Post by Zazi on Dec 18, 2017 13:55:47 GMT -5
'click, click, click' went the snap of her fingers, her nails clacking against each other as the lady swayed in time with the music of a street band below. She stood atop a building, gazing longingly at the musician, her eyes tearing up with sadness. She could feel it, the emotion, the powerful, undeniable cosmic force that is music. She could see it, the notes swaying through the wind, the hasty citizens avoiding his eye as they pretended not to notice him. Not everyone could play, and not all that could, could play well. But those tunes, the string of chords, the sway of the breeze that played with her dark hair, pulling it around and trying its best to unravel it. Beautiful, she lived for moments of sonder like this.
The man below sighed, the music cutting off as yet another person walked past without registering him. His life had probably crumbled, lost his job, maybe drugs, drink or woman, and this is what he was reduced to. Possibly a struggling musician or just a struggling human, either way, it was a talent wasted. And Zazi hated untapped potential, frowning, but more at the circumstance than the man. Turning, her hand stretching out as the man closed his case, a roll of notes tumbling off her finger tips and down into the case as it snapped shut. He looked up, wonder in his eyes, but the lady, unseen until now, remained unseen. She swayed into the center of the roof. Her left hand still clicking, flew out and clicked at a group up there with her. A small gathering of men with instruments immediately took up a song. She had trained them to set it to the environment, the melody matching her ears perfectly, drifting through the wind to hint at her, whisper their delights in her ear, like a secret the music wanted only her to know. She smiled, both arms raising, stopping clicking and started daintily dancing.
She was light on her feet, her skirt swayed and swished like a tree, the music altering to work in this new sound. She sighed with satisfaction, it truly was a lovely night. Picking up her feet and speeding up the dancing, the band sped up with her, keeping the adrenaline going, she moved faster, twirling, leaping, throwing her body around with gay abandon. The music raised above the rooftop, loud enough to wake everyone in three blocks, but their shouts fell deaf upon her ears. Freedom was intoxicating.
Her dancing faltered, slowing down and gradually stopping as she felt a presence. A smile playing on her lips, she did so love toys. The band finished allargando, down to a crawl, quiet and cautious as she approached the man. Her feet still moved in a advancing line dance style walk, humming to herself the tune playing. The grey, plastic stone replica sheet floor was almost impossible to see in the night, only the lights from the taller buildings to see by, the band cast in shadows and only enough light to see the main features on each others faces. Less so for the man who was facing away from her, and so had his back to the light.
Zazi had not been surprised to see a stranger there, her spiritual nature attracted all kinds of people and non-people. But all were welcome with good intentions, and those with fun bad intentions. Which category he fell under was of no importance to her, she was used to people watching her, her body, her moves, her preceding reputation meant that at least a few people were keeping an eye on her at all times. But no fun story ever started with caution. She stopped right in front of him, her feet coming together nicely at the end of a twist, she curtsied, coming up with her hand bowed out. Proffered for him to accept her offer. In a true ball fashion, he would either take her hand and lead out onto the dance floor, or kiss the hand, then lead her out. Technically as a woman she would not do the asking, but this was not Victorian times so who gives a shit.
There was always the chance he would meet her offer with a sword to her throat. But he would then have to live with the fact that he was a boring twit. And she would not wish that upon anyone. "What's a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?" she teased. "It's not often I meet another old soul"
Word Count: 763
WCT: 763
The man below sighed, the music cutting off as yet another person walked past without registering him. His life had probably crumbled, lost his job, maybe drugs, drink or woman, and this is what he was reduced to. Possibly a struggling musician or just a struggling human, either way, it was a talent wasted. And Zazi hated untapped potential, frowning, but more at the circumstance than the man. Turning, her hand stretching out as the man closed his case, a roll of notes tumbling off her finger tips and down into the case as it snapped shut. He looked up, wonder in his eyes, but the lady, unseen until now, remained unseen. She swayed into the center of the roof. Her left hand still clicking, flew out and clicked at a group up there with her. A small gathering of men with instruments immediately took up a song. She had trained them to set it to the environment, the melody matching her ears perfectly, drifting through the wind to hint at her, whisper their delights in her ear, like a secret the music wanted only her to know. She smiled, both arms raising, stopping clicking and started daintily dancing.
She was light on her feet, her skirt swayed and swished like a tree, the music altering to work in this new sound. She sighed with satisfaction, it truly was a lovely night. Picking up her feet and speeding up the dancing, the band sped up with her, keeping the adrenaline going, she moved faster, twirling, leaping, throwing her body around with gay abandon. The music raised above the rooftop, loud enough to wake everyone in three blocks, but their shouts fell deaf upon her ears. Freedom was intoxicating.
Her dancing faltered, slowing down and gradually stopping as she felt a presence. A smile playing on her lips, she did so love toys. The band finished allargando, down to a crawl, quiet and cautious as she approached the man. Her feet still moved in a advancing line dance style walk, humming to herself the tune playing. The grey, plastic stone replica sheet floor was almost impossible to see in the night, only the lights from the taller buildings to see by, the band cast in shadows and only enough light to see the main features on each others faces. Less so for the man who was facing away from her, and so had his back to the light.
Zazi had not been surprised to see a stranger there, her spiritual nature attracted all kinds of people and non-people. But all were welcome with good intentions, and those with fun bad intentions. Which category he fell under was of no importance to her, she was used to people watching her, her body, her moves, her preceding reputation meant that at least a few people were keeping an eye on her at all times. But no fun story ever started with caution. She stopped right in front of him, her feet coming together nicely at the end of a twist, she curtsied, coming up with her hand bowed out. Proffered for him to accept her offer. In a true ball fashion, he would either take her hand and lead out onto the dance floor, or kiss the hand, then lead her out. Technically as a woman she would not do the asking, but this was not Victorian times so who gives a shit.
There was always the chance he would meet her offer with a sword to her throat. But he would then have to live with the fact that he was a boring twit. And she would not wish that upon anyone. "What's a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?" she teased. "It's not often I meet another old soul"
Word Count: 763
WCT: 763
