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Post by Alessandro Bellarmine on Apr 25, 2013 20:47:15 GMT -5
At approximately 8:30 P.M. the crimson curtains of the Metropolitan Opera part, and the sound of the orchestra is heard, its sound shattering the silence of the theater, for the opening night of the Spring Season of the American Ballet Theater's production of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. Starring in the role of Juliet is Irina Dhorovenko, and Romeo is performed by Alessandro Bellarmine. both etoiles for ABT.
Part one
Introduction
There is a vigorous back and forth movement of the dancers dressed in black and white costumes that is suggestive of the battles between the Capulets (in white) and the Montagues (in black). There are no weapons; the scene has no particular historical or geographical setting; even the women, barefoot, participate in the tumult. A body lying on the ground recalls the intervention of the Prince; Juliet and her nurse also run onto the scene. The young girl danced lightheartedly before the nurse, while Romeo, already in love with her, stood to watch her. Another body falls to the ground; the Prince’s presence cools the fiery tempers. Couples embrace and tease each other. The atmosphere is tense, with suspicious glances exchanged.
Prologue
The dancers formed a chain which opens and closes, and their gesturing, which seemingly moves to the words being sung, are reminiscent of the animosity between the rival families. To the voice of the mezzo-soprano, couples form from smaller and softer groupings, and they evoke the ball and the feast announced by the chorus. In the group, Romeo and Juliet, who are left alone, reveal their love.
Verses
Accompanied by the mezzo-soprano, the dance exalts the first unforgettable transports of passion. The couple formed by Romeo and Juliet is mirrored in another couple and in their costumes; there is a contrast between being free and belonging to rival families. They continue to come together and meet, thus sealing the impossibility of attempting to contain their love for reasons of family ties or social constraints. The entrance of Romeo with two friends anticipates the arrival of the tenor along with the chorus.
Scherzetto
The “dancing” tenor evokes the bacchanal and confusion created by Queen Mab, a character only mentioned, but not present. All the dancers are possessed by the Shakespearean fairy’s inspiration and by a carefree frenzy. At the end of the tenor’s song, the chorus walked in an austere and composed procession, recalling the impending death, the blood and tears spilled.
Part two
Romeo is alone and in his dance he stretches out in space, almost as if searching for comfort, which is to arrive in the form of Mercutio and Benvolio, his elegant companions dressed in black. The white of Romeo’s shirt and the black of his hose break with the contrasting colour conventions. Dressed in tutus and tails, the three go to the masked ball, but the others also have masks and their gestures suggest they are eating and drinking, as is usual at a ball. A fearless Juliet is attracted by Romeo and she caresses him and dances with him along with other couples. As in Shakespeare, the two lovers’ hands meet, but the lyricism is mingled with happiness: the ball ends in general laughter. When everyone has left, Juliet takes off her tutu.
Part three
Love scene
Doubled in number, the chorus sings, and the guests at the ball returned as if in a dream, dividing the space and the two lovers, who are seated on opposite sides of the stage. Finally, they are alone and they dance a passionate duet, the heart of the story, also made up of caresses and kisses. Juliet rises and flees, while Romeo lies down under the symbolic balcony.
Part four
Scherzo
With the entrance of two bare-chested dancers, what becomes a collective dance reenacts moments of the ball with Juliet returning in her tutu. The girl goes up the slanting panel and finds Romeo. Friar Laurence marries the two young people, by simply raising them up. Under the panel, seemingly lifeless girls are dragged on by their partners. Friar Laurence and Juliet are face to face. The panel rises further and projects the shadows of the dancers. Black paint seeps onto the splendid scene as an ambiguous symbol of the deadly poison which pollutes purity, and of the potion that Juliet does not drink, but uses to cover her face, neck and arms before fainting and being carried off. In the ensuing silence, Romeo repeatedly tries to climb the panel which is rising higher and at a more acute angle. Each time he falls back. He continues to dance in the silence. Juliet’s apparently dead body is brought onto the scene.
Juliet’s funeral procession
The chorus and dancers dressed in white (Capulets) walk on; Juliet is supported and several times lifted up by a dancer who recalls Capulet and another dancer wearing black hose, and who we discover to be Friar Laurence’s double, the bass/singer. Turned upside down, Juliet’s body seems to have no peace before burial. The dancers place small stones at her feet and along her sides. The nobleman embraces a suffering figure, probably Lady Capulet. After a final collective farewell, three dancers drop stones and Juliet is buried.
Romeo at the Capulet tomb
Romeo stands before his lover, lies on her body and tries to raise her from the grave. He takes the poison from her hands and rests his head on her breast. When she awakes, she caresses his hair and Romeo, who is not yet dead, dances with her to exhaustion. He falls lifeless into the grave where previously Juliet has lain. Desperate, she throws herself on top of Romeo, takes the poison from his lips, closes his eyes, seizes his hand and seemingly stabs herself, collapsing onto him.
Finale
The dancers and chorus, dressed in black and white, crowd around the two corpses. The chorus divides into Capulets and Montagues at the sides of the stage. In the centre, a group of dancers in white remains and they are joined by the bass/singer who impersonates Friar Laurence and takes some gestures and movements from his double. The dance of Friar Laurence/dancer is contrasted by small, distinct groups wearing white, the colour that now only stands for purity. Friar Laurence/dancer hand Juliet’s body to her father. Once Juliet has been laid next to Romeo, a frenzied dance follows the contrast of the two choruses and the imposition of the very mobile bass/singer/Friar Laurence. As he rants, some members of the chorus respond physically, throwing themselves to the ground, but then the two opposing sides come together. Capulets and Montagues begin to reach some understanding and the finale, with Friar Laurence/dancer standing arms raised, is a triumph of the re-found friendship between the rival families.
