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@aniseinthetemple
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ☾ — ｍｕｓｅｓ
anise kim — blog, about, timeline, powers niamh murphy - blog, about, timeline, powers teddy liu - blog, about, timeline, powers maja lim — blog, about, timeline, powers junji okada — blog, about, timeline, powers danika vasile - blog, about, timeline, powers
Crochet Eye Sweater by CarolineMoorenc
heaven is here if you want it. FLORENCE + THE MACHINE
𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦
yyinger:
The minute Hyojin asked where Anise was from, Nuying’s mouth clamped on her lip, teeth edging the soft pudgy thing with regret and a bit of embarrassment. Conversation was supposed to be that the give and take, the talk and listen. Listening Nuying could do, that she could do well, she archived the things she heard like save files and starred them by difficulty. But she was failing at the other part.
For years she talked too much, said the wrong things, her opinions had made her odd and not worthy of friends. She didn’t want that existence; it hurt. No matter how she felt, maybe they had all been right, that maybe she did belong in orbit or on some other planet. A tiny, microscopic part of her said that there had to be someone, or some someones that could understand her, that didn’t find her some lost space being.
Until she found them, she continued to fail at conversations, mostly. Instead of being strange, she was just rude, non-engaging, a c and not a f, barely passing.
Her hands made it to her lap, nails pinching the skin between index and thumb. But she still listened. Listened and wondered about the questions too. Would she stay in Korea for the rest of her life, start a family? Her kind of person? Their body?
Somehow peach sweats and a beefy friend floated in her mind. The feel of the lower abdomen and the warmth of two aside her. The solemn definite sulk that existed on her face, eased. Cheeks puffed, lips pushed out, a teeny smirk crept onto the corner of her mouth. A dumpy, she remembered, he said he had a dumpy.
Teddy was probably a lot of people’s type, with that dumpy and all that beef. He made for good cuddles, he and Songwoo. It was warm and soft, but firm. The smirk had grown, evolved to an actual smile.
She nodded at Taejin, smile growing. “Yea big and beefy”, she said before realizing her hands hand relaxed and were in view, making a squishing motion.
“I can see why that would be good. Does feel nice…”, her voice trailed off, eyes widened, and she looked around their group before letting out a squeak of a chuckle, hands lowering to her lap. She had stared at the cute belly long enough. She totally got it. Cute bellies and bodies, cute smiles and lots of beef. “It’s probably good to know what you like huh?” she asked with real thought going in it. “Do you have to try all the flavours to know?” She asked then immediately answered herself. “No, I knew I liked strawberry before I had pistachios”, she added. “But I guess you should know”, she pondered more. “Can’t be bad to know. It’s like making a list to go shopping, it’s productive. Anise, do you like the ballerina build or more beef?” she wondered with a tilt of her head if the beef made them bad dancers. Somehow, she didn’t see Teddy at the barre, going through the positions, but she might like to.
Taejin laughed with delight. “See, she gets it.”
Hyojin, who had once mentioned that her husband worked a physical labor job and must be pretty beefy himself, nodded in agreement. “I know most people like to say that they knew their husbands were The One at first sight,” she said, looking off into the distance as if recalling the memory. “But that wasn’t how it was like for me and my husband. It took me a bit of time. So I guess you could say I had to shop around first.”
Anise mulled over Nuying’s question. “I guess it depends,” she said at last, “If we’re talking about men or women.”
Jinhee was silently sipping his tea, listening to the ladies. He was beanpole thin, and if Anise had to guess, was probably chastised for it for most of his life. He had admitted to her in private that he’d taken her course to put on some lean muscle. The beauty conventions for Korean men and German men were different, but in Anise’s time in Seoul, she’d witnessed a trend of Korean men attempting to look like Marvel superheroes. V-shaped torsos and chiseled abs. It was a stark contrast from what had been the previous standard, waifish Flower Boys. But like most aesthetic conventions, it was equally toxic and nearly impossible to achieve unless you happened to win the genetic jackpot.
“I’ve been attracted to all types of bodies in the past,” Anise went on. “I know it’s probably not the answer you’re looking for, but I don’t think I have a type. At least not physically. I guess I prefer someone who is active, given that’s such a big part of my own life, but I think that has more to do with the sort of activities I enjoy rather than what I like to look at. Though I suppose those two things aren’t mutually exclusive.”
