Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
BALLET WAS ONE OF THE LAST WIDELY PRACTICED FORMS OF MAGIC. ENCHANTMENT TO BE PRECISE. Which was why Gola was having such a hard time focusing on her work. She wasn't zoning out, she was entranced. Long since she could remember she'd dreamed of dancing.
Dreaming of gliding across grande floors in frills of bejeweled tulle, laiden with the most excellent embroidery, spotlight wrapped around her as snug as her papa's hugs . But the only thing she'd been able to do other than dream of becoming a dancer is watch yona dance.
"Saute, saute, saute, close fifth." Mrs. Valkova passionately raved, dramatically attempting to gracefully jump along with the the younger dancers."Allegro!"
Ms Valkova was a show all in herself. Beautiful was too simple a word for her. Beauty was within lines, defined by superficial eyes. No, she was something else. Almost elegant, eerily bewitching, and bold.
Other people may have thought her expressions of pain too exaggerated, her appearance an oddity, the bluntness of her personality to hard to bare. But Gola knew those expressions to be brief glimpses of agony packed deep within her bones, old stories never told. And Gola found Ms Valkova was of an unmatched beauty. Especially in her older age.
Her silky silver hair kept pinned professionally in bun, her huge round granite eyes and crimson painted lips that only ever seemed to press firmly in a straight line. There was something awfully tragic about her.
A once famed magnificent ballerina, with her broken foot that never moved the same way, doomed to scrutinize a tiny mistake that changed her life for the worst every day until the end. She almost had it all. On her darkest days she could still hear the crowd cheering her name.
Ms Valkova, gently pushed off of the floor, gracing the air before landing in a pose silently. Her movements were like liquid. Languid and smooth, it was as if only for a moment she defied gravity and floated.
"You look like you you're in love." Yvonne, sneered with a raised brow.
"Huh?" Gola blinked, she'd been only half present. Her thoughts were scattered like ashes on some invisible breeze. "Maybe I am, Besides my sister, Ms valkova is the only one in this theater who actually knows how to dance."
