"Room for a charity case?" Kaname enquired with an ironic smile. Leaning against the hard wooden framework of Amane's bedroom door, the tall fifth year stood with a night bag over one shoulder, clutching her tennis racket and sports bag protectively. Gesturing with her free hand, she added, "It'd only be for the night, I can grab the rest of my stuff after Momomi's parents have picked her up in the morning." Amane stood silent before her, the fifth year still in her nightshirt, holding the door slightly ajar where she'd answered the unexpected knock. Without giving the former-Etoile a chance to reply, Kaname pushed past and hefted her bag into the room, kicking the door to behind her. As she set about offloading her things onto Amane's desk chair, she continued offhandedly, "I thought you were supposed to crash out of school and then end up homeless, not the other way round..." She straightened up, massaging her aching shoulder muscles. The trip down the hallway had been short but awkward due to the haste with which she'd had to gather everything up, and she frowned in concern for her tennis performance given how stiff one bicep was. Shaking the joint out, she looked up, continuing sarcastically, "Quite an achievement really, perhaps I should hold a fund raising event for myself? The great Kaname Kenjo - tennis star and homeless bum." Noting the lack of response, she considered her fellow Spican, the tall girl stood facing away from her. Amane's dark mob was dishevelled, her head hung. "Ohtori-san?" The quiet horse rider turned her head slightly, but her brown eyes remained fixed somewhere off in corner of the room. Kaname sighed and rolled her eyes, the former-Etoile obviously having found reason to lapse into her previous state of depression. Having just relieved herself of one miserable annoyance, she was damned if she was going to tolerate another. "Enough of that eh? There's more than enough melodrama on Astrea Hill as it is," she muttered, and nudged the fifth year in the ribs. Amane turned with a sigh, unable to find the words. Kaname's dark gaze saw straight through her, "Not the way you'd intended to finish the term huh?" Amane smiled wearily, glancing sideways at her fellow Spican. The Kenjo girl could be remarkably perceptive when she chose to be. Kaname sighed awkwardly and gestured with a dismissive wave as she headed to the bathroom to fill the kettle. "You're better off without her Amane," Kaname called over her shoulder, filling the metal container messily, splashing cold water across the sink and tiled floor. Making a half-hearted attempt to clean up, she returned to the bedroom to plug the kettle in, adding, "She's a child Amane, a child," and she tipped her head to catch her fellow Spican's wandering gaze. The former-Etoile looked up, and the council assistant pressed her point, "Just a lapse of judgement, nothing more" and she gestured again for emphasis, "You know, look at it this way. It's the final day of term today; consider it a fresh start eh?" Amane remained silent for a moment, then nodded weakly. Kaname was right; Kaname was usually right it seemed. But the night alone ahead of the Ball had caused uncomfortable memories to come flooding back, the fifth year reminiscing as the thought of dressing up for a public event conjured images of the Etoile election. Hikari had danced like an angel that day, the fifth year thought, remembering the smell of the third year's hair as she'd held her protectively, the tiny blonde sheltered in the taller girl's arms; sheltered from the leering eyes of society. Amane pushed the thought from her mind, sighing as she returned to the now. Scratching the side of her head, she pushed her boyish mop out of the way. She considered the ramshackle pile of Kaname's belongings that had invaded her desk chair and changed the subject in dull tones, "So what's all this about anyway?" Kaname shrugged, avoiding the specifics. "Guess it all got too much for her," she replied, hoping to carry the sincerity. It hadn't taken the council assistant long to orchestrate enough rows to push Momomi over the edge, the emotional brunette already close to breaking point as it was. One more screaming match had given the tall fifth year the justification to walk away, the moral high ground resting firmly on her side. Kaname leered inwardly. Waiting on the kettle, she looked her companion up and down, her dark eyes scouring the mess before her. "I hope you're not planning to go dressed like that tonight?" she remarked coolly. Amane's expression remained blank, her gaze losing focus as she considered the subject. The failed-Etoile hadn't really intended to go, and Kaname picked the hesitance up on instinct, "Oh don't you think about it. You're coming whether you like it or not," she snapped, stabbing a tea spoon in Amane's direction for emphasis. Amane sighed heavily and cupped her hands to her face, letting them slide across her skin until they came to rest upon parsed lips. She paused for a moment, the sound of the kettle rumbling away angrily doing something to fill the space. "I need a shower," she concluded, and turned to gather some clothes. Kaname snorted her annoyance, "You're not getting out of it that lightly. We'll find you something to wear after you're done eh?" and she set about making the tea. The former-Etoile slowly gathered her bath robe and some clothes, wanting to say something but unsure what or how. Presenting a steaming cup of tea to her companion, Kaname raised an eyebrow, "What?" The failed Etoile pondered for a moment, and then shook her head slightly, her brown eyes down-turned as she accepted the drink. "Nothing. Make yourself at home Kenjo-san, I won't be long." After which she disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door with a soft thud, the sound of the shower following shortly. Considering