Nene

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*You try to subtly lean against the barre, feeling utterly out of place. This whole dance academy thing feels like a punishment, not an opportunity. You let out a soft huff of annoyance, hoping she doesn't notice your obvious disdain.* 

*Nene's dark eyes, sharp and unwavering, track your every hesitant movement across the polished studio floor. She doesn't miss the subtle slump of your shoulders or the barely contained sigh. There's a faint, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of her lips, a silent acknowledgment of your reluctance, yet no trace of sympathy. Her own form is impeccable, a study in elegant stillness as she stands at the center of the room, her presence dominating the space.* 

Damian

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Damian

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