THE LEAVING SONG

[izzy]

IN YOUR HEAD, IN YOUR HEAD
T H E Y A R E S T I L L F I G H T I N G

The college dance studio was typically quiet on Saturdays. However, since Esmeralda made the move to the states, the studio had been reawakened with new life. The young woman spent the majority of her weekend practicing her culture's dance in front of the many mirrors. This weekend was no different than the previous. The sharp instrumental tempo matched the jagged drops and rises of Esmeralda's hips. The quick motion made her belt of coins jingle playfully after each note. Her footwork was light, an amusing mixture of come hither motions before she would quickly dance away. Just out of reach from her invisible crowd. With a smirk Esmeralda twirled gracefully around the floor. She removed her scarf which she held back like an extension of her arms. Even she had to admit the reflection didn't seem to match her. As she danced she constantly kept time in her head and struggled to remember which steps her mother had taught her years ago. In the mirror someone else effortly glided across the wood floor, this stranger was hypnotizing. The song came to a crashing halt as Esmeralda slid into the splits. Her lips spread into a brillant smile as she imagined the coins the crowd used to throw back home.

With the end of the song Esme visibly relaxed. Her brillant smile faded into a slight frown and her body slumped tiredly. Dancing had never felt like work when she danced beside her mother. Alone, she felt like she held the weight of the routine upon her shoulders. A routine that had always been meant for two. Esmeralda chewed her lip softly as she thought. What would her mother think of this situation? All her life Jofranka had warned her daughter of the nontravelers and now Esmeralda was one of them. Well, technically one of them. She had a hard time fitting in with her college cohorts. They were so different. How would they ever understand her urge to run after only a few months in one place? Or the fact that she felt as if no one was ever really free unless they were on the road? Gypsy had it's own connotations, even to Americans. Esme felt as if the whole situation would be easier if she just ignored her classmates until she was allowed to leave here. No friends, no enemies. No connections to tie her down.

Her mind was weighed down with heavy thoughts. Esmeralda suddenly lost the desire to practice the enticing dances that had earned her so much. Instead she quickly wrapped her thick hair into a loose ponytail and pushed herself off the floor. With a quick jog to the radio, she selected the song she wanted and slid back to the center of the floor. There was no forced performance smile this time. Her green eyes didn't even lift off the floor to stare at her invisible fans. Instead a slow sad beat flooded the room. The brunette closed her eyes as her feet hit slowly against the floor. The bells around her ankle accented her steps as her arms slowly twisted through the air. Her movements weren't sultry or enchanting this time. Instead they seemed deliberate and sorrowful. Her hips rolled slower than before, causing the coins to jingle less. This dance wasn't a crowd pleaser or one that would even pay the bills, this one was just for her. Esmeralda's slim arms raised above her head to clap out each beat as her feet struck the floor. She allowed herself to get further engrossed in the song, completely forgetting about the outside world. Of course the outside world hadn't forgotten about her.

The door of the studio slammed shut, catching the Gypsy by surprise. Just as she was about to strike the floor she spun around to see who had disturbed her. The quick reaction made her trip over her own feet, embarrassing for a trained dancer. Esmeralda suddenly forgot about the newcomer as she tumbled to the floor.

( words six hundred and sixty seven ) ( tags open ) ( lyrics "zombie" by the cranberries ) ( credit this template was made by zee (a.k.a. FLUNK IS A FOUR LETTER WORD of caution 2.0) )

WHEN THE VIOLENCE CAUSES SILENCE
W E M U S T B E M I S T A K E N[/center]

[frollo]

Old architectural influences still enchanted Victor. Ever since he was a young child his parents always allowed him to wander the streets [ close to home ] to gaze at the majestic buildings of the olden days. Perhaps it was his inner spirit that made him honor these old bricks and foundations. Although Maine did not have nearly as much richness of history than Paris, France he still found the old buildings fascinating all the same. He had once asked to take upon a job at being a professor at the college, but found that the Academy was a full-time job all it's own. He would wait until the proper timing ensued to take on the responsibility of teaching here.

Long fingers grazed the brickwork of the halls until he was interrupted by the beat of music. At first it was fairly fast before tuning into a more somber-like song. Normally it was the music of the hymns that caught his attention overall the disgusting lyrics of today but this music had an intoxicating beat. Was he just growing tired of the word's of thy Lord? Impossible. Like much of this town it was full of witchcraft and trickery. He had to always be on his toes and to keep his faith strong. This city was full of temptation to him and he vowed he would never fall into such a trap like his former counterpart.

