Post by Elysia O'Broin on Aug 11, 2010 17:40:08 GMT -5
The opening strains of pipe flute and percussion sticks as they beat against the side of a drum floated through the air in quick, sure time as she bounced on her heels to get a feel for it. For a second she paused, but it was only just long enough for the accordion and guitars to break in before she was off and dancing across the empty floor. Loud TAPS echoed through the dance hall as her feet tapped and rapped, heel to toe, side to side, to the beat at impossible speeds for someone who didn't hail from the green isles.
Sean-nós was by no means as graceful and fluid as modern Irish Step, but Elly could embellish the hell out of it if some of her leaps and arm movements were indication. Modern met traditional as she danced her heart out, laughter bubbling forth as she fell into the music and upped her own tempo to match the song's, and she paused in the middle of the floor to tap a few more quick steps when it grew quiet.
Even before she had been labeled as a lost cause by her parents, she'd been enrolled in step dancing from the time she was a child until her early teens in the hopes that she would use her excess energy up there. It had worked for the most part, but at the cost of her tapping around her room in the middle of the night whenever she was stressed. That same training was also the reason why she was so fleet of foot and hard to catch--there hadn't been a person alive who could outmatch her in the speed and endurance required for her art.
Sweat slid down the side of her face and pooled in ther dip of her collarbone, and suddenly she was spinning, spinning, SPINNING! Arms waved gracefully as if she were attempting ballet instead as her feet moved faster and then she LEAPED--she giggled again, eyes alight with so much mischief Loki would be jealous of her fun. Swinging around so that she could watch herself in the full mirror that took up most of the wall of the dance studio, she studied her movements.
Admittedly dancing by herself wasn't as fun as with a partner, especially in Sean-nós, but she was well aware the no one here could even hope to do what she did. She was lucky if she could find an empty dance hall when these moods struck her; to find a willing and able partner was almost too much to hope for.
Eventually the music had to end, and Elly spun around once more to tap her way across the floor, her forward kicks pulling her forward at a faster pace. The music sped up more and she fought to keep up, nearly stumbling in the process, before it petered out to drum pounding and the tin whistle keening sadly while the singer shouted the chorus and cut off.
The blonde collapsed in a heap on the floor, breathing ragged and sweat drenched while she laughed breathily. There was no greater feeling than knowing that you had used up everything in you and then some, pushing past her normal limits to attain a level of fun she hadn't thought possible. After several minutes of laying there grinning, she sat up to wipe her sweaty face with an equally drenched sleeve of her long-sleeved shirt. The look of disgust on her face upon discovering how very hard she had worked herself could only be described in one word: "Bugger."
Sean-nós was by no means as graceful and fluid as modern Irish Step, but Elly could embellish the hell out of it if some of her leaps and arm movements were indication. Modern met traditional as she danced her heart out, laughter bubbling forth as she fell into the music and upped her own tempo to match the song's, and she paused in the middle of the floor to tap a few more quick steps when it grew quiet.
Even before she had been labeled as a lost cause by her parents, she'd been enrolled in step dancing from the time she was a child until her early teens in the hopes that she would use her excess energy up there. It had worked for the most part, but at the cost of her tapping around her room in the middle of the night whenever she was stressed. That same training was also the reason why she was so fleet of foot and hard to catch--there hadn't been a person alive who could outmatch her in the speed and endurance required for her art.
Sweat slid down the side of her face and pooled in ther dip of her collarbone, and suddenly she was spinning, spinning, SPINNING! Arms waved gracefully as if she were attempting ballet instead as her feet moved faster and then she LEAPED--she giggled again, eyes alight with so much mischief Loki would be jealous of her fun. Swinging around so that she could watch herself in the full mirror that took up most of the wall of the dance studio, she studied her movements.
Admittedly dancing by herself wasn't as fun as with a partner, especially in Sean-nós, but she was well aware the no one here could even hope to do what she did. She was lucky if she could find an empty dance hall when these moods struck her; to find a willing and able partner was almost too much to hope for.
Eventually the music had to end, and Elly spun around once more to tap her way across the floor, her forward kicks pulling her forward at a faster pace. The music sped up more and she fought to keep up, nearly stumbling in the process, before it petered out to drum pounding and the tin whistle keening sadly while the singer shouted the chorus and cut off.
The blonde collapsed in a heap on the floor, breathing ragged and sweat drenched while she laughed breathily. There was no greater feeling than knowing that you had used up everything in you and then some, pushing past her normal limits to attain a level of fun she hadn't thought possible. After several minutes of laying there grinning, she sat up to wipe her sweaty face with an equally drenched sleeve of her long-sleeved shirt. The look of disgust on her face upon discovering how very hard she had worked herself could only be described in one word: "Bugger."
