ballet shoes

.ii a la seconde

. i i
a l a s e c o n d e

everything around carter was ballet-ish.

and he thanked the heavens clayton (his self-proclaimed partner-in-crime, though he was too much of a coward to even swat a fly) wasn't here. if he was, carter would bet his poor soul would be murdered in no time by his teasings that would surely be along the lines of dude-you-are-so-whipped.

only then when he noticed a group of ballerinas passed by him – giggling all the while. he was completely oblivious to the fact that his messy brown hair and, not to mention, his startlingly gray eyes were being feasted on a group of girls who seemed obssessed with the sight of a mere twenty-year old boy.

he continued walking. the school didn't really look like a school, just like what morgana used to describe to him back then. in fact, it was more like a vintage castle pulled from the victorian era, only with pink and white tutus scattered around. there was an enormous chandelier hanging above. for a fleeting moment, a flash of carter's life back when he was still with his family entered his mind.

there were two grand staircases — each one leading to different pathways. he took the left.

despite his reluctance, carter briskly walked the long corridors. grandiose portraits of what looked like prima ballerinas lined the walls but he could barely spare a glance as his heartbeat grew louder and louder in his ears. there was even a picture of one particular ballerina smiling beside the queen victoria of england, but carter only passed by, failing to acknowledge its presence.

the corridors were silent but carter could hear the faint music of piano and violin being struck together. he continued his endless quest – finding something he didn't even know what was.

suddenly, a cold air ran past him as the music grew louder on his left. he stopped – frozen and curious of what was behind the giant golden door.

it was ajar. and carter took that as a chance to take a peek. running his eyes over the entirety of the room, he realized it was a mini-theatre, with dim lights showering the stage in front.

and there, morgana isaac stood proud on her toes, doing a move carter was sure she spent weeks practicing on. she was alone, like a snowflake being abandoned by the wind – but nevertheless still landed on the ground gracefully.

carter's heart began to pump in and out of his body. his hands suddenly became shaky, and he raked them through his brown hair to stop the wobble. the music morgana was dancing to resonated through his veins.

coward. carter thought to himself.