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tiefthieves · 5 months

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Tattered Soles

Chapter Two: Pas de Deux

chapter two also on Ao3 ! Full chapter is below the cut ♡

She could tell that the door to the practice room wasn't fully closed. When the door was flush with its frame, even with music playing at a decent volume, she could usually feel more than she could hear. As Sikah moved to discreetly close the door, she caught a glimpse of the dancer inside.

Weeks had passed since Karach's first and only visit to the studio, and Sikah couldn't help but wonder if she had put the woman off. She'd often been told that she was not the most inviting or approachable and that she had the aura of a classic stereotypical ballerina: cold, brutal, and bitchy.

Granted, Sikah hadn't spent as much time at the studio as she would have liked. After the week of museum renovations had given her a respite, her work had become more demanding with the introduction of the new exhibit. Visitors were more frequent and numerous, and her boss had asked her to take occasional weekend shifts to manage the new part-time staff.

That weekend, Sikah decided to stop by the studio for a few hours to decompress after a particularly grueling shift. Her body was already tired, but she needed to blow off some steam before she felt too exhausted. She pulled into the parking lot and grabbed her bag from the back seat of her car, waved routinely to Jenevelle as she walked through the front door, and ducked into the staff room to change. Sikah was surprised by the presence of music as she walked down the hallway to the regularly empty practice rooms. It was different from the elegant, classical music that typically played in the studio; a low, steady bass pulsed from behind the door, and Sikah could feel it sending vibrations through her feet.

Street-style hip-hop was something Sikah considered to be on the other side of the dance world, and Karlach was moving in a way she'd never been captivated by before. Despite her powerful, abrupt footwork, the agonizing screech of sneaker soles against the laminate flooring was absent. Every flex and roll of her body was calculated and sharp, and though she was practicing a choreographed routine, she was executing it in a way that seemed organic. Karlach was enticing, and Sikah was admittedly intrigued.

Karlach’s concentration broke as the track faded. She glanced toward the door and grinned as she spotted her audience, wiping the sweat from her brow.

"Hey, you! Enjoying the show?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I could hear your music from down the hall. I came to close the door." Sikah folded her arms across her chest and did her best to ignore the blush that was teasing her cheeks.

Karlach chuckled as she grabbed a bottle of water from her bag. She downed half of it before sitting on the floor. "But you didn't. So that's different, isn't it?"

The ballerina was silent.

"Ah! Come on, I'm just messing with you! I don't mind an audience, it usually gives me more incentive to give it my all." She finished her bottle and threw it in the trash.

"Did you need the room for something, or are you just here to tell me that I should keep my shit quiet?"

"No, it's fine. Just make sure the door is closed all the way if you're going to have the bass on," Sikah said, leaning against the now-open door frame.

"And?" Karlach looked at her expectantly, feeling that she had more to say.

"If you need a box fan, there are some in the staff room. Just ask Jenevelle. Oh, and we close at seven." She pushed herself away from the frame and turned to go into her office.

"Duly noted," she nodded and watched as Sikah turned her back.

"Hang on, not that urgent, but I was wondering if you'd take a look at something I'm working on? I know it's random, but Jenevelle mentioned you're choreographing a lot for the studio and I'm stuck."

Sikah turned around and was once again standing at the entrance of the room.

"I don't know anything about hip-hop."

"Nah, sure you do! I mean, you're a ballerina, aren't you? That means you already know the half of it," Karlach stood up and in the blink of an eye pulled the shorter woman out of the doorway and into the middle of the room.

"Look here," she pointed to her sneakered feet. They were in second position. "Second position, yeah?"

She moved again, this time doing a wide semi-pirouette into third position, followed by a more jazzy ball change and quarter turn.

"The fundamentals are the same, just with sickled and flexed feet, a little more upper body movement, less jumping, and some contemporary elements thrown in."

Sikah raised her eyebrows at that. It felt like a stretch at first, but the more she looked, the more she found herself agreeing with her.

Karlach gave a triumphant grin as she watched the pieces fall into place in the other woman's mind. She wasn't the most eloquent of speakers when it came to ballet terminology, but she could talk her way through it.

"All right," Sikah conceded, moving over and sitting against the wall. "What's giving you trouble?"

"I think it's much easier to show than to tell."

Before starting her routine again, Karlach turned down the volume of the music. She spoke to Sikah as she danced, explaining how certain moves were simple derivatives of ballet.

The ballerina watched the other woman's dance with sharp eyes. Years of classical training had given Sikah an almost reflexive eye for detail. Karlach's movements were sharp and focused, fluid and strong, she was powerful. She held eye contact with Sikah throughout her performance, smiling when she caught an impressed look.

Sikah was able to see where Karlach was getting stuck. It wasn't obvious in her confident movements, but she knew the stubborn, dissatisfied frown of a dancer all too well. While her moves themselves were flawlessly executed, it was clear that Karlach had trouble with her flow. Fluidity was still needed, even in a genre focused on bold and fast movements.

"You need to work on your transitional movement. The individual moves and combinations are crisp, but there is a lack of malleability. Everything will feel and look more natural if you add softer, looser elements, especially between your pops and kicks. You're quite stiff in some parts, so you would benefit from loosening up in general." Sikah instructed after Karlach's demonstration was over.

"My so-called expertise goes no further than that. You'll have to find someone more familiar with your style if you want to improve individual elements."

"No, no, this is great!” Karlach bounced on the balls of her feet, "I never thought of it that way. Only problem is, I don't know how to, um, add fluidity or whatever. I'm not exactly the most... bendy."

"It's not about being bendy, it's about letting the movement and energy flow through your limbs. I think that you're so focused on trying to stay sharp that you're cutting off your energy." Sikah moved from leaning against the mirrored wall to stand behind Karlach.

