#c. soleil

[mutatedangels-a]

@wintxrx // soleil x lorenzo

"Flowers? You shouldn't have."

But what Soleil really wanted to say was, thank you I love you let's get married. Could you blame her? No one, not even her own brother Ford, had attended a ballet recital of hers yet. Maybe Ford did when she was doing baby ballet, but he hadn't gone to one ever since she moved to New Orleans and joined the local group. Long story short, seeing Lorenzo in the audience during her routine and now—backstage as all the other girls were given flowers and chocolates and congratulations—meant a lot to her.

She gave the bouquet a sniff before smiling warmly at Lorenzo. Maybe she even had on a set of heart eyes. For someone she'd just met, he was leaving such a mark on her life already. "I still gotta change outta my clothes—" she wore a flowy skirt and a pair of wings, her costume for the recital resembling some sort of angel— "but will you wait five minutes? Or do you gotta go?"

[callmewhenyougetthis-a]

@rxnatx // soleil x lorenzo

"Umm, are you kidding me?" Soleil scoffed, retrieving her ID back from the bartender. These speakeasies in the outskirts of town were always a little stricter when it came to the bars in downtown New Orleans. Sweet Southern accent protested: "I don't know how much clearer I can make it. I'm 24, this is a real ID. I didn't wait three friggin' hours at the DMV just for some big Chris Evans-wannabe to say it's fake."

The bartender lifted his brow and looked down at the shorter girl, puffing up his chest. "You're lucky I don't toss you outta here, kid. So what'll you have? A Shirley Temple or nothin'?"

With a sigh, she shoved her ID back in her wallet and responded, "Fine. I'll have a Shirley Temple, please." Though her words were sweet, her voice was dripping with sarcasm. Maybe if she pretended hard enough, the Sprite and grenadine could give her a little bit of a head buzz. Begrudgingly, she took the drink from the bartender and turned around with every intention of headed back to her table with her friends until she noticed someone sitting at the bar staring at her.

Of course. It was a hot guy. He probably watched the whole altercation with the bartender go down, too. She already had a tough time meeting guys at the bar in comparison to her other, prettier friends—and now she was at even more of a disadvantage, perceived as a babyface.

Soleil approached him, taking the stool beside him and figuring she'd address the elephant in the room before it simmered. "So, I'm guessin' you saw all that?"

[bowlofpeaches]

@hungryyheart from this !!

It's adorable, really, how a fun little quip from her has him seemingly melting into a puddle. Soleil didn't mean anything malicious with her words, honest—she was only trying to be clever. She hides her mouth behind the top of the bottle of mandarin Jarritos she's drinking, the glass concealing a pair of glossy, strawberry lips. Her eyes stick on him and his face and his hair for a second longer before they flit to the orange liquid in her glass, bubbling. They're the same color.

"Don't worry, s'nothin' bad," she reassures him, Southern lilt in her voice as obvious as the sun on a hot summer day. "I just mean... like, I seen you before." What she doesn't add: and you're cute. She takes a sip of her soda and nods her head toward the big, burnt-red-brick apartment building they were standing next to. "My brother 'n I just moved in a few weeks ago and I caught you a couple times, um, throwin' away your garbage. My window gets the pretty view of it 'nd all. Just thought I'd say hi instead of being curious 'bout you."

Or he's doing something else out here. She's not quite sure. All she knows is that the boys in high school are all mean and city-like and there's something about the tall one in front of her that gives her the sense that he's nice to his momma or something. And that's important to a girl like her.

[callmewhenyougetthis-a]

@colcrado // soleil x sid

Soleil sat on the curb outside of the New Orleans Police Department, sinking into her shame. She had no clue that the guy she'd matched with on Tinder—the guy she'd just been on a date at a fancy restaurant with and had been talking with for a few weeks—had a wife and kids. When that said wife confronted them at the restaurant, the claws came out... and Soleil was escorted out by police sporting a few scratches on her face and what would be a shiny new record.

Out in the city by her lonesome, the only person she could really call was none other than Sid. There was no way in hell—even if it froze over—that she’d call her older brother to bail her out. When the big city could so easily eat her right up for breakfast, Sid was the only one she could trust, despite the looming feeling that she’d get judged by him, too. She had no other choice.

The whoosh of his tires against the puddles in front of the station was the only sound that pulled Soleil’s face out of her hands. She wasn’t crying, but she damn well could have been, bottom lip permanently jutted out in a pout that wouldn’t quit. Sullen, she pulled herself off of the curb and got in his car, the pretty red dress she’d bought for the evening dirtied up from sitting outside. “I know what you’re gonna say,” she said, leaning her elbow against the door. 

“'I told you so.' So just say it, okay? I was an idiot.”

