Bittersweet [Gazelle]

[ISABELLA MARIANA DIAS]

for we're creatures of the wind and wild is the wind - - - - -

Isabella was always on a mission to better herself. Her desire for perfection wasn’t based on any knowledge that it was truly a plausible thing but self-improvement was something that she thought most people should strive for. When it came to her dancing she had always wanted to do well, she always tried getting that coveted role in the ballet productions that the school dance club hosted but she was never satisfied with herself. There was always a jump whose landing she could execute better or a turn that she could have a tighter spin on. As graceful and elegant as Isabella was there was always going to be someone out there that was better at it, that wanted it more than she did and she had come across them a few times in her lifetime.

It was just as well though because in the end Isabella had other responsibilities that her future held for her. She had a family to raise, at the end of the month when she turned eighteen she’d inherit a large portion of her mother’s side of the family’s cosmetic empire, she’d be overwhelmed with her charity work and though there wasn’t any nine to five job that she’d have to do like most people, Isabella would be just as busy, if not more so, as she was now. Getting into this dance class had just been another thing added to that growing list but Isabella was just as dedicated to it as she was to everything else that she did. Who knew, maybe she would teach a class herself one day, do it pro bono for under privileged kids who couldn’t afford to pay someone who made their living off of teaching it. That thought held in the back of her mind as she made her way into the dance studio downtown. They had a superb dance company.

Entering the studio she shrugged out of her coat she hung it on the rack with the dozens of others that awaited their owners. She had been here on one occasion before to see what all they offered. From the recitals that Isabella had the pleasure of seeing she knew that they had the capability to be in her league if not even a bit above her. Though Isabella would be new to the class she certainly wasn’t new to ballet, starting when she was five years old and keeping up with it throughout the years hardly made her a novice but whenever you were new in these sorts of classes the claws of the other dancers always seemed to come out. Isabella headed into one of the room finding it already occupied by a lot of dancers and reached into her duffle bag to switch into her ballet shoe, lacing them up neatly and feeling the harsh glares of the other girls cutting into her back, which she was content to ignore right up until one of the other girls decided to test her, a little prodding to see which buttons to push. Her fingers were stepped on by a blonde woman making Isabella withdraw it toward her chest a frown deeply settling into her features. ”You’re excused.” Isabella spat venomously rising to her feet to both figuratively and literally stand tall.

TEMPLATE BY VIKA OF CAUTION.

[GAZELLE CAOILAINN MCCOURT]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 440px; height: 600px; background-image: url(http://i963.photobucket.com/albums/ae111/themimzygirl/g12.png); -moz-border-radius: 250px; border-radius:100px 100px 100px 100px; border: 3px solid #ffffff;] Almost nobody dances sober, unless they happen to be insane. Relieved was an understatement. Since moving back to town, Gazelle had scarified properly setting up her living room so that she could use it as a temporary studio. But now that she had finally found herself a studio, she was finally able to put her living room together and for the first time since moving in, she felt at home. She'd been attending the studio for two weeks now, and although she was yet to feel a proper member, it was more than she could ask for. Gazelle had arrived painfully early, as usual, unable to help but stand by to watch the younger dancers as they pranced and stumbled around the wooden dance floor. They were all so sweet, so small, so many on their ways to great ballet careers....it was funny to think that every great ballerina was as inexperienced as the young child that now filled the room and had once been as uncertain and wobbly as a new born calf. It was a thought that, early in her dancing days, had comforted her. It was also spoken to her by her favorite dance teacher, a woman long retired whose name she couldn't quite remember. It was funny that she'd had such an impact on her life and Gazelle was unable to put a name to the face in her head. Eventually, once others began to arrive, to returned to the dressing rooms to put on her shows. She watched as her fellow dancers carefully put their hair up in the tightest and smoothest of buns. One of the reasons she'd decided to cut her hair short in the first place was the convince not only for everyday life but for dancing as well. Unfortunately, she hadn't been to able (time wise or financially) to get it cut in the past few months and she'd had to pin it back with a pathetically short pony tail sitting directly at the map of her neck. As was the nature of Gazelle, she'd spent her past two classes watching the other dancers like the hawk. Scooping out the best and the greatest of the batch. She was competitive, comparing herself to others was one of the things that made her strive for ultimate perfection. Perhaps it wasn't a healthy way of doing things but that didn't stop her from doing it. Gazelle was drawn from her thoughts at the sound of a venomous voice falling from the lips of a fellow dancer, she turned her gaze to the pending altercation, like many of the others. Unlike the others, who ignored the looks of anger between the two young woman, Gazelle rose to her feet. The girl who'd spoke was new, as far as she could tell, and knowing how...uninviting the same girl had been to her on her first day, she opted to step in for her. "You're quite clumsy this week, Heather, might want to get that looked at,"she said to the blonde with a cool tone before turning her eyes on Isabella, her expression softening into something far more welcoming and friendly. "Sorry about her, she's not that welcoming, offered me the same courtesy on my first day a couple weeks ago...I'm Gazelle, nice to meet you,"outstretching her hand to the girl. there can be only one mikey! of caution 2.0