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Neal Caffrey
Junior Member
Posts: 96
Status: It's complicated
About Me: Charming, sexy and sophisticated, Neal Caffrey is one of the world's greatest con artists. After escaping from prison - and getting caught by the man who put him there in the first place, Agent Peter Burke - Neal strikes a bargain: In exchange for his freedom, Neal will help the FBI catch the most elusive White Collar criminals in the country.
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Post by Neal Caffrey on Apr 25, 2013 21:22:31 GMT -5
Neal had attended the show, alone, but it had been a very moving performance. Once the show was over the sound of the rousing applause dying out, Neal left theater, pausing long enough to send his compliments to the stars, before he headed out. He caught a cab up Amsterdam, but got out on 81st and walked the rest of the way. He thought back on the performance, and wished Sara could have been there for it. He pulled his phone, started to call her, then paused, thumb hovering over the send button on the screen, before backing out of the menu and slipping his phone back into his pocket. Letting out a breath, he headed West on 81st, taking his time to get to Riverside Drive.
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Jane Doe
Junior Member
...a diamond that wants to stay coal...
Posts: 68
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Post by Jane Doe on Apr 25, 2013 23:14:12 GMT -5
One might think that the ballet would be lost on the blind woman who could not see it. Honestly, when she bought the tickets she hadn't known what she would get, if anything, from the performance. Still, she purchased an entire balcony for privacy and had the tenants draw the curtains so there was only six inches between them, enough to let light through but not to let anyone peer in on her. Well, at least not easily or with a full view. Still, it was an excuse to get dressed up and to feel like a normal person with money to spend socially; even if she wasn't being social. Anyone who knew Jane and knew Monroe would see her taint on the Librarian. All glamour and knowing the poor woman couldn't see herself. It was a best friends trust that let her put make-up on her and choose her dress, braid her hair and choose her jewelry. The only thing the blind woman had insisted on was her shoes. Black ballet flats, plain, simple, comfortable, well warn, and easy to feel the ground she walked on. Ms. Doe arrived early to avoid whispers she could often hear and found hard to ignore, as if folks had never seen a blind woman before. The Theater kindly provided her with an escort so she wouldn't have to ask where her booth was, something she found very endearing to her experience. Her coat, a white cape actually- with silver and blue embroidered edges, at the front and promptly took her to her balcony with assurances that the attendants would see to her needs and she wouldn't have to go looking. They even showed her the call button she didn't even know these places had. At her request, the attendant humbly helped her to the front seat in the middle of the part so she might have the best opportunity to see any lights. When Jane was revived, she wasn't given immediate medical care, she was tortured and left for dead a second time. Her eyes never fully recovered but she managed to retain a measure of light sensitivities. While the mixed colors of lights seemed to get lost, when the stage was basked in one color or another solidly and brightly enough, she could see it. Or sensed she could see it. The music moved the blind woman the most, and sometimes she could even catch the paddering of their feet across the stage. Offering her a sense of how many dancers were there. While she wasn't familiar with any of the performers names, the audience was moved by them and as a collective offered a more powerful sense of what was going on for the woman who couldn't see it. She laughed, she cried, and she tilted her head curiously, closing her eyes to imagine the scene playing out before her. Feeling safe and unobserved in her booth, she let herself experience what she could of the performance and found that she enjoyed it very much. Though committed to progress, she was content with babysteps and wondered if a closer seat might allow for more sense of the motion on stage. Surely after everyone was seated they would forget about her, enthralled in the show. It was a thought and one that she mulled over when it was finished. Waiting until the place was largely empty and her escort arrived to take her to the cab that was waiting for her. Without sunglasses, thinking they might draw more attention than they diverted, she kept her foggy eyes down with the tuck of her chin and trusted the attendant with careful steps that were outlined in the gentle fall of her gown.----(edited non-ending)----Instead of going out to the cab, Jane quietly inquired about meeting with the performers and musicians. Having made a sizable donation when she bought her ticket, Ms. Doe was a VIP even if she wasn't a VIP and her escort was delighted to give her more reason to be enthralled with the theater. With her walking stick cleverly collapsed and hanging alongside her clutch off her wrist, she was escorted back stage for the meet and greet once the fans finally let the performers leave the stage. Leaning slightly toward her and speaking in a low tone that was non-disturbing rather than flirty, her escort explained the layout of the room and mentioned the names of some of the guests with whom he was familiar. Throwing in a tid-bit about some of the other folks he's met while working for the theater in his fifty some-odd years on the job, Jane couldn't help but grin and look over at him though she only saw murky shadows, whispering some comment in return that left him grinning and looking rather pleased to trade words with her.
Jane had to admit he was rather good at describing what was there, how the refreshments were laid out, the decor and then using those pieces to relate where folks were as they stood just to the left of the entrance and out of the way. She was on his left so that those coming in probably wouldn't immediately see her until that wash of blue caught the corner of one's eye. Jane was quick to lower her eyes again, still smiling and holding the older man's arm with both hands as she listened intently, breathed deeply and considerably, and let the bare skin of her arms, shoulders, and neck feel the currents of the air as the people moved past them and around the room. Fabrics swishing and whispering, shoes clicking and chattering, sliding and clacking. Perfumes and colognes, bath products and hair products. Most things could be detected by her other senses when they were near, and with her escorts help, Jane patiently waited for him to determine when was good to approach one of the performers. Expressing an interest in their musicians as well, he promised to keep his eyes open and they both got a laugh.
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Post by Monroe Von Thorne on Apr 26, 2013 17:08:35 GMT -5
/S t u n n i n g / Monroe was a loyalist if ever there was one, to those she loved and cared about most specifically. As the best friend of Jane, Roe tried to make the woman feel as normal as possible in her presence. It was part of why she insisted the blind woman dress up, wear makeup, add jewelry. Some of it was hers, Monroe's, simply because Jane didn't exactly shop often for clothes and accessories; at least not since Monroe had known her, Jane only seemed to go if the German-mutt took her or she needed/wanted new under garments. Part of the German beauty felt bad for Jane, or more specifically, bad that she couldn't see how absolutely breathtaking she looked in that dress. Roe had joked with love about it, and how there was no way she wasn't going to be noticed when she walked in.