[mutatedangels-a]

@worthless-weight-in-gold // soleil x eun yoo

She's swimming.

Well, in her head she's swimming, but in real life she's lying down on the cold, metal bench in the changing room at the Printemps Ballet Studio. With her eyes closed, Soleil practices her port de bras, hands and fingers graceful as she creates one giant moon with her arms, one on top and one on bottom. And she switches. Points her toes. She's half-convinced she's actually in a pool, mostly because that would be much better on such a hot day instead of being cooped up inside.

Quietly, she hums the opening melody of Danse Macabre by Camille Saint-Saëns; a piece she and her mentee are creating a routine around for the next showcase. Soleil's final showcase, that is, before she graduates college and truly enters the world of dance, sans the title of 'student.' Mentoring a younger dancer for a duet piece is also part of that rite of passage.

She must look silly by her lonesome while the other girls filter out of the locker room and into practice. But Printemps is the one place she doesn't care what other people think of her. Ballet is the one thing she's good at. It's the one thing she can control. It's the one thing that makes her feel like she's not Soleil, a pathetic girl from the bottom of a barrel dug out from the murky bayou with dreams bigger than her body. It makes her feel like she can do anything and be anything.

So if she wants to swim, she'll swim.

Soleil gets to a point in the song that she doesn't remember—it's meant to be a 4-minute routine out of a 7-minute song and she's about halfway in her mind. She and Eun-Yoo, her mentee and partner for the duet piece, are supposed to continue rehearsing today. But Eun-Yoo's running a bit late. Brows furrowed, her peace is interrupted when she becomes curious of the time.

She opens her eyes and sits up, bringing her knees in to tighten the pair of bright red satin ballet shoes she's got on. She glances up at the clock. Ten minutes late. That's not like her mentee. With a sigh, she lays back down and starts from the top.

[full-tiltboogiearc]

@facepeeled // from this ( x )

"Pissed, shat in, puked on. All the above." Soleil's less careful about being quiet despite the fact the two are in church. So what if she's cussing up a storm, mass hasn't started yet and if anybody's got a problem with it they'd better say something now or forever hold their peace. Agatha, a bitter sister wife from another clan in the community, in fact glances over her shoulder at the pair sat in the pew behind her and gives Soleil a dirty look.

Soleil scowls in return before huffing, folding her arms over her chest and turning away from Cricket. "And this ain't about Agatha. It's about Serene. She embarrassed me in class today." As in, dance class. Although it's taught by someone in the commune, it's something different to do than tend to a farm or wash the feet of one's priesthood holder. The last thing Soleil needs is somebody embarrassing her about one of the things she enjoys doing in her life.

"I swear to God I'll kill 'er if she mentions one more thing makin' fun'a my plié," she mutters. I'm only so stiff 'cause I ain't ever had sex and we all know she ain't been a virgin since..."

Agatha clears her throat, aptly cutting Soleil off.

[mutatedangels-a]

@soulmissed // soleil x beacon x august

"Auggie!" Soleil calls out to him from her seat at the bar, where she's assembling to-go utensils. Napkin, spork, knife. Roll. There's a fun little pyramid already going next to her, albeit a somewhat crooked one. "What're you still doin' here?"

It's about twenty minutes past closing, near midnight. Soleil's shift technically ended a few hours ago—and she had left to attend practice at the ballet studio—but she's back now, waiting patiently for Beacon, who gives her a ride home every now and then.

There are a few other workers lingering at The Blue Note. There's Nehemiah, the bassist, practicing at the stage. Toledo, an old friend of Beacon's, who mops and keeps the bathrooms clean. It's raining lightly outside, and quiet inside. The big lights are off and it's just the neon signs and a few of the secondary bulbs illuminating the smoky jazz club.

"The boy's finally got some sense in 'im and he's gonna learn piano," Beacon chimes in, patting August's shoulder. "Isn't he? Before the sun rises, we gonna have ourselves our very own Thelonious Monk."

[mutatedangels-a]

@dustorgold // soleil x camiss

"No offense, but are you even, like, qualified to be doing this?" Soleil asked, cheek in her palm as she rested her elbow on the desk. A drawn-out, dramatic sigh left her lips. Everybody else's Master was cool, teaching their Padawans how to do kickflips and dodges with their lightsabers. Meanwhile, she and Camiss were stuck in the library, hitting the books.

The pair was matched up by the Jedi High Council a couple of weeks ago. She'd never met Camiss before that fateful day they were partnered up, but if she had, she'd probably protest as soon as the High Council's decision was made. He was so buttoned-up to her. And if it turned out that he wasn't really that buttoned-up after all and just seemed like it, then he had a lot of explaining to do. Her point being, she was the total opposite of buttoned-up and really wished she could have been coupled with somebody who matched her tempo instead.