[/div][/td][/tr][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[ISABELLA MARIANA DIAS]

for we're creatures of the wind and wild is the wind - - - - -

In any competitive environment you were bound to find at least one like the blonde girl. Hostility gave way to a temporary boost of ego sating the insecurities that no doubt were running wild in the other girl at that very moment. Ballet only gave so much opportunity and like most things it went to the person with the most talent. There could only be one Prima Ballerina and judging by the number of dancers in Hadley the odds were slim, especially for any new girl on the scene. That would have been Isabella. Not because she was a novice, she’d been dancing for years, but because she was new to the dance company. The girls already there had stakes claimed and with new faces, the claws tended to come out.

Following the blonde’s gaze as her attention was diverted from Isabella she too laid eyes on the pretty brunette. Isabella wasn’t sure of the social ladder within the company yet but she would learn soon enough through simple observation. Already Isabella had pegged the blonde, who she was now learning to be named Heather, was that Alpha of the group, the one that set the tone for the others. Isabella couldn’t tell if she was the Prima Ballerina or just the runner up. Either one would have explained the attitude. If she was the star of the company it would have come from her delusional entitlement, thinking that she was Queen Bee and if she was the understudy then it would be from her sense of territory. No one liked someone else coming onto their turf and trying to take over.

A small smile flitted onto Isabella’s lips as the brunette seemed to shut Heather down. That look on the blonde’s face was positively seething, her teeth gritted, hands fisting at her sides and the subtlest of stomps before storming off to go pout in the corner. It was behavior that might have been seen from Isabella in her Freshman year, which, seeing it acted out by someone else, she was glad she’d gotten past that bratty phase. She might have still had her moments but everyone did. As much as Isabella might have wanted to laugh she kept it to herself deciding that there was no reason to rub salt in the open wound. People were looking on the see how it went and judging all three of the girls involved. Isabella didn’t want to make a bad impression and seem overly smug.

Giving the brunette her full attention Isabella smile, appreciatively. Shaking hands it seemed that right off the bat Isabella got to learn a couple of things about the other girl. ”The pleasures mine. Thank you for stepping in. I’m Isabella.” as she withdrew her hand it was nice to know that she wasn’t the only one that would be figuring out the ropes here. ”To be frank, I’m relieved there seems to be at least one friendly person here. You hear horror stories, you know?”

TEMPLATE BY VIKA OF CAUTION.

