seasonsrpg | (no subject)

Who: Binah (

egomitochdavar) and Junna Hoshimi (

takehold)
What: A librarian and a reader dance as one.
When: Mid-March
Where: Magic Lessons
Warnings: Possible age gap subtext; almost certain weird/creepy metaphors from Binah.

[ as a newcomer to this world, binah knows no more than any other; memories both ancient and new of the city she left behind will not serve her here. she listens, silent and attentive, each day lessons on magic are given out. she practices until she can feel her strength fading, and then she searches out willing cooperation to replenish her stores.

she has already acknowledged she cannot master this power alone. why would dancing be any different?

there are any number of things junna might notice about the older woman; her perfect posture, her careful watch, the sleek cut and slender tone of well-hidden muscle. but perhaps the most obvious is that attentive gaze, the way she careful monitors every dance and everyone around her - not to pass the time, for once, but to learn.

perhaps it'll be familiar, in a way. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Junna laughs. Of course there's another Nietzsche quote right after her own. Her gaze is appreciative as she looks up at Binah. As their eyes meet, she almost sense something. That glimmer. The shine of passion.

Then she is floating. Someone not as used to the stage and to dance might have been shocked into a non-response, perhaps landed poorly and injured herself. Instinct takes over for Junna as she leaves the ground and her head shifts to find her 'spot' so she can be sure of landing--

Then she is back on firm earth and Binah has taken the lead. Junna stutters softly in the back of her throat, her cheeks flaring up with an embarrassed and perhaps excited blush, her gaze locked back on Binah. ]

Yes. Always.

[ A stage girl is evolving by the day. That's what Karen had always said and Junna had taken it to heart. One had to meet each challenge, rise to it, and surpass the stage on which you stood to move to the next, even grander stage. Junna's eyes are filled with glimmer, with shine, with the sparkling effervescence of a girl who has dedicated herself to burning brightly on the stage. Does Binah understand? ]

[ binah cannot empathize with the girl in front of her, nor would she care to. binah cannot admire the girl in front of her, nor would she care to. but binah can acknowledge one thing:

binah understands.

there is a flame, burning within this girl. there is a glimmer, a radiant star emanating from her very being. binah wants to see it burn. binah wants to feed it. and a very real, hungry part of binah wants to clamp the wick and watch it struggle for purchase. ]

Wood into fire. Spring into summer. The breeze stirs, and passions alongside it. [ she ignores her baser instincts. she is here to watch, after all - and what could be more beautiful to watch then a flame blossoming forth? ] Dance, Junna Hoshimi. Dance, and let your light spark something greater.

[ the winds around them stir, murmur restlessly; they grow heated, a warmth burning away the cool breeze and leaving quick hot gusts behind. binah twirls junna under one arm, dipping her brutally low.

let the spark catch, junna. set fire to your passions. ]

[ To be seen and understood is to be terribly vulnerable. Especially when one understands in such a way as Binah. If only Junna knew. If only she could under Binah. But she cannot. Instead, all she can see and feel is the way this woman, beautiful and dark and strange, encourages her.

She hears the poetic words and feels a rush of excitement, a thrill at someone seeing her passion and embracing it. She dances, the swirling wind beginning to dance with sparks and the flickers of searing bonfire heat. She dances, lets herself dip in Binah's arms as if she were following the steps in a Revue.

There are no words, for a moment, only the rush of the dance and the swirling of magic. If Junna is the flame, Binah is the bellows, stoking this forge to greater and greater heights with her encouragement. The dance continues, building in a crescendo of wind and heat, each feeding on the other like a forest fire until the pair fairly blaze with magic.

It is exhilarating and terrifying and intoxicating, all at once. Junna does not want to stop

It is the feeling of being on the stage, magnified. ]

Edited 2023-03-26 05:41 (UTC)

[ no words are spoken; no words are necessary. even with her own tight control, the carefully planned leaps and lands and twirls, there is a frenetic heat about the both of them that almost brings binah to distraction. perhaps it is the euphoria this place brings - that might be part of it, yes - but just as much of it is the girl in her arms.

who is she?
what is she capable of?
why does she dance like a fighter?

just who is junna hoshimi?

for now, it doesn't matter. she is not here to shine or to watch; she is here to set the stage ablaze. a dazzling display of pyrotechnics, to stoke the passions of any that might see. she twirls junna beneath her arm, once, twice, then cradles her tightly and leaps.

for a moment, they both are weightless-
raised aloft by heat convection and summer breeze and campfire smoke-

and then, the world around them erupts. flames spout forth, diving close without devouring them; they writhe and wrap around the duo, a tight tornado that carries them gently to the ground as they spin in its pull.

binah beholds the moment metaphor becomes magic-
the moment imagery becomes reality-

and she smirks. they finally land, four whole spins later, and all she says is: ]

Congratulations, child. Your dream has been made manifest.

[ If Junna didn't already have that awareness of the strange and magical from standing on that fated stage, the appearance of the flames would no doubt throw her off her rhythm. She'd be frightened of the special effects, shocked by their appearance.

But the Revues have nothing but strange and magical effects that appear to complement the performances of the shining stars atop that stage, and so she dances to the end, wreathed in wind and flame, a shining star, powered at its core by a nuclear reaction of passion, hope, and sheer unwillingness to give up or despair. They land and Junna gasps for breath, caught tight in Binah's arms. ]

Has it?

[ She laughs, because that's all she can do. ]

I've never danced while I've been on fire before.

[ The stage, sure. Herself? Never. ]

[ the girl laughs in exhilaration, and binah simply watches. with the dance ended, she is once again stoic, unflappable - a far cry from the lilting winds of spring she only just called upon. ]

Then perhaps you will consider it from now on.

[ she lets go of junna once the other girl is fully upright, an unceremonious motion that still manages to carry some small grace with it. slowly, she returns to her original pose; her head dips forward, her cloak obscuring her body once more. like this, she looks less like a dancer and more like a predator.

how fitting. ]

Without my tea, I have grown weary of this practice. Perhaps we will resume later. [ and just like that, the spell is broken; she is the same woman that junna offered help to earlier. but now, with what junna is learned, perhaps it is easier to spot those small deceptions; for all binah claims weariness, her breathing is controlled, her face free of sweat. ] Either way, we will speak again.

[ of that much she is certain. ]