Post by Loogs on Feb 6, 2018 3:38:08 GMT -5
One mental breakdown and a cupcake later, Rio finally felt centered and calm enough to slowly saunter back into the gym, albeit with her tail somewhat tucked between her legs after god Rio you’ll never live this down now everyone thinks you’re some kind of bitchy pendeja and found a quieter, more isolated corner of the bleachers to sink into humiliation.
But she’d barely taken her seat when all of a sudden—
clap clap
CLICK
The lights went out.
Understandably, some panicked, letting out sharp shrieks or frightened yells. (Rio immediately covered her ears with her hands but it was too late, the screams were already reverberating painfully in her head, welcome back to migraine town bITCH) Murmurs of “What’s happening?” and “Why’d the lights go out?” started to rumble in the crowd, and just as Thyra raised her voice to be heard over the noise, telling everyone to calm down…
The lights gradually faded back in, but stopped at a dim glow that filled the air with a bewitching ambience that felt perhaps like… seduction? Or maybe warm and rich like chocolate melting in your mouth. Whatever it was, it seemed to soothe the tumultuous crowd into a dead silence, and everyone waited with bated breath for the next move.
“Everyone, please, stay in your seats, we’re sending someone to fix the lights—“ And then the superintendent’s words were interrupted by a crackling sound coming from the speakers, followed by a heady, sultry Latin melody that flowed out of the speakers like warm honey… then…
CLICK
The spotlights magically came to life, converging onto the double doors of the room as they slowly parted open for him to stride into the auditorium with an elegant, otherworldly presence like a full moon in the witching hour.
The young man, clad in a black silk shirt and a vivid, crimson silk scarf, waltzed onto the gym floor, his dark, wavy locks sweeping across his poised countenance. Facing the arranged desks, he clapped his hands together, spread his arms out wide, and the desks, along with their occupants, drifted apart and to the sides, parting like the Red Sea before him.
There were some bewildered, perhaps annoyed groans from the displaced students, but the dancer, simply ignoring them, twirled and spun through the open floor, his footwork keeping pace with the lively beat of the Latin percussion. At the moment when the slow-tempo music hit a break, he stood in place, flung his arms above his head, and conjured a shower of rose petals over the gym floor area.
The music picked up again, this time racing at a faster tempo than before. The young man took a spinning leap onto one of the desks and proceeded to prance deftly through the petals and across the row, his torso remaining level while his arms, hips and legs put in all the work. When he reached the end of the row, he repeated the routine with the opposite row, and then stepped off the desks, returning to the center of the floor.
With a swift spin for flourish, he stopped, extended his arm, and slowly pointed a finger at the person in the desk in the middle of the row in front of him: one Titus Bolton, staring back at the dancer as if he’d just been handed a death sentence.
A spotlight blinked in his direction. Squinting in the bright light, Ty gave him a quick shake of the head, and pointed a quivering finger at himself, mouthing the words, Me?
The dancer, still pointing, nodded silently, and then curled his finger in a come-hither gesture. In response, the desk magically slid towards him.
Terrified but strangely compelled, Ty lifted his body from the desk, and with caution walked toward the center, legs trembling be damned. The dancer outstretched a hand. Up close, Ty noticed the gold chain bracelet dangling from the boy's thin wrist. It was adorned with red and black beads, and a single charm carved from black jet in the shape of a fist. Ty offered his own hand, albeit rather hesitantly. The dancer held it in a firm grasp, then he suddenly twirled Ty’s body, pulling him close and wrapping his other arm firmly around the boy’s waist.
Ty attempted a last-ditch desperation effort to escape. “No, no, no, please, I-I-I-I don’t know h-how to d-d-dance…”
The dancer, unfazed, leaned in close and whispered into his ear. “Trust me.”
Ty breathed in deeply, and relaxed all the muscles in his body, granting the dancer full control. Before he could figure out what was happening, he found himself gyrating and flitting across the floor with perfect rhythm, synchronized with his new dance partner. The transfixed crowd marveled at the unlikely pair.
“Whoa, I didn’t know Ty could dance like that…”
“He makes it look so easy!”