Anise had a habit of turning what was otherwise a basic question into an abstract discussion. In line with the conversation they were having, she supposed that was another aspect she looked for in a partner: someone she could talk to. Really talk to.
“Is it 50-50?” Hyojin wanted to know. “Your attraction to men. And women.” While Hyojin wasn’t old by any stretch (she had recently turned 37), Korea was a stunted nation when it came to topics like gay marriage. While Anise’s European sentiments would never think to extend the ‘they’re old; they just don’t understand’ rule towards someone like Hyojin, she knew that Hyojin had grown up in a socially conservative country. Anise would tread carefully, but she would not hide who she was. For all of Madame Hera’s faults, even she (who herself was an out and proud lesbian), would never bend the knee to any government’s limiting policies and beliefs.
“It’s not mathematical for me,” Anise said, “It’s more metaphysical. I’ve always liked who I liked, regardless of gender. Attraction has never been a science to me.” It’s magic, Anise wanted to say. While Madame Hera encouraged her dancers to be open with their sexualities, their statuses as witches were to be kept under wraps.
“That’s nice,” Jinhee spoke for the first time in a while. “Was it...” he paused, as if trying to decide whether he wanted to go on. “Was it easier to be gay in Germany? Was it easier to date women, I mean.”
“I don’t really know,” said Anise. “I left when I was eleven. But I’ve been back multiple times. I have a lot of friends who live in Berlin, and most of them are gay. They seem pretty happy.”
Jinhee nodded with a degree of seriousness that suggested to Anise that his question wasn’t simply polite conversation. She smiled softly.
“I made out with a girl once,” Taejin blurted, “At a club.”
There was a brief silence. “That’s nice,” said Anise, and everyone erupted into laughter.
yyinger:
Cute kids in smaller, cuter outfits. Nuying grinned at the sight of Hyojin’s kids. Grinned and told her she made little angels; cause kids were innocent Kids and all that. A small voice said she should have had two by then. It was her mother’s; the disappointment was rattling. Her eyes opened wide as if she was there. A sip of her tea and warrior’s strength shoved the voice down. She wasn’t as easy to surrender to a woman so far away.
Within her smiles and drinking, tasting of the snacks, she let the present alone matter. Cute mini ballerinas, cute mom and daughter ballerinas. She had to enjoy this moment. It was world building. Her world, building her world where she can be just as much her as she could be.
Since Halloween she had felt that she needed to build her own world, reach out and live more, without any of the questions about the happiness it would give her. She had been in Korea too long without it. She had been living like an alien who’s communications device was broken, alone, locked in her room, scared of doing and saying the wrong thing. Yet for that night she became a sailor scout, covered in glitter under a purple moon, drunk and happy with friends, there for another’s sadness, a hero in pink. She could see her own world coming to view under the glitter and pink.
All away from Xiamen.
Her cheeks filled with air, heading tilting as her hometown came into mind, like a test on her resolve to live free. “Xiamen, China”, she answered with a nod. “It’s one thousand six hundred and eighty one kilometers from here”, she added with a little giggle. She did know the exact distance. “It has a nice beach, smaller than Seoul but not too small. It’s pretty”, she said thinking of the lighter things, avoiding bad memories like goombas on the track. “I think my family has always lived there”, she said looking down at the table then up, passing over the faces before her. “Well no, I have some aunts who live in the north but I think we all like the pace in Xiamen, except me maybe since I am here now”, she said then laughed. “I came here for work,” she offered, fingers passing the rim of the mug. “I’ve always wanted to be veterinarian in a medium sized city. Coming here fulfilled that dream.”
She smiled. “And soon I shall be a great ballerina, added bonus”, she smiled more, lifting her mug like a prize before setting it down, Taejin laughing with her. “I realize how happy this class has made me. I’m really glad I did it. And I’m glad we had you for a teacher, Anise. You’ve been amazing.”
“I’m glad you’re getting something out of it,” said Anise, with a small nod. “Really. It makes all of this so worth it for me.”
Praise had always settled strangely over Anise. It was not that she didn’t believe the truth of it nor did she hate being told she’d done a good job (did anybody, really?). Rather, it never seemed to fully encompass what she aimed to do here. Her divine undertaking.
