she’s got enough bows and satin to be an entire christmas present, but she’ll admit to the fact she feels pretty good about herself at the moment. sure, she’s recycling a costume, but she’s a girl on a budget who gave up the prospect of proper adulthood for a chance at a pipe dream, so really people should have lower expectations from her.
she knows she could have, should have, gone with something more understated or more aesthetic or something that would read as trendy and instagram chic. instead, she’s an anime character from her childhood. but like, isn’t that the point of halloween? it’s not like she’s wearing this out to the itaewon clubs (she would never). it’s a company party. if she can’t show off that she’s a good sport for costuming, for themes, for being a little bit over the top in this context, how is she ever going to prove to them she could be an idol? they’ll end up in weirder outfits at one point or another, she’s sure.
besides, she loves sailor moon.
and she looks damn good, too, she thinks, in slinky boots and a fluttery blue skirt, the white top fit tight to her form and the ever-so-slight schoolgirl accenting to the costume giving it that kitchy sexed up halloween flair that young adulthood is so known for.
plus, hime had agreed to play along.
she finds the other girl as she enters the party, a laugh on her lips as she grabs her by both hands, leans back to make a show of examining her. “you look absolutely brilliant,” she tells her, her lips pulling into something heart shaped and sweet, full of an enthusiasm that perhaps does not often flutter over her features. but it’s a night to be a bit happy, a bit giddy, she thinks. “did you bring props?” she adds curiously, grinning at her own expense to add, “i thought about it but honestly i figured i’d just get annoyed trying to keep up with a wand or whatever,” she admits, cheek dimpling with the half-slanted grin that follows the words. hooking an arm through her’s she adds, “have you been here long? can i get you a drink?”
bae soho does not drink to excess at company functions.
truth be told she wouldn’t drink at all, out of sheer ambition adn paranoia of staining her image with the higher ups, if it didn’t make her look like a complete stick in the mud. korean drinking culture basically mandates her inclusion in some respect. and frankly, lets be honest, most company functions are only bearable if you take the edge off a bit.
she’d just as much prefer to get soju wasted with a few friends in a noraebang where she didn’t have to worry about fucking up the career of her dreams. it’s ridiculous, how careful she is lately, as if any misstep can send her rocketing into a life of obscurity and missed opportunities. but as social media swamps more and more celebrities in stupider and stupider scandals, soho gets worried. could her wings get clipped before she even has a chance to fly? she won’t chance it.
she will dress up for it, though.
so she’s got a rum and coke in her hand and a nearly almost criminally short blue skirt, the sailor-inspired top of her costume hugging against her curves. her hair is brown and lacking in ornamentation, but she’s pulled it into the required style and donned the circlet the senshi is known for, and she plucks at the ribbon on her chest. there’s a matching ribbon at the small of her back, satiny silk and a shining red. she looks good, boots a little too high and heels a little too tall, but she’ll be damned if she misses out on the chance to be sailor moon, second year in a row. maybe next year will make it three. whatever, she’s on a budget.
maybe next year she’l have debuted and paid off some debt and made a living for herself, and she can buy a new costume. it doesn’t hurt to have aspirations.
then again, maybe she’ll die before next year, because here comes seho with a look on his face like he’s going to devour her body and soul, his grin wide and wolfish despite the dapper sweetness of his features. how someone can look like the ultimate fuckboy alongside the ultimate boy next door escapes her.
it also prompts her heart to beating in double time, a pout on her lips that she disguises in a gulp from her drink, brows knitting into a furrowed expression. maybe she’ll have just two drinks this time, instead of one. she might need it.
“whatever you’re gonna say, save it.”
she’s a little sore over him ghosting her, she’ll admit it. it’s been a bit since they...enjoyed each other’s presence. it’s been a bit since the show started, too. it’s probably related. she’s still probably more than a little bit grumpy about it. “and if you say a single bad thing about my costume, i’ll sneak into your dorm and cut your balls right off.” she adds, for good measure, hissed half-playfully only for his ears.