the closed slab of wood, Kaname's dark eyes sparkled wickedly. - - - - - Nagisa looked around in awe, her jaw slack as she wandered aimlessly into the centre of the studio, the sound of her footsteps echoing across the wide open room as icy winds chased her heels desperately from the closing doorway behind. With a loud bang, the heavy metal portal slammed shut, slicing the draft short and causing Nagisa to jump at the noise. It was early when Emmie had picked the fourth year up from the school gate, the morning frost still visible on the barren trees. Nagisa had felt a pang of guilt having bailed on Ball day, her absence undoubtedly due to leave an already stressed Tamao in a state of confusion as to her fellow Etoile's whereabouts. But her former roommate would have to cope alone for the morning, Nagisa thought to herself, Emmie adamant that the two women meet again today, although the request itself having left the red head completely stumped as to why, given Mina's girlfriend had ruled out any further French tuition until after the Christmas Ball was over. As the young student gazed around, Emmie disappeared into a side room off from the main chamber, the sound of car keys skidding across a hard wood counter following not long after. The studio was a modern affair with vaulted ceilings and huge glass skylights that flooded the room with natural luminance and a pleasant ambient warmth. Sweeping wooden floor boards gave the chamber an almost gym-hall feel, offset only by the stacks of photography equipment and huge printed images that covered each of the painted masonry walls. Emmie's profession was apparent the second you entered the building, the huge black and white portrait of Mina that filled the wall opposite the door giving things away immediately. Along with Mrs Hanazono, there were also towering images of Shizuma, a number of European women, Emmie herself, and several location pieces featuring what looked like Tokyo and presumably Paris, the stark clarity of each image capturing the cold grit of city life. Each piece of work was electrifyingly moody and atmospheric, Emmie having captured some magical part of each subject in the original celluloid image, the power of which was only multiplied as the works were blown up to larger-than-life sizes to decorate the studio. As Nagisa took time to consider each in turn, she found herself lost in the messages hurled at her by the stills, and it was only when Emmie's slender hand floated into her field of vision, carrying with it a steaming cup of tea fresh from the kettle, that the young red head snapped back to reality. "Emmie-sama, they're amazing," she whispered, her voice stolen by the immensity of the spectacle around her. She nodded her thanks for the refreshment, one eye still intently surveying the surroundings. Emmie smiled and tipped her head to regard the image Nagisa was looking at; a broad scene from down town New York in winter, curling wisps of steam rising from subway vents captured to one side of the foreground against the stark bustle of the streets behind. As she clasped her mug close to her face to warm her cold nose and hands, Emmie asked, "Have you ever been to the US Nagisa?" The fourth year took a sip from her own cup of tea before replying in a disheartened voice, "No, not yet. My parents always promised me we'd go one day, but... well, work and all I guess." Emmie smiled sideways, her soft brown eyes considering the young woman beside her. "Well we'll have to fix that won't we; Mina and I go most summers at some point or another. The pair of you will have to join us next year. The remark prompted a wide grin from the fourth year, and she beamed as she caught the French woman's gaze. Nodding eagerly, she sipped some more tea and then continued to wander a while as the pair took a few moments to enjoy the hot liquid and to warm up after the cold walk from the car. As she neared the back end of the studio, Nagisa's gaze fell on one portrait in particular, the image very different to the others in the room and situated much nearer the plain white walled area where the lighting booms and camera tripods were gathered. She looked at it quizzically, trying to work out what made it stand out. Emmie joined the puzzled student, waiting quietly to see if Nagisa would make the connection. The image before them was a soft focus still of a European woman with curling blonde hair and startling pale eyes, her soft lips framed by perfect skin and a determined expression that drew the onlooker across her high cheek bones and back towards that commanding gaze, before locking it there as though the photo were about to animate and impart some poignant and heart-stirring message. She was dressed in a gent's tailored business suit, complete with broad shoulders, a pinstripe collar and plain pastel tie, holding a white glove in one hand, her other tucked into her trouser pocket, leaning back against a textured brick wall behind as she coolly regarded the onlooker. The image struck Nagisa as familiar for some reason, and the red head's forgotten cup of tea slowly lost its warmth as she tried to source the impression. "Marlene Dietrich," the French woman explained, and Nagisa looked up at Emmie quizzically. "You didn't take this picture Emmie-sama?" she asked, prompting Mina's girlfriend to chuckle in her soft european tone, "Oh no Nagisa, no; the original photograph is a good sixty years older than you are," she said with a warm smile, and then gestured to the woman's clothes in the photo. "She was an iconic film star from the early 1930's. I've always admired her because she dared to be different at a time when it was rarely accepted to be so." Nagisa considered the strange yet seamless mix of masculine shoulder pads, the angular lines of the tailored suit set against the feminine grace and curves of the