Being a professional dancer had always warranted some level of performance, but Anise would give up performing altogether if it meant she could continue sharing the gift of dance for the next century - not that she intended to live that long. Dance had always been a utilitarian art to Anise. It was as serviceable as kitchen utensils, as necessary as breathing. She enjoyed being the vehicle for such practical magic but didn’t necessarily believe that her individual person was wholly necessary in its execution. This was not a case of negativity - in fact, it was quite the opposite. To Anise, there was nothing more wonderful than knowing that she was but one hunk of stardust in a larger cosmic fabric. There was peace in knowing that her work, her mission, would continue long after she was gone.
How to communicate all of that? She had yet to find the right words. Though she had spent evening after evening discussing it with Ludwig, who had expressed that certain things were beyond language. They simply exist. Indescribable, unutterable. Magic was a lot like that.
“Where are you originally from?” Hyojin asked her. “I hope you don’t take offense to this, but you don’t strike me as a native Korean woman.”
Anise couldn’t help but laugh. “No offense taken. I’m from Kiel, Germany, originally. My father is German and my mother is Korean.”
“So what brought you to Korea?” Taejin wanted to know.
“Dance,” said Anise. It wasn’t a lie but it wasn’t the whole truth either. Thoughts of her mother’s snow-covered village infused her mind with incense and winter-time divination. “I was invited to dance with the Delphi company. I could hardly refuse.”
“Do you think you’ll stay in Korea permanently?” Taejin went on, folding her hands beneath her pointed chin. “Like, settle down and start a family here?”
“I’m not sure,” Anise said. “Perhaps. I’m not married or anything so that’s not exactly something I’ve given much thought to. I think I’d like to start a family, but only when the timing is right. And with the right person, of course.”
“What does the right person look like for you?” Jinhee asked while he refreshed his tea.
“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve ever thought about it.”
“What?” Taejin balked. “Really? I think about my dream man all the time. He’d have a body like Cho Guesung and hair like Rocky from Astro.”
Hyojin laughed deeply. “No thought given to personality?”
“Well, I’d want him to be nice, of course,” said Taejin. “But strong and stoic. A real man, you know?” She nudged Jinhee with her elbow, causing his eyes to widen in mild shock. “You got any cute friends you could introduce me to?”
“Well, none that look like how you’ve described...”
“Come on,” Taejin went on, throwing a disbelieving glance at all around the table. “I can’t be the only one who thinks about this kind of stuff. Right? Xie? Please back me up here.”
anises
BEFORE SUNSET (2004) dir. Richard Linklater
yyinger:
Like Clay. Nuying had clung to Anise’s words that cold day, as a reminder when her muscles yelled, when she questioned why she was even doing it, and when it took more effort to make it feel right, fit right, to even be right in the instructor’s knowing eyes. She was clay, and she could do it. She was a little almost ballerina.
The following classes did try that resolve, threatened to transfigure her from clay to mush. Many classes Nuying went home to lay on the floor and stare at the ceiling. She took baths with special recommended addons shared by members in their class and the wide web, ebsom salt, lavender, aloe. It was hard, she told Niamh that. She texted her that her arms and legs were gonna turn to soup fall off with six crying cat stickers before she went to bed. When she woke up and practiced the combination again, it felt better, she followed up with superhero stickers and returned strength. Clay.
It had been like that. Moments where she felt for sure she couldn’t do it and then she did, all while they’re instructor watched and smiled, proud of her little baby almost ballerinas. They had bonded, like a heroine group preparing for nationals against all odds. Lots of sweat and up-tempo music, ponytails and stretches. It was almost the best part of the show. She told herself that and smiled, reminding herself they would get through it.
Nuying looked over the gathered women before thinking of her feet, and glancing down for a quick second. Blisters. The idea stretched her lips into a mix of concern and terror mixed with a duck. It was hard enough working, being on call, while sore from dancing. Its why the soaks were important, she nodded to herself. “I like the idea of cute feet but”, she said wiggling her toes in her seated position, “These are now warrior’s feet now, I guess”, she said making Jinhee nod with a smile.
Nuying lowered her head in thanks to the serving of the tea then scanned the tea pot, sensible but beautiful, probably structured for a proper pour, not a fictional mythical creature. “Manju”, she said as the Hyojin reached for one. She set one before Nuying and she smiled a big happy smile. Food made the very thought of the aches vanish.
“You know, even as hard as that class was. It was fun”, she grinned. “I may take the other session as well. What about you?” she asked the others, then reached for the teapot, pouring the yummy smelling tea first into Anise’s cup for. “Do you teach it as well, Anise?” she asked before pouring for the other girls.
