Sculptures of the Moment [Open]
Posted: Thu Jun 20, 2019 1:14 pm
Evening, 30th Bethas, 2719
Brunnhold School of Confisalto Theater, The Stacks
Brunnhold School of Confisalto Theater, The Stacks
The Exhibition, as it was called, was a twice-yearly celebration of Confisalto at Brunnhold. The showcases were at the center of it, a series of three performances, one night after the next. First, the junior classes of Brunnhold, the youngest students, often still learning the basics of the dance. Second, the intermediate classes, more knowledgeable students but not always the most serious performers, often still quite young. Third, and finally, the advanced class – students who had been deemed good enough to graduate from the intermediate level, which might happen at any age, although generally not before sixth form – who would perform their pieces on the last night. For many of them, especially the older students, the showcase was an opportunity to dance in front of recruiters from the different confisalto companies of Vienda and Bastia.
In truth, the night wasn’t only about the dancers; the music for the dances was performed by Brunnhold students as well, settled into orchestra pits, and took nearly as much practicing for them as it had for the dancers. Still, the focus was mainly on the dance, the songs chosen for the performance rather than the orchestral complexity.
While the first and second nights were held on campus, the third night was held in the Stacks, on the Brunnhold School of Confisalto’s main stage. For the occasion, the school had rented carriages to ferry students the (short) distance back and forth, men whose job for the night was to drive back and forth from the theater to the school before the show started, a few times during intermission, and again after it ended.
The theater was a glowing high point in an otherwise dingy street; thick, heavy columns lined the front, with massive metal doors flung open. The inside was decorated with thick carpet and velvet on the walls, a massive chandelier in the entryway. The seats were comfortable as well, plush and thick, ringing the ground floor and up into balconies and boxes on the side. The boxes were largely reserved for professors and benefactors both, but students could sit anywhere else they liked, and the auditorium was alive and buzzily noisily as students settled into place.
For Madeleine, the night was beyond exciting. Sixth form was her first year in the advanced class, and that meant it was her first time performing on a real stage, not just the Brunnhold one. Not only that, but she had two dances, with two different partners. Madeleine loved both dances, desperately, and she was also so nervous she could barely sit still. She fussed with the ribbons on her slippers, tying and retying them for the fifth time, smoothing the pale pink silk against her tights.
A burst of chatter and laughter caught her attention. Madeleine looked up to see one of her dance partners, Evangeline, trotting alongside several others.
“Madeleine, come on!” Evangeline grinned at her, and beckoned, voice a half-whisper.
Madeleine, wide-eyed, rose and followed after the other girls, catching them just in the hall. “Evangeline, where are you going? Professor Sauveterre said we have to wait back here, didn’t she?” Madeleine glanced back at the room they’d left, then back at the others, eyes wide. She tugged at her pink tutu, the long soft fabric extending down to her knees in a soft flounce.
“Don’t be a spoilsport, Gosselin,” one of the other girls called.
“Come on,” Evangeline grabbed Madeleine’s arm, grinning at her. “We heard from some of the older students that there’s a spot off to the side of the stage where you can see the whole audience and they can’t see you. It’ll be fun! My friends all said they’re coming. Isn’t there anyone you want to see?”
Madeleine’s cheeks pinked. “My brother,” she invented, wildly, following after Evangeline and the others, half-towed along by Evangeline’s grip on her arm, but coming willingly as well. “I mean, he said he’d – he said he’d come, so – and my… my friends, of course,” Madeleine couldn’t think of anyone else who might be coming, other than – other than. And she wasn’t sure if he would even come; she thought she ought not to think about it too much, or she would be even more nervous.
The girls crowded into the space above the stage, Madeleine hanging back at first, then easing forward, peering out into the crowd, wide-eyed. Oh, she really hoped…
It was 24 o’clock when the show started, an hour after nightfall. Dark red curtains rose, pulled back to clear the stage, revealing a professor standing center stage, with male and female dancers lining the stage behind him.
