Absorption 2.5.1

At the Academy, I took two classes which I greatly enjoyed, however I would only ever admit to the first, and that was Dance.

The instructor of this course, a woman with hair poorly dyed red, was named Instructor Rose, though she was purportedly Ruby. It was likely a stage name, which for her was fitting, as she lived and breathed the performing arts.

Since Academy had begun, several weeks had come and gone, with a routine falling into place, though I had a deadline looming with Barone Ore and his alleged grimoire, for which Belobog was holding a meeting for later tonight.

Marianne and I had just finished warming up at the stretch bar in the Recital Hall, where our class typically took place. I felt some excitement as the Instructor passed through the back curtains and entered the space, indicating that the lesson was about to begin.

She spread her arms wide, striking an elegant and swan-like posture as she bowed to the class, one slippered foot towards us, the other trailing behind. Instructor Rose tended towards the dramatics, not that this characteristic detracted from her class.

“Today, I have a sensational treat for you,” the Instructor said. “I will demonstrate for you a dance of ancient lineage, shrouded in both controversy and mystery. This moment unto the next, you will observe, then you will learn, dream, and finally, may you be inspired, perhaps, perform.”

She finished bowing in a single fluid motion, pivoting on the toes of her back foot and spinning so that her back was towards us, from whence she strode to the far side of the floor in a very strange and melodious gait. Likewise, she turned back to face us, and she bowed once more.

When she arose once more, she accompanied the motion with words.

“This moment is for the Ra’Slae,” she finished, apparently naming the routine she would be performing.

While I watched the Instructor begin her performance, I could not help but also observe the students in my vicinity. None seemed to immediately recognize the name of the dance, though several had fallen under the spell of the performance. Notably, the performance was sensuous. Notably, those most distracted were also boys, though at least one girl also blushed.

Meanwhile, the instructor danced.

In more than one way, her dance could be likened to my own practice with the battle-ribbon. When she spun, her motions were always controlled, and she often followed with a backwards lunge, though graceful. She also moved with an internal sense of rhythm, inaudible to all but her, but clear for those of us watching. She performed without the aid of music, and this did not detract from her act.

In otherways, her dance, the Ra’Slae, seemed quite dissimilar to my own efforts.

More than once she bent backwards at the waist and sent one leg high, performing a vertical sort of splits that would have been incredibly difficult without the preternatural aid of a Mark. As she performed this particular maneuver, several boys caught sight down her cleavage, and even I found myself glancing.

However, all things end, and good things end soonest of all.

She soon was striding back, before bowing up, embracing the sky, then bending low, as though hugging the earth, and finally, she shuddered in place, reminiscent of a tolling bell.

In solemn silence, she finished.

Her hair was not askew, nor was she out of breath, and not a hint of perspiration hid upon her brow. Such impossibilities occurred regularly in this world.

If the instructor expected an ovation, she appeared unbothered without receiving it. In fact, if anything, it seemed the opposite. Several students frowned in consternation. Particularly, a boorish looking girl with a square jaw and overly tight bodice seemed quite irritated.

Before Instructor Rose could speak, nearly as soon as the instructor finished her dance, this girl made a derisive and snide comment, though she phrased this as a question.

“You cannot expect us to perform this,” the girl said. “Several of us can barely line dance, let alone–” she waved her hands to encompass the entirety of the space that the instructor had just danced through “-this. What purpose was there in showing us this?” the girl finished asking; it seemed clear that the girl thought the performance vainglorious at best.

“Ah,” the instructor sighed in reminiscence. “Would that all of you could perform the Ra’Slae…” she finished with a definite tone of longing. She briefly stared off into the distance. “In my days with the troupe, our most riveting performances were those where we danced a similar number.”

The girl scoffed, clearly knowing something that we did not.

“But, the realities are such…” the instructor looked upon us, pursing her lips to the side. “Perhaps some of you may find success in such an endeavor? It may be too much to hope for, but if even some of you may perform this ancient and sacred dance, then my time here may be worthwhile.”

The girl scoffed, clearly untaken by the instructor’s words.

