Dance of the Lunars

The Dance of The Moon

(Back to 7:04 one last time)

Thorne was thrilled that they were playing a song from one of his favorite bands. Hollywood Undead wrote some messed up lyrics, but the songs were fun to dance to.

A group of people were standing in a circle around someone who was already getting down to the beat. She was a small chick, but she was faster than lightning. He wanted to throw his own moves in the ring. He was just about to when another dude hopped in before him. I'll just wait 'till the next song, he assessed.

He didn't need to be patient for longer than a few seconds. Another guy ran into the circle, but not to dance. He slammed into the guy who was dancing and he was forced out of the group. He thought the universe was saying, "There. I handled it for you. Now go." He immediately slipped into the clearing and tried to mimic the girl's moves. He was a good dancer, but she out ranked him in the speed factor of the art. She made several attempts to show him up with her creative style, but he returned her serves with his own moves.

She was wearing a dark dress that concealed most of her figure. He wasn't used to that. All of the girls he'd dated wore small dresses that exposed their legs and arms. This girl was completely covered from the top of her neck to her feet. Her short hair was whipping around, trying to keep up with her girl who seemed to never stop moving.

The song that was playing was 'Dead Bite'. It was about murder, but the tempo gave him a spark in his soul. It appeared that the girl dancing like this band also.

Out of nowhere, she gestured for the the crowd to move back. They cooperated, and she broke into a sprint, followed by a complex, back hand spring. It was impressive how she managed the feat in a small amount of space, and that she accomplished it at all.

The song ceased and the girl looked up to face him. Her face was only a tad flushed and she was breathing fine. The speakers sprang back to life with a new tune. He knew the title instantly. 'Another Way Out'. Another one of Hollywood Undead's freak creations. Her feet tapped to the beat for moment, then she started her improvised dance routine. He joined her and they looked as if they'd rehearsed that dance a thousand times before tonight.

She spun around many times, letting her hands fly out like blades of death. Once, twice, three times he tried to catch her hand. On the third time, he gripped her wrist and yanked her out of her twirl. She whirled into his chest and her face went colorless. But an odd smirk surfaced and she slipped out of the hold just as quickly. He did not let go of her, which gave her a limited range of motion. She still found a way to dance even as he held her hand with a death grip.

The song was ending, and he wasn't at all satisfied. He liked this girl, but not in the same way he liked other chicks. He respected her, and her dance moves. He wanted to get to know her, which was a first for him. She seemed like a challenge, a prize that he desired to win. No, not desired. He needed to win her over. Desperately trying to bring her closer, he pulled on her arm again. She hurtled toward him a second time. Ready to embrace her, he loosened his grip on her wrist. That was a mistake. She was prepare and ducked under his arms to avoid capture. He turned to look at her. She's clever, he noted. I'll give her that.

She danced around the perimeter of the clearing. Elegantly swaying to the songs calls. He lunged for her, but she was watching his every move. She shifted out of his reach. She was fast, so freaking fast. He tried again, with similar results. She wasn't upset or scared. It seemed more like she was grinning at his repeating failures. He some how began to run a plan in his skull. If I slide past her with my arm extended, I might be able to hook her in.