|
|
Post by alec on Jan 1, 2012 20:31:49 GMT -5
Finally, Alec was actually going to dance, he had been anticipating this day for quite a while. He looked around the room at the other hip hop students and smiled to his self. Tugging at his baggy shirt and tapped the heels of his converse together he smiled waiting for class to start.
He began stretching and getting loose for class when the instructor walked in. The man seemed to be quite young for a professor. The music then turned on and the class began to practice a little free style movements before the actual class started.
Moving softly to the familiar rhythm he watched his other classmates move too. He smiled softly remembering how hard it was to dance in Texas, between his parents hatred of all things "unmanly" and the twinkle toes jokes. But who was laughing now, all the jocks where probably still in their home town impregnating their high school sweethearts while he was in Paris pursuing his dream.
|
|
|
|
Post by tommas ugo renda on Jan 1, 2012 23:41:19 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://i141.photobucket.com/albums/r71/maggiesrpstuff/BACKGROUNDS/ea5ncojpg.png); width: 420px; padding-top: 10; padding-bottom: 10; border: #363636 solid 2px;] [div style="background-image:url(http://i1214.photobucket.com/albums/cc493/Graphici/Thomas/letom2-1-1.png); height: 250; width: 400; font-size: 0; background: -moz-linear-gradient(bottom, #d5d2d2, rgba(255,255,255,0), rgba(0,0,0,0)), url(http://i1214.photobucket.com/albums/cc493/Graphici/Thomas/letom2-1-1.png);[br"]-webkit-mask-image: -webkit-gradient(linear, left top, left bottom, from(rgba(0,0,1,1)), to(rgba(0,0,0,0)));]hi |
[/div] just dance, There was only one time that Tom could really zone out, and that was when he was dancing. He loved it, because he could retreat from the world, dance like he wanted without paying any attention to what people expected him to do. When he was dancing, Tommy didn't have to think about Lexin, or any mafia matters, or even his extremely complicated and minorly painful love life. He could just dance, and lose himself in the music and the improvised steps and movements. It was paradise for the student that was constantly stressed by his thoughts, and he wouldn't give it up for the world. Yet at the same time, there was a sense that he would have to give it up eventually, or at least modify it. He was going to be heading home to San Luca in three years, where he would follow through on the deal with his family and officially join the Calabrian 'Ndrangheta. When that finally happened, he wasn't going to be able to dance anymore. Sure, he would be able to do some hand to hand fighting, and could apply his agility and dancing skills to that, but it just wasn't the same. He would have to give up the only form of happiness that he had, and that was the only thought that somehow managed to stay attached to his mind while he was dancing.
Maybe that was why he got so into it. Some part of Tom's mind was always aware that he'd already spent half of the six years of a normal life that his family had given him, and his time was running out to make friends and enjoy what little pleasures he had in life. Hell, his family had already given him a job simply because he was in the perfect place to complete it. No one had seen the point in sending Armo – Tommy's older brother – to kill Lexin when Tom was already his student, and therefore would have an easier time cutting him out of existence. That proved to Tom that even though they were technically honoring the deal and letting him live the most normal life they could, his family wasn't going to go out of the way to make things easy for him, and he might have less time than he had thought. It was possible that after Lexin was dead, Tom would have to head back to Italy, and even more likely that he would only have until the end of the school year before he had to leave. It was doubtful that his family would give him the full six years that they had promised, though knowing them, they'd have some marvelous reason as to why it wasn't considered dishonoring the deal. There was nothing that Tom could do about it, either. He knew that if he went against them, he could be killed, and his will to live was too strong to cause him to question his family.