“Welcome!” He called, “welcome, all, to the last night of the Spring Showcase of 2719! I am Professor Degas. Let me tell you that we are very glad to have all of you here, and excited to share this celebration of confisalto with you,” he cleared his throat. “First, a big round of applause for our musicians – without them, this event wouldn’t be possible!”
The conductor, another professor, rose from the orchestra and bowed, and the audience erupted into applause. It quieted down, and Professor Degas began again. “As you all know, confisalto is an ancient art, practiced here in Anaxis and by our dear cousins in Bastia. Tonight, as you watch these dances – whether you’ve been to a thousand such showcases or this is your very first – I want you to remember that confisalto is, at its heart, about the relationship between a galdor and the mona. The duality of the dancers before you mirrors that give and take, the necessary trust that we must have of the mona – and the mona of us. Our celebration tonight is a celebration not just of our young dancers and musicians, but of all that we do here at Brunnhold!”
There was another loud round of applause.
Professor Degas smiled. “But you haven’t come for a lecture,” there was a smattering of laughter. “You’ve come for dancing. So, without any further ado, let the showcase begin!’
Madeleine stood with Evangeline in the wings, watching through the edges of the curtain as the dancers before them finished. Her heart was pounding, terror and excitement warring in her chest. The moments of the dance seemed to pass so slowly, as if the dancers before them were moving through treacle – and then the song ended, the two men bowed and leapt off-stage, and Madeleine was moving forward into the lights, and she didn’t even have time to think, her arms lifting up over her head, feet sliding apart.
The music leapt into life, quick and fast, and Madeleine didn’t have to look at Evangeline to feel her moving. Their fields swirled together, touching and breaking apart, and Madeleine danced. Three steps to the side, twirl, back together, and she and Evangeline struck their first pose of the dance, leaning in, gracefully kicking their legs off the ground and bending sideways until the tips of their fingers brushed one another.
The music swelled, and Madeleine leapt back away from her partner, the two moving as perfectly as if they were only one galdor, with a mirror held between them. Madeleine spun and leapt and twirled, and the time between her movements to Evangeline grew shorter and shorter as the dance progressed, the contact between them more prolonged and ever more complicated.
In the final pass, Madeleine darted in; Evangeline’s hands were right where they were meant to be, and the two girls clasped one another’s hands. They threw their head back, bodies arching up, and spun around, once, twice, three times, then breaking apart in a sharp pull, leaping with one leg leading and the other tucked into the air, landing neatly on the stage. Madeleine pushed as high as she could on the jump, and with the small part of her aware of Evangeline she could feel their heights had matched, perfectly, and the two landed, neatly, arms lifting with the last soft burst of music over their heads.
The world was still for a moment, and then the applause started. Madeleine was breathing a little hard, looking out from beneath the bright lips, a smile on her face. She lowered her arms; Evangeline did as well, and they came together in the middle of the stage, still moving in harmony, clasping their hands and bowing as one. And then, like the other dancers, they were flitting off the stage with bright smiles.
The first half of the show contained a variety of dances, mostly female-female and male-male pairs, neatly matched in height and usually coloring so that the two dancers might have been the same person, from a distance. Each dance was different, bright and lovely, set to orchestral music played flawlessly by the students in the pit below.
Intermission dawned, a brief twenty minutes where the attendees could fetch a drink, a snack, or even both. For those already tired of the performance, carriages waited outside to take them back to campus, although not so many as there would be after the show. Finally, strains of music drifted in through the doors, calling the audience back to their seats, and the curtains rose again.
Madeleine stood backstage once more; this time she wore a white tutu and white ballet slippers besides, and a top with gold-capped sleeves. She glanced sideways at her partner. Evangeline and Madeleine had been working together for several years, and Madeleine knew her quite well; the other sixth year was usually very nice, even if they weren’t exactly friends.
