Chocolate with Sprinkles (A normal ice cream combo?!)
Title: Interesting
Prompt: Chocolate 9: Resentment
Topping: Sprinkles (Damon and Arianna)
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,215
Story: ROTOS
Summary: Damon and Arianna have a little before-rehearsal chat while the other girls are limbering up.
She smiles at him in greeting, a sweet smile, and reaches up to tie up her golden hair. “Good afternoon, Damon,” she says as she dusts herself off. “Do you mind if I sit with you for a while? Just until all the other girls are done stretching out.” She always acts like this around him. She always smiles at him sweetly, always talks to him in a polite manner. Just to get on his good side. But then, she’s always been doing that, ever since he became part of the company, ever since he became the accompanist for them. She’s always been making eyes at him, trying to talk to him as much as she can.
He shakes his head and moves over on the sleek black bench. “Go ahead,” he replies, leaning to the side a little and turning to smile at her just as politely as she’s spoken to him. “How have you been doing? Have you been practicing very much, or is it all easy for you?”
She giggles, tosses her hair back over her shoulder. “I’ve been practicing a little… but it’s really easy, so I don’t have to practice as much. I think I’ll get it down within the week. What do you think?” She grins at him and crosses one leg over the other. “You think I’ll get it?”
He shrugs. “I think practice makes perfect, Arianna. Just like playing the piano or the cello. If you practice enough, you’ll get even better than you already are now. Maybe it won’t be absolutely perfect, but you’ll probably come close, won’t you?” Isn’t that true, though? Isn’t it true that practice makes perfect? Isn’t it true that even if you practice as hard and as long as you possibly can, there’s still that chance that you’re going to mess up? He’s known that for as long as he can remember. Ever since he started playing the piano, his instructor has told him to stay focused, to know what he’s playing, so that when the time comes for him to play the piece by heart, he can just go on with it, he can play and play to his heart’s content until the people applaud him-maybe even give him a standing ovation. But maybe Arianna hasn’t figured that out just yet. Maybe she’s got her head in the clouds, maybe she thinks that once she’s got it, she’s got it, and she won’t have to practice anymore. But that’s not how it is-and he’d hate to be there when she finally figures that out.
She shrugs in the same way that he does, still playing with her hair. “I know what we’re all supposed to know already. Isn’t that enough?”
He turns to look at the other girls, watches them stretch out. “Maybe… or maybe not…” He trails off slowly as his eyes fall upon Syeira. The quiet girl. She’s figured that out, and she hasn’t even been working here for a long time. At least, she hasn’t been here as long as Arianna has. Arianna’s been in this company since she was young. Syeira’s only just recently joined the group. But even still, she’s a wise girl. She just keeps to herself, and every once in a while she’ll stay after to practice even more. Even when he tells her to go home, she needs her rest, she only shakes her head and keeps practicing. You can go on, she always says. I’m going to stay for a bit… He points her out to Arianna. “See that girl in the corner over there?” he says in a low voice. “Her name’s Syeira Camlo. She stays after for hours, just practicing and practicing and practicing.” He smiles and leans forward a bit, resting his arms on his knees, turning to look at Arianna. “She’s really something.”
She frowns-and it looks like she’s trying now to show it in any way. But he can see that her eyes have grown a little dimmer, she’s frozen for a moment. “What do you mean by that?” Her voice is a little thinner now, like she doesn’t appreciate the fact that he’s saying such things about another girl in her presence. Like she resents the fact that he’s saying these things. “What do you mean, she’s really something?”
“I don’t know… but she is. Something makes her stand out from all these other girls. I can’t explain it, really. And I can’t put my finger on the reason why… but it’s not because she’s Russian, and it’s not because she’s a Gypsy. I mean, look at all these other girls. They’re all different when it comes to their ethnicities. Some of them come from one country, some of them come from another country, but they’re all here. Sure, she’s the only one here who hails straight from Russia, but… that’s not it.” He raises an eyebrow at her. “You don’t see it, Arianna?”
“I don’t see what you see in her,” she says in a flat tone of voice, folding her arms across her chest and leaning back against the piano keys. Is she actually jealous of that girl in the corner? “She’s just Syeira. She’s just one of us. Why don’t you see in any of the other girls what you see in her? Or why don’t you see it in me? She stays in the corner all the time. I don’t. She just practices every day-doesn’t that mean she’s just really bad at ballet and she’s got a long way to go? I don’t practice every day because I know I can do well. I don’t have a long way to go. I’m good at ballet. I’m extremely good at ballet. She doesn’t go out of her way to talk to you. The rest of us do. But you still like her?” She pauses. “I mean, you still”-she lifts her hands and makes air quotes-“‘see something in her’?”
He nods slowly. “I don’t know what it is about her, but… maybe it’s a good thing that she practices every day. Maybe it’s a good thing that she stays in the corner and doesn’t go out of her way to talk to me.” He smiles softly. “Maybe she’s just shy because she’s new here. And maybe she just practices every day because she thinks she can do a lot better, even if she’s already really good at it. Maybe it’s not that she’s not good at ballet… Maybe it’s just that she’s diligent.” His smile turns into a grin. “Or maybe she’s just playing a game with us.”
He can see the angry glint in her eyes, the way her eyebrows slant downwards, the way she presses her lips together, presses them into a firm line. “What kind of game?” She folds her arms across her chest, and he watches her fume out of the corner of her eye. He doesn’t even bother telling her that her resentment is completely visible to him. He doesn’t bother telling her that she’s doing a lousy job of covering up her anger. “What are you talking about, Damon?”
“I dunno…” He shrugs and looks up toward the ceiling, a smile on his face. “Maybe she’s trying to lure me in."