Post by Simba Mozenrath Xerxes on Apr 21, 2017 21:31:40 GMT -5
He didn't want to spy on the Cullen family. They were too nice! They didn't deserve it! But unless he wanted to watch his brothers die, he had no other choice. Simba hated the Volturi and everything they stood for and everything they did. He couldn't just....sit around and no nothing either. Had had to do something. Sand sculptures didn't do a thing to help, neither did shifting and climbing trees and playing his own tail. The only thing he knew would work for sure ....was to dance. However, the shifter didn't think there was actually a place to dance besides the club at the high school and even then.....he wasn't sure he wanted people seeing him as his most vulnerable. Sure he could dance in the woods but the trees didn't exactly provide the best acoustics.
A quick online search and he discovered a dance studio that rented out its space for people who wanted to use it. And boy did he EVER want to use it. So, he booked the next time slot and it provided him with two hours to himself for just.... dancing. Dancing where vampires weren't looking on and making him prance like a trained poodle to entertain them. Dancing where he could just let everything out. Where he could just leave his troubles behind him in that room. The boy got behind the wheel of his car, bringing with him his shoes and his phone so he could sync it with the speakers in the studio.
Upon reaching Seattle, he went into the 'Seattle Dance Studio' and signed in, using his name 'Simba Xerxes'
"Simba? Like the Lion King?"
"No." Simba thought, but he smiled "Yes."
"Exerexes? Zerseas?" to her credit, the woman behind the counter was trying. Simba chuckled and shook his head,
"It's Egyptian. Zer-Zees." He said, Which room am I in?" the woman nodded and pointed down the hall. He thanked her and headed toward it. It sported a large, open space with stretching bars, and a two-way mirror along one wall so people could see what they looked like as they danced and soccermom parents could observe and tell the other soccer moms just how much better their precious children were than anyone else's.
He walked into the room and shed his shirt, exposing five tattoos all across his arms and torso. He was wearing form fitting pants as well and he removed his shoes and placed them in the corner, then went to the speakers and set up his phone to it. A song began to play and he began to dance. It was raw and filled with emotion, anger, frustration, longing for something he couldn't say, guilt and his movements were professional and oozed talent. The shifter lifted himself effortlessly off the floor, threw himself gracefully through the air and seemed to float and when the song ended, he stayed put, catching his breath and feeling lighter than he had in years and then, he smelled a human and tilted his head back. "............Marhabaan." He said in Arabic, he always fell back to Arabic when he was nervous or caught off guard and he was both at the moment. Pivoting his hips, he popped to his feet and hurried to get his shirt and put it back on. "I mean hello. I think there's some sort of mix up. I reserved this space. But....." she WAS pretty....".....If we can agree on the music and to share the space....I suppose we can work something out." His Egyptian accent was thick, even as he panted.
(His tattoos: Right arm
Torso
Back left shoulder
Chest over heart
Left arm
Song is also a link.)
A quick online search and he discovered a dance studio that rented out its space for people who wanted to use it. And boy did he EVER want to use it. So, he booked the next time slot and it provided him with two hours to himself for just.... dancing. Dancing where vampires weren't looking on and making him prance like a trained poodle to entertain them. Dancing where he could just let everything out. Where he could just leave his troubles behind him in that room. The boy got behind the wheel of his car, bringing with him his shoes and his phone so he could sync it with the speakers in the studio.
Upon reaching Seattle, he went into the 'Seattle Dance Studio' and signed in, using his name 'Simba Xerxes'
"Simba? Like the Lion King?"
"No." Simba thought, but he smiled "Yes."
"Exerexes? Zerseas?" to her credit, the woman behind the counter was trying. Simba chuckled and shook his head,
"It's Egyptian. Zer-Zees." He said, Which room am I in?" the woman nodded and pointed down the hall. He thanked her and headed toward it. It sported a large, open space with stretching bars, and a two-way mirror along one wall so people could see what they looked like as they danced and soccermom parents could observe and tell the other soccer moms just how much better their precious children were than anyone else's.
He walked into the room and shed his shirt, exposing five tattoos all across his arms and torso. He was wearing form fitting pants as well and he removed his shoes and placed them in the corner, then went to the speakers and set up his phone to it. A song began to play and he began to dance. It was raw and filled with emotion, anger, frustration, longing for something he couldn't say, guilt and his movements were professional and oozed talent. The shifter lifted himself effortlessly off the floor, threw himself gracefully through the air and seemed to float and when the song ended, he stayed put, catching his breath and feeling lighter than he had in years and then, he smelled a human and tilted his head back. "............Marhabaan." He said in Arabic, he always fell back to Arabic when he was nervous or caught off guard and he was both at the moment. Pivoting his hips, he popped to his feet and hurried to get his shirt and put it back on. "I mean hello. I think there's some sort of mix up. I reserved this space. But....." she WAS pretty....".....If we can agree on the music and to share the space....I suppose we can work something out." His Egyptian accent was thick, even as he panted.
(His tattoos: Right arm
Torso
Back left shoulder
Chest over heart
Left arm
Song is also a link.)