Hunted

Act 8; Threat

The theatre was in chaos.

Well, who could blame them?

Almost every dancer had a panic attack, all but the prima ballerinas Amelia and Caesarea, who maintained a level-head, despite the fact that they were closest in proximity to where the lights landed.

Well, Amelia seemed level-headed. In truth, she was just good at hiding her emotions with a poker face and sarcastic remarks. Inside, she was trembling in fear. It showed whenever she picked anything up. Her fingers would start shaking, spreading to the rest of her hand until she couldn't hold anything for too long anymore. So she didn't hold anything. She just sat in her dressing room, trying to remember what had just happened.

She was waving to the crowd when one of the audience caught her attention up in one of the balcony seats. She had been searching non-stop for Antonietta since the lights went back on, but she couldn't find her.

Instead, her eyes fell on a seat composed of students she recognized all too well.

Dulcet's Dalliance Academia was a longtime rival of Diamond's High, and it was ruled by four distinct students set to inherit it, known as the Heirs. To see said four on the same row of seats, applauding her like the rest of the audience, as though they adored her as much as the rest of the theatre... Well, it was more than an honor.

She was wondering if they knew which school she attended, and if they didn't, wondered if they'd change their outlook on her if they did, when the warning came louder than the cheers of the crowd, and she stepped back out of instinct.

She was lucky. She couldn't have been anything else to have avoided such an accident. Had she been standing on the spot, directly where the lights landed, she might not have been able to dance anymore.

And dancing was her life, as strenuous and exhausting as it was. And to never be able to dance ever again...

She couldn't think about anything else but dying. Or a life never to be lived again.

"Walters?"

She jerked her head up at the sound of the knock. "Come in." She allowed, straightening her posture and trying to look busy by grabbing the first book on the table next to her.

Caesarea walked in, and unlike her who still wore a robe with only underwear underneath, her hair in disarray on her head, the pro had changed into more casual garments. A beige sweater that looked warm on her light skin. A pair of jeans that showed off her defined legs. Her hair still curled, but no longer suspended by her neck, instead they flowed freely over her shoulders, behind her back. "I wanted to talk to you." She said, closing the door. Gone were the thick make-up, replaced by a lighter cover.

"Yeah? About what?" She was trying not to look at her, afraid she might show vulnerability. But if she wanted that then she should probably lighten her grip on the book cover. They were a big giveaway.

Caesarea gave one look at the book she was reading and cocked a brow. "So you're an amazing dancer, super lucky, and you can read upside-down? Wow. You sure are all-in-one."

Amelia froze, then started seeing what was in front of her. Caesarea was right. She was holding the book wrong way up. She fixed it, realized she picked up a sociology magazine she really wasn't interested in, and placed it back on the table. She still didn't look at her co-dancer.

"All right. All right. You don't want to talk about what happened, that's fine by me." Caesarea looked away examining the bouquets sent to Amelia for good luck. "I just came by to see if you were all right." Obviously she wasn't, but having a gist of what Amelia was, Caesarea guessed the teen would deny the truth.