Post by Charlotte on Feb 22, 2006 13:45:45 GMT -5
Charlotte often made her way to the empty rooms and halls for some privacy, where she could sing and not get made fun of. After all, she was a ballerina - no matter her voice, that was all she would ever be.
At the moment she paced one thick-carpeted hall, her pointe shoes making soft pat-a-pat sounds on the floor. Her brow was furrowed in thought, and she ran over the events of the past few days in her mind.
First the Valentine mishap, and then Le Roi Amor - well, that was a disaster, appearing late.
But it hadn't been her fault that she had been detained in the hall, and...okay, perhaps it had been her fault.
She sighed, brushing a nonexistant piece of lint from her shoulder, and looked around. Shes potted the door to a room that was ajar, and she tiptoed over to the door, curious. When she had verified that there was no one inside, she opened the door, wincing as the hinge creaked. She padded into the room, looking around with bright eyes, all thoughts of her inevitably destroyed ballet career vanishing from her mind.
The room was of medium size, with a huge window draped in musty curtains of black. There was furniture around the room, covered in sheets to keep the dust off. On an impulse she wandered around, pulling sheets off of furniture to see waht they were.
The furniture was so mismatched that it seemed as though the room was used for storage. There was a bed, cast iron. And there was another bed, and here was a cradle, and here was a bedtable. She made a second circuit of the room, pushing and pulling sheets to the floor.
All in all she counted two beds, four night tables, one coffee table, seven wooden dining chairs, one crimson-red velvet armchair, a huge oaken armoire, two small bureaus, and countless small stools, benches and chests.
Charlotte sneezed once, laughed softly at herself, and then went to open the window to get some air. She pulled aside the heavy black drapes, wondering a bit as to their color.
Behind the thick drapes was a windowsill opening over a courtyard. The courtyard was none she had ever seen about the Operahouse, it was covered in thick curtains of leaves and the fountain in the middle no longer ran water, birds nesting in the spouts.
The entire wall directly beneath the window was covered in masses of roses, obviously overgrown from a tame vine that had been kept when the courtyard was new.
She shook her head, and pulled back the drapes, letting down her hair and using the ribbon to tie them back so there would be light. She opened the glass panes slightly to let in some air, and saw the stars beaming down, the moon like a huge, full orb hanging in the sky, a perfect, ripe fruit for her to pluck.
Sighing, Charlotte took a seat on the velvet red amrchair, putting her head in her hands.
"You just can't make a mistake like that at your first Opera, expecially when you were given the privilege to have the lead part. You have to prove yourself, not prove
((Holy cow...I didn't expect it to be this long. O____o))
At the moment she paced one thick-carpeted hall, her pointe shoes making soft pat-a-pat sounds on the floor. Her brow was furrowed in thought, and she ran over the events of the past few days in her mind.
First the Valentine mishap, and then Le Roi Amor - well, that was a disaster, appearing late.
But it hadn't been her fault that she had been detained in the hall, and...okay, perhaps it had been her fault.
She sighed, brushing a nonexistant piece of lint from her shoulder, and looked around. Shes potted the door to a room that was ajar, and she tiptoed over to the door, curious. When she had verified that there was no one inside, she opened the door, wincing as the hinge creaked. She padded into the room, looking around with bright eyes, all thoughts of her inevitably destroyed ballet career vanishing from her mind.
The room was of medium size, with a huge window draped in musty curtains of black. There was furniture around the room, covered in sheets to keep the dust off. On an impulse she wandered around, pulling sheets off of furniture to see waht they were.
The furniture was so mismatched that it seemed as though the room was used for storage. There was a bed, cast iron. And there was another bed, and here was a cradle, and here was a bedtable. She made a second circuit of the room, pushing and pulling sheets to the floor.
All in all she counted two beds, four night tables, one coffee table, seven wooden dining chairs, one crimson-red velvet armchair, a huge oaken armoire, two small bureaus, and countless small stools, benches and chests.
Charlotte sneezed once, laughed softly at herself, and then went to open the window to get some air. She pulled aside the heavy black drapes, wondering a bit as to their color.
Behind the thick drapes was a windowsill opening over a courtyard. The courtyard was none she had ever seen about the Operahouse, it was covered in thick curtains of leaves and the fountain in the middle no longer ran water, birds nesting in the spouts.
The entire wall directly beneath the window was covered in masses of roses, obviously overgrown from a tame vine that had been kept when the courtyard was new.
She shook her head, and pulled back the drapes, letting down her hair and using the ribbon to tie them back so there would be light. She opened the glass panes slightly to let in some air, and saw the stars beaming down, the moon like a huge, full orb hanging in the sky, a perfect, ripe fruit for her to pluck.
Sighing, Charlotte took a seat on the velvet red amrchair, putting her head in her hands.
"You just can't make a mistake like that at your first Opera, expecially when you were given the privilege to have the lead part. You have to prove yourself, not prove
((Holy cow...I didn't expect it to be this long. O____o))
*