So he threw himself into dancing, making all the use of the time he still had to do it. By the time the break came in the middle of class, he was short of breath and gasping for air, slightly doubled over with one of his arms clutching his gut. It hurt, but he loved it. It wasn't like he was a masochist or anything, but this was the one thing in life that he loved doing, and if pushing himself brought pain, then he could deal with it. ”I'm fine,” he snapped when one of the assistant teachers came to check on him, straightening up and brushing his damp hair out of his eyes. It was freestyle dancing most of the time, but Tommas tended to push himself to do the hardest things, the ones that let him move the most. Coincidentally, they also exhausted him, but there was a double edge to everything in his life. Please his family, kill a man. Get to be with who he loved, put them in horrible danger. Dance, become tired and sore. He was used to it by now, and he simply walked over to the small cabinet-like areas where the students stored their stuff to take a drink out of his water bottle, watching the other students mill around and do cool down exercises. He was wearing the typical sweat pants and short sleeved shirt that most hip hop students wore, his water bottle shoved back into his backpack, and by the time the instructor called for class to start again, he was breathing normally and fully prepared to put himself through that kind of torture all over again.
Much to his disappointment, though, the instructor declared that they were going to try dancing with partners for a while. Tom may not have known his limits when it came to dancing, but he wasn't going to push anyone else as far as he pushed himself. While the instructor read out names, Tom began to retreat into his own thoughts again, knowing that his last name was always pretty far down the list. The dance teachers switched around a lot, since both the modern dance and hip hop classes were mainly freestyle. This was obviously one of the younger teachers, so he was eager to try out some new things. That was annoying, especially for the multi-grade class. Tom didn't enjoy working with the younger students, because they were normally much shorter than him. Admittedly, most people were shorter than Tom – who stood at around one hundred ninety three centimeters – but it was annoying to work with someone who only reached up to his shoulder. Well, whatever. This teacher would be gone soon enough, and Tom only had to hope that he wouldn't get Lexin as a teacher again. There had been one day that he'd had his target as an instructor, and that class had been spent in a mix of anger, stress, and intense fear of the man standing in front of the class. He didn't think that he would be able to deal with something like that again.
Soon enough, though, everyone had been paired up with a partner. Tom may have had his eyes closed and his thoughts detached from the dance studio and students around him, but his senses had still been working, and he'd heard his partner's name as clearly as a bell. It wasn't like his attention was lacking or something; that could get him killed. Everything could get him killed these days; maybe that was why he spent so many nights uncontrollably sobbing before falling asleep. It was definitely a good thing that he wasn't going to have to be the head of the 'Ndrangheta any time in his life. Unless Armo somehow died, he would just be a normal member. Still in danger, but maybe not as much. He should stop thinking about that, though, seeing as everyone was already wandering around the room to find their partners. A few of the more antisocial kids looked kind of lost, because they couldn't attach the name they had been paired up with any faces, but Tom wasn't in that predicament. He simply had to glance around once or twice before stopping Alec Sumpton and waving him over. He may not have talked with many of the students, but he'd memorized all their names. Alec had been a bit harder to find, since he was one of the first years, but Tom still knew him. He knew everyone in his class, it was just another necessity.
”Odd teacher, huh?” he asked softly when he and Alec were finally standing together, the older man's arms crossed over his chest. At least Alec wasn't short, so he wouldn't have to dance with someone that was practically a midget compared to Tom. That thought might have coaxed a smile out of him if it had been a better situation, but Alec was a stranger. Tom never smiled or laughed around strangers, because not only had they not earned any of his respect or – on rare occasions – friendship, but there was always a potential that strangers could be dangerous. Tom wasn't paranoid, though. It wasn't like he believed that everyone was out to get him, but it couldn't hurt to be careful. When you were someone like Tom, being careless was much more dangerous than assuming everyone had something up their sleeve. Anyway, on a more important matter, how was anyone supposed to do hip hop dancing with a partner? Maybe good friends could figure something out, but he didn't want to get that close to some younger student that he didn't know very well. He wasn't going to show that he was nervous or uncertain, though. Tom hated showing weaknesses to anyone, even good friends. He could be childish and annoying, but he only cried or expressed his fears when he was alone or drunk. ”So, what do you want to do?” 1498 words, just saying you don't need to match it 8'D so much muse...
[/center][/td][/tr][/td][/tr][/table] THIS TEMPLATE WAS MADE BY WILMETTA OF CAUTION. [/center] |
|
|
|
Post by alec on Jan 7, 2012 12:49:44 GMT -5
"He's a kook," Alec said taking a wide stance tucking his hands into his pockets. He then began warming up again looking slightly up at the man. Once he was done he straightened his shirt and twisted his neck.