woman's features, the suit and its wearer contrasting, yet somehow complimenting each other perfectly. There was something overt about the woman's expression, something very challenging. The fourth year flushed as she asked in a tiny voice, "Was she, was she like us?" Emmie smiled at her companion's awkwardness before replying thoughtfully, "Her private life was always shrouded in mystery, but she's always been accepted as one of our first public icons." Nagisa blushed further, but gazed again at the picture before her. Amidst her embarrassment, her flustered mind finally made the connection she'd been looking for. "She looks a lot like Amane-sama did at the Election," she remarked, and then for Emmie's benefit she explained, "There's a girl at one of the other schools who dresses a lot like that for special occasions." Emmie nodded, before continuing to recount the woman's background, having formed a line of conversation that would bring her to their reason for visiting the studio. She gestured as she explained, "In those days Nagisa, people like ourselves; we weren't something to be spoken about. We represented something that was seen to be completely unacceptable, an affront to the church and to society's values. Yet here was this shining Hollywood star daring to challenge those preconceptions and succeeding." She turned to consider the ponderous student staring up at the print, "It was women like Marlene that made it possible for us to lead the lives we do now," she said, and the French woman gestured again, "She stayed true to what she was, and as she grew in fame and popularity for her talents as an actress and a musician, so her difference became more and more accepted by her fans. We owe her for her courage and conviction in the face of adversity; for her confidence." And having captured the red head's attention completely, she pressed her point, "Confidence Nagisa. Something you seem to be sorely lacking, despite wearing my step-daughter's engagement ring and obviously attempting to cope with everything that accompanies it." Her heart jumping, Nagisa realised the comment about family during their last meeting wasn't offered in the figure-of-speech manner she'd spent the ride home hoping it had been. She remained silent, anxious and unsure of how to respond. "Did you think I hadn't noticed?" Emmie continued with a hearty laugh, bemused by Nagisa's panicked expression. "Besides, the receipts for Shizuma's allowance go to the house. Two identical platinum rings from the bridal selection? Somewhat obvious don't you think?" she said, and the French woman tipped a brow for effect. Nagisa lowered her gaze, feeling almost ashamed and expecting a tirade akin to those she'd receive from her parents as a young girl who'd just misbehaved. But as Emmie replied, nothing of the sort followed, "I'm guessing by your reaction it wasn't something conjured up in jest either?" She paused for a moment, considering the upperclassman carefully, "That's no easy path you two have chosen to walk... And don't think I haven't noticed how sullen you've become compared to the first time I met you," She lifted Nagisa's chin with delicate fingers, "What happened to that bubbly girl Shizuma brought home to meet her mother?" Nagisa's expression dropped, and the French woman brushed auburn locks from the young girl's face. "Are they making it difficult at school now? Has someone on staff said something?" Nagisa felt a lump rise in her throat, but had no idea how to begin to explain the situation with Miyuki, with Tamao, and with Nagisa's own inner fears and lack of self-esteem. All she could do was shake her head as tears sprang to her eyes. Emmie sighed fondly as she watched the young girl break down, "Oh Nagisa..." She knelt next to the fourth year, wiping the tears away with her thumb, looking up into the sad face before her. "Is there something I can do to help?" she asked, but the upperclassman could only gesture vaguely as the sobs took her. Emmie sighed again and drew the young girl against her, hugging the sullen form protectively. Running paternal fingers through Nagisa's loose hair, she waited patiently for the red head's tears to run dry. - - - - - "Chiyo-chan!" Tamao called, stretching to see over the obscuring shoulder of the girl stood before her. Swamped by the black uniforms of several fourth years, a group of restless first years and a number of the more senior council assistants who were all awaiting clarification or direction, the dark haired Etoile looked very much as though she were about to drown. "Chiyo!" she called again, and nodded politely as she side stepped around the gathered girls, excusing herself as she tried to catch her room temp's attention. The tiny underclassman looked back from one of the grand hall's fire exits, her attention very much fixed on a roll of red ribbon she was carrying, caught up in one of her own tasks as she prepared the stage for the Etoile dance that would open the Ball. The first year was rather proud of her stage, having decorated it extravagantly with ribbons and balloons; understated yet dainty nonetheless. Perfect for her beautiful onee-sama. Catching Tamao's hassled expression, Chiyo stopped in the doorway, her blue eyes swimming in the low light. "Etoile-sama?" she asked as the flustered Etoile approached her. Still in uniform despite some of the other students already having donned their Ball gowns in an impatient attempt to make time pass more quickly, Tamao looked anything but her usually calm self. Things were obviously getting on top of her. "Chiyo-chan, have you seen Nagisa or the school council President anywhere?" Chiyo took a blank expression as she considered the question, noting Tamao had dropped her usual honorifics. "Um, I saw Nagi-" and she corrected herself mid sentence, "Uh, I saw Etoile-sama this morning. It was very