Tonight, however, Madeleine had a second dance, and this one with Beatrix. It had been unexpected; Beatrix, an eighth year, usually danced with a ninth year, a girl who had needed to pull out of the showcase just a few weeks earlier. Madeleine, of all the girls who fit the right profile, had been asked to step in. She didn’t know why her – she didn’t think she was the best of those who had tried out – but she had worked her toes off to get the piece ready in time.
Madeleine wasn’t sure she had succeeded, but they were here now and the dancers before them were darting off-stage again. Beatrix glanced at her and nodded, once, and Madeleine nodded back, largely because she wasn’t sure what else to do – and then they were both moving forward, taking their places on the stage.
Madeleine stood to the left and slightly behind Beatrix, both lifting their arms up and forward. The music swirled into life, and Beatrix began to move, in a quick series of steps, spinning forward and to the side, across the stage. Madeleine held one, two beats, then followed in the other woman’s footsteps, her movements so precise as to be indistinguishable from the girl who had gone before her. They echoed one another through the dance, sometimes with Beatrix leading and sometimes with Madeleine, in complex, precise sequences of turning, leaping, spinning, often dancing en pointe, on the tops of square ballet slippers.
The most complex sequence was also a lovely one; Madeleine started it, leaping forward in front of Beatrix, who caught her around the waist and helped her to spin again and jump forward and to the side. Madeleine landed, and then Beatrix leapt forward in front of her, and Madeleine caught her around the waist and helped her to spin again and jump forward and to the side. They repeated the sequence across the stage, each pass growing more and more complex as the two dancers twisted and twined against one another.
Madeleine leapt back across the stage, arms and legs spreading wide; she didn’t have to look to feel Beatrix following her, almost like a strange extension of her body.
They spun again, and again, and the dance ended with Beatrix carefully leaning forward, one leg extended up over her head, hand outstretched, and Madeleine imitating her, hand stretching out to rest on the other woman, her own leg extending delicately up over her head. The two held there for a long moment as the music burst and faded, then lowered in perfect synchronicity as the audience began to applaud.
They bowed – cheekily, Beatrix first then Madeleine a beat after her, and ran off stage in the same order to bright applause.
It was nearly 28 o’clock when the show ended. Bright chandeliers and candles lit the way, the doors of the theater bursting open to spill laughing and chatting audience members, students, professors and others alike, into the dark streets of the Stacks. Carriages sat outside, waiting for passengers, and slowly drew the audience members group by group back to Brunnhold proper, music and dance lingering in the air, bright and pleasant in the cool evening.
In truth, the night wasn’t only about the dancers; the music for the dances was performed by Brunnhold students as well, settled into orchestra pits, and took nearly as much practicing for them as it had for the dancers. Still, the focus was mainly on the dance, the songs chosen for the performance rather than the orchestral complexity.
While the first and second nights were held on campus, the third night was held in the Stacks, on the Brunnhold School of Confisalto’s main stage. For the occasion, the school had rented carriages to ferry students the (short) distance back and forth, men whose job for the night was to drive back and forth from the theater to the school before the show started, a few times during intermission, and again after it ended.
The theater was a glowing high point in an otherwise dingy street; thick, heavy columns lined the front, with massive metal doors flung open. The inside was decorated with thick carpet and velvet on the walls, a massive chandelier in the entryway. The seats were comfortable as well, plush and thick, ringing the ground floor and up into balconies and boxes on the side. The boxes were largely reserved for professors and benefactors both, but students could sit anywhere else they liked, and the auditorium was alive and buzzily noisily as students settled into place.
For Madeleine, the night was beyond exciting. Sixth form was her first year in the advanced class, and that meant it was her first time performing on a real stage, not just the Brunnhold one. Not only that, but she had two dances, with two different partners. Madeleine loved both dances, desperately, and she was also so nervous she could barely sit still. She fussed with the ribbons on her slippers, tying and retying them for the fifth time, smoothing the pale pink silk against her tights.
A burst of chatter and laughter caught her attention. Madeleine looked up to see one of her dance partners, Evangeline, trotting alongside several others.