“So what,” the girl asked. “You’re only going to teach some of us? Whoever you think is worthy of your time?”

The instructor seemed to realize that all was not well with the student body. She refocused upon us, seemingly remembering where we were: at an Academy filled with wealthy scions who had egos to match. She winced slightly as she seemed to recognize the girl who had been asking such questions. The instructor made an attempt to backtrack.

“Well… no…” the instructor said. “But perhaps… the students can split into groups, and then…” she trailed off, watching the disapproval grow on the girl’s face; in a typical fashion, several of the students followed the girl’s lead, forming an impromptu coalition of sorts.

“I think that you will find many of us unimpressed,” the girl said dryly. “Especially as I, along with several of my friends, are attending this class in specific for a reason. In case you were wondering, this reason is not to watch others learn an overly complicated dance that has no bearing on our current abilities.”

Instructor Rose frowned, working her jaw slightly, though all of these expressions came across as minute. Finally, after a moment of heavy consideration, the instructor asked, “What… what would you recommend then?”

Meanwhile, as one of the students that could likely learn to replicate this dance, I wanted to groan, as the instructor had just lost all initiative in the conversation, yielding advantage to the girl.

“I recommend,” the girl said bluntly, “that you instruct us. Preferably in material that is relevant and within our capabilities.”

“Is that all?” the instructor asked. “As that is what–”

The girl groaned in vexation. “Just pick something practical to learn! That we can actually use! That dance, whatever you call it, will absolutely never be useful in polite society. Some of us have galas to attend! We need to practice routines for that. Not… not this.” The girl finished, losing some steam.

Instructor Rose nodded in consideration, although she did elaborate upon her original justifications for the lesson plan.

“The Ra’Slae is a well storied emblem of the highest society,” she said. “Surely the ability to recognize and converse on it would be helpful?”

“Are you asking or are you teaching?” the girl asked. “Because, so far, today, it seems that you have forced us to watch you perform an overly elaborate dance which we will certainly never encounter in just about any setting where someone like myself would be dancing. Unless one of you–” the girl scanned the surrounding students, though most failed to meet her imperious gaze “-came to class today wanting to be forced to watch the instructor show off?”

The instructor winced, but none of the students stepped in to either confirm or deny the girl’s assertions. Truthfully, the girl may have had a point.

However, personally, I enjoyed the lesson thus far, not that I would contradict the potentially affluent girl. Though, I did wonder why the girl was in attendance, if she disliked the instructor so strongly. If, the girl disliked the instructor. It may have been that the girl just found this particular lesson disagreeable.

I found that the instructor had a certain genuine charm to her. She never once called me out for my false-arm, or gave it anymore than a second glance, unlike several of the other instructors. At least if she did have opinions, she waited until I was beyond earshot to share them. But, if this girl had the ear of a principal, or some other form of influence, I hardly wanted on her bad side either.

Yet, despite these reservations, this did not mean I could not offer aid to the instructor.

“Perhaps there is a middle ground?” I asked, inserting myself into the conversation.

At least two of the students winced at me, and those standing nearest me, excepting Marianne, flinched when the girl turned an imperious glare towards me.

“Is that so?” the girl scoffed. “I suppose if there would be a person to gain from this lesson, it would be you, and only you. Which leads to the question, of why bother with the lesson? Are there not several of us more worthy of the instructor’s lesson? Why should we spend an hour of hour lives to enrichen you, you, of all people?”

The girl made no disguise of the disgusted glance she spared my left arm. And while she never lowered herself to the level of course language, she had no issue in otherwise communicating her negative feelings. This fact likely explained the fact that every time I heard her voice I had to force myself to remain calm and placid, to avoid showing the growing animosity I felt for her. It was strange, as even the worst of bullies would not have necessarily caused such a pavlovian reaction in me. Likely, this stood testament to the girl’s unpleasant aura.

“You were saying, Jackie?” the instructor asked, granting me further initiative in the conversation for which I was grateful, though I was curious as to where the instructor had found such incentive to provide such a boon. She had already all but rolled over for the girl. However, as curious as I was for when she regained her confidence, I was not to allow this boon to go unseized.