What Jane didn't know was that Monroe had tickets, though hers were a gift from a client and she'd opted to go solo. Not just to keep an eye on Jane, though she did that too (wasn't that a best friends job?!) but also because she genuinely liked ballet-- in small doses. Part of why she couldn't bare to see them night after night was because Monroe was one of those saps who cried, and cried a lot. Not just because it was sad, but because it was stunning both visually and acoustically; the combination of the two was consuming. She was privileged enough to have seen the behind the scenes efforts to create a show like this, so watching it gave her a new appreciation.
She was inspired by the simplicity of the black and white contrasts, and the way they used fluid and erratic dance to build emotion and feeling. As the Lady of Acquisition and a woman of Information she was one of few who probably recognized Neal Caffrey in the crowed, though she most certainly didn't look more than the glance of recognition. If the wrong eyes saw her anywhere near him she dreaded to think what it could mean for her work, both the legal and not legal. Jane's balcony was easy to spot because the lavish curtains were drawn, though most people had assumed it was out of order for some reason. Or so the gossip around her said.
Monroe didn't take any special seating, she liked being amid the people, particularly before and after the show when they had bored loose lips. When it all started she barely looked away but to plot her eyes; thank goodness for light makeup and waterproof mascara or she'd have been a mess when the lights were lifted again. As it was her handkerchief was nearly completely damp, though lucky for those around her she was a silent crier save a few sniffles here and there. The symbiosis of the music and the dancers with one another was what moved her the most, put a chill through her body and let the warm tears fall in amazement and empathetic sadness.
She still smiled, and stood to clap with everyone else when it was over, though hers were muffled by the hankie. She waited patiently, adjusting the purple shawl over her shoulders and smoothed down the simple black drape of her dress. Brown curls fell around her shoulders and back, offering partial cover when she wanted it. She of course also made sure to take a program with her as she left the auditorium so she could review the names of the dancers. For something like this she had a car and driver; so it was as she was making way to the doors to the street that she gave the driver a ring. Stepping to the side as to not be in the way of everyone else getting in the cabs sitting outside, or taking up the valet. /DONE
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Post by Wies Von Thorne on Apr 27, 2013 22:47:20 GMT -5
Wies Von Thorne knew right then and there how much he had changed. He remembered coming to the Ballet Theatre with his sister long before he had taken the expedition. He used to be able to be so engrossed at the expression of the body and soul that came off of the dancers. But now..he felt nothing it was strange for him to do so as he watched that black stage and al he could think about was who was around him. Of the quickest exits, and how long it would take to climb the balcony if he needed to escape to higher ground in order to have the advantage. It unnerved him so and he thought he had the primal instincts under control...but how they were riled up far too much and barely could be contained. His mind swam and wished the elegance of the play could ease any peace within him but it didn't. The darkness in the Theatre had him tense all over. Unable to stop the way his heart thundering so loudly against his chest. He told himself though his sister was here so, he had been told. He reached with his hand and gripped the fine lapel of his jacket curling tighter to ease himself. To calm the instincts this was New York in a Theatre and not the wilds of unknown lands.
Wies decided that his sister Monroe was not going to see him like this, his trembling hand reached for his side pocket in order to retrieve the smart phone. Having left the Ballet far ahead of everyone else in order to regain his sense of balance. Gripping the long fine coat that hung off his shoulders and what was left over of his clothes that was considered formal. Looking very much like a handsome gentlemen, the former version of who he was just before the expedition. Neat, clean, besides his stubbed and his thick mane of hair still remained in tacked just slicked back on his scalp. Once he believed the guttural tint in his voice had receded back into his mind. He dialed the number that read Monroe Von Thorne clear across the screen. "Dear Sister," as the tag. If Monroe turned back on her phone would see her brother's number light up ringing from the bowels of death.
"Dear Sister, it has been too long. I will keep this brief since we have much to talk about. I will be at the Cage Books where it seems you live now. I'll be alone, just you and I. I've missed you so." His voice sounded calm besides the rhythmic beating of his heart going off tempo. Only made worse as he dialed the next number this one belonging to Jane Doe. Clearing his throat as he straightened the collar of his shirt even though he didn't need to- "Jane? I want to see you again...I have...masks you may find interesting." With the second voice mail left he hailed a cab.
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Post by Alessandro Bellarmine on Apr 28, 2013 18:28:48 GMT -5
The Curtain Call and Backstage VIP Gathering
Alessandro Bellarmine held hands with the other dancers of the American Ballet Theatre Company, bowing before the standing room only audience that had gathered for the Spring Gala--the opening of the new ballet season. They all stood in their finery, the ballet performance now complete-- clapping wildly for the dancers onstage, but primarily for Irina, who played Juliet, and her younger co-hort, and new to American Ballet Theater, Alessandro Bellarmine. who had played his heart out as her Romeo. It showed in his radiance of his brilliant white smile and complete vitality despite the sweat upon his dark brow that on stage, Alessandro had a strong presence or aura about him. Even when the gold corded velvet curtains swished closed before the company, the roar of the crowd was heard yelling "Bravo." It was signaled to Irina and Alessandro that they were to have a curtain call.
The curtains parted after the remainder of the company scattered to either side of the grand stage, to allow principal dancer Alessandro Bellarmine and Irina Dhorovenko to slip through the heavy fabric and take center stage to a rousing applause from the crowd. Bouquets of fresh flowers were tossed onstage, as Alessandro gracefully moved to stand behind Irina, their bodies fluidly moving together in order to make their final bows for the evening. As they were being given their accolades, the caterer's crew was placing the finishing touches on the tables of food and drink, that had been beautifully decorated in twinkling gold and silver fairy lights that dangled from the lofty ceilings, and luminescent stars were delicately balanced upon the tables of food, as fancily attired wait staff hired for the after party made the rounds with beverages for the VIPs and fans that had gathered back stage.