“Madeleine, come on!” Evangeline grinned at her, and beckoned, voice a half-whisper.
Madeleine, wide-eyed, rose and followed after the other girls, catching them just in the hall. “Evangeline, where are you going? Professor Sauveterre said we have to wait back here, didn’t she?” Madeleine glanced back at the room they’d left, then back at the others, eyes wide. She tugged at her pink tutu, the long soft fabric extending down to her knees in a soft flounce.
“Don’t be a spoilsport, Gosselin,” one of the other girls called.
“Come on,” Evangeline grabbed Madeleine’s arm, grinning at her. “We heard from some of the older students that there’s a spot off to the side of the stage where you can see the whole audience and they can’t see you. It’ll be fun! My friends all said they’re coming. Isn’t there anyone you want to see?”
Madeleine’s cheeks pinked. “My brother,” she invented, wildly, following after Evangeline and the others, half-towed along by Evangeline’s grip on her arm, but coming willingly as well. “I mean, he said he’d – he said he’d come, so – and my… my friends, of course,” Madeleine couldn’t think of anyone else who might be coming, other than – other than. And she wasn’t sure if he would even come; she thought she ought not to think about it too much, or she would be even more nervous.
The girls crowded into the space above the stage, Madeleine hanging back at first, then easing forward, peering out into the crowd, wide-eyed. Oh, she really hoped…
It was 24 o’clock when the show started, an hour after nightfall. Dark red curtains rose, pulled back to clear the stage, revealing a professor standing center stage, with male and female dancers lining the stage behind him.
“Welcome!” He called, “welcome, all, to the last night of the Spring Showcase of 2719! I am Professor Degas. Let me tell you that we are very glad to have all of you here, and excited to share this celebration of confisalto with you,” he cleared his throat. “First, a big round of applause for our musicians – without them, this event wouldn’t be possible!”
The conductor, another professor, rose from the orchestra and bowed, and the audience erupted into applause. It quieted down, and Professor Degas began again. “As you all know, confisalto is an ancient art, practiced here in Anaxis and by our dear cousins in Bastia. Tonight, as you watch these dances – whether you’ve been to a thousand such showcases or this is your very first – I want you to remember that confisalto is, at its heart, about the relationship between a galdor and the mona. The duality of the dancers before you mirrors that give and take, the necessary trust that we must have of the mona – and the mona of us. Our celebration tonight is a celebration not just of our young dancers and musicians, but of all that we do here at Brunnhold!”
There was another loud round of applause.
Professor Degas smiled. “But you haven’t come for a lecture,” there was a smattering of laughter. “You’ve come for dancing. So, without any further ado, let the showcase begin!’
Madeleine stood with Evangeline in the wings, watching through the edges of the curtain as the dancers before them finished. Her heart was pounding, terror and excitement warring in her chest. The moments of the dance seemed to pass so slowly, as if the dancers before them were moving through treacle – and then the song ended, the two men bowed and leapt off-stage, and Madeleine was moving forward into the lights, and she didn’t even have time to think, her arms lifting up over her head, feet sliding apart.
The music leapt into life, quick and fast, and Madeleine didn’t have to look at Evangeline to feel her moving. Their fields swirled together, touching and breaking apart, and Madeleine danced. Three steps to the side, twirl, back together, and she and Evangeline struck their first pose of the dance, leaning in, gracefully kicking their legs off the ground and bending sideways until the tips of their fingers brushed one another.
The music swelled, and Madeleine leapt back away from her partner, the two moving as perfectly as if they were only one galdor, with a mirror held between them. Madeleine spun and leapt and twirled, and the time between her movements to Evangeline grew shorter and shorter as the dance progressed, the contact between them more prolonged and ever more complicated.