Taejin was shaking her head asking if she liked punishment. Nuying pushed out her lips and laughed.
Maybe.
“I teach Intermediate ballet on Monday evenings,” Anise said, “I think by the end of these six weeks, you should all be ready to advance to the next level no problem.”
She wrapped her hands around her tea-warmed mug, bringing it to her lips and taking a slow sip. The green tea was clean and earthy. She rolled it over her tongue before swallowing.
“I want to bring my toddler in,” Hyojin said. “Get her started in some ballet classes. She’s such a bundle of energy. I’m thinking a little exercise might help calm her down.”
“That’s so cute,” cooed Taejin, “Mother-daughter ballerinas!”
“How old is she?” Jinhee asked in his quiet voice.
Hyojin was quick to pull up photographs on her phone. She showed them to the table and a chorus of awws and oooohs ensued. “She turned four last month.”
The conversation carried on about family and where everyone was from. As Anise looked at the faces of her students, she was reminded of the separation that her position necessitated. There was no blatant rule at the academy that she could not fraternize with adult students (hence the reason they were able to go to the teahouse together), but Anise had always maintained a certain professional distance. She loathed the idea that she’d be accused of favoritism, although every teacher had favorites; it was inevitable. The best teachers were able to keep it from coloring their class interactions.
Anise was keenly aware of the power she held by virtue of her being the teacher and they the students. She wanted them to think her friendly; she wanted to spend time together like this outside of the studio, but there would always be a space between them. A gap she would not breach so long as they remained under her tutelage. Typically this was something she performed as effortlessly as breathing, but today it was at the forefront of her mind. A sad sort of loneliness bubbled in the pit of her belly.
She had never considered herself to be lonely. She had plenty of friends and was always busy, but her schedule was occupied almost exclusively by the academy. Her friends were her fellow dancers or her coven sisters (most of which overlapped.) Her life that existed outside of the academy was thin as broth, consisting of short evenings after work or rehearsal when she’d cook herself a humble dinner and get a little knitting in before bed.
“How about you, Xie?” Taejin asked Nuying, “Where is your family from?”
yyinger:
“Clay”, she repeated then dangled her arms. She always thought she was flesh and blood, bones and ligaments, but maybe she was also clay. Her brain was definitely clay. She had seen it accomplish much through her trying her hardest. “Yea”, she nodded, “I believe that”, she added, tossing the bag with her shoes into her canvas then pulling on the wool coat. She nodded, thinking further on what the body could do, what her body would learn to do.
Spins and poses and what she imagined made the ballerinas even more fairylike, she would learn that next. She planned on going home and looking at herself and repeating the poses. The strangeness would fade the more she saw it. She was clay, so none of it could really be that strange. She was being molded.
She looked up at the road then pulled her phone from the pocket of her coat. “I need to pick up some ingredients for dinner. I planned on making a dumpling soup. It’s nice on a cold day. I’m heading the other way”, she said then gave Anise a bow before wishing her a good evening. She waved then headed down the street, pulling her coat closed.
Anise watched Nuying disappear down the street, turning to go when she was no more than a speck of color against the glow of the street lamps. Ludwig swooped lower.
One of your students? The corvid inquired.
Yes, said Anise.
🔮🪄🕯🌿
Each of Anise's seven students returned for the following class that Friday. And then again on the twelfth and sixteenth. She was impressed - usually by the second week, she'd lose at least one pupil who realized ballet wasn't for them, or something would come up and students would start missing classes intermittently. But, for the first two weeks at least, they had maintained their commitment with smiles and determined creases in their brows.
Halfway through their fifth class on the nineteenth, Anise noticed the shift. It’s what she called the pivotal change in her beginner dancers. It's when the moves became less foreign to them, less difficult to assume. Their bodies had decided to cooperate at last. This was the point at which she began pushing them harder, confident that they could handle it.
They spent a significant amount of time on the floor practicing move combinations. She was now teaching them a proper routine, which they would go on to perform at their graduation at the six week mark. Anise kept to the standard base routine that she guided all of her six-week session students through, but inevitably, she would end up altering it significantly, playing up the strengths of her dancers. Every performance was different and special.