Tall, strong, almost militant, her stance was taught even in a resting position. She circled the taller woman, her eyes sweeping over every defined muscle, every pearl of sweat, the rise and fall of her chest... Gods, she needed to get a grip.

Karlach's breath caught in her throat. Thank the gods she was a good foot taller than Sikah. Otherwise, the rosy blush that burned at the tips of her ears would have been embarrassing to explain. Her heart raced as she watched the woman circle her like a lion in pursuit of its prey. With her piercing eyes and powerful gaze, Karlach was afraid that if she so much as flinched, Sikah would be able to descry her.

She noticed the way the ballerina looked at her, the way she watched her dance; it was as if she were looking right into Karlach's very soul. Still, her expression was always occupied by a slight pout on her lips, though sometimes it twisted into a subtle grin. Karlach wanted to hear the thoughts that were in her head.

Sikah reached up and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Relax your shoulders and unlock your knees, that's the first step," she waited for her to follow her instructions and hummed in approval as she watched the muscles relax.

"Good. Now, I have a couple of exercises that I usually go through with my classes if you'd like to give them a try. They're mostly ballet-type stuff, but I have a feeling they'd be beneficial anyway."

"Y-yeah, that would be great! I mean, I do all this hip-hop stuff, but you always gotta start with the basics, you know? Believe it or not, I used to dabble in ballet myself. Wasn't too bad at it either," Karlach feigned overzealous confidence.

“Oh yeah?” Her lips curled into a sly simper, “This should be easy for you then.”

Sikah pulled her phone from the pocket of her sweater before she shrugged it off and tossed it out of the way. She pulled up a song with a tempo that was fast and similar to the tempo of Karlach's routine. She tapped out the rhythm on her thigh, positioning herself slightly in front of the other and looking at Karlach in the mirror.

"Follow my movements as best you can, okay? It doesn't have to be perfect, but try to keep up."

Karlach could do it - or so she thought. At first, it was effortless. Sikah started in the second position, knees bent and hips swaying, rocking back and forth between the balls of her feet. She moved with effortless ease and elegance. Karlach tried to mimic her posture, reminding herself to relax and let the energy of her movements flow through her. It felt strange. Sure, Karlach had been raised on ballet, taking classes throughout her formative years and into high school, but she'd retired from ballet when she was in college, and it had been several years since her last class. She had nearly forgotten how it felt. Getting back to where it all started was nice, and dare she say nostalgic. She found herself smiling as she shadowed Sikah, feeling like a little kid in class again, learning everything for the first time. Although they moved in silence, Karlach would bet that Sikah was an amazing teacher, she was doing a damn good job at it now. Every once in a while, the smaller of the two would look over her shoulder to get a closer look at Karlach than the mirrors could provide, studying her angles and posture to make sure she wasn't getting lost. However, when she was caught, Sikah always turned around rather quickly. Karlach found it quite charming.

They continued silently, Sikah leading and Karlach following. From where she stood behind her, Karlach was able to study the speckled skin that peeked through the open back of Sikah's leotard. She could tell that the woman's muscles, though not as defined as her own, were incredibly toned by the way her arms moved and her shoulders flexed. Karlach synchronized her breathing with Sikah's, allowing herself to relax and enter what was, to her best guess, a state of zen.

A knock snapped them both out of their trance. Jenevelle stood in the doorway with her bag slung over her shoulder and a stack of binders in her arms.

“Sorry to interrupt, but it’s twenty past and I’d like to go home,” she dangled the studio keys from her finger. “You’re welcome to stay longer, Sikah, but I don’t want to be the one to have to hear Trielle complain about the electricity bill again.”

Sikah rolled her eyes at the mention of her stepmother’s particularness and glanced at the clock on the wall. She’d completely lost track of time.

“Go on ahead Jen, thanks for waiting. I’ll lock up and let Trielle know ahead of time that we stayed past close.”

“Thank you,” Jenevelle smiled as she observed the state of the room and its occupants– eyes doing a once-over of Karlach– before she walked away.

“You close up shop all by yourself?” Karlach asked as she began to gather her things.

“Usually it's a two-person job, me and Jen, but if her attitude speaks its usual volumes, I’d say she did most of the closing herself tonight. I most likely just have to shut lights off and lock the doors,” Sikah answered as she grabbed her sweats from the floor and pulled them on. She noticed Karlach standing idly by the door, “You don’t have to stay.”

“I mean, it’s the least I can do since you helped me out,” She paused as Sikah’s stomach growled loudly, holding back a laugh. “How about this: you let me buy you dinner and we call it even.”

Sikah blushed as her stomach voiced its hunger. “It’s almost eight, nothing good besides shitty fast food is going to be open,” she noted.

“Who said I was going to be treating you to a posh steak dinner? What if fast food is all I’m budgeted for?” Karlach chuckled as she followed behind the ballerina. That certainly wasn’t far from the truth. “Come on, it’ll be fun! There’s a good pho place over by my apartment that doesn’t close till late and doesn’t break the bank either, so don’t feel guilty about owing me.”

“I feel like you aren’t going to take no for an answer, will you?” Sikah sighed as she locked the studio’s front doors behind them.

“Nope!” she beamed. “I mean, clearly I’m not an asshole, and if you genuinely don’t want to, I won’t push. It's just been a minute since I’ve had someone to grab food with, you know? You get tired of eating take-out alone on your couch after the 40th time… besides, I gotta thank you for your help today.”

“You don’t have to, but I do appreciate it. I haven’t had pho in a while, so this place of yours better not disappoint.”

Karlach grinned, pumping her fist in the air. She texted Sikah the address and jumped in her car, music thumping along with the beat of her heart as she pulled out of the parking lot.

Damn, it's good to be alive.

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