[GAZELLE CAOILAINN MCCOURT]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 440px; height: 600px; background-image: url(http://i963.photobucket.com/albums/ae111/themimzygirl/g12.png); -moz-border-radius: 250px; border-radius:100px 100px 100px 100px; border: 3px solid #ffffff;] Almost nobody dances sober, unless they happen to be insane. Oh yes, and ballerinas were known for being particularly vicious. At least, the ones Gazelle had come into the unfortunate privilege of dancing with and knowing over the years. She'd known girls to go out of their way to sabotage another dancer's performance (by any means, small or large) in an attempt to secure the part they desired. The image of a ballerina was a graceful and gentle one. A small girl in pink with a tight bun and swift, swan like movements. That was how it was on stage but behind the velvet curtain, dancers were cruel and competitive to a heavy fault. Gazelle was known to flare and boil now and again, but her competitiveness was kept bottled up internally. She calculated her success and skill in relation to the other dances and used it as a way to better herself. However, there had been an incident in which Gazelle had, after being pushed and pushed by a girl at her former dance studio, slapped a girl so hard she nearly fell over. The bruise left on the girl's cheek was purple and blue and Gazelle had spent months trying to convince her how sorry she was to no avail. Gazelle could get angry, she just hoped no such chance arose for anyone to see her anger at this studio but hope never certified anything. "Indeed you do, and no problem at all"Gazelle smiled at her, arms crossed over her small chest. Her eyes flickering to Heather, who looked quite a bit like a sitting goose with the way her tutu puffed out as she sat down to put on her pointe shoes. "It's nice to have another new girl, you know, small dance studios...everyone's already packed together...". The last place Gazelle had danced at had been relatively large and, for the most part, her time there was very pleasant. Save for a few incidences, of course. Truthfully, she missed it greatly. The multiple studios, the private lessons, the larger change rooms, the cafeteria...this dance studio was small and unfamiliar. She just hoped her discomfort in her new surroundings didn't affect her dancing but, if that didn't, her nerves might. It had been months since she'd danced with others and she was already tapping her foot without stop and had been for the past twenty minutes. "How long have you been dancing?"she asked, hoping to start a small conversation before they had to begin their class. She knew her question was one that many girls asked in a way to put down the other but, she hoped (again with the hoping), that Isabella would be able to tell by her tone that her question was simply fueled by genuine curiosity and in an attempt to be friendly. there can be only one mikey! of caution 2.0

[/div][/td][/tr][/td][/tr][/table][/center]

[ISABELLA MARIANA DIAS]

for we're creatures of the wind and wild is the wind - - - - -

Back in Brazil where she had first learned to dance she’d had a private instructor that had come out to the house. The woman was stern, her grayed hair always tightly wound in a bun regardless of the occasion and it had seemed to Isabella, at that young age, that Madame Ferreira had a permanent scowl on her lips. She had been frightening to Isabella then and on the occasions that she saw her now that feeling hadn’t gone away. The majority of people in Isabella’s home life had been that way, authority coming off of them in staggering waves. From the nuns at the private Catholic Academy she attended up until she was thirteen to her charm school instructor, piano teacher, and even her own father. It was all about business and being groomed into the best possible you that could come about. Her mother had always been the sentimental one and in a way she had learned from her too.

Isabella was different than most girls that she saw around her. Gazelle seemed like a lovely young woman and Isabella had every intention of seeing just where that took them in terms of friendship. Having an open heart to those around you had never been the easiest thing for her. Isabella’s father had told her to be selective of who all she truly trusted and keeping family affairs a secret had been a burden of hers for many years. While freshman year at Mayview had proved to be strain compliments of that guarded personality of hers she had eventually learned to separate friendship from full disclosure. There was only one person that knew that much about her home life and that was only because their families were enemies. That Russian bastard still made Isabella’s skin crawl. Getting to know Gazelle and extending that same courtesy to her didn’t have to be about all the details- but who they were as people and that was what Isabella had learned to keep in mind.

”I suppose we can just pack together ourselves.” She offered, smiling. It was better to have someone that you could rely on. For any fault that Isabella might have had her loyalty was impeccable. The kindness that Gazelle had showed to her wouldn’t be forgotten. This studio might not have been as grandiose as it could have been but Isabella was adaptable. First day jitters would wither away, observation would give her the foothold that she needed in figuring out who was approachable and who it was best to steer clear of for the sake of peace, and if Gazelle and her were able to continue on with the way they were going now then would turn out okay. Isabella kept that in mind as her nerves played on her mind doing their best to make her as uncomfortable as possible.

”I started when I was five. Of course I didn’t get any good at it until I was nine.” It wasn’t because she wasn’t graceful, that had been instilled in her through hours of practice, weekly, to find the poise that was necessary for a woman to have in her parent’s opinion, but rather her coordination didn’t kick in fully until that age. Before then it was try, try again. ”I don’t think that I appreciated the beauty of it either until then. I’ve always found that when you value something you’re worthy of being good at it. Talent can be wasted on those that don’t respect what they have.” Her gaze slid over to Heather wondering where she might have landed on that notion before returning to Gazelle. ”And yourself?”

TEMPLATE BY VIKA OF CAUTION.