I never liked this apple much. [open-ish]

[yayashton]

WHO: Ryan and Trowa. You can crash into Ryan for beautiful cr if you want, though. I don't mind.
WHERE: A park. That is probably central.
WHEN: EARLY MORNING. As in somewhere around 7 or 8.
WARNINGS: Pretentious dance terminology!
SUMMARY: Ryan does interpretive dance in the park. Trowa creepers on him. They smash together and create beautiful cr.

Comments

[unnamed_nothing]

Conversely, it was not music that drove the other boy to restlessness. He ran and jumped and stretched and coiled and exhausted himself in general because he had no other method of burning away the things that had burst free beyond his ability to bottle them up again. There was nobody to take these things to and ask how to change them into something he knew how to deal with--he could not ask Heero, Duo would not know, and Quatre was... part of what caused him so much tension in the first place

[yayashton]

Johnny sees that Susan's right, ambition eats right through you.
Michael doesn't see why, Johnny holds so tight

Ryan did a knee fall, sitting on his knees as he threw out his arms and pulled them back in hugging them to himself. He stayed frozen like that for a moment before turning and gracefully rising from his position.

To the things that Johnny feels are true.
Johnny has no guide, Johnny wants to hide.
How can you soar if you're nailed to the floor?

He did a string of turns. They were a little wild and slightly off-beat, which was mostly intentional - though part of it was the not exactly ideal conditions of the grass he was dancing on. He stumbled, completely intentional, before turning into a lay out. The music shifted around him, though it didn't change completely, letting him know that something was about happen. He would deal with that when it came.

Johnny can't decide.Axel turn. A chord of stray music floated in from the hedges, and Ryan glanced over in the direction it had come from. He couldn't see anything immediately

[unnamed_nothing]

It reminded him something of the tumblers for the circus--but rougher, and... stronger, somehow, not just a simple series of choreographed twists and flips. The turns looked as though they might have been ready to approach a frantic pace for just a moment, although they didn't get quite as fast as he'd expected; he couldn't help himself getting back up on his feet and padding forward a few steps to see better

[yayashton]

"I want to dance forever. I want to get up right now, in this spot, and dance - even though people may not be watching - and do the same thing every morning for the rest of my life."

The words Ryan was saying didn't match the words coming out of the stereo as he cycled through demi pliés in the first four positions before letting the music fade out early, still doing a basic ballet warm-up.

"But if there were an audience," Ryan said, as he switched into doing tendus, "I wouldn't mind. They could even come talk to me, if they wanted to."

/is back now holy jeez

[unnamed_nothing]

It did seem complicated, yes... although likely not as much as it would to other people. He'd known for the better part of a year and a half what it was like to catch a scent and dissect it in seconds for meaning, and although he didn't hear some kind of--of background song? was that what it was?--on a constant basis, he'd accompanied Quatre on flute while leaving himself open to the empathic connection enough times by then to have learned how to either pick up or influence the emotional content of a music piece.

By combining the two notions in his head he managed to form a slightly clearer idea as to how Ryan's powers might have worked, and settled for accepting that as the truth of it until such a time as he could learn about the exact process, nodding.

"I don't know," he said, watching the stretches with interest. How very like preparing for the tricks at the circus. "Running... clears my head. But there's usually nobody here."

no worries<3

[yayashton]

"I'm usually not out here this early, but I can imagine that there wouldn't be anyone around. It seemed like a good place to practice in quiet."

While he spoke, Ryan unfolded his legs so they were straight in front of him and held his feet while twisting his torso to the right. He held that position for several seconds before reversing it. He'd been neglecting his stretches with all the things going on in the City and his sides burned from the position but it wasn't the bad kind of burn - just the kind he was used to after years and years of stretching. He missed it sometimes - being able to do a full, two-hour stretch without the fear of his studio being bombed, taken over by zombies, attacked by airships . . . Or whatever else the disaster of the week was.

[pacifisted]

"It isn't quiet. You said there was music," he pointed out, gesturing to the general area around them before adding a point at the stereo for good measure. "Both kinds."

Not to mention that they were talking. That wasn't very conducive to having silence, either.

It occurred to Trowa then that perhaps Ryan was trying to make that exact point; he turned his attention over to some of the trees in the distance, recognizing them and remembering the lay of the land just out of sight behind where they stood. The notion that he was intruding on someone else's moments of escape bothered him, and he began to contemplate excusing himself and letting the boy do his stretches in peace.

[yayashton]

Ryan sat, cross-legged, and looked at Trowa. He looked uncomfortable, which was not something uncommon in the City. It was the music, really, that made all of his interactions with people awkward. Knowing beforehand through a network of sound the kind of thing that was likely to happen tended to make situations uncomfortable for the other party. It wasn't even that the music was particularly helpful, but rather that he'd been around it so long that it was second nature to read between the lines.

"You know how in a movie it's usually never totally quiet because complete silence is unnerving to an audience? That kind of quiet. I'm not getting a million people in my head fusing together to make the music. It's just you, me, and the stereo. Mostly the stereo." A pause. "But the stereo is sort of magic, so I don't know if that really counts."