other extended at their side. They spun on the tips of their toes, opposite leg creating a triangle and only pausing when the song came to a steady stop and the rare ray of sunlight shafted threw the window at the far end of the dance room.
Clara stood in the front row, with arms and legs taut as the other girls flocked around her. All she wanted to do was fall, there was a growing stitch in her left ribcage and both of her legs were weak and hurting as they carried her weight into the dance once again. But she didn't let her body hit the worn wood, the sheer exhaustion not enough to take her down. Anyone who fell would be singled out, and no one wanted to feel the Madame's fury.
The sharp end of Dmitriy's cane pushed into their backs, as his trailed threw the perfect rows of his broken birds; straightening them out, correcting their posture. There was a reason they wore dark leotards, so you couldn't see the blood seep into their clothes from the new wound of being corrected. Clara could feel the fresh blood dripping down the small of her back, staining her uniform. Dmitriy had caused a slash in her uniform, she only recently got a new one after her other uniform was torn to shreds during a particularly gruelling practise session.
