When … was the last time Huidong had been in a cypher, officially or unofficially? It used to be a home for him, a space where he felt most comfortable and felt he could best express himself, where one was judged on nothing but their dancing. His past became irrelevant, his family background insignificant; all that mattered was his attitude in that open area as the music played, and how well his body moved to it. Each person had to bring their own flavour to the mix, and their real opponent always ended up being themselves. How well could they perform this time compared to last? The biggest obstacle was hesitation.
He tries to still spectate at his old feeding grounds, but it’s admittedly difficult after debut. Sometimes, he’ll go to one with a couple of the AOS crew members, the event a tip off by them, and he rarely joins much, preferring to keep a low profile for the sake of PER_SE and his company. Fans will recognise him at times, despite his best efforts to hide his identity with a face mask and tucking himself into a corner, but he knows they mean well. He keeps the interactions short, not wanting to take any spotlight away from the dancers who are there to do their thing – it’s not his show, after all, and he doesn’t want to disrespect them like that. Hours of practice would have gone into building up their skills, and they have every right to be able to properly show what they’ve got.
He comes alone to this one tonight, however. It’s just a feeling he has, a need to venture out on his own. He’s finally had enough of the practice room, and fresh air is rather welcome, along with the upbeat music that blares from speakers. He wasn’t expecting to stumble into a cypher though, only wandering the area to check out the buskers and dancers and enjoy pure creativity and passion. He blends in rather well with the crowd, face half covered, dressed casually in a loose tank and shorts, backpack slung over one shoulder. No one really gives him a second glance as he shuffles into place to happily watch a young dancer do his thing, his movements evidence of hours of practice in order to execute precision in hand with speed. He cheers along with everyone else, head bopping to the addictive beat.
His body is itching to join, it’s an instinct that’s hard to stifle.
Maybe, he’ll let himself live on instinct again, just for tonight.
He steps forward, accepting the open challenge for another dancer to take the stage as he carefully drops his bag at the edge of the mats to free his hands. Feet automatically begin to move to the rhythm, quick steps and light hops bouncing him up and down as his arms feel out the groove. He’s got a stage presence that is hard to break the habit of, one that comes off a little bit lazy, a little bit nonchalant, a little bit taunting to the young dancer as he singles him out from the crowd and rest of the dancers for a few seconds. It seems he’s just taking it easy, nothing overly difficult in skill being shown yet – until the music picks up and his body drops towards the ground, hands used to twist and turn the rest of himself in a series of continuous breakdancing moves that normally don’t look like he’s breakdancing. He’s as smooth as a snake, no open space left unused, and he ends with a hollowback before snapping back to his feet, facing the same younger dancer as when he’d initially gotten more ‘serious’ with his set.
Half his face can’t be seen from behind the mask, but his gestures convey enough. He twirls his hand with a few exaggerated flourishes, slightly dipping in a short bow like that of an English gentleman that says–
‘Thank you and it’s your turn again, if your dare~’
For a long moment, there’s an uncertainty of if anyone will even step forward. It’s fine. It wouldn’t be the first time. The crew is more than capable of putting on a show and pitting crewmate against crewmate in a situation where there’s no one volunteering themselves to the wolves.
The wait drags out long enough for Soleil to catch movement behind themself (Revenant, making to step towards the mats himself) but it pauses when there’s a murmur in the crowd and someone steps forward, and a brief smile flashes across Sol’s hidden lips.
Good. They always prefer an unfamiliar challenge.
Though it seems that they (and Oberon, as well) are the only ones that find this display unfamiliar. It’s an intriguing dance-style; unique, distinctive, definitely one that has been personally developed and honed into a signature. That much they can figure out without any assistance.
The fact the Puck can’t contain his excited hushed whispers behind them just drives that point home.
It’s BBoy Snake. How can you not know him? He’s legendary.
Soleil tosses a glance back over their shoulder only once the stranger on their dance mat has risen from his bow.
“How legendary can he be... if we have never heard of him?” The words come calm and confident, only a brief pause in the middle as their eyes flicker from Puck to their brother instead. They like to think they’re familiar with the more prevalent street dancers, even if the twins’ expertise leans more heavily towards the dance scene of Mainland China.
Soleil turns their attention back, and they even go so far as to return the bow. It’s mocking, almost, an acceptance of the challenge but a refusal to accept that there is anything to be scared of. This is their cypher, after all. This so-called Snake is just a visitor, no matter how well-known he may once have been.
And, in the end, even their own identity doesn’t matter. Not in a cypher. Not Soleil. Not family heir Jung Soryong. Not even small-town Jilin-native Xiao Long.
(And there’s something fitting about two known dancers obscured by masks and hats.)
The only thing that matters is the way the music seems to grow louder, and their limbs begin to move almost of their own volition.
The only thing that matters is dance.