“dalla dalla? i think it’s good,” harin comments. she’s not surprised that it is, considering that seo haneul is the one who produces the song. “it has a catchy chorus, and that rap part is sick as hell. i think it’s a fun song, but i would still pick latata over it. i really hope we both get to stick with the latata group to be honest.” she nods at soho once. “but between dalla dalla and the other song, i would rather do dalla dalla for sure.” the other song, aka bim bam bum, is obviously not her cup of tea. she still has to learn the song regardless, given that it is possible for her training group to change in the show. “i’d probably cry if i end up in that other group,” she says, sighing dramatically. “which one would you prefer in case you didn’t get latata?”
soho stretches out her legs as she rests, drawing them wide and leaning forward to balance on her forearms as she catches her breath. her muscles ache and loosen, pliant with the insistent cycle of exercises and movements, nodding along as the other replies to the question. it makes sense, for harin. the two songs she’s pinpointing suit the image she’s portrayed in performance well, so far.
the longer she trains the more soho has decided to think of herself as a blank slate, as a sponge. her voice is already a point of contention- with such a strong and distinctive color, it’ll be the case of fitting or not fitting the group in mind and not much in between. that means she needs to give them no other reasons to ever rule her out. her personal life should be squeaky clean, her dancing on point, her performance enough to carry her over. so she soaks up as much as she can, studies everything set in front of her, keeps up to date on the trends of the industry. figures out the little details that add flare to a performance, that take a style from cute and sweet to bright and lovely and over again to elegant and luxurious. she pinpoints what it means to be teen crush or girl crush and how to bridge the divides, how to add her own flair. she likes to think she can chameleon into whatever they ask of her, but she wonders if that hurts her, too. if they have a concept in mind for something lux and with a strong flair to it, harin will surely come right to mind for them rankings aside. what do they think of or associate with bae soho, a girl who’s tried to make an identity off of fitting into anything they throw her way? sometimes it concerns her.
so she wants this. she wants this solo to show what she’s made of, that she could stand on her own two feet. that if they just let her, if they just gave her a chance, she could soar. she could breathe color and personality into her work and she could stand out, could be an asset to them. she’s never thought of debuting outside of a group before, not really. she’s always imagined herself to be quite the team player, maybe a lead something or a fixture in transitions, someone that would bridge from one main something or other to the next and catch eyes in the process. but she’s gotten a little greedy these days, a little ambitious. standing on stage at the concert, preparing that solo performance for future dreams. she’s beginning to have pipe dreams of a solo debut. she’s probably a fool and a half to think of it. but she wouldn’t be here if she didn’t have a habit of aiming high.
“really?” she laughs, nose scrunching, “i like that one.’ she admits, “i think the composition is compelling. the change up for the chorus is nice and i prefer the cadence of it to the chantier dallla dalla. i don’t think my vocals would suit that well.” she’s got a huskier sound than that, something a bit more rounded, a little bit soulful, slightly indie and r&b inspired. “but i think i can suit latata the best, honestly. maybe because i’ve practiced it so much now it feels like second nature already,” she laughs, threading her hand through her hair and tousling it up in disarray, folding her legs back in pretzel shaped with a sigh, draining the last of the water. “honestly i think i could manage to find a bright side in most concepts.” she laughs, “unless we went like, old school snsd and broke out the prop lollipops. it might be hard to keep a straight face for that.”
the conversation about the show makes her think once again. a chest in the back of her head unlocks itself. she’s flooded with late-night thoughts she once flirted with. ❝ i think it’s better this way. if it’s our first time and there’s already a promise of a debut, i think it’d be a lot harder. ❞ wren announces, then falls silent again in further thought. ❝ i don’t mean this badly, but they’re all very loud songs. like a lot is going on, so we have a lot of sounds to focus on. ❞
soho grins over at wren, her expression softening. somehow it always does, around her, like she can’t quite help herself. there’s something calming about wren’s presence, something that speaks to a quiet part in the corner of soho’s heart. she listens rapt to the girls voice, a soft sound, sweet and lilting. “i think you always make the right choice,” she teases back at the other gently, the edges of her eyes scrunching with her words. “i loved studio ghibli as a kid too. or even into my teens. or now.” she laughs again, stretching her legs a little, fingers pressing into the skin around her knee, slightly swollen from overdoing it earlier that day. nothing a little rest won’t fix, which is why she’s reluctantly sitting and relaxing, though the company makes it easier to say the least.
“can’t help it,” she admits as the other continues, sighing softly as the other continues, “don’t i know it. i feel like resting is just another way to say wasting time, though, you know? and ever since the concert i’ve been twice as motivated, but also twice as scared.” it all seems so close now, everything she’s been dreaming of, but impossibly distant, too, as if the bubble of her recent luck is set to burst at any moment. she’s petrified by how badly she wants this, how urgently she desires this success, this career, this chance to make a mark on the world.
