Norah Nilssen
What, exactly, are you practicing for?
Tue Mar 5, 2019 00:33

Norah stared down at her breakfast as she twirled her spoon idly in it. The oatmeal with cinnamon apples was as appetizing as ever (a much better alternative to the pancakes that Brynjolf had shoved down before trotting off to wherever). The problem wasn’t the food at all, it was her brain. Blue eyes did their best to stay open even as her mind wandered. She was tired and her whole body hurt like she’d slept on a rock. Maybe it was just that she was adjusting to her bed at Rocky Mountain again.

Yes, that had to be it. The second-year was positive she’d dealt with the same things the previous year and decided she wasn’t going to worry about it anymore. She spooned up another mouthful of oatmeal, washing it down with the rest of her milk before grabbing her bag and slipping from the Diner. Halfway down the hall, Norah found herself rubbing at her eyes sleepily. She wanted to take a nap, but naps were for babies and kids with colds. She wasn’t either of those, so she wasn’t about to take one.

She got close to the Theatre and hand over her mouth when a banging noise jolted her mid-yawn. The blonde glanced curiously towards the place she liked to frequent, taking a few cautious steps and peeking her head in the doors. A girl, one she didn’t recognize so could only be assumed to be a first year (like c’mon their school was like super small), was in one of the practice rooms with the door still open.

A small amused look made its way into her face as she fully entered the room. Normally, she came to play and practice the violin, but she hadn’t done that since the start of her first year. She was probably very very rusty. She walked softly over to the girl and caught sight of what she was violently banging around.

“What did those ballet shoes ever do to you?” She asked lightly, speaking loud enough that the other girl could hear. Mama had made her do ballet at one point (which she loathed because tutus were itchy and she hated then) until she’d complained enough to stop. She had probably watched Mama do the same thing to her slippers at one point although certainly not as violently. “Are you just breaking them in, or have they wronged you somehow?”

  • Practice time...Maybe... - Deagret Wyckland, Mon Mar 4 21:47
    Deagret sighed loudly as she dropped her bag in the practice room of the theater, raising her arms high above her head as she stretched, enjoying the slight burn of her muscles and joints. It'd been... more
    • What, exactly, are you practicing for? - Norah Nilssen, Tue Mar 5 00:33
      • I really don't know... - Deagret, Thu Mar 7 23:16
        Ah, there truly wasn't any better therapy than this, was there? Deagret thought. She pounded the pink pointe shoes into the oak flooring, one-two one-two one-two, one in each hand. Sometimes, she had ... more
        • Well I guess that makes two of us! - Norah, Tue Mar 12 18:17
          Norah blinked once or twice as the girl continued banging her shoes violently against the floor. The other girl shot up though, causing the Lyra to take a step or two back and raise her hands... more
          • (sorry for the late reply!) - Deagret, Sun Mar 31 16:09
            Shrugging, Deagret set her shoes down before slipping them on to try them out. She shifted her feet into her various positions before lifting herself up on her toes and trying to feel out whether or... more
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