Dancing in the Moonlight x_illusion_x
Staring up at the moon always calmed me; whenever I could I’d stand out barefoot in the cool grass, dancing in the moonlight, much as I did as a child in Borsa. I’d come home with great anticipation with the recording; I’d held it close to me as I left the music store, like a child holding her favourite doll. I’d waited a while for Angelo Malikov’s latest recording. Music, it was part of the heritage I continued to embrace, that and dancing.
Turning up the stereo as loud as I dared, the violin strains, wafting up to the sky on the breeze, as if to entice the moon to come and dance with us. This was the same moon that looked down on my family and it gave me comfort, all were still in Romania, save for the few who were sworn to live răzbunare, or vengeance. That’s why I was here in Sunnydale, and as it seemed would soon be going to Los Angelus, if my uncle had his way.
Uncle Enyos had been adamant about my following Angel, to ensure Angel would never experience one moment of true happiness and revert to Angelus. Following him, that’s what my brain told me to do on more than one occasion, afterall he had taken away the most beloved of the Kalderash clan, and yet my heart, it told me otherwise. But as the days passed the guilt began to fill me, like a blood-engorged tick feeding on an unwary dog. Now all I had to do was convience Faith and Rupert we should go to Los Angelus, but that was easier said that done, she could be a handful, yet Faith was bright and witty and Rupert was rather proud of her, no father Watcher could be prouder. The wild card in all of this was Buffy, but at the moment my thoughts were focused on other things, as the music took me back to Borsa, and all the things that I missed about my homeland.
Too soon, the needle of the player was repeating the static at the end of the album, as the vinyl spun around and round on the turntable. I’d no idea how long I’d been lost in thought, how long my feet made love to the emerald grass as I moved across it in the familiar steps of my youth, and with that irrating sound, the grating needle, I was back to reality. Smiling I looked up at the moon, thankful for a quiet night, at least I hoped patrolling was going well. For some reason over the last year, I’d become extremely grateful for the life I was living, even if it were a lie of omission (of sorts). I’d figure out someway to tell Rupert, and in this fantasy I was creating in my mind, he’d understand why I hadn't told him everything.
Picking up the arm of the player, I moved it back to resting postion, and locked it in place, carefully removing the album from the turn table, and placing it back into it’s sleeve. Granted it wasn’t the ‘Bay City Rollers,’ Rupert loved so much, but to me this music was home. As much as texture brought memories to Rupert, music brought them rushing back to me.
On the coffee table sat my green bound gradebook, and my lesson plan book. All I had to do finish the expected outcomes for absolute and relative cell references in a spreadsheet, and my lesson plan would be finished; but I was distracted. Something on the wind continued to call my name, instead of doing what was expected, I moved to the cupboard, pulled out a glass, took the stopper out of the wine, and then poured myself a glass of the dark purple liquid. My heart was still dancing, as I stood there in the dark sipping the warm wine, closed my eyes dancing to the music playing in my head.
Since when had I done what was expected?
Turning up the stereo as loud as I dared, the violin strains, wafting up to the sky on the breeze, as if to entice the moon to come and dance with us. This was the same moon that looked down on my family and it gave me comfort, all were still in Romania, save for the few who were sworn to live răzbunare, or vengeance. That’s why I was here in Sunnydale, and as it seemed would soon be going to Los Angelus, if my uncle had his way.
Uncle Enyos had been adamant about my following Angel, to ensure Angel would never experience one moment of true happiness and revert to Angelus. Following him, that’s what my brain told me to do on more than one occasion, afterall he had taken away the most beloved of the Kalderash clan, and yet my heart, it told me otherwise. But as the days passed the guilt began to fill me, like a blood-engorged tick feeding on an unwary dog. Now all I had to do was convience Faith and Rupert we should go to Los Angelus, but that was easier said that done, she could be a handful, yet Faith was bright and witty and Rupert was rather proud of her, no father Watcher could be prouder. The wild card in all of this was Buffy, but at the moment my thoughts were focused on other things, as the music took me back to Borsa, and all the things that I missed about my homeland.
Too soon, the needle of the player was repeating the static at the end of the album, as the vinyl spun around and round on the turntable. I’d no idea how long I’d been lost in thought, how long my feet made love to the emerald grass as I moved across it in the familiar steps of my youth, and with that irrating sound, the grating needle, I was back to reality. Smiling I looked up at the moon, thankful for a quiet night, at least I hoped patrolling was going well. For some reason over the last year, I’d become extremely grateful for the life I was living, even if it were a lie of omission (of sorts). I’d figure out someway to tell Rupert, and in this fantasy I was creating in my mind, he’d understand why I hadn't told him everything.
Picking up the arm of the player, I moved it back to resting postion, and locked it in place, carefully removing the album from the turn table, and placing it back into it’s sleeve. Granted it wasn’t the ‘Bay City Rollers,’ Rupert loved so much, but to me this music was home. As much as texture brought memories to Rupert, music brought them rushing back to me.
On the coffee table sat my green bound gradebook, and my lesson plan book. All I had to do finish the expected outcomes for absolute and relative cell references in a spreadsheet, and my lesson plan would be finished; but I was distracted. Something on the wind continued to call my name, instead of doing what was expected, I moved to the cupboard, pulled out a glass, took the stopper out of the wine, and then poured myself a glass of the dark purple liquid. My heart was still dancing, as I stood there in the dark sipping the warm wine, closed my eyes dancing to the music playing in my head.
Since when had I done what was expected?