Hera had been nagging her to include magic in these sessions, a relatively new suggestion. Anise wasn't convinced it was such a good idea, but she kept it to herself, only allowing it to enter her mind when she was a considerable distance from the High Priestess. It was not that Anise was against the use of magic during classes on principle, but rather the manner of magic Hera was insisting she use. She wanted to siphon their kinetic energy to utilize in later rituals; she claimed it would be used for the protection of all those who walked the academy halls, including the students whose energy they'd be borrowing, but it didn't sit right with Anise. She flatly refused. Fortunately, it was low on Hera's priority list, and as a result, she had not been reprimanded for her deliberate disobedience of orders.
Class concluded with heavy breaths and foreheads shiny with sweat. This was by far the most difficult session she'd given them, and her heart swelled with pride at their perseverance. She suggested they all go out for a celebratory evening cup of tea, to which four of the seven students agreed. They left the academy after changing out of dance clothes and powdering noses, and followed Anise to a quaint teashop a couple blocks down the road.
They entered the Japanese-style teashop and removed their shoes. The shop's elderly Japanese owner greeted Anise like a granddaughter and led her party to a long Chabudai table. Anise thanked the woman and sat on a cushion at the middle, with Nuying to her left and a middle-aged woman named Hyojin to her right. The other two students sat across from them: Jinhee, a shy young man, and Taejin, a college girl with blunt bangs.
“That was a tough class,” Hyojin said. “I was sweating like a pig the entire time.”
“That’s just your ballet baptism,” said Anise, “You’re all officially one of us now. And there’s no turning back.”
“I’ve got blisters on my feet,” remarked Taejin.
Jinhee nodded. “Me too.”
“They’ll callus over, don’t worry,” Anise said. “Or maybe do? I don’t know how much pride you take in your feet’s appearance, but I’ll tell you this, ballerinas have notoriously busted feet.” She laughed. “Sorry, not great conversation to have when we’re about to eat.” On cue, the elderly woman returned with an ornate pot of fragrant green tea. A man - her son - placed a plate of snacks on the table: yokan, manju, and senbei.
yyinger:
Ballerinas were something else. They weren’t just fairies plopping around in cute outfits. Not that was how Nuying saw them, not all the time. She had seen a few ballet productions with her family. Her father loved performances and wanted that for the kids. Most of the time that meant the traditional arts but on occasion he let the global influence into the house. There Nuying met the ballerina and how they made each move look beautiful and effortless.
It was beautiful, but not effortless. Her limbs and muscles were sire of that, unfamiliar in every posture. The ballerinas were strong and hardworking. One class made that clear. But she wanted to see it through. She could do it, she just felt she really could.
Plus she wasn’t exactly going to be in a professional show, right. Just learning the basics. Throwing her longline cardigan over her shoulders and donning a hat, Nuying’s mind wondered out to chilled streets, mapping her journey home. Anise’s voice brought her back inside. She smiled. “It was hard but I liked it. It’s nice telling yourself you can do something you know won’t be easy”, she answered then zipped close the cotton bag that held her dance shoes.
“I think I will have to practice the positions properly at home. They feel so weird in my head. I have to tell my body its not”, she said then laughed. It was like most things she grew in to, she had to talk herself into. “Will we be learning new positions and skills next class? Or just mastering these we went through today?”
External image
*
The soft caw of a raven pierced the night air. Anise turned her gaze to the sky, catching sight of Ludwig swooping overheard, keeping a safe distance to avoid suspicion. His gleaming wings caught the moonlight, making sleek black feathers appear purple. I’m here, he said without words. She returned her focus to Nuying.
“You’ll get used to it,” Anise said, procuring a hand-knitted scarf from her puffer bag and winding it around her neck. “Our bodies are quite malleable that way. Like clay. Everybody’s different, and some people are more built for certain things than others, but I really do believe that with practice, almost anything can become second nature.”
Anise smiled warmly at the second question, tucking her chilly fingers into the armpits of her Uniqlo jumper. She’d forgotten her mittens at home. “Well, actually, you’ve learned all the basic positions already. Everything after this is sort of ornamental, a combination of all the forms we practiced today. We’ll continue work at mastering the basics, but we’ll begin learning more elevated stuff too. You know, like spins and floor poses. They might seem daunting at first, but it really is great fun.”
They came to a halt at a split in the road, one direction leading to a row of restaurants - a couple ramen shops, a chicken and beer place, a Chinese spot that served delicious Peking duck - and the other to a residential street. “I’m that way,” Anise jerked her thumb toward the line of humble but fairly well-to-do apartments. “What direction are you heading?”
