⌘ Common ⌘ Rakahi ⌘ Euthic Sign ⌘
Grovokian ⌘
78th of Ashan, 717Grovokian ⌘
They whispered about her.
She could hear them and pretended not to notice, instead gripping the wooden barre and placing her ankle upon it for support. Navyri wobbled slightly but steadied herself, watching herself in the floor length mirror that extended across the entirety of the room. The Naerikk had her dark waves tied in a high ponytail and was wearing a rented leotard, her feet laced in satin slippers. The mirage was a lovely one, her lithe frame not as tall as those around her, but what she lacked in height, Navyri was convinced she made up for in facial loveliness.
These women were ugly, likely missing teeth from ill care, or simply green with jealousy. Some were from well off families that doted on them for simply existing. They knew little of real challenge. Navyri was stunning, as every Naerikk was. Their human form was expected to be - beauty so captivating and a truth so terrible it was written about in legends and horror stories. And yet, she was unskilled in the same craft as these humans. Why they hated her so without knowing her origins, she did not know. Was it the natural grace in which she moved, like a shadow playing upon a wall? The air of superiority she wore like a crown that they resented so?
The Naer watched them in the mirror, leaning forward and feeling the stretching of her thighs and calves. The instructor circled the room silently, moving like a cat, her feather touch falling upon areas in one’s posture that required correcting and spoke gentle guidance into their ear. Navyri kept her lifted toe pointed, extending the tips of feet and felt the compression in her chest as she reached forward, hands wrapped around her ankles and holding. Inhale… Exhale.. The warming of her muscles extended to the back of her thighs, the stretch bringing discomfort along with relaxation. There was something cathartic about the sweet ache that came with pushing your body to it's natural limits.
Navyri, with her shadow form, was continually reminded that to excel, she needed to obtain a sense of perfection in both of her bodies. That standard was difficult to define but she knew the things she desired to be. She wanted to be graceful. Precise. Deadly. But most of all… Powerful.
It was power that garnered respect, although these women didn't know it yet. Navyri was not the level of which she could make them cower in their inferiority, yet she knew the threat she posed. It was evident in their treatment of her, the way their eyes burned with scorn when she was praised for her straight back and unwavering endurance.
While her memories of Augiery were barely a wisp of her former experience, it had left an impression that ran into her very soul. Weakness was unacceptable and to be weak was to be worthless. Deshira, her mother, had pushed her so hard, had made her regret any complaint and that training was evident now.
Navyri lowered her leg, lifting the other to stretch it as well. She counted softly under her breath in Gravokian, the same rise and fall of a small tune her grandmother used to sing to her as a way to memorize the numbers. During instruction, it felt silly, but now… now it kept her focused, on her goal. For so long, Navyri had dreamt of going home but with each day that passed, the more unlikely it felt. In the meantime she would work to better herself.
Perhaps she would find value in the service of Delroth, or…
Would Audrae see her worth? Could she be forgiven? Did she still want to?
“Ladies,” the instructor said softly, immediately capturing the attention of all the dancers. They turned and those that were part of the dance team took their positions away from the bar and stepped towards the center. Navyri saw how they responded to each other, aware of the proximity and angle of the other. It was a practiced awareness, she realized. Some, the less experienced, were slow to fall into place and Navyri watched from where she began her ankle rotations, preparing to start the arduous task of an en pointe pose. It would take preparations and time, but as the other girls lifted into it, she grew envious, “Today we will be continuing with our routines for the showing in Cylus. Please remember what I told you yesterday. Mistakes will not be forgiven lightly, and for those joining us for today-” the instructor looked at the few faces who had been accepted for lessons, “I hope our dedication and passion for dance inspires you in your future endeavors with us.”
Her eyes trailed over the temps, Navyri included and she smiled. She began her evaluations of the posture of the other girls and the Naer continued implementing the things she learned, focusing on her turnout. Her hips strained and opened, almost feeling as if she would break wide open, but her body held firm. Eyes downward as she watched her footing and a hand on the , she heard the instructor whisper into her ear, “Knees over toes.”
Her response was instant. Navyri adjusted, bending at the knee and repositioning. When she looked up into the mirror, she stared at herself and the pleased figure behind her. Her teacher nodded and patted her on the shoulder, her compliment sticking with the younger woman, “You have a natural talent. Stick with it.”
It was a pleasant casualty, but Navyri’s blue eyes illuminated with pride, “Yes. Thank you.”
Some heads turned, frowns of displeasure meeting her eye in the reflective surface. Most dismissed her, but the Naer saw the particularly irritated look she received from a tall, skinny blonde with blue eyes. It occurred to her that maybe the angry girl had once been a favorite, but Navyri was not discouraged. Watching the female from the mirror, the dark haired woman winked, repressing a pleased laugh as the rival’s nose flared in anger. How insecure did one have to be to feel threatened at someone in a completely different category than themselves?
Navyri stepped out from her turnout, stretching her other limbs and lightly bouncing in place to get her blood flowing. Limbering up was the most time challenging, and after the instructor had the main class practicing their steps, she instructed Navyri’s group to lower into the splits. They did front ways and sideways splits, followed by a “basic” leap.
It was called tour jete, and required one foot to be pointed outward, the other elegantly back and then forward. You swept into it, twirling and giving a small jump. Navyri did well, but she could see in the mirror how her posture could be improved. Imagining herself a feather, she kicked off, leaping and rotating as lightly as she could. Each landing had something she wasn’t proud of - sometimes it was her feet disobeying her, her left not pointing outward enough, or her arms less than light. They swung powerfully, not elegantly and focusing on every detail was enough to drive her mad.
For the most part she was left alone. When she did falter, the blonde smiled openly, sometimes giving a small scoff of amusement. It angered Navyri who had to grit her teeth and continually tried.. Didn’t she know that her disdain only pushed her further? Navyri continued her leaps, refusing to stop until perfect. Her slippered feet began to ache from each impact when landing, but this did not deter her. She continued to lift to her toes, and when the instructor began to dismiss the class, so that the next one could enter, Navyri declined.
She lifted a hand as the other girls began to gather my things, “May I stay to continue?”
“You are not tired?”
Sweat had begun to build at her forehead, trailing down the small of her back and the leotard felt stuck to her body more. Navyri shrugged, hoping to look casual, “Yes, but I want to get this right, if I may.”
An expression passed over the instructor’s face, and Navyri noticed the way she glanced at her regular students who were more than happy to be dismissed. They were already chatting amongst themselves about getting a bath to relieve their sore muscles or sinking in front of a hearth with a good book. Navyri didn’t need to say anything else to spur the woman’s concerns that maybe her students weren’t as dedicated as they needed to be if this novice was willing to put in the time. She gave a small nod, “Very well. But mind your body. Don’t overexert yourself.”
“Of course.”
Quietly in the corner Navyri migrated, ignoring the looks of the woman as she continued to push herself. These steps she was learning were just the basics, but as her mother always said - a strong foundation could not be wavered when the winds came. It was something she would keep in mind now - and in every activity she pursued in the future. It was her key to being unstoppable. And… shouldn’t Delroth’s blessed be a thing of beauty, grace, and unwavering power?
Navyri ran across the wooden floors, her feet resounding as she pushed off and dropped to the floor. She skipped and twirled until the skin of her feet were rubbed raw. Grimacing, the determined Naer was breathing heavy, wiping away the sweat and kept going until tiny footprints of blood trailed after her and the slippers were stained. Failure wasn’t an option - she could keep going, she had to.
She wanted to be better than the others.
She wanted to be better than them all.