“A course of action that would satisfy all parties and requirements,” I said.

The girl scoffed, went to open her mouth, but I continued onward, not giving her a chance to regain an advantage.

“The instructor has granted us a demonstration of this dance, which she mentioned has a rich cultural and historical significance. This means that should we ever be in a position to observe a similar performance in polite society–”

“-Unlikely,” the girl attempted to cut in, but I continued pressing forward without losing momentum.

“-that we may make polite and relevant commentary, thus furthering our own positions.”

At this point I noticed several of the students nodding, even if I also heard someone mutter, “unlikely you’d be allowed there,” from one of the spare sons following the Grace path.

These rumblings failed to cause me dismay, as they were nothing beyond the norm. I continued, “But in order to make this dialogue, we would need additional pertinent details–” I gestured towards the instructor. “-If you would be so kind as to enlighten us?” Privately, I hoped we would also be given the chance to practice, even if such a practice was optional.

“Right… the Ra’Slae…” Instructor said, seeming to get her bearings. She took a position directly in front of where we loosely lined the stretch bar, before she began to monologue. “The dance originates from before the Shattering, and is suspected to predate the Middens Empire,” the instructor said.

A boy scoffed, “How would anyone know if it was before the Shattering? Even if it was, isn’t it, somewhat, risky, to say that?”

The Instructor winced. “It may or may not be,” she admitted, reluctantly. “However, this has already been written in several histories, and I have not seen any of them banned. But please do, take it with a grain of salt.” Under her breath, she added, “and please don’t go on a crusade in the library…” before shaking herself and getting back on track. “But for your first question, we know that the dance predates the Shattering because of what the dance, in essence, is. But before I give this away, please, tell me your impressions of the dance.”

“Elaborate. Very, very, complicated…” one of the girls said.

“Prone to twist an ankle,” Marianne muttered, and likely she was correct, at least in regards to some if they attempted to perform the Ra’Slae.

“Swoops and loops,” a dullard of a child said. I felt embarrassed even just hearing his response.

“Worthless, beyond the academics of it,” the square jawed girl said.

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

It was at this point I learned her name, and it was high time for that as well.

“Yes,” the instructor snapped, apparently losing patience. “We all know your thoughts on this, Brittany,” the instructor said, her spine straightening, perhaps due to the passion in her voice. “However, I have not heard many answers of a serious nature. Would this be how you behave during Etiquette, or perhaps during the principal’s tea ceremony?”

Several shifting feet was all that answered her, although I did silently offer my support by shaking my head.

“If I am to teach relevant material, as so requested, then students must put forth efforts to balance this. I’ll ask again, and give serious answers this time, please. As I demonstrated the Ra’Slae, what feelings arose? As dance is a form of communication, what was said by these movements?”

Surprisingly, it was Brittany who offered the first actual answer. I had thought that I would be required to fill this role, and had not expected her to volunteer.

“Forlorn and longing,” Brittany offered, “although I am unsure of what we are to be longing for.”

Instructor paused, surprised that it was Brittany, her previously largest detractor, who had answered positively and seriously. The instructor smiled at Brittany, seeming to have forgotten all past transgressions. She nodded.

“A wonderful start, and thank you for obliging us, Miss Gold.”

Brittany Gold. I would remember her name.

“What else?” the instructor asked, turning towards the rest of us. As her eyes lingered upon me, I offered the next observation.

“The slow build up covered much distance,” I pointed from where she had started, to the midpoint of the dance on the far side of the floor, to where she had ended near us. “But never once did it seem at a hurried pace. The footwork was graceful and striding, reminding me almost of a ribbon trailing through the air.”

“Hardly a ribbon dance,” someone complained.

“No, it is not. But I could almost envision one trailing behind her.”

“Would you say, almost like a streamer?” Instructor asked, hinting at something.

Someone else jumped in, “a stream?” someone thought aloud. “You know, it did sort of remind me of the gardens at night. There’s this spot, a bench by a manicured creek. I could see it. In an inexact sort of way.”