early. She was in the entrance hall by the mail boxes." Scratching her head, she finished, "I haven't seen Rokujo-san since yesterday," and she curtsied her apology. Tamao's shoulders slumped, and she sighed in resignation. "I guess I'll have to sort this out myself then," she mumbled softly, the comment not really aimed at anyone in particular. Chiyo looked up at her vexed face as she fiddled with the ribbon. Hoping to cheer Tamao up a little, she offered, "Did Etoile-sama see the stage I've prepared for your dance?" she asked in a small voice. Tamao muttered her response, distracted by the million and one things she was juggling in her head, "The stage? Um, yes Chiyo-chan. It's very pretty." Chiyo beamed and pressed the point further, "It took me forever and ever to inflate all those balloons!" and with a scowl she noted, "that horrible girl from Moon class wouldn't let me use the pump." Then, her face brightening again she continued, "But it was worth it though," and she pointed excitedly, "they look like bunches of Strawberries!" She was grinning, but Tamao was barely listening as she looked back toward the group waiting for her by the balcony pews. "Do you think Nagisa-sama will like it too?" Chiyo asked, too caught up in her own subject to notice Tamao's lack of response. Finally the persistence riled her patience, and Tamao snapped without meaning to, "I have no idea Chiyo, at this rate I fully expect to be hosting the Ball alone." And with that, the fourth year returned to the balcony, leaving Chiyo fully intending to refuse any senior appointments that she might be offered in the future, given how irritable they seemed to make everyone. - - - - - "My god woman, do you even own a single dress?" Kaname snapped in irritation. The former-Etoile failed to comment, and Kaname looked back over her shoulder to the dormitory bed where Amane was perched in her jeans and t-shirt, a brown leather boot in her hands as she attempted to slide her foot into the snug fitting leatherwear. The horse rider was preparing to leave for the stables to check on Star Bridge one last time before locking up for the evening, Kaname having managed to persuade her to attend the Ball despite the problem of attire still remaining unsolved. She shrugged. "You sound like Shizuma," she muttered, prompting a horrified look from the tennis champion. "Don't ever, ever say that again," Kaname replied, before returning to rummaging through Amane's drawer. Frustration getting the better of her, she snapped and slammed the wooden unit closed. "Bah, I give up!" she exclaimed, and turned to perch with her backside against the drawer and her arms folded before her. "Your sense of dress is useless," she spat through her sloping black fringe. Amane's foot slipped into the boot suddenly as the leather gave way, and returning her sole to the floor, she set about tightening the straps. "I guess I'll have to miss out then," she replied, not in the least bit upset by the prospect. Kaname rolled her eyes. "I'd go find you something from my own wardrobe, but I full expect to have the door slammed in my face," she said, and then added thoughtfully, "I wonder if Shion might spare you something?" Amane shook her head in bemusement and set about donning the other boot. "I shouldn't imagine Shion is looking forward to this evening either," the fifth year offered quietly. Kaname snorted, "Probably worried someone else will try lamping her," she joked, and continued with a sly grin, "God knows there were enough times in council when I wanted to myself." She smiled as she pushed away from the drawer and stretched her back out. "So where are you running off to anyway?" she enquired, gesturing as Amane slipped her other foot into the remaining boot and started tightening the clasps. "Me?" Amane asked with a smirk, and she twisted her neck to look up at the council assistant. Pushing her messy bob out of the way, she replied, "We are going to the stables. You think you're lodging for free Kaname? We have a horse to muck out." Kaname's face twisted in disgust, the former-Etoile finally having returned to good spirits but apparently having done so very much to the council assistant's detriment. - - - - - "You both look stunning!" Chikaru remarked, cupping her hands against her chest as she looked the two second years up and down. Remon and Kizuna had knocked for the school council President not long before lunch, too eager to wait till evening to don their dresses and desperate to show them off to someone. Kitted out in ruffled evening gowns, the two Lulim underclassmen looked surprisingly mature for a change, the soft ice-green satin of Remon's dress matching her hair and contrasting nicely with Kizuna's beige outfit. They stood expectantly, waiting for Chikaru's verdict in the doorway to the fifth year's Dormitory. "Yes, very beautiful indeed," she concluded, and smiled at the excited duo. Kizuna grinned and squeezed her partner's arm before running into Chikaru's room to jump on the council President's bed, showing no thought whatsoever for the possibility of creasing her garment. Scowling, Remon followed and attempted to straighten Kizuna's dress out as she perched beside her. "When will Chikaru-senpai put her dress on?" she asked, her attention half stolen as Kizuna fidgeted in protest against her efforts. Chikaru returned to tiding away the sowing materials arranged on her desk, slotting each of reel of cotton thread back into its appropriate holder amongst her craft box. "Not just yet, it's a bit early and we have dinner yet," she replied, carefully sliding each of the steel needles into the sponge block they were kept in for safety. Tipping her head, Remon asked, "You've not finished your gown yet Chikaru-sama?" Chikaru smiled warmly, the long red ribbons in her hair jostling as she hefted the closed craft box