“absolutely,” she agrees, sighing a little bit, lips pursing. “if it was debut right out of the gate i think i’d just...just explode.” she feels too much- always has. it bubbles up inside her now, all this earnest longing, this need to perform, the lust for those stage lights and cheers once more. she laughs at the girl’s description of the songs, “that’s one way to put it. i’m beginning to feel like i should have invested more time in rapping,” she admits, nose scrunching up a little bit with amusement, “maybe then i’d have a better shot at the direction legacy seems to be moving.” she glances over at the other, brow lifting with curiosity, “which of the songs do you like best?”
in the end, she enters by herself. maybe that’s for the best.
she’s not the best at keeping her nerves under control.
when she walks in, there aren’t that many people there yet. she’s not the first to go into the room nor the last, and god help her she’s glad for that. this is the part of things she wishes were optional. ranking, stacking them up against each other.
it all seems so impossible a task. to line up all these kids with all these hopes and dreams, all these people who work their asses off. everyone coming at it from a different background, for a different period of focus, with different strengths and weaknesses. how can there be any way to objectively assess that in comparison to one another? it seems like it must be an immense undertaking, and one that’s surely going to hurt more than a few feelings on the way to the end of all this. she hates the idea of it, honestly. assigning a metric value to each of them, aligning them in competition, and then (hopefully, someday down the line) asking them to work together, to portray this familial bond. it seems such a wild thought to her, but then, maybe she’s just sensitive. maybe she just worries for nothing. it’s not her job, anyway, to figure out the mechanics of these things.
it’s soho’s job to dream big, to want this more than she’s ever wanted anything, to show her development and her desire, and she’s sure she can do that. she’s been hardly able to think of anything else since the concert performance. she’s been desperate for another chance ever since then, ravenous in her pursuit of the stage. she’s tired of performing for cameras and coaches now - she wants the crowds back, the feedback from a body en masse in front of her, for the roar and roiling of it, something that had given back to her more energy and passion than she had ever thought possible. it was like a high and she was chasing down the next fix.
seeing the pyramid is daunting to say the least. the studio lights are harsh and illuminate the room in an unfamiliar brightness, the kind that seems to turn her inside out and bare her soul, easily on display. there’s a nervous grin on her face and she bows towards the pd’s out of habit, righting herself with a muttered, “wait, right, i should pretend there aren’t cameras right? isn’t that a tv thing? or maybe that’s only for dramas.” she laughs at her own expense, a quick and brief giggle as she presses her hands to her cheeks for a second. “i’m nervous,” she admits to them, when they ask if she’s ready to hear where she ought to sit.
she can’t really look anyone in the eye, who’s already up on the pyramid. the thought is too daunting. she doesn’t want to start assessing things yet, figuring out how to best chart a course for the top. for a moment still she wants to be bae soho who dreams big and doesn’t yet know what metric value the company places on her.
but then they’re telling her, go sit down, and she’s now excruciatingly aware of where four and a half years of effort have placed her.
third.
she bites at her lip, her face difficult to read as she moves to the seat, settling carefully to sit on the hard plastic, hands smoothing down her thighs to straighten out her clothing as she does. her posture is impeccable (thanks mom, you were always pushy about that) and she tries not to crumble under the heat of the lights, or the pounding of her heart.
there’s a nervous laugh on her lips, one that slips free despite herself, quickly covered with delicate hands. third place. it’s a bit ambiguous, but she feels good about it- half terrified of a fall in rank and half desperate to climb just a little bit higher.
HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT YOUR RANKING?