The Cristal was flowing, and exotic canapes were being passed around by the waiters by the time a flushed faced Alessandro made his appearance, still clad in costume. He made a handsome and fetching Romeo, and he paused every time a fan wished to snap a photograph of themselves with a star of the ABT. He received congratulations from the media for his performance on stage, made a few rather humble comments about his prima ballerina and how wonderful it was to dance with the American Ballet Theater before asking in Italian for a bottle of water to re-hydrate. He was passed a chilled bottle of Fuji water, and uncapped it with a satisfied smile as he talked to Irina in the wings off stage briefly before gravitating towards a waiting crowd of VIP's. One had stood out from the others.
She appeared lost, but dazzled in a royal blue gown that flattered a svelte figure. Only when Alessandro approached her with an extended hand, did he realize why she appeared to search the crowd by the turning of her head as if she were looking for someone. His own third eye could spot her aura a mile off by how beautifully the colors radiated. She was standing with a man, that seemed to be escorting her tonight. Perhaps a relative? thought Alessandro to himself. It was hard for the 19 year old to not stare at the white, sightless gaze of a blind woman--one who he felt seemed rather shy yet yearning to meet him. He smiled even though Jane could not see it, and let his voice guide her to where he stood--all 6'2" of him. "Ciao Signora, I pleased to meet you. My name is Alessandro Bellarmine, Principal Dancer with American Ballet Theater?" He second guessed himself mentally, because the lady in blue may or may not have known that.
He just didn't want her to think badly of him. His light scent of Krizia Uomo aftershave, Aveda shampoo and sweat from being onstage for the past two hours didn't help matters much either. Why was he so damned nervous making a simple introduction? Regardless, he had initiated the contact between them. "Would you care for some Cristal? Juice? Water? " A waiter was there, ready to serve something the moment Alessandro spoke it into existence. "Oh and plenty of food, as well. But first, Signora--what is your name, and is this the first time you come here to the Metropolitan?" Alessandro was indeed the curious sort, especially with people of different cultures, identities, and now a disability. Only he didn't see her blindness as a disability. He just saw her as yet another person, one that was unique in her qualities, much like himself. Besides, there was so much blindness in the world in a metaphorical sense. A person could be blind to the needs of others around him, and still have their eyesight.
Alessandro wasn't that kind of man, as he offered Jane and her companion his own form of welcome. His time.
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Jane Doe
Junior Member
...a diamond that wants to stay coal...
Posts: 68
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Post by Jane Doe on Apr 28, 2013 21:26:27 GMT -5
Jane could feel the make-up on her face, the weight of the necklace on her collarbone and hoping it distracted from her scar because folks could be uncomfortable enough around a blind woman, an scarred blind woman who looked like she'd almost been killed usually brought on the on-pour of pity. She didn't want it. Monroe said she was beautiful and she believed her, even if they joked about it to make her feel more comfortable about it and less like a clown. Her escort whispered to her when Alessandro and Irina entered the room, though the rooms response said enough. Instantly, she was smiling and standing a little straighter in her gown, the lights of the room were comfortable for everyone which meant nothing for her. Darkness. He was surprisingly quiet in his costume and her gaze was lifted to the whisper of of his billowing shirt on his chest as he approached the blind woman who didn't actually see him. The older man leaning in to explain who was nearing and confirm he wasn't just passing by. More importantly, that he was offering her his hand. A gesture that still made Jane nervous after ten years of being blind and unable to see where the hand resides in the air between them.
Generally, Jane tried to beat them to it, offering her hand first so they simply accepted the gesture; she tried this now, to have to hand ready for him as he came near enough for that sound and his scent to fill her senses. His voice surprised her, in tone, in accent, and in how high above her head it had come from. In her ignorance, she imagined the male dancers like jockys only closer to her height, not...over six feet. His introduction getting that questioning lilt at the end made her tilt her head slightly at him, but Jane shook her head in slight confusion and unwittingly reassured him as she asked, "What does that mean? Principal Dancer?" He wasn't the only one who was curious and unafraid to ask a question. That question was better than the more obvious question of what aftershave he wore. It mingled well with his wash and even the scent of his sweat. Maybe Jane was just man-crazy.
"Some water would be lovely, thank you, Signor Bellarmine." Her accent was Spanish, not Italian but it was also based from Miami so there was a Cuban lilt. Forgetting to introduce herself and her escort seemingly happy to just stand there and let her have her moment. He was just there for support and assistance; that Jane enjoyed his company so far was a bonus. He didn't make her feel weird for having to have everything described to her. Maybe he just reminded her of Gran. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Signor, my name is Jane, Signora Jane Doe." Not sure why she did it, the orphan on the run actually curtsied before the dancer. Not as graceful as the women he worked with, but she wasn't clumsy either, even when she was a nervous flutter inside. Surely this dancer wasn't a trained assassin just waiting for an opportunity to kill her.
Alessandro seemed friendly, warm, and radiating energy. None of the killer's she met felt like that and it made her breathe a little easier. Before it could get awkward with uncertainties of how she enjoyed the performance, she answered his question and elaborated for clarification on her experience so far. "This is my first time, and though I couldn't see what was going on, there can be no doubt that your performance with Singora Dhorovenko moved the entire audience." She was sincere in her words, looking up at him though she couldn't see him as if he might see her imploring him to believe her; the blind woman who had never been to a Ballet before. "There was such sense of motion that even from my balcony I could feel that you all put your hearts into this and I am grateful for your dedication. Your art." A slight blush rose on her cheeks as her eyes and chin lowered, her escorted grinning like he thought it was cute but saying nothing.