“Which gardens are these?” Brittany asked, head tilted. “Or are you referring to your estate?”

“Ah…” the child hemmed, cheeks reddening. “Nevermind then…”

Curious.

Brittany scoffed and shook her head.

“Idiot,” someone muttered, though I was unsure of why.

“Regardless,” the instructor said. “That description was fitting.”

“It… it was?” the child asked, surprised.

“Yes!” Instructor said. “The Ra’Slae is said to have originally been a celebration of moonlight over a laughing brook.”

“Which is how we know it predates the Shattering,” the boy from earlier said, nodding in dawning comprehension.

“Exactly.”

“But… what would moonlight even look like?”

That was an unfortunate reality of this world that I was still coming to grips with myself. The mystery, I felt, was that everyone remained healthy even with the deficiency in vitamins from direct sunlight. Also, it was a mystery how plants grew. Though this world did have magic of a sort, so perhaps I should have checked my rudimentary knowledge of physics and biochemistry at the door.

“That question is all the more reason to celebrate this dance, this, this artistry!” Instructor flung her arms wide. “How else can we carry forth our heritage? How else can we remember what it was to feel the moonlight?”

“Are we certain the dance has not evolved or changed?” Brittany asked, sounding dubious. “Even the spoken language has changed since then, and this has the benefit of being, you know, an actual language, instead of dance.”

“Ah, but because it is dance, we are able to remember and instruct it exactly. Spoken language is used daily by the masses, leading to growth and change. Dance is intentional and taught by experts, thus preserving the motions of it.”

Brittany shrugged, somewhat conceding the point.

“Will we have the opportunity to learn this dance?” I asked, already planning on how this could further my own repertoire of skills, perhaps enhancing my Flexibility Talent, or even encouraging the growth of a new one altogether.

The instructor hesitated, bit her bottom lip, and did a slight bounce. “Maybe, a select few–”

There arose protests.

“-it will be voluntary, of course, and will have no bearing on the rest of you. You and I will chat after class, Jackie. I can already see you learning this–”

“-of course she would-”

“But the performance of the semblance aside! I was asked to provide you all with the knowledge to provide meaningful commentary in polite society, was it? Well,” she switched to a teasing tone, “how can I do this without offering my students the incentive to learn? I may just have to break from my usual routine and have a quiz on this.”

Several groans then came.

“A quiz on what? How we felt after the dance?” Brittany asked with some speculation and scorn.

“That, and other things,” the instructor said. “For instance, some controversy surrounds the proper means of performance. Either thirteen parts, matching the Crown’s favored number, or the historically accounted fifteen parts, providing a multiple of three. In the first nine parts, we make the journey there and back for the moonlight glistening across the stream. These movements are elegant and fast, though misleadingly slow to the audience. On the ninth, an homage is paid to the moon, an embrace of the firmament. On the tenth, we celebrate the ground beneath our feet. The eleventh and twelfth, we journey betwixt the ground and firmament, and on the final beat, a frenetic ending to harken back to the Shattering. It is here that a point of contention occurs.”

“I thought this dance predated the Shattering. How could it reference it in the movement?”

“An excellent question, and this is why the thirteenth beat is somewhat controversial. The oldest and most traditional form of the dance spends the thirteenth through the fifteenth in a spiraling celebration that some have said is quite feminine–” she cleared her throat and blushed “-and very alluding, leading the audience to picture many things that would perhaps be inappropriate in our setting, or any setting you are likely to find yourself in.”

“Are you sure these books aren’t banned?”

“Ha,” Instructor said. “It is true that there is controversy here, but this is no more scandalous than many other artifacts of those times. Plenty of those still remain, and are even taught, as an abject lesson.”

“Because they’re useful. How would this be?”

“Well….” the instructor hesitated. “Should you ever find yourselves beyond our borders, or perhaps, Crown forbid, lost to the mists, then perhaps it would be appropriate to know the original version.”

Several shuddered at the mention of the mists. I would need to find more on this later.

After class, on the way out, I walked with Marianne.