before she can think of an appropriately media-ready response, she blurts out a nervous, half laughed, “confused,” and there’s a beat of silence before she covers her face in her hands. “that sounds weird right?” she sighs, drops her hands. a pensive look crosses her features, and she tilts her head to the side, soft brown hair falling in waves around her shoulders. compared to some of the girls she’s dressed simply, makeup relatively understated. maybe she looks a bit plain. “i feel... a lot of things at once.” she admits, nipping lightly at her lowerlip before she lets it slide free slowly. “on one hand, i’ve been training for a long time. and i’ve been working so hard, for so long, and i want this so badly....that part of me was hoping for a high ranking. that part of me is satisfied, but ambitious. i want to go higher, to get first place. of course, everyone does. maybe that part feels, just a little bit,” she holds her fingers up to express the very minute space between, “that i deserved to rank pretty well. i mean, it would be a bit sad if i couldn’t, after all this time, right?” her expression is half-apologetic as if complimenting herself in that way reads too much of hubris, and she shifts in her seat. “but on the other hand, it’s a bit of an ambiguous spot. hime and yujin are incredible performers and i know competing against them will be a herculean task. and at the same time, from a position up in the top three, it’s far too easy to fall downwards, and i know there are many trainees below me that are impressive artists in their own right. i guess in the end i’m not sure what i’m more worried about- falling down or trying to go up.” there’s a slight pause, a little sigh of released anxiety, and then a faint smile that follows. “but,” she adds, on an almost conspiratorial whisper, “i’m still a little bit happy, to think that my efforts are being recognized, to an extent.” her grin widens, lips pulling into a heart shaped expression, “ever since the legacy concert i’ve...” she trails off, perhaps a little emotional, “i’ve really been so earnest to perform again. it was such an amazing moment to finally have the chance to do something i’ve been dreaming of for so long, to perform in front of a real crowd and to feel that energy. if this show can bring me even one step closer to experiencing that again i’ll be happy.”
❛ ― now i know i usually see you in pants but would you prefer some skirts or dresses too? or are we sticking to pants and only pants? ❜ rina turns the girl to face her. she gives the other a look up and down to get a better idea. ❛ ― i think you’d look great in a minidress! but like i said some people might not be comfortable. so it’s up to you! ❜
rina has a flair for the aesthetic that soho can appreciate. she looks nice, put together, pretty all the time. like she never has an off day. soho gets that, it’s important. she’s not a complete slob herself, she’s just not trendy. she’s not invested in being trendy.
but its weird. people look at her now. not like, on the street. and not often. but you can search her name and she shows up, and it’s only really one article and the company’s media pages, but she’s there. she’s out there, in the world. ideally, this is the first step of many, propelling her into the public eye. and if she wants people to look at her, she’s going to need to make sure they like what they see. she’s got training room chic down pat, no problem. she can be the belle of any dance practice video that gets filmed. the problem is, that look is her whole wardrobe. street wear meets athleisure meets knockoffs of those absurd balenciaga shoes.
soho feels almost overwhelmed by the enthusiasm of the other girl, discussions of comfort zones and this and that and soho can’t help but feel like she’s going to end up feeling very over-dressed for her life. maybe the problem is rooted in that old adage, dress for the job you want. she wants to be a celebrity, but that look is so expensive and fashion forward that it feels absurd to put on as a trainee, when her whole life is spent in training rooms and at best, at company functions. hell, she doesn’t even have her part time job anymore, thanks to the show. a girl who spends all her time essentially at the gym or in various lessons just doesn’t really technically need to look that nice, so the idea of investing time into curated fashion just ends up feeling strange.
“i mean...” she sighs out, tilting her head side to side, “i don’t have anything against the concept of dresses or skirts,” she clarifies, pushing her hand through her hair, “it’s just like, when would i wear them, lately, you know? on all those dates i go on? to the school i don’t attend anymore? to the job i don’t have?’ she smiles with a crinkled up nose, at her own expense. “that sounds a little pathetic, but i don’t mean it too. i just, you know me. i’m a very one track mind,” she laughs out, referencing her obsessive dedication to training. but how else is she supposed to get anywhere? “like, i mean, i’m pretty hot so do with me what you will and we’ll see what happens. maybe i need to let go of thinking of pure practicality, here, you know?”
Shuffling beside Soho, Jihyun leans against one of the rooms mirrored walls. His gaze swipes around the room, occasionally halting when something intriguing presented itself, but otherwise it was a pretty quick look over. With a silent sigh, he glance back down at Soho. “So… what do you think about this survival show business?”
it’s always a little weird, with the boys around. not just because there are a few faces in their midst she’d really rather not see again, mistakes she might prefer to erase from her own personal timeline. faces she doesn’t want lingering around. there are others, though, she’s more than happy to see, and still more that she’s interested to get to know, for one reason or another. keeping them so starkly separated is clearly the best idea in terms of hormones and decision making, but she can never help but feel, just slightly, that it might be a contributing factor to the air of mystery with which some of the younger trainees regard those of the opposite gender, ultimately enticing more impulsive behavior than intended. maybe there’s just no way to keep hormones in control.