into a wardrobe at the back of the room. "Of course I have," she said, and tapped her nose teasingly, "I was working on something else." Remon peered over her glasses, a look of eager questioning in her eyes, "No!" Chikaru grinned, and she carefully pushed the wardrobe door to. "You'll have to wait till later to see." - - - - - "She was sooo cute," Nagisa giggled, the fourth year smiling despite her voice still betraying her earlier tears. She sniffled slightly as she tipped the picture so she could see it better. Emmie grinned, pointing at the next celluloid in the stack. "Even cuter out of the nappy!" she teased, gesturing to a picture of an infant Shizuma hanging naked in a younger Mina's arms, legs dangling in trepidation above a foaming bath below. Nagisa giggled again, and Emmie glanced fondly at the red head beside her. The girls were sat cross legged in the middle of the studio floor, surrounded by piles of childhood photos that Emmie had fetched from her processing room, the French woman having recently digitised the collection for Mina. Having spent an hour or so chatting quietly after Nagisa had broken down, and then a further hour laughing at a young Shizuma, and at Mina and Emmie's university photos, Nagisa was now in much better spirits, although obviously somewhat worn after the emotional outburst. Glad for the confidant, Nagisa was finally beginning to relax after what seemed like an age, giggling and joking much like the young woman that Emmie had met at the Hanazono bungalow. There were still unanswered questions remaining however, but the French woman opted to save them for another day, just glad to have gotten this far. Nagisa sighed heavily as she straightened up, her back seizing from the awkward posture. She turned to watch Mina's girlfriend as she began to gather the photos into a meaningful pile so she could sort them and return the set to its album holder. Curious, Nagisa asked in a small voice, "What did Emmie-sama mean the other day, when she packed up at the restaurant?" and for conciseness she added, "You said, 'that's enough of that young lady!' Enough of what Emmie-sama?" she asked. The French woman paused, resting the stack of photographs in her lap as she considered her reply. Long brunette hair shuffling across her shoulders, she turned her deep brown eyes toward the red head. "We were talking about Shizuma; you made a comment about not being able to dance." She ran a fond hand across Nagisa's forearm. "You were very down on yourself the last time we met Nagisa; Shizuma had said on the phone how different you'd been acting, so I guess without the things you told me earlier, it just struck me as very self-defeating." Nagisa lowered her eyes to the floor, chewing on her lip before looking up to reply. "But I can't dance Emmie-sama, I was just being truthful. At least, I can't dance the way she does." "Perhaps not yet no," Emmie said, and her pretty face warmed as she added, "Never too late to learn though," she remarked, her voice showing the effort as she pushed herself to her feet. Looking up from the floor, Nagisa raised a questioning brow. "Emmie-sama?" The French woman laughed merrily, and offered a hand to the fourth year, "Come on you, get up. Why do you think I brought you to the studio today? Enough moping around already," she said, and took the strain as the red head pulled herself to her feet. As a confused Nagisa brushed herself down, the brunette disappeared into a side room, a soft light spilling across the wooden floor boards beside the doorway. A few moments later she returned with a black remote control in her hand, her long flowing hair tied into a tight plait and her smooth brown dress several buttons looser on each side seam. Kicking her shoes off, she walked out into the middle of the studio, away from the scattered photos, and pointed the remote vaguely off into a corner of the room. Slowly, Nagisa became aware of soft music filling the chamber, gradually increasing in volume as time passed. As the track faded in, Emmie grinned, waiting to catch the beat before flicking her hands out wide and drawing them back through sweeping arcs, her hips jolting to life as they skipped along with the bass. She danced like Shizuma, Nagisa thought, having learned a long time ago that the European woman was one of the influences responsible for the former-Etoile's unusual taste in music. She'd referenced the woman purely as a friend back then though, nothing like the truth of the matter. Watching from her place by the photograph collection, the fourth year found herself uncomfortable at her own awkwardness as she watched the older woman's graceful figure flow along with the music. Completing several turns before the track rolled back into the first line of the chorus, Emmie came to a stand still, looking back across the wide wooden floor. Her chest rising and falling gently with the exertion, she raised a brow, tipping her head sideways as she stared at Nagisa expectantly. "So?" she said meaningfully. "Emmie-sama?" Nagisa asked, not catching the meaning. Mina's girlfriend smiled, and gestured with out stretched hands, "So come here then!" she replied, waiting for Nagisa to join her. Nagisa looked stumped. "Um..." The red head shifted uneasily, scratching the back of her head. Emmie gestured again, "And lose the shoes. Is there any way of loosening that monstrosity of a uniform?" she asked. Nagisa slipped off her low heels, feeling somewhat shorter and very exposed as she stepped onto the wooden floor boards with bare feet. Fiddling with the clasps at the back of her Miatorian dress, she undid the bottom few ties to give herself some room to breath. Emmie nodded approvingly and motioned again. "Come here then Nagisa," she said, noting as the first track finished and the next began to fade into the mix. Nagisa's eyes remained