"Don't worry about me, I can keep up," Alec smiled at him. "You won't be able to push me harder than myself, I'm not like all first years, I actually care about this stuff, I want to get better and the pain is worth it."
He hoped that his reassurance would help Tom push him a little harder. Tom looked like someone that knew what he was doing, and he was ready to pick up a couple tricks.
|
|
|
|
Post by tommas ugo renda on Jan 8, 2012 21:54:33 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://i141.photobucket.com/albums/r71/maggiesrpstuff/BACKGROUNDS/ea5ncojpg.png); width: 420px; padding-top: 10; padding-bottom: 10; border: #363636 solid 2px;] [div style="background-image:url(http://i1214.photobucket.com/albums/cc493/Graphici/Thomas/letom2-1-1.png); height: 250; width: 400; font-size: 0; background: -moz-linear-gradient(bottom, #d5d2d2, rgba(255,255,255,0), rgba(0,0,0,0)), url(http://i1214.photobucket.com/albums/cc493/Graphici/Thomas/letom2-1-1.png);[br"]-webkit-mask-image: -webkit-gradient(linear, left top, left bottom, from(rgba(0,0,1,1)), to(rgba(0,0,0,0)));]hi |
[/div] just dance, Teamwork was a familiar idea for Tom, but he didn't work with people that hadn't earned his respect. He could work with people like his family, Nikolai and Minoru, Wesley.. but the minimal respect that he's had for Alec was quickly slipping. Who said kook these days, anyway? It made Tom laugh just to think the word. Internally, of course. He wasn't going to laugh in the middle of class, because really, wouldn't that just look weird? Tom didn't like fading into the background, but he didn't like drawing unnecessary attention either. ”He's just eager,” he said lazily, stretching. Eager, energetic, new; they were all words that could be used to describe the teacher, but kook wasn't one of them. ”He's looking forward to playing with his new toys, but he doesn't know that we can smell fear.” That was accompanied by a little sneer, bringing up Tom's nose bring to lightly touch the edge of his nose. It was a joke, but he couldn't care less if Alec thought it was funny or not. It was purely for his own amusement, and if Alec found it funny, then fine.
He tensed up a bit when Alec started talking about being able to push himself, which just ruined his warm up stretches. ”Listen, kid,” he started, tightening his jaw in a stubborn fashion and turning slightly to face the shorter boy. ”I can push you harder than you can push yourself, and I'm not going to. That's called fucking abuse. I'm not going to expect you to keep up, so don't try.” Alec didn't know a thing, and Tom wasn't going to tell him anything. This was why he hated working with younger kids so much. They were cocky, ranking themselves higher than everyone else their age and expecting older people to believe them. He knew that he'd been Alec's age just a few years ago, but he'd been so different back then. Quiet, sweet, and generally social instead of the person he was now. Could things really change that fast? ”And don't go all masochistic on me. The anorexic dancers are bad enough.” The pain was worth it? Right. Like Tom believed that for a second.
”Now, once again, what do you want to do? I'm not going to set the pace here.” 384 words, just saying that this was a fail post...
[/center][/td][/tr][/td][/tr][/table] THIS TEMPLATE WAS MADE BY WILMETTA OF CAUTION. [/center] |
|
|
|
Post by alec on Jan 16, 2012 19:02:43 GMT -5
Alec shook his hair out of his eyes, "Whatever man." He really didn't like the sound of this guy, he was hoping that this partnership was going to be a lot different, and it was not.
"It's freestyle, so I guess, that's what we need to do," Alec then twisted his back in an attempt to loosen up more, this guy wasn't helping him get himself loose, at all.
'Where did this guy get off?' He thought to himself, he wasn't like most first years, but he knew that this was something he was going to have to prove. He had been dancing since he could walk, he knew more then most of these people would ever think he did. Dance wasn't a joke to him, it was life, and he wasn't going to let this guy get in his way. So he began dancing, watching the guy beside him, hoping he would be able to go off of his pace, looking at him not as Tom, but simply another assignment, one that he would have to work with.
|
|
