Thoughts During A Cold Dance

[Weebmaster36 248]

Thoughts During A Cold Dance

[!] Brigitte dancing on the roof dance floor as it snows.

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As the snow fell around Brigitte, she couldn’t help but wonder how her fall would be. Would it be graceful like a snowflake? Or would it fall harshly like hail? 

 

Her eyes closed as she pinched at the skirt of her dress, picking it up slightly as she began to dance. Snowflakes moved away from her as she spun gracefully, only a few touching her skin.

 

Not once has Brigitte fallen in love, ignoring what made her heartbeat in turn for the practice of ballet. Something she could practice and succeed at, no unknown moves from a dance partner.

 

Her shoulders relaxed as she made for a grand leap, raising her right hand momentarily to the moon before she landed with a spin. The light frost highlighted her hair, and the lanterns made it seem like she was glowing.

 

The unknown, maybe that is what Brigitte was afraid of. Not knowing the next move, how things would play out. Maybe that is why she had given up on her dream to be a Knight.

 

The gentle sound of a piano and a violin came to her ears, whether it be real or rather just her mind, she smiled at it. Hand held out to the absence of a partner, she spun into the arms of no one leaning back just far enough before pulling forward into another leap.

 

Brigitte would have shook her head at her child self. Why did she want to be a Knight so badly? She had not been taught how to wield a sword, much less a bow. Maybe it was because of her father, and her grandfather before her.

 

The moon shone brighter as the snow fell to a halt, acting like the spotlight on the lone dancer. She took small steps forward before kicking up the snow, letting it flutter through the air. Violin and piano mixed to create a rising melody, before-...

 

She never felt like she could do good by their names, or by their roles. Though women throughout history have proven those around them wrong, she didn’t feel like she was enough to be one of them. So she picked up dancing, something that was petite and delicate. Something soft that was for her to learn and be molded into. 

 

Brigitte fell to the floor in a harsh crash. Her foot was not far enough in front of her leading her to slip to the floor. Her eyes looked around her, silence ensued as she took in breaths. No one saw her fail, no one saw her mistake.

 

She was to be molded into her own perfect creation.