fixed on the floor as she sidled over to the waiting brunette, already beginning to blush with self-awareness. There was no way she could dance like that, no matter how easy Emmie or Shizuma might find it themselves. The French woman smiled down at the bashful form beside her. "Were planning to dance to this or continue to hide under your fringe and pretend you aren't here?" she asked. Nagisa sighed and risked a swift glance up into the brown eyes staring down at her. Emmie smiled, brushing Nagisa's auburn hair from her pretty face and easing out the young woman's tense shoulders, letting her hands rest either side of the fourth year's slender neck. Listening a moment to the breaks drifting from well concealed speakers throughout the room, she followed the track, mouthing the lyrics and indicting for Nagisa to listen too. After a few bars, she asked, "Do you like this song Nagisa?" The red head nodded, having heard the track before when she'd returned to Shizuma's bedroom after council duty. Shizuma had a habit of breaking Dormitory rules late at night when the Sister would be in bed and too busy sleeping to enforce them, the sixth year regularly listening to music as she read; the combination of the pleasant melodies and soft candle light that Shizuma always prepared working wonders for the new Etoile's mood. Tipping her head, the fourth year let her mind skip along with the beat. "Which bit do you hear the most?" Emmie asked, causing the young girl next to her to frown in confusion. Emmie dipped her head as she explained, "Which bit does your mind listen to the most? The singing? The bass? Or that snare skipping along in the background?" Nagisa looked to one side for a moment, considering the question. Emmie leaned back, looking at the red head's expression as she brushed Nagisa's falling fringe out of the way. "Close your eyes, it will make it easier." The upperclassman did as she was asked, and found her mind submerged in the complex layering of the song, able to better distinguish each instrument in the soft black void behind her eyes. The bass, the snare drum, the crashing cymbal, the soft European lyrics, the strings and synth flowing through the background... Opening her wide brown eyes and flinching in the studio's bright light as though she were emerging from a dark tunnel, the red head replied quietly, "There's a drum, not the deep one, but another. It skips along marking the beat," she said, and Emmie nodded approvingly. "Close your eyes again," she said, and held her face close to the side of Nagisa's. Quietly she whispered, "Count the beats. Notice how there's the cymbal at the end of each block of four." Nagisa listened intently to the fabric of the music flowing through the room, her mind lost in the myriad weave of instruments and lyrics. Emmie was right, Nagisa's ears catching the repetition. Lost in the smothering blackness of her mind, she started nodding subconsciously to the beat. The French woman stepped back a pace, and Nagisa reopened her eyes. "Every track is based around a similar beat Nagisa. Only unlike the dances those stuffy old crones at school teach you, your feet don't follow those beats, your hips do." And to demonstrate, the French woman arched her back slightly, her knees bending as her hips rotated effortlessly with the rhythm, her arms gliding along like graceful waves on the ocean. Nagisa watched with an anxious pang in her chest, feeling very much like a rickety scarecrow stood watching a delicate butterfly. Emmie smiled, and came to a halt. Moving to stand behind Nagisa, she rested her hands on the fourth year's tiny waist. "Relax," she whispered, and pushed the young woman into motion. Nagisa immediately stumbled, her legs feeling like concrete, the red head unsure what to do with her feet, certain she had suddenly gained lead socks. Emmie chuckled, and pushed the back of Nagisa's knees with her own. "Bend your legs slightly. And relax! You can't do this stood like a statue." Waiting for the chorus to pass and the beat to build again, Emmie pushed Nagisa's hips into motion, at first on every other beat, and then faster and in time with the track itself as Nagisa's movements became more confident. Emmie grinned, and stepped back. Feeling instantly self-conscious, Nagisa came to a stop, suddenly picturing herself somewhat akin to a monkey with a miniature cymbal, repeating the same motion over and over and looking nothing like the graceful woman she was watching a moment ago. Her breathing a little laboured, she waited for her heart to slow before offering quietly, "I feel silly." Emmie rolled her eyes, replying with a question, "Do you think you look silly?" she asked. Nagisa shrugged. "Um..." Emmie's eyes flashed, and she returned to her place behind the red head, reaching up with a gentle hand that brushed Nagisa's eyelids closed. "Listen to the music again Nagisa," she whispered, waiting for a moment before pushing Nagisa's hips. The fourth year began to dance again, and Emmie followed suit, running her hands along Nagisa's arms until she slid her fingers between the younger woman's, drawing the red head's hands through sweeping arcs around her waist. The fourth year began to relax, the motions becoming familiar, her movements gathering in confidence. With a grin Emmie drew her companion's hands in against her waist, and with a soft push forced Nagisa to wind downwards, their dresses brushing the floor as they lowered. Reaching as far as they could go without falling over, Emmie brought the pair back up before repeating the move on the next break. Nagisa managed a smile as she got the hang of it, repeating the move a final time on her own. Stepping back, Emmie pulled her escaping hair taut, shaking the plait loose before setting about redoing it. Nagisa continued to wiggle away for a bit, before coming to a halt herself. Her