jihyun approaches and she grins in his direction, cheek dimpling and fingers moving to grip the water bottle in her hand, crinkling the plastic as she twists the top off and takes a gulp. she’s got her eyes on the room, watching a few others move through practiced movements, laughing, gossiping together. girls stealing glances and boys ruffling their hair artfully. she laughs a little. “i mean... i’m a little conflicted. my nerves appreciate that it’s not a full debut on the table yet, because the stakes for that are so high that...” well, she’d be on the edge of imploding, that’s for sure. as much as she yearns for it, a survival show to debut sounds like a nightmare. she just wants the contract offered or not, a chance to slink into obscurity silently if she fails. the idea of flaming out on television sends shivers down her spine. “yeah. so i like that the stakes are more manageable. but it’ll be hard. especially afterwards, working together after being pitted against each other, in a sense. a bit awkward.” her nose crinkles in thought. “what are your thoughts?”
“if you want me to whine with you you really picked the wrong guy. i thought you knew me better than that.” he shakes his head, pouring a glass of soju. “no getting drunk tonight, but doesn’t mean you can’t drown your misery in alcohol. you’re gonna kill this and so will i. cheers to us.” he gently knocks his glass against hers and drinks it, feeling the liquid burn its way down his throat.
in the end, king is king, and she’s not surprised by that. that’s why she needs to be around him right now, after all. she needs the confidence she’s not sure either of them really feels, deep down in their bones. she needs to be reminded she’s got something on offer. someone to shake her out of the dark hole she climbs in, sometimes. she whines plaintive when he nudges her, throws an elbow softly back at him and huffs dramatically, because antics and hyperbole are second nature to her. a hand threads through soft strands, left hanging long and straight and simple, and she laughs.
“yeah we did kind of kill it, didn’t we?” she agrees. she’s not sure how, honestly. so much of her command of the stage comes from something she can’t seem to name, doesn’t know how to pinpoint. it wells up from deep inside her and pours out like light through her pores. she’d played soccer as a kid and her coach had always told them to leave it all on the field. she feels that way about the stage, now. every performance is the last, every moment is final, every second incredible and absolute. maybe it’s not sustainable. maybe two years into debut she’ll be on hiatus for her health, run herself down to tired joints and damaged cartilage and torn ligaments.
but up until that moment, she’ll make sure it’s worth it.
she laughs again, clinks her glass to his and shakes her head. “no, you’re right, i’m not a whiner.” this is true. if anything she’s the bottle it up type, tips the shot to her lips and downs it in one go before motioning to fill up his in turn. maybe she’ll sip this one, drinking etiquette be damned. “what are you hoping for like? what’s your realistic outcome dream?” everyone’s dream is to win whatever it is that waits at the end, but soho has learned having secondary goals is just as important, just as motivating.
rambling and a plot call! i’ll be working my way through replies and so on for other things as well, but halloween is my J A M and i’m into it so hit me up. here or on discord apricots # 6128
MONDAY: soho chooses her personal favorite DC hero and the one with which her wardrobe most aligns (she had to quit her part time job for the show, she’s on a budget here people) and is dressing up like JESSICA JONES (i.e. gray tanktop, leather jacket, blue jeans, doc martens). they are going to be difficult to dance in and she’s probably going to ditch her shoes and jacket somewhere for most of dance practice. will probably need to beg someone for blister band aids. alternatively, appreciate soho in a tight fit ribbed tank top bc oof 6 v 6 / open to threads
TUESDAY: this is her personal purgatory, and she WILL fight you for any particularly sour candies, especially of the gummy persuasion, that she can get her hands on. within dietary reason of course.... reluctantly. trade you some chocolates for your gummies? / open to threads
WEDNESDAY: her initial reaction, depending, is likely to be a panicked screech and...okay honestly she’s probably going to swear. after that she’ll likely just end up hollering exaggerated satoori exclamations and snarking at ghosts to try and front, because that’s her life. wanna heckle ghosts with her? exaggeratedly profess undying love to the undead? attempt to startle the poor souls stuck doing this for a living? depending on the conditions she might hand out some snacks for good measure. / @lgchanjoon
THURSDAY: she’s going to be a little suspicious right away, especially given the camera and all that, so she’ll approach with a little bit of caution. despite herself, there’s gonna be a startled shriek and then interlaced whining/laughing until her ribs crack. send help, it’s a heart shaped lips attack. help her clean up or ridicule her. / open to threads