Truth was, Jane wished she could have seen what had been so moving. Part of her wanted to reach out to him right then and at least get a feel for the costume the old-man had described to her. Something out of a book or poem. But then, Jane felt the urge to touch almost every man she met. Their voices, their innocent gestures, the way they felt standing next to her, their scents, clothing, and a plethora of other things that seemed to drive her crazy. It was a wonder she was making herself venture out, knowing she on the edge, but hearing the smile in his voice and the excitement and pride in his name and talent was worth it. Someone who didn't seem haunted, but of course, she couldn't know how gifted he really was or she might not have wanted to meet him. Her past still consumed her life even if she tried to live and act like it didn't. Fake it till you make it, right?
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Post by Monroe Von Thorne on Apr 29, 2013 11:05:32 GMT -5
/ B r o t h e r ! /When she saw that she had a voicemail, as she stood outside waiting for the car to be pulled around, she casually went through the menu to play it. What she heard, brought tears again to her face and a momentary look of disbelief before she began frantically looking for the car. He was alive! More importantly, he was here and he was at Jane's place-- where Monroe was currently bunking, she didn't want to live alone and Jane was independent yet friendly enough that it worked for them. Jane was here, and Monroe was pretty sure she'd seen her take advantage of her VIP status, so she knew he would be alone at least as far as that went. Suddenly, the car couldn't come fast enough and she almost debated hailing one of the taxi's. Alas, she didn't have to and with out any further delay she urged her driver to Cage Books.
Monroe cried the whole way there, happy, yet scared and maybe a little angry. There was much to talk about, Wies had a lot of explaining to do and she was steeling herself to demand answers. After she got a hug first. /DONE
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Post by Alessandro Bellarmine on Apr 29, 2013 21:57:44 GMT -5
Alessandro was more interested in getting to know her, this woman he called "Djahn-nah", since there really was no " J " sound in the Italian language, only a soft "G" sound. So on paper her name would be translated as "Gianna." The danseur etoile was more focused on saying the right words to avoid a misunderstanding, since English was not his native language, than looking at her scars. He thought that Jane had a radiant smile, which brightened her aura even moreso than when it stood out in in the crowd of VIP's before he had approached her. Fleet of foot, and moving with a fluid grace, Alessandro was wearing his off-white Capezio ballet slippers whose footfalls were near silent as he passed a group gathered there who wished to get autographs with Irina. Pausing before her and her escort briefly, and stepping aside to allow another to pass before standing beside Jane. A hand that was accustomed to balancing his ballerina en pointe and lifting her skyward, was offered to Jane upon first meeting as was custom for the Italian to do.
It was almost as if they moved in complete synchronicity together, as Jane's slender hand was lifted towards him, meeting his own halfway. Their fingers touched, and his were semi-smooth, with some callous formation in the crease of the palm where he held on to the barre in the studio. His fingers were long, and quite capable of communicating the expressions of the art of dance. The palms were thick, and the back of his hand had a few hairs on it, that grew in number as you traveled under the sleeves of the puffy, cream-colored tunic Alessandro was wearing for his role of Romeo. His soft lilt would emanate from over her head, giving away his location as well as his height. No jockey was he ever. Alessandro used his careful patterns of observation, as the woman's hand was lifted to the curve of his lips and lightly a kiss was pressed against the fragrant flesh of her wrist. He then slowly released her hand so she was one again free. Alessandro could see Jane was somewhat confused by the terminology he had used. "Principal dancer, or danseur etoile, is a high honor a male ballet dancer has achieved. To be Principal, I set the standard for everyone in the ballet company. You must dance perfectly.".
As the waiter extended the tray, he collected a goblet of chilled ice water for himself and Jane. "Please to call me Alessi! My Pappa, he is a Signore." laughed Alessandro merrily. He wasn't THAT old, after all. Detecting strains of a Spanish type accent. "Are you from Spain?" I go there one time for vacation in Tarifa, to wind surf. I had much fun!" Of course he didn't know that she was Cuban-American, and her ancestry extended from another part of the world entirely different than that of Spain. "It is honor to meet with you, Jane." he said, pronouncing it in the way it should be pronounced in his language. The water he held in his hand, was then offered to Jane so she could partake of it. His own goblet was brought to his lips, and a few swallows taken before he spoke again. "May I say this? You look magnificent in the dress, blue is your color." Despite his inexperience with matters of the heart, Alessandro was a 19 year old Italian male, who could flirt by the time he was out of his Mamma's womb. His face blushed slightly, realizing he had said that in front of her escort, and he didn't even know if she was married or taken. Since Jane couldn't see his face, she couldn't spot his nervousness and slight embarrassment over his broken English.
Alessandro wasn't just thirsty from dancing and trying to get rehydrated, but a bit on the hungry side as well. Good thing a waiter clad in a crisp white uniform paused by with some crab and smoked Gouda Portobello Mushrooms, then came the Spanakopita--layers of phyllo dough wrapped around ricotta cheese and spinach with Greek seasoning. The trays came in one by one, each one with a different offering. He was enjoying the time he was spending with the lovely woman in the blue gown as well. From what he could discern, it WAS her first time at the Metropolitan. Smiling at Jane's kind words, his hand gripping his small plate as well as his goblet of water he'd been sipping upon. "Grazie, Jane. I try very hard to present the choreographer's work in the best light and be as dramatic as possible when on stage, to portray the character as accurately as possible." He had wondered how a blind woman could sense that his passion and love for dance were indeed involved in the production that was presented to the audience that night. "Does anything help you to see or feel the dance? Like your other senses?" he asked curiously. He thought that maybe if Jane were able to touch him she would get a better idea.
"I think you should see with your hands, maybe you will get better idea of what dancers do while performing. You can come to studio because it is smaller than the theater. Much better to concentrate on a pianist and 12 dancers, don't you agree?" Alessandro allowed his invitation to be digested for the moment. Another person had asked him to sign something on his ball cap, and he took out a black Vis a Vis, and signed his name in elaborate script on the brim of the hat. He paused to drink from his goblet, as the satisfied gentleman wandered into the corridor. "Please to call me. My number is 919-493-9448. I will give you a tour of the studio, and oh! before I forget...I give you this.." There was a staff member he waved over and spoke to in Italian, who hurried off to grab what Alessandro had requested. The short, squat balding man, handed Jane two VIP passes for the next show, which would be Lady of the Camellias. "You come to see show. I get tickets for free and give to you so you can experience the ballet. Is no trouble for me to get. I work here so it is free. I get extra ticket every month, and just throw away...because I know no one to give ticket to." he chuckled. "Next time I see you will be in box seat beside the stage." he smiled looking to her and her companion. Hopefully Jane would take the tickets and not think he was pitying her. Alessandro was just showing his appreciation for those patrons who would return to see the ballet.