They continued to cavort around the gymnasium, dancing among the rose petals and the swiveling stage lights. Just as Ty was coming to terms with his fate, he was frozen in place by his partner, who raised his arm above his head and waved his hand. The rose petals then dissipated, and the stage lights all converged on the spot where they were standing.
“Uh—“
In place of the petals, flaming swords materialized around them. Ty’s eyes widened in terror. The dancer sensed his anxieties, and whispered into his ear again…
“Don’t be afraid.”
But the audience certainly was. Some gasped audibly, others tried to approach the staff to ask if they should intervene. However, everyone could only gaze helplessly, mesmerized, as the young man and Ty pirouetted and weaved through the swords dancing around the pair in a circle. The dancer then started incorporating drastic dips into the act. He supported the weight of Ty’s body with one arm and gently slid the other hand down Ty’s leg. The flaming swords closed in on them, the searing heat licking the skin on their faces.
They held the pose for an eternal second, and then the dancer yanked Ty back onto his feet for one last daredevil promenade with peril. Finally, much to Ty’s relief, the music came to a stop, the swords were suspended in place, and the dancer held him in a dipping pose. He raised his arm and waved at the crowd, which erupted with cheering and clapping. The dancer took his bow, and Ty automatically followed suit, after which he was released back to his seat.
As the lights switched back on, the swords vanished in a puff of smoke and the desks gradually drifted back into their original places, the audience still roared while the dancer ambled toward the stage with grace. He approached Thyra and the staff with an ethereal smile on his face, and bowed before them.
The superintendent was, naturally, not pleased with his actions. “Mr. Quintana, we do not tolerate unauthorized performances during school events. Please refrain from such distracting behavior in the future,” she reprimanded sternly.
The young man maintained his serene disposition and bowed once more before speaking in a composed voice, betraying his native Miami tongue.
“My sincerest apologies, headmistress, but, you see… This is how I always make my entrances.”
Without looking back or waiting for a response, he strolled off the stage and waved, almost dismissively, back at the staff. “Please, no need to be so formal. Call me Victor.” He ascended the rows of bleachers and seated himself a comfortable distance from Mel and Jay.
But she’d barely taken her seat when all of a sudden—
clap clap
CLICK
The lights went out.
Understandably, some panicked, letting out sharp shrieks or frightened yells. (Rio immediately covered her ears with her hands but it was too late, the screams were already reverberating painfully in her head, welcome back to migraine town bITCH) Murmurs of “What’s happening?” and “Why’d the lights go out?” started to rumble in the crowd, and just as Thyra raised her voice to be heard over the noise, telling everyone to calm down…
The lights gradually faded back in, but stopped at a dim glow that filled the air with a bewitching ambience that felt perhaps like… seduction? Or maybe warm and rich like chocolate melting in your mouth. Whatever it was, it seemed to soothe the tumultuous crowd into a dead silence, and everyone waited with bated breath for the next move.
“Everyone, please, stay in your seats, we’re sending someone to fix the lights—“ And then the superintendent’s words were interrupted by a crackling sound coming from the speakers, followed by a heady, sultry Latin melody that flowed out of the speakers like warm honey… then…
CLICK
The spotlights magically came to life, converging onto the double doors of the room as they slowly parted open for him to stride into the auditorium with an elegant, otherworldly presence like a full moon in the witching hour.
The young man, clad in a black silk shirt and a vivid, crimson silk scarf, waltzed onto the gym floor, his dark, wavy locks sweeping across his poised countenance. Facing the arranged desks, he clapped his hands together, spread his arms out wide, and the desks, along with their occupants, drifted apart and to the sides, parting like the Red Sea before him.
There were some bewildered, perhaps annoyed groans from the displaced students, but the dancer, simply ignoring them, twirled and spun through the open floor, his footwork keeping pace with the lively beat of the Latin percussion. At the moment when the slow-tempo music hit a break, he stood in place, flung his arms above his head, and conjured a shower of rose petals over the gym floor area.
