Sophia's left heel caught on a seam of one of the vent sections, and her head nearly slammed into the metal side if she hadn't reacted quickly enough to throw her forearm against it. She came to a complete stop, ignoring the smarting of her forearm. The crash echoed through the ventilation system, but other than that she couldn't hear a thing.
The air smelt acrid, and it burned at the back of her throat. She couldn't tell if it was something actually in the air or if it was the strange, broken chords that resonated in her head from violins and tubular bells. There was a single flute piping out high notes of panic that were staccato and painful. Sophia felt like there were hands on her chest and back, pushing against her when she attempted to inhale.
"You're the smallest," she said, in a mocking imitation of Alexander. "And the most flexible, you should be able to get through easy."
Sophia snorted and lowered herself down onto a slanted section of vent, using the incline to control her progress more easily than the vertical chute she had just came out of.
"Never mind that I'm a ballerina," she added to no one. "Not a fucking spy. I'm going to get killed in here, and then who will they get to break the seals, huh?"
The flute suddenly let out a blast that it would make if the flutist pushed as much air into it as possible. It was high and rough. Sophia looked down to a grate that was half a foot in front of her, and then reached out and grabbed it, pulling herself above it to look through. This must be where the strange music was coming from. It had haunted under the usual song of the town, making Sophia feel nauseated and unbalanced.
She pulled the grate up, wondering how far underground she was at this point. The air was damp - Maxwell had cut off the air conditioning before Sophia went into the ducts. She remembered he told her that the underground structures were close to a natural underwater spring. That must be why the air was so wet. At least she wasn't thirsty anymore.
Gripping the edge of the grate opening, Sophia rolled out and lowered her legs down slowly while holding herself in chin-up position. At this point she was thankful for the control yoga gave her over isolated parts of her body, as she had to quickly lift her legs back up and slide into the vent when she heard a door screech open.
Showing posts with label Sophitia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sophitia. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Panic
"Fuck!" Sophia gasped, slipping on wet moss that clung tightly to rock floor. She caught herself with her hand, which then promptly slid forward on the moss as well, sending her onto her side on the ground.
"Now, now," said Bates, stepping up to her. He leaned down and caught her elbow, his shot gun held idly at his side, pointing at the ground. "Don't much such a fuss about it, you are not a child."
"Let me go you creep," Sophia spat, turning around sharply to try and pull her elbow away, but his grip was too tight. Sharp toned horns were playing low, creating chords of tension that Sophia could feel in her back.
Bates was gazing at her evenly with amethyst eyes that appeared to glow in the dim lighting. There was a pleasant smile on his face, but Sophia had yet to see him without one. His fingers dug into the collection of nerves on her elbow, and she let out a staggered yelp as she lost feeling in her forearm and hand.
"You see," he said as he hauled her up to her feet with no apparent effort on his part. "You are quite fun to chase, very willful. However, that time is--"
"Sophia," yelled Conrad, who had just found a way around the cave in that Sophia still thought Bates triggered. He had his broadsword drawn now, which, despite Sophia being used to the idea of him having it, still looked strange to her since he was wearing casual office attire. "Damnit Bates, let her go."
A vibrating fanfare of higher horns took over in Sophia's mind.
"You're a bit late, dog," Bates answered, sneering through his smile. "You're simply using her like everyone else."
"It's her choice," Conrad said, before he took one step and chucked the broadsword. It shot forward, the blade slicing the air with a high whistle that rang above the fanfare.
Bates was forced to disperse into shadows, not having the time to take Sophia into the maneuver. The blade sank into the stone wall right beside her head right over her shoulder. It nearly sliced her pigtail off.
In a single blink Bates was back, behind Conrad, the barrel of his gun hovering only a half foot away from his back. Conrad was mid-turn when the blast resounded through the cavern, and Sophia covered her eyes with her forearm. Half to defend against the flash from the gun, half to not have to see Conrad's torso blown out.
"Shadow bullets," said Conrad. "Clever, won't leave any kind of bullet or shot to find. Eats away at the flesh to hide weapon type, and even if the victim survives, you can find them again."
Sophia looked up quickly to see Conrad standing with his hand held flat out at Bates, palm facing the black coated man. The skin was smoking, but Sophia could barely see gold flecks woven into the veins in a runic circle. She rested a hand on her shoulder, where she remembered Bates cutting her with that black edged blade.
"Now, now," said Bates, stepping up to her. He leaned down and caught her elbow, his shot gun held idly at his side, pointing at the ground. "Don't much such a fuss about it, you are not a child."
"Let me go you creep," Sophia spat, turning around sharply to try and pull her elbow away, but his grip was too tight. Sharp toned horns were playing low, creating chords of tension that Sophia could feel in her back.
Bates was gazing at her evenly with amethyst eyes that appeared to glow in the dim lighting. There was a pleasant smile on his face, but Sophia had yet to see him without one. His fingers dug into the collection of nerves on her elbow, and she let out a staggered yelp as she lost feeling in her forearm and hand.
"You see," he said as he hauled her up to her feet with no apparent effort on his part. "You are quite fun to chase, very willful. However, that time is--"
"Sophia," yelled Conrad, who had just found a way around the cave in that Sophia still thought Bates triggered. He had his broadsword drawn now, which, despite Sophia being used to the idea of him having it, still looked strange to her since he was wearing casual office attire. "Damnit Bates, let her go."
