Swan Lake|(Alice) INACTIVE

[ROGER DAVIS]

[/i] needed to go. Mimi had to work, so he had gone out on his own. He had tried to look as "nice" as possible, considering that he was pretty sure if he wore jeans and a teeshirt, he'd get denied at the door. So he found a some (very old) slacks and a nice button up. He even had a tie, which surprised the hell out of him. He hadn't worn a tie since....well, probably since his grandmother had died, which had been when he had been 16 years old.

A lifetime ago.

A few people in stuffy dresses and suits turned their nose up at him as he had entered with them, though he had managed to make a few of the younger girls laugh and giggle as he had hit on them, making the stuffy upper crust mothers and fathers huff and snuff and move their daughters off in a rush. He had sat, silently waiting for the show to begin. He was a few rows away from the stage, and he had to force himself to keep his feet on the ground; this wasn't like the movie theatre with the rest of the Bohos. This was a proper place. He felt completely and utterly out of place.

Then, it had happened; the Prima Ballerina and danced her way out on the stage, and Roger had to admit, the music had brought him in, but the dancer kept him there. Long legs, flowing and twisting had kept him transfixed for the entire show. He only realised it was over when the sound of clapping hit his ears, and he joined in.

She wasn't a redhead, at least from where he sat, but she reminded him, in small ways, of what April had wanted to be for the longest time. As people started shuffling out to the main lobby where a sort after party was going on, Roger followed. Of course, the after parties he had always been to were something more wild and carefree than the one he found himself in. Roger wondered if he'd see the small girl that had danced on stage. His eyes scanned around, moving to stand slightly on his toes to look over the heads of other people before he grabbed a glass of champagne that passed him.[/ul]

[tuna]

OUTFIT:: The dress in the picture and this necklace! //
TAG:: Roger //
NOTES:: I would just like to say, OMFG 906 words. //

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Swan Lake. A demanding, challenging and popular classical ballet, it was a favorite of the company Alice performed with. She honestly didn’t understand the thrall, mostly because it was demanding on her. Not only was there the innocent and chaste Odette, she was also tasked with performing the role of Odile, the villain’s sensuous daughter that disguises as Odette to trick the Prince. Odette was easy, she was… passionless. Odile, was oozing passion from her every pore. She was the demanding character on Alice. Alice had to incorporate that attitude into her dancing. It was taking a toll on her mentally. She hadn’t eaten anything since Wednesday, and if she remembered correctly… it was Saturday night. No way that was healthy.

And in Alice’s zeal to be her best as always, she had over practiced. This usually isn’t a problem, but it had begun to take a toll on her feet. And even as she pranced out for the first time on stage, her feet were bleeding inside her pointe slippers. But, she ignored it. Like a solider, she’d been conditioned to ignore physical pain. She wore the mask of a professional’s stoism. Beautiful, but largely emotionless as she danced her pieces as Odette, in a beautiful white leotard, with a white tutu that had twinkling white jewels sewn into it, Alice was perfect. Each movement was flawless. Despite her unhealthy body screaming out to her, each leg extended perfectly when not purposefully bent. All feet pointed perfect when not in position on the ground. After her solos, and a few dances with her prince, and the villainous Von Rothbart, and another with her prince, she disappeared from view for a bit. She went for her costume change into Odile, getting held up momentarily as she switched her white pointe shoes for the black ones, and the costume director noticed her feet. But there was little she could do, and Alice drug herself back on stage. She was wearing the complete opposite of what she wore for Odette, her brunette waves still back in a perfect bun. She danced her bit, albeit with the emotion required for the passion of the character. Sensual. Her hands lingered a bit longer on the prince this time, her eyes smiling instead of being blankly void of emotion. But the part was over quickly, and soon she was in the back again to switch back to her Odette costume. Returning to the stage, they played out the more devastating possible ending to Swan Lake. There is an epic struggle between the main male characters, the prince and Von Rothbart over Odette. Von Rothbart summons a storm after he thinks he might be bested by the prince physically. And after the storm clears, Von Rothbart has been consumed by the storm, as well as his intended target, the Prince. Odette is the only one left, to mourn her Prince. End Scene. The curtain came down.