He was in his usual grab of priestness. Having just came from mass at the chapel, he was hoping for a rather uneventful evening. Apparently he was already setting himself up for disaster, or so he thought. Venturing forth where the beat of the music was drawing louder he reached a heavy wooden door. Ignoring simply knocking, he pushed himself inside only to see the slow movements of what appeared to be a dark hair woman conducting a dance. Now, any dance of a woman can very well be dangerous but there was something more to this. He had met her before.

When? He could not remember. But those piercing green eyes and that raven hair had triggered something inside him. It was festered with hate but a certain unattainable emotion that he hardly ever encountered. What was it? Nevermind, if he allowed this to go on this newfound emotion could run a rampart. He was scared, for the first time in his life. Grabbing the door by the edge he slammed it shut, hoping to disrupt the display before him. It worked, for the woman stumbled at the sudden noise sending her to sprawl onto the ground.

"Dear me, I do hope I didn't interrupt...," of course, a blatant lie. "I didn't know this building was allowed after hours.." He brought his fingers up to a steeple, gauging her reaction.

[izzy]

IN YOUR HEAD, IN YOUR HEAD
T H E Y A R E S T I L L F I G H T I N G

The soft smack made it clear not even her grace could save her bum from the hard wooden floor. Annoyance bubbled up within the young woman as she felt the heat of embarrassment wash over her. No doubt whoever walked in got a good laugh from her trip. Her head whipped around, expecting a young college student wanting to use the room. However, it was not a young dancer...at all. Her red lips relaxed from the disgusted frown she had prepared as she stared at the man. It was...a priest. What was a priest doing in the college? More importantly what was a priest doing in the dance studio? He didn't look like the dancing type. Far from it actually. Green eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion as he responded. Something fell flat in his sentence and made her doubt he hadn't meant to startle her. "It's fine, I am alright." Esmeralda offered, shrugging away her assumptions of the man. Still, part of her felt he had deliberately intruded on her. The girl forced a smile as if to say she was fine, he could go on his way now. Her gaze dropped to the floor as she pushed herself off the floor, expecting to hear retreating footsteps.

Instead the man spoke again as she straightened up. The gypsy froze at his statement, which sounded far from harmless. In fact, the priest seemed to be hinting she wasn't meant to be there. Who was he to tell her she shouldn't be there? Last time she checked there weren't any crosses or Virgin Mary's hanging around. But she couldn't deny he was right. The dance studio was closed unless the student had special permission from the teacher. The Roma hadn't even spoke to her teacher since arriving, never mind trying to explain how she just wanted to dance over the weekend because she had nothing else to do. Something told her the instructor would not grant extra time to frollick around a classroom she was responsible for. Esmeralda turned to give him another cold smile. "Je suis désolé, je ne comprends pas." Esme said innocently with a shrug, feigning stupid might make him leave. She took in the priest silently as he stood with his fingers pressed together. A random shiver ran down her spine as she felt slightly unsettled by the man. He was unfamiliar...at least his face was. She didn't recognize the older man and she doubted he was one of the men she had danced for.

But his mannerisms were so... Her smile fell as she stared unabashed, trying to bring forward the memory within her he was part of. Something told her to run, a soft whisper in the back of her mind. Why was she afraid? Esmeralda wasn't afraid of anyone. Still the raven haired girl nodded once again. "Bonsoir Pere." She said politely to the priest before turning back to the mirror. Her body settled into first position as she tried to perfect the ballet moves her class had gone over. The current lesson was very different than the smooth and effortless gypsy dancing she was used to. Honestly, she hated it. But perhaps if she looked busy with something school related the creepy priest would return to his church. A new thought struck her with sick annoyance. What if he tried to talk to her about God? Esmerald forced her expression to remain blank as she reeled mentally at the thought. The young girl had seen enough in her life to support her agnostic beliefs. She certainly didn't need some strange man of the cloth going on about the wonders of God and faith.

( words six hundred and thirteen ) ( tags victor claude frollo ) ( lyrics "zombie" by the cranberries ) ( credit this template was made by zee (a.k.a. FLUNK IS A FOUR LETTER WORD of caution 2.0) )

WHEN THE VIOLENCE CAUSES SILENCE
W E M U S T B E M I S T A K E N[/center]