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Jane Doe
Junior Member
...a diamond that wants to stay coal...
Posts: 68
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Post by Jane Doe on May 8, 2013 7:03:32 GMT -5
Jane was, perhaps, most surprised by the man's accent. Having not ever attended a ballet and only surface-skimmed the genre, she had falsely assumed that the dancers of the American Ballet Theater Company were all Americans. He was, very clearly, Italian. Before she went blind, Jane had been studying Italian but for the life of her, she couldn't think of a thing to say with any confidence she wouldn't butcher it. Both relieved and startled by how swiftly and smoothly their hands came together, as if she had somehow seen where he was reaching or something. It caught her slightly off guard when she felt her hand rising and her wrist turning; this wasn't a normal hand-shake and suddenly she wished she had worn the gloves. Heart spiked and eyes danced below fluttering lashes while the texture of his large and articulate hand did nothing to calm her sudden excitement. The ocean, old books, and a somewhat dark and smokey femininity that was Jane made up the base notes of her scent with a light addition of vanilla. He may or may not have noticed how fleeting her pulse was beneath the brief and soft press of his lips to her wrist before he released her. It took every effort not to touch her wrist with curious fingertips when she clasped both hands in front of her and felt a little more grounded again. With her question offered, Jane was delighted that Alessandro didn't seem offended by the question. Her smile bloomed broader than before when it returned upon hearing his definition. Her brows were both raised high in surprise and open admiration for someone who had the confidence and self discipline to become a standard of their field and maintain the prime example to be followed. Her heart stumbled a little just thinking about the implications. Sure, Jane had killed a couple of people to survive, both with a weapon and without but those were fleeting moments of instinctual perfection. Just a handful of minutes of complete synchronicity between body and mind. This man who stood in front of her maintained such a balance and demand all the time. It was hard to imagine what he might look like. Jane was intimately familiar with musculature, more now than ever before, and could often tell what sort of things a person did, based on their body structure. Having sculpted once, Jane immediately imagined him as a Statue and tried not to laugh at herself lest he misunderstand her humor and force her to admit her thoughts. Thoughts which drifted to other features she couldn't see but might be able to feel. For example, the texture and thickness of one's hair strands could tell her about it's color. More often than not, the finer the hair, the lighter the color. It worked easier on men than women for the simple fact of hair products damaging and changing the composition of the hair and making a true-color ID more difficult unless they were in need of a root-touch-up. With Alessandro's laugh and polite request that she call him Alessi and not Signore, Jane found herself blushing and grinning with a self-conscious shrug that no doubt had her blue aura sparkling at the gold edges with flares of excitement and desire. The blind woman was easily excitable and despite how she tortured herself with her hatred of her attraction to men, she couldn't help how his voice and his laugh warmed her from the inside. "Alessi, then, the pleasure is mine. I'm honored to meet you." It was true and the honor colors were flying in her aura to prove it because Jane didn't know a damned thing about keeping her feelings to herself. Expressive as they came, it was why Salazar enjoyed tormenting her so much, Jane was an entity of response. In moments like this, it was a good thing that made her feel alive and sane.
Accepting the water, Jane took a sip before answering him, "No, no... I'm from Miami, Florida." Thick accent on the city and state, but no admission to her genetic roots because she honestly didn't know. The accent was natural when you grew up on the streets of Miami, aka Little Cuba. "But I have been to Spain, I lived in Madrid for a few years and it was beautiful. Even without seeing it with my eyes..." Jane laughed in humor at herself. She'd seen the city with her other senses, and it was beautiful in culture as it was in architecture, food, art, and landscape. Of course, as her laughter waned, her mind flickered to her last memories of Spain. Her first attempt at a new life coming to an end with the murder of her lover -who consequently saved her life in giving her the needed time to arm herself and call the authorities- before she had her own throat slit just as she blew a poison dart in the man's eye. He botched the cut and died a painful death that chilled her blood to listen to, even in memory. Jane jerked her head an iota before taking a deep breath and forcing a smile in the old habit of faking it until she could make it. Alessandro made that easier with such words. Her fake smile warming into a real one that melted the ice in her veins and even touched her cheeks with a hot blush. It was strange that she sensed he was somehow flushed by his own comment but she dismissed the thought as imagined, not even considering a self-consciousness in his English. Jane was clearly beaming that he didn't think she looked like the clown she felt like in that make-up and the gown. Admittedly, it did also make her feel a little sexy, it was a very soft material that caressed her body and hugged her chest so snug it was like being in a forever-hug; warmed by her own body. A body excited by the Ballerino though he'd only barely touched her. It was his vitality and the air of passion about him. Enthusiasm and energy. It probably had a lot to do with having just preformed and still running on the remnants of the adrenaline and endorphins but... that didn't discourage her from enjoying it and his presence. "Thank you, Alessi."Of course, her escort was a seeing person and a man, he recognized the dancer's glance and offered him a cheery smile before speaking to them both and then to Jane in excusing of himself and the notion she only had to lift a finger and he'd escort her to the car. He made a point to wink at Alessandro a wave the young man closer to Jane encouragingly, being an older gent and Grandpa himself, he thought the whole exchange was just adorable. Working for the Theater for so long, this wasn't the first time he'd tried (and some succeeded) to pair dashing couples. He had Romeo and Juliet on the mind and in a twisted way, the slightly older woman's blindness made her desire to experience the Ballet almost as tragic and heart warming. As an old fuddy-duddy, he was allowed to draw wonky parallels!Jane was nervous to be left alone at first. Momentarily disoriented as if the oldman had been an achor to reality somehow and without him, the seas of shadows made her feet unsteady. It passed rather quickly with his reassurances and she faked another smile with an uncertain nod, telling herself she had nothing to be afraid of. Jane just couldn't imagine a killer or kidnapper working so hard to be Principal Dancer in the ABT. Though she had to admit to herself that such a man would make an excellent killer if he ever chose a darker path and rolled her bared shoulders back to fight the shiver running up her spine. Her attention drawn back to the dancer and compliments were returned as well as she could considering her lack of sight. She only knew what colors he was wearing because the old man had described them. As if on cue:
Surprised again, by the Ballet Dancer, Jane was warmed and distracted by Alessandro's proposition. The room reminded her they were there as some fans approached at interims to get Alessandro's attention for a moment, to get his Autograph -and to feed him! Jane took the excuse to consider his words and enjoy some of the food offered, self-consciously keeping her mouth covered every time she took a bite so it was a two handed affair that left her water on a pedestal table she conveniently stood near. Eventually nodding and responding aloud. "Thank you, I would enjoy that. I have some light sensitivity so... when the stage was awash in solid colors, I could sense that. I heard, sometimes, the pitter-patter whispering of your feet across the stage and the billow of cloth on a sharp turn or moment of acrobatics." Jane was blushing but if he was going to allow her to observe in the studio, she might as well let him know what's useful to her. Color her a little eager, but Jane was tired of the shadows and dance had so much life in it she wanted to dive right in! "The audience was my biggest indicator, as a group, they offered the most synchronistic responses that I could feel and hear. They were moved by the performance and I was moved by their admiration and enthrallment of it." Jane was a bookworm, it didn't even occur to her that he might not know some of the words she was using, she was simply relaying her enjoyment with a lolita's passion. "You made them laugh, and cry, gasp and whisper among themselves. Romeo was..." Realizing what she was about to say, the fugitive blushed deeply and lifted a hand to her lips as if to catch the words encase they slipped out anyway. He might have been faking his love on stage but he fooled the audience and their commentary about him only fueled the vast imagination of the blind woman who stood excitedly in his shadow. Shaking her head, she made it clear she could not, or would not continue. "Nine-one-nine, four-nine-three, nine-four-four-eight?" Jane repeated to verify, grateful for the distraction. Listening as the employee arrived with the passes, helping Jane get them into her hands though they weren't made for the blind. She touched them all over anyway, both sides and all the edges as if maybe mapping the dimensions so at least if she put them down she could find them again. Sometimes these things had embossing that helped. It wasn't braille but the mind is a powerful machine and Jane was once a seeing person. Jane not only took the tickets, she had full intent on using them and bringing her Besty next time. Not realizing Monroe had come tonight and had sat within view of her balcony, it would no doubt come up and be laughed at later. Jane didn't sweat the small stuff and Monroe kept surprising her with how much she cared. Jane wasn't used to people caring about her. Not in any good ways.
"Absolutely." Jane grinned in reply, closing her eyes for a moment just to enjoy that masculine but bubbly chuckle. While she was thinking to herself that this young man had no idea how badly she wanted to close the distance between them and see him with more than her hands, Jane's aura was no doubt giving him a taste of one very erotic rainbow. Jane had the self control of a Monk when there was no physical contact. She could stand here and wet her knickers to a puddle that dripped down the inside of her thigh without making a move on him. Her blood finely dosed with a mixture of her desire and the long entwined self-hatred of such weakness. One that had almost gotten her killed more than once and so she had to constantly remind herself that he was no an Assassin; always hearing that echoed question -or is he? "Would it be inappropriate of me to bring my violin?" Perhaps eager to have a reason to play, other than herself, Jane missed her time in the French Orchestra and the few solo performances she had managed before the attack. She had been Julia Miles, who became Julia Lane when she married Francois, back then and that assassination attempt had been worse than the first. Her would-be killer killing her husband and kidnapping her. Their quality time together had at least thawed his heart enough that he couldn't kill her, or take her back to Salazar. How strange that her flicker this time was to wonder both, why he helped her out of the country and into Brazil, but also, where was he now? Was the Assassin who let her go still out there somewhere, waiting to get the nerve to finish the job? It had been three years and two more attempts on her life later and she hadn't crossed paths with him again so it was something Jane doubted and dreampt feverishly about. No rest for the wicked, isn't that what they say?
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Post by Alessandro Bellarmine on May 9, 2013 20:36:13 GMT -5
Part I
Alessandro Bellarmine was in fact quite Italian, and perhaps the only Italian male dancer invited to perform with the American Ballet Theater, because of his great gift and the way he portrayed the male characters in every ballet. He was a choreographer's dream, often absorbing the emotions and the drama of his part so well, that it was custom made for him. It didn't really matter that Jane couldn't speak a lick of Italian, there were ways the ballerino could communicate that didn't require the use of language. He did so by kissing the pulse in her wrist, leaving a slight tingle where the curve of his lips had brushed up against her supple skin. He ended his greeting by giving her hand a soft squeeze, then releasing it. Judging by the way her aura appeared afterwards, the spike of her heartbeat was turning it all kinds of rainbow colors. Alessandro merely smiled, and continued on as if he hadn't seen it.
It was duly noted that Jane exuded her femininity quite well as she battled to contain the blush on her face as the kiss was pressed against her delicate wrist. He was able to catch the essence of vanilla combined with sea air quite easily, and it was added to his memory bank along with the sights and sounds around him. How did he manage at such a hectic pace for such a young man? Even he had to be grounded in something to keep from losing his mind completely. Close friendships and the like gave Alessandro the opportunity to be at home even if he was not. He did not open himself up completely for his own protection though, because of his psychic gifts. Otherwise too many impressions of people and visions would permeate his mind all at one time. Therefore, Jane's secrets were her own about whom she had killed and so on. He was somewhat statue-like as he stood there by the canapes, talking with her over their drinks. "Tell me, what part of Romeo and Juliet affected your emotions the most. I imagine that having no sight, makes your other senses stronger. I would like to hear it from your .."His hands were moving before him, as he tried to remember the correct word. "Ah! Perspective?"