chest rising and falling heavily, she giggled. "It's fun!" Emmie flashed a grin, before repeating herself, "So, do you still think you look silly?" Nagisa blushed, shrugging her shoulders. "I'm not sure. Um...I feel silly as soon as Emmie-sama stops dancing with me," she admitted. The older woman laughed and tipped her head as she finished redoing the plait. She reached for the discarded remote, snatching it from the floor before flicking forward a few tracks to a more up beat tune. "I love this one," she beamed, before poking Nagisa in the ribs. "Remember what I said about Marlene Nagisa? About confidence?" She tossed the remote to one side, her deep brown eyes sparkling mischievously. "Dance with me Nagisa. Close your eyes and dance." Nagisa blushed. "But I -" Emmie cut in, "No buts. I'll be with you. Now, come and dance!" The fourth year's face flushed as she did as she was told, Nagisa joining Emmie and righting herself, making certain she wouldn't lose her balance and fall over as soon as she closed her eyes. Making sure she was okay, she finally let the smothering blackness take her. Emmie smiled, and quietly moved away from the Etoile's side, heading towards one of the studio walls behind her. As Nagisa lost herself in the thumping track, the French woman slid one of the white fabric lighting screens to one side, revealing a wide floor length mirror than ran on wheels. Doing her best not draw the red head's attention as the wooden frame rolled into motion, the brunette led the mirror round so it sat in directly before the dancing student, the French woman watching the red head intently as she tried to judge the young girl's thoughts. Nagisa was doing her best to copy the movements she'd been taught, fumbling from time to time but gaining in confidence with each repetition and increasingly so as she lost herself in the song. Waiting until Nagisa had managed long enough without a stumble to have gained some real momentum, Emmie called softly from her place by the mirror. "Open your eyes Nagisa, open them but don't stop dancing," she said, and waited for the reaction. It took several seconds for the upperclassman's eyes to focus and take in the scene before her, but as she made sense of the image she realised who the figure in the mirror was, and despite coming to a standstill almost immediately, found herself looking nowhere near as stupid as she'd been certain she must have done earlier. Emmie smiled slyly. "So? Did you look silly Nagisa?" she asked. The red head rested her hands on her knees for a moment, bent double as she tried to catch her breath. Tipping her head back, Nagisa considered the young girl in the mirror image. She hadn't looked silly at all. In fact, she'd almost looked as thought she knew what she was doing. Emmie raised a brow, prompting a response. Nagisa giggled involuntarily. "No, no I didn't Emmie-sama," she finally replied. Emmie waited a moment before structuring her point, "Dancing is all about letting your heart control your mind Nagisa," she began, and suddenly the red head realised that Shizuma too had more than likely once received the same piece of wisdom as she recalled the former-Etoile's guidance prior to the election event, "If you're truly at peace with what you're doing and you let your heart free, your body will follow suit. You shouldn't need to see yourself Nagisa, the music will be your guide." The upperclassman rolled her eyes and as her breathing recovered. All this fairy talk was too much for her, but she had to concede she didn't look anywhere near as awful as she'd presumed she had. Emmie smiled at the cynicism. "Tell me Nagisa, how do you think Marlene Dietrich managed to stand up on stage dressed the way she was and sing as confidently as she did in front of hundreds of people without faltering?" Nagisa looked back at the image behind her before replying, "But she looked amazing dressed that way..." Emmie countered quickly, "But how did she know that Nagisa? Everything she stood for was condemned by the church, slated by society. How did she know people would accept her that way? 'I was born a gentleman' she once said. Could she have spelt it out any clearer?" Nagisa was stumped, unable to reply, and Emmie continued, "Because she was at peace with herself Nagisa. Because she believed in what she was and allowed her heart to guide her head." The French woman let her brow rest against the hard wooden frame beside her, "We call it, 'le femme' Nagisa. The spirit that embodies what we are." She smiled, her feministic rant soaring miles above Nagisa's young head, although the core message obviously having sunk in. "A woman at peace with herself Nagisa, no matter who she is, or what she is, will truly shine. And then Nagisa, and only then, will she be at her most beautiful." The red head was silent, considering Emmie's words. Out of reflex, she began her knee-jerk response, "But I can't-" Emmie cut her off, "But you can Nagisa. You've just proved it to yourself," and she pointed at the slender fourth year before her, "Tell me, who do you think my step-daughter fell in love with? The miserable wreck that sat with me for lunch on thursday, or the larger-than-life young minx that came to dinner at our bungalow?" Letting the words sink in, she added quietly, "And who do you think it was dancing in front of this mirror a moment ago?" Nagisa looked up from beneath her fringe, something having dawned on her uneasy mind. Emmie smiled knowingly and pushed herself away from the mirror, returning to stand beside the red head. Waiting for the music to gain tempo again, she grinned playfully, "Now watch, let me teach you some more moves..." - - - - - Sister Mizue sighed irritably as she approached the school gates, considering the dark skies above and the rolling cloud approaching from the east. It would be cold tonight she