The Pointe of Love || Elriel & Nessian

Chapter 1 - Was Anyone Professional Anymore?

"That's her." The hushed whisper echoed toward Nesta's ears as she sauntered past the group of gossiping dancers, her face resolute, ignoring them and taking her place at the barre.

Stretching back, her arm arched over her head, she began her routine, moving through first, second, third, and fourth position in quick succession, the whispers still traveling toward her ears as the onlooking dancers fussed with their pointe shoes on the shiny studio floor, their eyes completely glued to the lithe prima ballerina stretching at the barre.

"They say she's the only one who can complete the entire routine from Les Miserables. Mr. Knightly had to beg for her to join the company." The gossip cascaded over Nesta who stifled a smirk, moving now to reach her face to her shins, stretching her hamstrings.

"Well, we'll see how good she is..."

And with those words carrying across the studio, Nesta flashed her eyes up, looking in the mirror, gazing directly at the group of young dancers, a dark smirk playing on her lips. Embarrassed shock roiled over the group of newly recruited dancers as they scrambled up from the studio floor, trying to look busy with their pointe shoes and duffle bags, dispersing in a single breath.

"Terrorizing the chorus girls dear sister?"

Nesta dragged her eyes away from the mirror and the fleeing dancers to smile at Elain, who had materialized next to her on the barre, tugging her long curly hair into a messy bun.

"They started it. Bunch of gossips." Nesta huffed, rolling her shoulders back and glancing disapprovingly at the group.

But Elain only tutted at her sister, rolling her eyes with a smile. "Oh, you love it. They can't stop talking about how good you are."

Grabbing the barre and entering back into the fourth position, Nesta pointed her feet into arches, moving into a relevé, stretching her toes as she stifled another smirk.

"It doesn't hurt to reinforce hierarchy ever so often. They're new this season and need to be reminded how things work." She huffed at Elain, who chuckled in response, taking up the movements herself, pointing her toes, and moving her arm in graceful circles, her fingers lithe and long.

Elain may have the beauty and build for ballet, but it was Nesta who had the passion and drive.

Ever since they were little, their mother dropping them into the harsh world of competitive ballet, it was always Elain who caught the teacher's eye, their hopes grand, believing her to be an uncut gem, ready for the shining. But Elain was never interested in highly competitive dance, floating through the competition world behind her ambitious sister, always getting passed along due to her raw talent and beauty, never enough of a star for a lead role, but a magnificent background dancer. Although she did not have the raw talent her sister possessed, Nesta had quickly made up the difference through icy focus, her shrewd, cutting personality carving her place out in the competitive dance world until she had professional companies begging for her to join.

And now that they were here, career ballerinas in a real company, Elain still floated by, now happy to fill a permanent choral position, peacefully enjoying ballet in a way Nesta would never understand.

Because to Nesta, ballet was everything good and everything wicked. It was her cross to bear in the same way it was her trophy to hold above her head. It was always there, pushing and pulling and tugging at her psyche, her body: her world.

She smiled to herself, going through more positions, her foot arching up and down, lifting her light body upward, her arm balanced to her side as she focused on the movements, her fingers placed as they always were: perfectly.