In the final pass, Madeleine darted in; Evangeline’s hands were right where they were meant to be, and the two girls clasped one another’s hands. They threw their head back, bodies arching up, and spun around, once, twice, three times, then breaking apart in a sharp pull, leaping with one leg leading and the other tucked into the air, landing neatly on the stage. Madeleine pushed as high as she could on the jump, and with the small part of her aware of Evangeline she could feel their heights had matched, perfectly, and the two landed, neatly, arms lifting with the last soft burst of music over their heads.
The world was still for a moment, and then the applause started. Madeleine was breathing a little hard, looking out from beneath the bright lips, a smile on her face. She lowered her arms; Evangeline did as well, and they came together in the middle of the stage, still moving in harmony, clasping their hands and bowing as one. And then, like the other dancers, they were flitting off the stage with bright smiles.
The first half of the show contained a variety of dances, mostly female-female and male-male pairs, neatly matched in height and usually coloring so that the two dancers might have been the same person, from a distance. Each dance was different, bright and lovely, set to orchestral music played flawlessly by the students in the pit below.
Intermission dawned, a brief twenty minutes where the attendees could fetch a drink, a snack, or even both. For those already tired of the performance, carriages waited outside to take them back to campus, although not so many as there would be after the show. Finally, strains of music drifted in through the doors, calling the audience back to their seats, and the curtains rose again.
Madeleine stood backstage once more; this time she wore a white tutu and white ballet slippers besides, and a top with gold-capped sleeves. She glanced sideways at her partner. Evangeline and Madeleine had been working together for several years, and Madeleine knew her quite well; the other sixth year was usually very nice, even if they weren’t exactly friends.
Tonight, however, Madeleine had a second dance, and this one with Beatrix. It had been unexpected; Beatrix, an eighth year, usually danced with a ninth year, a girl who had needed to pull out of the showcase just a few weeks earlier. Madeleine, of all the girls who fit the right profile, had been asked to step in. She didn’t know why her – she didn’t think she was the best of those who had tried out – but she had worked her toes off to get the piece ready in time.
Madeleine wasn’t sure she had succeeded, but they were here now and the dancers before them were darting off-stage again. Beatrix glanced at her and nodded, once, and Madeleine nodded back, largely because she wasn’t sure what else to do – and then they were both moving forward, taking their places on the stage.
Madeleine stood to the left and slightly behind Beatrix, both lifting their arms up and forward. The music swirled into life, and Beatrix began to move, in a quick series of steps, spinning forward and to the side, across the stage. Madeleine held one, two beats, then followed in the other woman’s footsteps, her movements so precise as to be indistinguishable from the girl who had gone before her. They echoed one another through the dance, sometimes with Beatrix leading and sometimes with Madeleine, in complex, precise sequences of turning, leaping, spinning, often dancing en pointe, on the tops of square ballet slippers.
The most complex sequence was also a lovely one; Madeleine started it, leaping forward in front of Beatrix, who caught her around the waist and helped her to spin again and jump forward and to the side. Madeleine landed, and then Beatrix leapt forward in front of her, and Madeleine caught her around the waist and helped her to spin again and jump forward and to the side. They repeated the sequence across the stage, each pass growing more and more complex as the two dancers twisted and twined against one another.
Madeleine leapt back across the stage, arms and legs spreading wide; she didn’t have to look to feel Beatrix following her, almost like a strange extension of her body.
They spun again, and again, and the dance ended with Beatrix carefully leaning forward, one leg extended up over her head, hand outstretched, and Madeleine imitating her, hand stretching out to rest on the other woman, her own leg extending delicately up over her head. The two held there for a long moment as the music burst and faded, then lowered in perfect synchronicity as the audience began to applaud.
They bowed – cheekily, Beatrix first then Madeleine a beat after her, and ran off stage in the same order to bright applause.
It was nearly 28 o’clock when the show ended. Bright chandeliers and candles lit the way, the doors of the theater bursting open to spill laughing and chatting audience members, students, professors and others alike, into the dark streets of the Stacks. Carriages sat outside, waiting for passengers, and slowly drew the audience members group by group back to Brunnhold proper, music and dance lingering in the air, bright and pleasant in the cool evening.