for the party, she’ll be rolling up as SAILOR FRICKIN MOON. has it been her costume for like two years? yes. does she care? no. sailor scouts forever bih. she doesn’t drink past one glass at company events though, which is a big twist from her usual. mock her straight laced act? / @lgcseho @lgchime
FRIDAY: she’s a noted hufflepuff slytherin split, but she’s feeling her ambitious side lately (thanks future dreams) and will likely head for that table for a bit, before admitting dramatically to herself and everyone else she’s more suited for the loyal, snarky, and sweet hufflepuffs and relocating. / @lgcayeon
❝ it has been. a few more weeks, and we’ll be able to relax. ❞ it’s not a promise because wren can’t give one. but when she casts a glance over at soho, she wants to assure them. offer words of advice that she too could soak up herself. ❝ i’m ready to sleep nineteen hours nonstop. ❞
the dorms are comforting in their familiarity, a sameness that settles over her shoulders. even her training surroundings are different these days. the whole world has tilted on it’s access to make the future dreams show possible. it’s not exactly quite what she’d been praying for - a chance at an immediate debut. but it’s not her immediate dread either - a brutal survival with debut on the line. she’s old enough now to know that not making the lineup on a show like that would be a serious sign to re-evaluate. the clock is ticking and baby face or not, it’s a game of the odds, what she can play against. at least she’s not a boy, having to face down the specter of a forced two year hiatus courtesy of the military. it drastically limited the run time. maybe that was the cosmic trade for boy groups pulling down bigger numbers.
“damn, i love kiki, that’s perfect,” she brightens just at the mention. wren has a knack for pulling her out of the mire and muck of uncertainty and depositing her in a much more easy to manage pleasant cheerfulness. she hums a little along with the familiar music, remembers being younger and learning how to pluck it out on piano on an idle summer afternoon when she should have been practicing the concerto for her recital.
“i’m not sure my body remembers how to sleep more than a few hours at a time,” she admits. she’d stolen a weekend for chuseok and family and had found herself up at her routine time despite turning off her alarms, tossing and turning in bed until she’d gotten up to go for a sluggish morning jog. tired, but unable to sleep, like her body was a perpetual motion machine that operated without her consent. “i like the show though. the premise? it’s not as...nerve-wracking as i was afraid it would be.” the stakes are high enough, a solo song, recognition, good parts in the songs. but they’re not as high as they could be - debut, contracts, signings. like a middle ground to ease them in to the pain of what might be to come.
it’s the second week of the show when she looks down at herself, in a gray oversized sweatshirt, black leggings, and a pair of basic airforce 1s that she realized she might need a makeover. it’s not that she’s ugly (clearly) but the whole thing where she’s spent the last four and a half years of her life prioritizing training and had been heavily invested in dance and university before that means she dresses somewhat perpetually in athleisure at best, straight up gym wear at worst. at least in summer she mixes it up with denim shorts and various fits of that nature, generally verging towards the tomboy side still, but as autumn comes ever closer she can’t help but find herself feeling like she needs to step it up just slightly if she’s going to show up on film. even if she only manages a few seconds of screen time, she’d like to not have it be immortalized as a pseudo-slob or a fashion reject.
if she could just get to the part of her life when the company debuted her as an idol and dressed her up pretty and styled perfectly she’d be happy as a clam. it’s the part where she’d have to invest real money in that process right now that stresses her. it’s not like she’s a complete mess or anything, but there is a prioritization of comfort and functionality with a shade of tomboyish streetwear that isn’t necessarily universally appealing. she needs to show she can be versatile, she can be styled into things. she needs to show there’s promise, not that she’s already set in her skater girl ways.
rina knows what to do, though, and reaches out to her distress call with the promise of shopping. soho doesn’t hate shopping, as many less fashionable folks do. it’s just that she relentlessly chooses slightly oversized tshirts and skinny jeans or denim shorts or leggings, alongside an array of sneakers, to the point that it becomes redundant and absurd. “it’s not that i want to completely change my style,” she explains as she links an arm through the taller girl’s. “it’s that i want to...update it. i need it to be a bit better, you know? like, a television ready version of myself.” she half-laughs. it’s a little strained. “i just don’t know how to get away from my wardrobe staples.” she scrunches her nose upwards with a chuckle, a little whine in her throat.