The music picked up again, this time racing at a faster tempo than before. The young man took a spinning leap onto one of the desks and proceeded to prance deftly through the petals and across the row, his torso remaining level while his arms, hips and legs put in all the work. When he reached the end of the row, he repeated the routine with the opposite row, and then stepped off the desks, returning to the center of the floor.
With a swift spin for flourish, he stopped, extended his arm, and slowly pointed a finger at the person in the desk in the middle of the row in front of him: one Titus Bolton, staring back at the dancer as if he’d just been handed a death sentence.
A spotlight blinked in his direction. Squinting in the bright light, Ty gave him a quick shake of the head, and pointed a quivering finger at himself, mouthing the words, Me?
The dancer, still pointing, nodded silently, and then curled his finger in a come-hither gesture. In response, the desk magically slid towards him.
Terrified but strangely compelled, Ty lifted his body from the desk, and with caution walked toward the center, legs trembling be damned. The dancer outstretched a hand. Up close, Ty noticed the gold chain bracelet dangling from the boy's thin wrist. It was adorned with red and black beads, and a single charm carved from black jet in the shape of a fist. Ty offered his own hand, albeit rather hesitantly. The dancer held it in a firm grasp, then he suddenly twirled Ty’s body, pulling him close and wrapping his other arm firmly around the boy’s waist.
Ty attempted a last-ditch desperation effort to escape. “No, no, no, please, I-I-I-I don’t know h-how to d-d-dance…”
The dancer, unfazed, leaned in close and whispered into his ear. “Trust me.”
Ty breathed in deeply, and relaxed all the muscles in his body, granting the dancer full control. Before he could figure out what was happening, he found himself gyrating and flitting across the floor with perfect rhythm, synchronized with his new dance partner. The transfixed crowd marveled at the unlikely pair.
“Whoa, I didn’t know Ty could dance like that…”
“He makes it look so easy!”
They continued to cavort around the gymnasium, dancing among the rose petals and the swiveling stage lights. Just as Ty was coming to terms with his fate, he was frozen in place by his partner, who raised his arm above his head and waved his hand. The rose petals then dissipated, and the stage lights all converged on the spot where they were standing.
“Uh—“
In place of the petals, flaming swords materialized around them. Ty’s eyes widened in terror. The dancer sensed his anxieties, and whispered into his ear again…
“Don’t be afraid.”
But the audience certainly was. Some gasped audibly, others tried to approach the staff to ask if they should intervene. However, everyone could only gaze helplessly, mesmerized, as the young man and Ty pirouetted and weaved through the swords dancing around the pair in a circle. The dancer then started incorporating drastic dips into the act. He supported the weight of Ty’s body with one arm and gently slid the other hand down Ty’s leg. The flaming swords closed in on them, the searing heat licking the skin on their faces.
They held the pose for an eternal second, and then the dancer yanked Ty back onto his feet for one last daredevil promenade with peril. Finally, much to Ty’s relief, the music came to a stop, the swords were suspended in place, and the dancer held him in a dipping pose. He raised his arm and waved at the crowd, which erupted with cheering and clapping. The dancer took his bow, and Ty automatically followed suit, after which he was released back to his seat.
As the lights switched back on, the swords vanished in a puff of smoke and the desks gradually drifted back into their original places, the audience still roared while the dancer ambled toward the stage with grace. He approached Thyra and the staff with an ethereal smile on his face, and bowed before them.
The superintendent was, naturally, not pleased with his actions. “Mr. Quintana, we do not tolerate unauthorized performances during school events. Please refrain from such distracting behavior in the future,” she reprimanded sternly.
The young man maintained his serene disposition and bowed once more before speaking in a composed voice, betraying his native Miami tongue.
“My sincerest apologies, headmistress, but, you see… This is how I always make my entrances.”
Without looking back or waiting for a response, he strolled off the stage and waved, almost dismissively, back at the staff. “Please, no need to be so formal. Call me Victor.” He ascended the rows of bleachers and seated himself a comfortable distance from Mel and Jay.
Thyra's havin' a hell of a day, ain't she
yes before you ask: I did in fact get DL's blessing before writing this