Brittany did not linger, she quickly left with her entourage, though I could not fail to miss the look she gave me. She did, however, provide a respectful nod towards the instructor.

Before Marianne and I could exit, we were intercepted by the instructor.

“Jackie!” Instructor Rose called from behind. “A moment, if you aren’t in too much of a rush? Your next class is the Arts of Massage, so not too far of a walk… I think? I know I’ve peaked in before and thought I saw you, your hair is a bit distinctive. Beautiful, really–”

“-Yes, Instructor,” Marianne cut in. “We were just headed to class. But we have a bit… I think?”

Instructor Rose’s eyes glanced to the side, where another was waiting, and clearly listening in.

I had only just realized the other girl was there myself, the familiar tall and lithe blonde girl leaning against a wall, still wearing her training jerkin. She was watching us, probably waiting. A delay to learning whatever it was Kate wanted would be to my benefit. She still looked covered in sweat and grime, and one of her bluish blonde hairs had curled and stuck against her forehead.

“-wonderful!” Instructor Rose clapped and spun on her toe, coming to a stop precisely where she had started, without so much as jostling her clothes. Impressive control. “Then, Jackie, I wanted to speak to you about an opportunity that I think would fit you well.

Kate’s eyes narrowed, but she made no move to interrupt. I allowed my attention to slip from her and fall completely on the Instructor. From this close, I could see her roots were starting to come back in.

“An opportunity of what nature?” I asked.

“What other kind?” Instructor Rose asked with a wry tone. “Of dance, of life, celebration, an exhibition of the arts to mark the beginning of the grand contest and carnival, and possibly also Kwin Red…”

Kwin Red, that was not the first time I had heard the term. It was typically spoken with a sort of inevitability that slotted into everyday life, similar as to how someone would mention a thunderstorm. It just simply was, and life went on around it.

“A performance then?” I asked, shuffling those thoughts to the side. “Will other students be performing? And who will the audience be.”

“Yes!” Marianne clapped her hands in excitement, apparently unable to contain herself a second longer. “You said it’s for the grand contest? You mean the one for the games in the capitol?” Marianne gasped. “Will the king be there?”

The Instructor smiled gently at Marianne, before shaking her head.

“Nothing so ambitious as that, dear. This is merely for the performance here in Southbridge, although it is possible the Princess will attend. But definitely the baron.”

“Oh…” Marianne deflated slightly, before filling back to full, “And the students will be performing?”

Instructor Rose hummed and shimmied slightly. “Not as such.”

“But Jackie is?” Marianne asked.

“A different sort than most of the leaden feet in class, which is why I thought to bring this up outside.”

“Seems a bit mean,” Marianne muttered.

“Please, Marianne, I know what it feels like to be left out, but Jackie has that special something, that spark, that, that talent!” She finished with a finger pointed upwards.

“Not saying that she isn’t talented,” Marianne said under her breath, before shaking herself loose and putting on a false smile. “Anyways, Instructor Rose. You were mentioning that Jackie could perform?”

“Possibly, maybe…” she hesitated, before elaborating. “My troupe is putting on a performance, and we’re looking for a supporting role. It’s not a hard gap, but a gap nonetheless. If you can, Jackie, would you be willing to audition for it? I know you’re talented, of course, but the rest of my troupe needs that assurance as well…”

A portion of me wanted to know what was in this for me, besides the potential goodwill. Afterall, there would be some investment required, even if I failed the audition. However, I had the perfect excuse to delay.

“You have given me a substantial amount to think on,” I said.

“What’s there to think about, Jackie?” Marianne asked.

“I have several competing requirements for my time, at the moment. Such as our next class, which we still need to get to?” I arched an eyebrow at the shorter girl.

“Of course, of course,” Instructor Rose said. “I wouldn’t want to cause you to be truant. Especially for such a… salacious course,” she winked.

I grimaced slightly, ever so slightly, but finished with a pained smile.

“As you say, instructor,” I finished, turning around and pulling Marianne along by her shoulder at first, to encourage her disengagement from the conversation.

“Think about it!” Instructor Rose shouted after.