thought, and the old woman grumbled as she considered the forthcoming task of rounding up wayward students on the school grounds after the Ball had ended. Undoubtedly she would freeze whilst doing so, and in her senior years, she was hardly up to winter chill. The Christmas Ball always brought such disruptions, and she scowled at the unwanted interruption to her daily routine. Reaching the large iron gate, she watched as the automatic mechanism rumbled into life, the gears slowly pushing the gothic looking structure out across the flagstones and into place for the night. Mizue huffed, reflecting that only the Father himself could know what kind of ridiculous hour she would get to sleep afterward. As the gate slowed, almost having completed its unhurried trip across the entrance pathway, Mizue turned back towards the Dormitory building before her, considering the next task on her list before the Ball itself began. And in her distraction, the student administrator failed to notice a hooded figure slip quietly past the closing gate, disappearing into the hedge line opposite. - - - - - "Oh my god!" the French woman exclaimed, beaming like a kinder garden girl at Christmas. Feeling the bass rip into the studio walls, she rolled her hips furiously, the brunette losing herself as the next track began. Nagisa recognized the song and followed suit, remembering it from the evening at the Summer House. Now completely relaxed, the young student was thoroughly enjoying herself, Emmie having taught her some of the more complicated moves she'd seen Shizuma use in the past and the new Etoile feeling very pleased with herself as she managed to use them correctly. Glancing in the mirror from time to time to check herself, she grinned as she watched the pair of them dancing, thinking that this must be how a bird feels when free on the wind, her heart pounding as she let the weeks of angst and hassle slip away. Here, safe in the studio and away from Astrea Hill and its intrusive eyes, she'd finally found a way to be herself again. Here she could let it all out. From the corner of one eye, Emmie caught Nagisa's smiling face as she closed her eyes, the upperclassman many, many miles away. She stepped back from the fourth year, deftly grabbing the remote from the floor as she went. Doing her best to be as subtle as possible, Emmie slowly tapped the volume button again and again until the floor boards themselves began to vibrate with the bass. Nagisa was completely gone. And as the track gathered momentum, breaking snares and thumping fan fares filling the room while a heart-stirring lyric soared over the top, the little red head ground out the bass, her hair flicking as she wound down, raising her hands in a winding spiral above her head as she'd seen Emmie and Shizuma do so in the past, before kicking out as she bounced back to her feet. She turned once, then again and again, following the track to its crescendo, her little heart thumping and her pulse racing as the lyric and synth swept her away. And just as the track hit its highest point and the music dropped away to silence, Emmie called from her place behind the slender fourth year, the French woman stood with her arms folded, her intent stare watching the red head in the mirror before them. "Look Nagisa. Look at the mirror and tell me what you see." Stood with her dress hitched halfway up her thighs, her chest heaving with each breath, her pupils wide and her hair messy and dishevelled, the young girl in the mirror stared back with a raw edge to her eyes, her mind still caught up in the dance, her nostrils flaring gently as she breathed. Nagisa gazed at herself, her mind processing the signals her body was giving off, her glazed eyes taking in the determined look on her face. "What do you see Nagisa?" the French woman repeated, and as her pounding heart echoed in her ears, the tiny red head ventured playfully, "I look like I feel Emmie-sama." The French woman tipped her head, grinning as she brushed a wayward hair from her eyes. "And how do you feel Nagisa?" she asked, knowing the response already. The red head smiled, for once certain she knew an honest answer to the question. "I'm at peace Emmie," she replied, using the French woman's own words as a content smile spread across her face, the Miatorian feeling more alive now than she had in weeks. She giggled happily and Emmie beamed in response, moving to stand behind the panting fourth year. She rested her slender fingers on the red head's shoulders and continued quietly, but poignantly, "le femme Nagisa," and she gestured again at the mirror before them. "If she truly believes in herself, there is nothing in this world that a woman cannot achieve. Nothing at all." She waited a moment, letting the words sink in, watching the fourth year watch herself, the young woman in the mirror the picture of confidence and maturity she'd been all those days gone on the evening she'd first returned to the Dormitories wearing Shizuma's engagement ring. Nagisa caught Emmie's gaze in the mirror, and with a fond glow in her heart reached back to cup the hand on her shoulder. Emmie smiled fondly before stepping away, heading back towards the mess of photographs still lying across the floor. "There's a shower in the back room Nagisa. It's late. You should get yourself cleaned up and I'll run you back to the Dorms myself." The fourth year remained where she was, still looking the young woman in the mirror up and down. Something crossed her mind, and she glanced up at the wall clock near the print of New York. There was time. Hurrying off towards the shower, she called back to Emmie, "Can we stop by town on the way back Emmie?" she asked, "There's a favour I need to ask before I return to the Dorms."
Back to Strawberry Panic Anime Continuity FanFic Index - Back to Strawberry Panic Shoujo-Ai Fanfiction