Just a one off with Seth and Emily. I suppose, technically, any scene with Seth is a spoiler, so if you HATE spoilers and ever intend on reading Asylum when it’s finished and I start posting it, then don’t read this. However, that’s so far away, and this is so unconnected to anything else, that I don’t honestly see it being a problem. So, you’ve been warned, spoiler, I guess. 😛
Seth stripped off his shirt and tossed it onto the couch, turning to head into the kitchen.
“It’s not hard, but it is very different from modern Western dance.”
He pulled out a bottle of white wine, inclining the bottle towards Emily, who’d declined. He nodded and poured himself a glass, took a sip and strolled back into the great room.
“Do you have a particular song in mind, or where you just wanting to practice the style?”
“Mostly just curious about the style, but there is one song I think would be lovely in the serpent style.”
At his nod, Em went to the cd player to find and cue the song. Seth took another sip of wine, and rolled his shoulders to help warm up his spine. He flopped into an elegant cross-legged pose, being deliberately loose in his movements, though being careful with his glass. He wanted to feel fluid, not wear any of it.
While he loosened up, Emily let the song play through, doing some limbering of her own. It was heavy base, a haunting female vocal almost seeming to be the background to the pounding beat. It was slow and sultry, and would indeed work well with some of the more seemingly boneless serpent style dancing. Seth rolled his spine as he listened, finishing his wine and letting his ribs slide back and forth to loosen everything up. When the song had finished, he sat back, letting the feelings settle within him.
“Not to put you on the spot at all, but do you feel anything in particular when you listen? Any places where the music grabs you and suggests things?”
Emily nodded, queuing it back up. “This part here- it seems to demand one of those slow, sinking ripples I’ve seen you and Nica do.” She imitated it as best she could, but it was clear to him her muscles didn’t quite understand what she was asking of them.
“Perfect, that gives us a wonderful place to start.” He unfolded and rose to his feet, feeling slinky and lithe.
“The trick to making it flow is actually to forget that every move is connected – focus on one piece at a time, until you can call on exactly that muscle in any way you care to move it, and when you can do that, you chain them all back together. Let’s start with our hands and we’ll take it into the torso as we go, ok?”
He crossed the room and began to drill hand floreos with her, talking her through each fingertip, the palm and the wrists, up the arm to the elbow, the particular roll of her shoulders, until the bones seemed to melt away from the movements and her arm became like water. They worked this way through much of the afternoon, taking the motion through the spine, working on just one foot, rolling from a seated position, lying down, and just about anything else they could think of. By the time they were finished, they’d gathered a small audience, though everyone was watching unobtrusively from the kitchen.
“I hope one of you has started something to eat between all your staring – this isn’t as easy as it looks, is it Emily?”
He turned and gave her a warm smile, holding his hand out to her. “You did very well today, areta (NOTE: is that “dancer”? I thought that was “magic weaver”? We’ll see). I look forward to seeing your dance when you’ve finished it.”