They'd already gotten the preliminaries out of the way, as far as introductions. He was delighted that Jane used his nickname, not Signore, which was too formal for the 19 year old, or Alessandro...because the latter was what his Mamma called him especially when she was upset with him. "Miami, Florida? Tell me, is that where Mickey Mouse lives? No..Hm." Alessandro seemed to be thinking rather hard because he wasn't as familiar with all the 50 American states, except those he was living in or had visited before. "I know! Miami, is where Crockett and Tubbs....hmm..what television show was it? Oh! Miami Vice! I watch old television show in Italy. I always wished to see America, and meet American people--it was a dream of mine. Now I live here part of year, and go home the other part." Alessandro's peridot gaze glimmered as he spoke with Jane. "I have been to Madrid, for vacation. Believe it or not, Spain has no national ballet." He seemed somewhat disappointed to have to relay that information to Jane. It was force of habit that he touched her arm, in order to clue her in that someone else had stopped by to say hello. "Jh-yana, please to meet my prima ballerina, Irina Dhorovenko, she is to your left. You can almost touch the tulle on her gown!" he laughed, because the woman had gotten so close.
Irina, having heard that it was Jane's first time at the ballet, was curious to know if she had enjoyed herself. What she didn't realize right away was that Mrs. Doe was blind. Because Alessandro was talking to Jane without a change of tack, she was operating under the assumption that Jane had saw the emotions and all the scenery on stage. "Ah, Irina. She cannot see. But she does see with her hands, her ears and her nose, si?" All the more important that she was able to use those gifts of hers to see him and Irina. "If you give me your hand, Jh-yana. I can help you see me. Then we see Irina?" When he had her permission to do so, he took Jane's hand and placed it on his head first, that way Jane could feel around the way she had trained herself to do, in order to get a better picture of what she couldn't see. "Jane. Were you born blind, or did you lose your sight some how?" asked Irina, who observed how Jane could use touch to see objects first hand. Alessandro was going to ask the same question, out of curiosity. He'd never had the opportunity to meet anyone like her before.
"My hair is a mess! But it is black like coal, and I probably need to get the glitter out of it." There was a chorus of laughter from both himself and Irina. "My eyes are like ...ah...what color do they look like Irina?" he asked his costar. "Well, they look like green and gold mixed together." she said simply. His cheeks were high, nose proportionate to his face, but it would be landmarks to Jane most probably. Underneath all of Jane's blushing, her tremulous hands shook slightly from earlier when he'd complimented her in that gorgeous Mediterranean blue gown. Alessandro had grown up on the streets of fashionable Milan, where designers and the runway were commonplace, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out who designed Jane's gown. Irregardless, it was quite fetching. Alessandro continued to smile, as he would allow his new friend a chance to see how he really looked. "Alessandro is a giant teddy bear," said Irina with a very distinct Russian accent. "He looks like one. Especially the legs," she laughed. Alessandro couldn't believe she would say that about him. "Women!" he said aloud, waggling a finger at a smirking ballerina.
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Post by Alessandro Bellarmine on May 11, 2013 14:52:43 GMT -5
Part 2
"I have invite Jh-yana, to come to see us practice at the studio sometime this week, Irina. Don't tell lies! I not look like a bear." he was finding himself laughing, then Irina burst out into laughter as well. If anything could be discerned by Jane, it was obvious that laughter was a key in getting through a ballet dancer's long days, and there was an excellent rapport between Alessi and Irina. "I see that you have tickets to the next performance as well, Jane. I also hope you enjoy it as much as you enjoyed tonight!" she said with a smile in her voice. Alessandro still had his costume on, as did the prima ballerina, which would give Jane some definite clues as to what they looked like. If she had the need of extra information, like colors, the pair would tell her what other elements were present.
"Irina also has her hair up in a bun. Too bad it so tight it cut off circulation to the brain!" There was a husky sounding laugh from Alessandro, and then the sound of Irina's slender hand as she swatted him in the arm. "Ow!" He leaned over to whisper something in Jane's ear. "You'd think I tell her she gained 20 kilo looking at the food table!" Irina was giving her partner the stink eye, when a reporter approached her just as she was about to say something in response to Alessandro's ribbing. Soon the pair were once again alone. Jane had mentioned something about the audience and in retrospect, Alessandro offered her his idea on the topic. After taking a sip of his water, and a few nibbled bites of the morsels the waiters were passing around on the trays, he said: "The audience? I try to focus on their faces when I dance, but I fail miserably. I just pick up their emotions and use them to fuel myself in order to bring the story to life."
As the hour was growing late, and Alessandro wanted to change out of his costume, he'd supplied Jane with the number where he could be reached, in a rather unhurried way. He smiled and told her, "I would be honored to hear you play your violin, Jh-yana. I never learned to play an instrument in school, since my focus was elsewhere. But if I had to do it all over again, I would have learned to play the viola, and I'd be a Olympic swimmer." he said, a boyish grin on his handsome mug. That dream would have died the moment Nureyev saw him dance as a teen, and placed him upon his lofty perch in the ballet world. "I look forward to seeing you at the studio this week, Jh-yana! It was good for me to meet you, and get to know. I need to get my shower and change clothes. Too many people here, only want one thing." he said with a soft sigh. Even with all the fame and fortune in the world, one had to put on airs to be popular, and Alessandro was more of the down-to-earth kind of person. Passionate yet uninhibited, vital as well as unpredictable. As unpredicatable as ignoring the pleas of a half-dozen reporters, in order to have a real conversation with a real person like Jane Doe.
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