wendsi:

“Dance! Dance like the wind!”

_{A girl no longer, with standards expected. The life in training was mostly obligation that learned how to dwell in her soul. To dance was freedom, to dance was to become an opening flower or a bird aloft; well, not so much anymore. She was a different person in front of a panel. Her movements flowed with a dazzling grace that took away the breath of every person in her audience. To leave an impression was a need as much as breathing. Partially owed from her fear of losing control, she hadn’t embraced the music. A pity she’d forgotten what she was missing which was why one or two from the team was always ahead of her.}

_{‘Dance! Dance like the wind!’}

_{Her entire being that moved with a purposeful clarity showed, painfully obvious, how much heart she put into her routine. She wasn’t sure what to take the other’s words for and resorts to extracting the jest within it, whether or not it existed to begin with. Unknowingly, she slinks into lesser taut strides as the simple yet genuine phrase earns the other a laugh in response — lighthearted with undertones of scoffing. It was always ironic how her seniors in the industry had the luck of catching their dreams sooner than later, unlike the predicament she was in.}

_{She still was curious what was meant by the remark but didn’t want to show it (how very Jennie of her). Subtly, she attempts to get there by inviting her senior with a hand stretching out. “Dance with me!”}