A vibrating fanfare of higher horns took over in Sophia's mind.
"You're a bit late, dog," Bates answered, sneering through his smile. "You're simply using her like everyone else."
"It's her choice," Conrad said, before he took one step and chucked the broadsword. It shot forward, the blade slicing the air with a high whistle that rang above the fanfare.
Bates was forced to disperse into shadows, not having the time to take Sophia into the maneuver. The blade sank into the stone wall right beside her head right over her shoulder. It nearly sliced her pigtail off.
In a single blink Bates was back, behind Conrad, the barrel of his gun hovering only a half foot away from his back. Conrad was mid-turn when the blast resounded through the cavern, and Sophia covered her eyes with her forearm. Half to defend against the flash from the gun, half to not have to see Conrad's torso blown out.
"Shadow bullets," said Conrad. "Clever, won't leave any kind of bullet or shot to find. Eats away at the flesh to hide weapon type, and even if the victim survives, you can find them again."
Sophia looked up quickly to see Conrad standing with his hand held flat out at Bates, palm facing the black coated man. The skin was smoking, but Sophia could barely see gold flecks woven into the veins in a runic circle. She rested a hand on her shoulder, where she remembered Bates cutting her with that black edged blade.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
The City Nearby
Sophie quickly learned that there was something strange about the city that had been built up at the base of the mountain where the academy resided. People there considered the students of the dance school as popular as celebrities. She couldn't go a day without hearing how street teams would put up posters of their favorite dancers, rip down or vandalize the posters of others, or even pick fights with rivaling street teams.
So far, it seemed mostly to be the upperclassmen, who had been around long enough to attract the attention of the clubs. Though, the last time Sophie went into the city to get to work, she saw several posters of herself in her leotard and legwarmers in the middle of a pirouette turn. There photoshop job to set her on a background of stars had been very well done, but she had stopped her car and took them down anyway. It made her feel nauseated to think of people getting into brawls on the street or in bars about her.
It was flattering, but not in the way she could appreciate.
So far, it seemed mostly to be the upperclassmen, who had been around long enough to attract the attention of the clubs. Though, the last time Sophie went into the city to get to work, she saw several posters of herself in her leotard and legwarmers in the middle of a pirouette turn. There photoshop job to set her on a background of stars had been very well done, but she had stopped her car and took them down anyway. It made her feel nauseated to think of people getting into brawls on the street or in bars about her.
It was flattering, but not in the way she could appreciate.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Being Straight
Sophitia was a ballerina. She was built like a ballerina, tall, slender, with trim muscles on her legs and a strong, but soft look about her posture. What made her better than the average girl hoping to become a beautiful ballerina, was that she could heard music in her head. It wasn't the same as hearing a song and it was stuck in her mental ear for the next three days. Rarely was the music in Sophitia's head something she had heard on the radio or being sung badly by the Cinderella Club between classes, and she liked it that way. This gave her the peculiar talent of finding the enjoyment and seeing a dance in anything that had even the slightest musical quality, as long as it had that musical flare in the first place.
Speaking to a beat was not a musical quality, and so Sophitia was grateful that her brain symphony decided to never play her rap. She had been pretty amazed when it decided to translate her favorite video game music into the full works of an orchestral epic though. That was a year ago, senior year of high school, when Sophitia was taking her auditions to get into Pennington Dance Academy.
Now, Sophitia sat in the cafeteria of the academy's castle, based entirely on the layout of Neuschwanstein Castle in Germany. It was the great dining hall, made more modern with comfortable booth seating that could be removed to offer a Great Hall for the many dances that the academy held every week. She was eating something the cook, Daniel, came up with during a streak of inspiration - three lamb meatballs resting on a bed of pine-nut rice pilaf with a cherry-wine rosemary sauce. It sounded disgusting to Sophitia, but she had been the only one in the student body to be brave enough to give it a go.
It wasn't bad.
It wasn't Winter of Vivaldi's Four Seasons, but it was a rather pleasing combination of warm strings and a single high piccolo enjoying itself with a solo.
Speaking to a beat was not a musical quality, and so Sophitia was grateful that her brain symphony decided to never play her rap. She had been pretty amazed when it decided to translate her favorite video game music into the full works of an orchestral epic though. That was a year ago, senior year of high school, when Sophitia was taking her auditions to get into Pennington Dance Academy.
Now, Sophitia sat in the cafeteria of the academy's castle, based entirely on the layout of Neuschwanstein Castle in Germany. It was the great dining hall, made more modern with comfortable booth seating that could be removed to offer a Great Hall for the many dances that the academy held every week. She was eating something the cook, Daniel, came up with during a streak of inspiration - three lamb meatballs resting on a bed of pine-nut rice pilaf with a cherry-wine rosemary sauce. It sounded disgusting to Sophitia, but she had been the only one in the student body to be brave enough to give it a go.
It wasn't bad.
It wasn't Winter of Vivaldi's Four Seasons, but it was a rather pleasing combination of warm strings and a single high piccolo enjoying itself with a solo.
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