@lgcmiso
between classes, practice rooms.
week 2, latata !
it’s strange to be in practice rooms at lgc that are unfamiliar to her. they sprawl around her new and modern, shining smooth floors and fresh papered walls. not a smudge or scratch to speak of on the mirrors. it’s unfamiliar, and that in itself seems as if it’s been impossible. the walls of lgc practice rooms have been her home for almost five years now, after all. but there’s a quiet understanding here, that they’ll all upgraded a step for the purposes of the show, allowed onto a new floor, between new walls. another new proving ground to challenge.
it’s a strange feeling. with dance practice winding down, soho is content to take a breather, coating her throat in the eska water they’ve been provided, groaning low in the back of her throat as she sinks down to kneel next to the familiar face nearby, squatting on flattened feet and balancing her hand on her knees. “no, don’t get up,” she scolds the other, who seems to shift as if she might stand. “your legs are eight miles long and i’m trying to look like my proportions are okay.” she informs her sagely, pointing at the little camera not-so-surreptitiously in front of them. “in fact if you could just angle your chin down as far as possible and really press back until you’ve got a half a double chin going that would be fantastic.” she adds brightly, lips blooming to a heart shaped smile, too gummy, with bunny rabbit teeth on full display. maybe she should have had them shaved down like her mother had suggested. now everyone will see them and it’s too late to get rid of them without clear plastic surgery speculations. her heart flutters in her chest. no use worrying about it now. but of course, she will anyway. it’s what soho does- suppress worries with jokes at her own expense, endearing to a fault.
she shifts slightly, thunking into the other’s shoulder lightly and passing off the extra bottle she’s brought over. “it’s a good choreography right? you look so pretty doing it.” she sighs, pouting as she rolls her head slightly to regard the other, faux scolding, “stop stealing the spotlight and share some with me instead.” she teases, a playful pout on her lips. “everyone’s gonna fall in love with you like that,” she says, accenting the final word with a snap and an exaggerated gesture, before clasping her hands together, batting her lashes. “i know i did.” she dissolves into rough-around-the-edges laughter, taking a sip from the bottle once more.
what do you think of the choreography for latata?
the choreography? she repeats, taps a finger against her thin as she formulates a thought. it’s funny, she gets a lot of questions like this from them, about the technicalities of things. maybe becasue they realized she’ll ramble about the musicality and composition at any given opportunity regardless. are they going to paint her as some kind of song surgeon, picking it all apart carefully? it’s not entirely untruthful. part of her prior studies and her backup plan has meant a specific focus on marketability and likeability, both of songs and of herself. “it’s great, honestly.” she admits, grinning slightly as she does, her gaze slightly distant, as if she’s currently visualizing it, isolating moves to express her appreciation for. “when you look at the overall picture, it seems very fluid and powerful, but in an understated way. unlike some choreography it lacks that intense and powerful shoe-squeaking and stomping sharpness, “ she kind of misses that, enjoys that powerful engagement with a song, “and while that may make it look simple, and indeed, makes it a bit easier to sing - or rap- stably alongside it, it’s definitely got it’s own challenges. when you restrict the movements to something more restrained like that, you have to be much more technical about each one. when it leaves you s much room for personal feeling and interpretation, you really have to make sure that your performance can shine with your personality, and with the mood of the song.”
do you think the choreography suits you? what about the other girls?
“i think this is the kind of choreography that can suit anyone who is able to embody the mood of the song. it leaves a lot of space to integrate your own personal details while still looking like part of the cohesive flow, and it’s one that’s easy to communicate with one another and augment in little ways that can leave an impressive impact. because the song itself has such a driving but restrained intensity, it’s important to capture the mood and energy of it. i think this group of trainees is really excellent at that, honestly, so i hope we can continue to improve. i think personally i’ve been keeping an eye on miso as we practice. she has such a gift for putting emotion into her features as she dances - probably because she’s such a skilled actress and model, you know? i hope i can learn from her a little bit on how to channel the song not only in my movements but in my features as well. there’s always room for improvement when it comes to performance. “ she cuts off the ramble with a little nod, pushing her hand back through her hair and then dropping it abruptly, fingers flying up to the strands. “oh, i forgot about the hairspray, did it get all wonky?” she questions, looking worriedly at the pd.
weren’t you recently noted for your performance abilities, though?
she bursts into a quick, rough twinge of laughter, slightly too loud and covered up just a moment too late. “yes, and i’m incredibly thankful for that. but that doesn’t mean i have nothing to learn. besides, i was only practicing one or two songs obsessively back then. now there’s much more to do in much less time. i need all the tips i can get.”