“I will, you may be certain of that…”

As we pulled away, the Instructor returned to her hall, and we were intercepted by Kate, who had been patiently waiting, in a manner that was a bit surprising for the ordinarily forward and blunt Sir Kate Guardson.

“Hey,” she said. “Thought that assistant would talk your ear off forever. Glad to see she cut you loose.”

“Assistant?” Marianne asked. “You mean Instructor Rose.”

“Yeah?” Kate asked. “You know she’s just an assistant to Principal Grace?”

“Isn’t Principal Grace the one that runs Tea Ceremonies with Master Plum?”

“Uhhhh maybe?” Kate said. “Not like you’d catch me dead there, but sounds about right.”

“I don’t know,” Marianne tapped her chin. “If she’s just an assistant, then why’s she teaching, and not Grace, like you said?”

“Pffff,” Kate shrugged. “The Principal got old. But she’s a famous dancer from back when, at least according to mom. And, I guess, ‘culture.’” She did finger quotations as she said that, as though it were a bad word. “Anyways, enough of that. You got plans for later, Jackie?”

I paused before answering. There had been a thing that Belobog mentioned, though I was drawing a bit of a blank. “I may?”

“Well, yes or no?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I’m thinking about taking you on a date, yeah?” she wiggled her eyebrows.

Marianne gasped in delight.

“You’re finally an item?!”

“No,”

“Yes,”

I narrowed my eyes at Kate.

“Well, s’not like it’s official. But yeah? Unless you got some side action going on? Anyone I need to introduce myself to?” she asked with a menacing aire, leaving little doubt as to what such a theoretical introduction would include.

“I am uncertain if tonight would work,” I said, edging around the ambiguous plans that I was struggling to recall, uncharacteristically.

“Jackie,” Marianne said flatly. “Sir Kate Guardson, daughter of the Captain of the High Knights, is asking you out on a date. I think that whatever possible plans you have can wait.”

“Can they?” I asked, some annoyance in my voice. “And what of my shift then?”

“Plenty of time between the end of school and then, right?”

“See?” Marianne asked, waving her hands dramatically. “Kate knows! You should go with her, it would be fun!”

“Yep,” Kate said.

“And I get no say in this?”

“Course you do,” Kate said, confused. “Why wouldn’t you? If you don’t wanna go, just say no.”

“She wants to go.”

“Perhaps,” I said, lacking a means to refute that without ruining relationships or possible resources. “But if we were to do this today, we would be required to cut it short. Could we not wait until a better time? To allow us a better allotment with which to enjoy ourselves?”

“Huh.” Kate grunted, flexing her jaw and stretching it. “That… you know, that makes sense. So, you’re thinking week’s end?”

“If I know in advance, I can request the night off,” I said leadingly. “Not that it is guaranteed Ma would give it.”

“I’m sure she would, if she knew what you’d be getting up to, and with who…” Marianne offered.

“But, yeah… and that’s if I let you know in advance?”

I nodded tersely.

“I really do think I had something later today as well, though I am struggling to remember just what it is currently.”

“I have that effect sometimes,” Kate winked. “But, sounds like a plan. Works better for me anyways, especially for what I’m planning. It’ll be good. Look forward to it, yeah?”

“Indeed.”

“Well then… urgh. Guess you better get to massage then?”

“That is our next course, yes. And we are running the risk of being tardy.”

“Better let you go then. Need you to learn all them tricks, right?”

“Why?” I asked, some weary disgust leaking through, but not overly much.

“For you to demonstrate,” Kate said, winking.

I scoffed, “It had better be an excellent date then,” I said.

“Oh, it’ll be that,” Kate answered with confidence.

As I turned to leave, parting with Kate, and walking away with Marianne, we passed a corner, and there I caught Brittany lurking with her cadre of hanger-ons. She glanced my way, scoffed, and one of her friends mentioned the word Deviant Freak.

I did not find myself liking Brittany Gold. She just rubbed me the wrong way, and she seemed familiar, for some reason.

I pulled Marianne away, before any ambush or unpleasant interaction could be furthered.