Then the curtain came up for the bows and curtseys, the cast receiving the standing ovation it was due. Alice smiled softly under the heavy lights of the stage for the first time since entering the stage. It was freeing. Too quickly it seemed, the accolades quieted down and the cast left the stage. Alice headed to her dressing room, removing her costume, carefully hanging it up. She stopped for a moment to look at herself in the mirror, at her bones. She shook it off and went to her sink, removing the bleeding stage makeup she wore and then replacing it with a lighter coat of more natural looking makeup. She then pulled her hair down out of the tight bun that was causing her the normal headache, and leaving it all down in its softly curly glory. She then pulled on her dress for the night. It was a designer dress that had been chosen for her. It was gorgeous, but large and impractical. She pulled on a pair of flip flops to give her feet a rest, as no one could see them under the layers of the long gown. She looked at her vanity and found a necklace with a note on top of it. It was from her ex-husband. A ‘gift for another beautiful performance.’ She contemplated throwing the gold necklace and the note away without another look, but she found herself unwittingly clasping the necklace about her thin neck as she examined it. A little teapot pendant and a coffee bean pendant hung on it. It was simple, but expensive. It looked to be old. Lucas knew she loved vintage. She smiled sadly at herself in the mirror, thinking of him kindly for a moment, before suddenly and coldly remembering how his fist felt on her cheek.

She headed out of her dressing room and walked towards the loud after party in the lobby. She entered the room and peered around for a moment, taking a few painful steps into the crowd, to be greeted with loud praise, It was nice. But almost too much. She picked up a glass of champagne and headed backwards away from the people. She hadn’t exactly been paying attention to where she was going, so she was surprised when she bumped into someone hard enough to send her to the ground.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, instantly heartfelt-ly apologizing as she struggled to pick herself up among the layers of the dress she wore.

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[ROGER DAVIS]

Maybe she wasn't here. Maybe it was pointless; she was Prima Ballerina after all. He wasn't sure if Prima Ballerina's even came out and mingled with the normal folk; though everyone in the room save for him was more than normal. They were rich. Well to do. If they'd known that Roger was just a penniless street musician--well, he had been in a band. But then again, outside of Manhattan, more so outside Alphabet City, the Well Hungarians were nothing more than a small garage band. The Well What? people would ask, confused, and then roll their eyes at the pun. Roger had been very proud of the band's name, he remembered as he had told his bandmates of his discovery. It was the best band name, ever! They were gonna be famous with that name! However, it was never like he had long wished it would be. When people would come up to him, begging to get his autograph. Saying that he wrote those songs for her or that when she was twelve, she had dreamt of marrying him. Sure, he was a rock star, but around these people, the rich and famous and stuffy, his fame didn't precede him. It hardly even made a ripple in the pond. He had been the Rockstar of Alphabet City, but here in rich New York? He was a no name.

April had wanted to be that girl, but Roger had reminded her that they didn't have it in them to be rich. Roger had said that one day, he'd be a famous rockstar and she'd be a famous dancer, and they'd both be dripping with gold and silver, but at the end of the day, they were both penniless junkies. They wouldn't have known what to do if they had been rich. The closest she had gotten to being rich was dying in a porcelain tub. Ironic, Roger thought silently.

So, he turned, downing the expensive champagne and telling himself that he needed a beer like, yesterday, and started to make his way out of the giant ballroom. However, something hard crashed into him, and Roger found his brows narrowing as he looked, only seeing for a second, a large mass of fabric, until a small girl's head poked up, almost as if coming straight up from the ground itself.

"I couldn't find you for a second." Roger said with a slight smile, trying to smooth out the layers of fabric to find her hand, but only came up empty. A true laugh escaped his lips as he looked at her, amused. "Okay, I think we can both do this if we work together." Finding her hand, Roger nodded and helped her to her feet.

"I knew we'd make it." he told her, but then realised instantly as to who the woman who's hand he was still holding was.

"Oh, wow."