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@talonsaconite

Adjusting to Parisian life was becoming easier for Amelie Leroux, having lived there for a couple of months now. It was surreal, really. She had her dream job at the Opera, a few friends she kept in touch with, and a relatively comfortable life overall.

Relatively. As in she knew it was stupid to complain, but she was almost afraid she’d stagnated. That things were going far too well for someone in their mid-twenties. Granted, it was good she was young. Her body wouldn’t be able to handle the physical demands of ballet forever, at least not up to perfect technique. She still worried.

Sundays were often like this. One of the few days off from rehearsal, after she took care of business she could only do on her days off, she went for a walk to people-watch. Hoping to be inspired by the myriad of humans and omnics, that one day she could start choreographing her own works based on the little stories she made up for these strangers. The shapes they made when they walked. The tempo. It was all fascinating to her, and her notebook was full of scribbles and drawings of what she saw during her Sundays spent on a park bench.

Now her attention focused on a red-haired woman. Terribly elegant-looking. Amelie decided her shape was a diamond. As she sketched one out on her paper, she admired the woman from afar, curious of what her story was. Perhaps she was a drug-lord. Or a rapper. Pilot? She seemed focused and intelligent enough for that. She pictured beautiful grande jetes, creating a diamond shape. High in the air, like a pilot would be. Sharp but delicate angles...

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