[Open Class Log] // Dancing w/ Nabooru
Cast: Nabooru and everyone ever Open
Where: Nabooru's class, of course.
Date: (I'm forwarding dating this because it's the weekend and we all have more time on the weekends.) Monday - June 28 - Afternoon
Synopsis: Nabooru's first class. She has no idea what to expect, and honestly, the students probably don't either.
Warnings: Nabooru's likely on a permanent PMS mode. She'll try to behave, though.
I actually think I'm a little nervous.
Nervous? What blasphemy! Gerudos didn't get nervous! Wait, wait, wait. She couldn't call herself that anymore. Even when she thought it on the inside, she felt like she was committing some great atrocity. She wasn't to call herself one. She wasn't to think of herself as well. She wasn't to feel like one. Nabooru was just supposed to be... a Latina Nabooru.
Truth be told, she didn't really feel like one. Even with her hair pulled back in a less-than-ornate tie, she still had been stripped of her gems, of her jewelry (save an earring), bracelets, and any pride that a Gerudo woman was supposed to hold in her formerly high rank. Now she was nothing and that still sat on her shoulders like a tremendous weight, threatening to pull her down. She had to be strong, though, and the moment students began to pour into her classroom, she was right back to being what she was before.
Wearing a sly little smile, she waited for seats to be taken before beginning her lecture, mostly on a glossary of beginning terms she would be covering for the first unit of their semester. She'd be teaching belly dancing to begin with, not any particular genre, but certainly more geared toward Arabic.
"Part of dancing isn't just what you do. It's what you wear. It's how you feel when you do it. Dance is about expressing yourself. It's about creating an outlet that would otherwise be left ignored. It's about telling a story. It's about losing yourself in the music. Allow me to demonstrate."
She reached over to the CD player (fascinating little contraptions they were) and flipped it on before skipping through a few tracks. Then the music began, and so did she. (OoC Note: Our little example video ends about 2:20.)
And after an odd little curtsy, she looked around to the class thoughtfully. Then she pointed in the direction of a certain redheaded echidna. "Knuckles, why don't you show us what you can do and we'll see how closely you were actually paying attention." Because yes, she totally saw you passing that note over to Goombella. :|
[OoC Notes: How is this working? No particular way. No, you don't have to wait for Knuckles to make the first post or reply, because hell, he may decide that he's too shy to show off. And yes, I'm sorry Jim. :\ I had to do it. Don't lynch me. If you guys have any questions, set them forth, because oh, my Hephaestus, this is my first class log and I don't know if I'm doing it right. *ramble, ramble, ramble*]
Where: Nabooru's class, of course.
Date: (I'm forwarding dating this because it's the weekend and we all have more time on the weekends.) Monday - June 28 - Afternoon
Synopsis: Nabooru's first class. She has no idea what to expect, and honestly, the students probably don't either.
Warnings: Nabooru's likely on a permanent PMS mode. She'll try to behave, though.
I actually think I'm a little nervous.
Nervous? What blasphemy! Gerudos didn't get nervous! Wait, wait, wait. She couldn't call herself that anymore. Even when she thought it on the inside, she felt like she was committing some great atrocity. She wasn't to call herself one. She wasn't to think of herself as well. She wasn't to feel like one. Nabooru was just supposed to be... a Latina Nabooru.
Truth be told, she didn't really feel like one. Even with her hair pulled back in a less-than-ornate tie, she still had been stripped of her gems, of her jewelry (save an earring), bracelets, and any pride that a Gerudo woman was supposed to hold in her formerly high rank. Now she was nothing and that still sat on her shoulders like a tremendous weight, threatening to pull her down. She had to be strong, though, and the moment students began to pour into her classroom, she was right back to being what she was before.
Wearing a sly little smile, she waited for seats to be taken before beginning her lecture, mostly on a glossary of beginning terms she would be covering for the first unit of their semester. She'd be teaching belly dancing to begin with, not any particular genre, but certainly more geared toward Arabic.
"Part of dancing isn't just what you do. It's what you wear. It's how you feel when you do it. Dance is about expressing yourself. It's about creating an outlet that would otherwise be left ignored. It's about telling a story. It's about losing yourself in the music. Allow me to demonstrate."
She reached over to the CD player (fascinating little contraptions they were) and flipped it on before skipping through a few tracks. Then the music began, and so did she. (OoC Note: Our little example video ends about 2:20.)
Click to viewAnd after an odd little curtsy, she looked around to the class thoughtfully. Then she pointed in the direction of a certain redheaded echidna. "Knuckles, why don't you show us what you can do and we'll see how closely you were actually paying attention." Because yes, she totally saw you passing that note over to Goombella. :|
[OoC Notes: How is this working? No particular way. No, you don't have to wait for Knuckles to make the first post or reply, because hell, he may decide that he's too shy to show off. And yes, I'm sorry Jim. :\ I had to do it. Don't lynch me. If you guys have any questions, set them forth, because oh, my Hephaestus, this is my first class log and I don't know if I'm doing it right. *ramble, ramble, ramble*]