07-31-2018, 10:43 PM
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with grace in your heart and flowers in your hair
(this thread's purpose is to put bast 6ft under and confirm that yes, he definitely needs to hit that in case any of you were absolutely curious about why is this here mii it's pointless because i assure you, it is n o t pointless. Also...this is human au for necessary reasons?)
There was music spilling into the quiet night air.
"Si el ritmo te lleva a mover la cabeza ya empezamos como es,"
It was two in the morning, and there was music, upbeat and bouncing. It seeped through the cool atmosphere of the bunker, far too sunny to fit the aesthetic of crickets and fireflies. Not that Hazel cared, really; she actually preferred that it was fast and the epitome of club music. In fact, she was so tuned out to the actual music that she failed to notice how most of it was in Spanish, verses flowing out of the phone tucked in her waistband in an unfamiliar language. (Part of the reason she failed to notice was because she recognized so many of the words.)
"Mi música no discrimina a nadie así que vamos a romper,"
She'd heard the same three songs on repeat for the past hour and a half now, humming along to the tune of Mi Gente as she swept the hard-wire brush over Arion's back, bare feet shuffling about in the straw and shavings of the newly cleaned stall. The colt was watching her out the corner of his eye, blowing air her way every now and again until she fed him a treat from the bag resting on the stall door. He didn't really mind being up this late, it seemed; he enjoyed being brushed. Or pampered. Whichever.
"Toda mi gente se mueve,"
Hazel had stopped checking the time around midnight, knowing that it would be a while until she saw the rise of the sun on the Ascendant's borders. Tonight she was just...determined not to sleep, not after that particular dream. So she decided to stay awake straight through the night; nothing she hadn't done before. But this was her new favorite method of coping, letting the music encompass all her senses. That being what it was, Hazel was now in Arion's stall, complete with PJ shorts that couldn't get any shorter and a loose tank top that was smudged with dirt, dancing like there was no one watching. Because...there wasn't. She let the hard beat and rhythm pull and push at her hips, shifting her weight where the music demanded.
"Mira el ritmo cómo los tiene,"
She never danced in front of people for this reason: she always felt better doing it on her own. More confident. It wasn't uncommon; though it was easier when there was nothing but music, swaying her body. She moved like she'd never move in front of another person, purposefully dropping to a squat in a sinful way on one beat to brush Arion's legs. It's not like anyone was going to see, right? So who cared? Dancing was freeing. Letting her body sync with the music, swaying her hips to the beat of the songs that pulled at her veins, just screamed dance! at her. Hazel felt stupid powerful in that moment, feeling the crescendo of the chorus in her heart, the thump of the beat in her the bob of her head. Just fluid movement timed to the fine thrum of good art.
"Hago música que entretiene,"
(also this was straight up a concept madi thought of weeks ago, im throwing her under the bus right now, no shame)
★
There was music spilling into the quiet night air.
"Si el ritmo te lleva a mover la cabeza ya empezamos como es,"
It was two in the morning, and there was music, upbeat and bouncing. It seeped through the cool atmosphere of the bunker, far too sunny to fit the aesthetic of crickets and fireflies. Not that Hazel cared, really; she actually preferred that it was fast and the epitome of club music. In fact, she was so tuned out to the actual music that she failed to notice how most of it was in Spanish, verses flowing out of the phone tucked in her waistband in an unfamiliar language. (Part of the reason she failed to notice was because she recognized so many of the words.)
"Mi música no discrimina a nadie así que vamos a romper,"
She'd heard the same three songs on repeat for the past hour and a half now, humming along to the tune of Mi Gente as she swept the hard-wire brush over Arion's back, bare feet shuffling about in the straw and shavings of the newly cleaned stall. The colt was watching her out the corner of his eye, blowing air her way every now and again until she fed him a treat from the bag resting on the stall door. He didn't really mind being up this late, it seemed; he enjoyed being brushed. Or pampered. Whichever.
"Toda mi gente se mueve,"
Hazel had stopped checking the time around midnight, knowing that it would be a while until she saw the rise of the sun on the Ascendant's borders. Tonight she was just...determined not to sleep, not after that particular dream. So she decided to stay awake straight through the night; nothing she hadn't done before. But this was her new favorite method of coping, letting the music encompass all her senses. That being what it was, Hazel was now in Arion's stall, complete with PJ shorts that couldn't get any shorter and a loose tank top that was smudged with dirt, dancing like there was no one watching. Because...there wasn't. She let the hard beat and rhythm pull and push at her hips, shifting her weight where the music demanded.
"Mira el ritmo cómo los tiene,"
She never danced in front of people for this reason: she always felt better doing it on her own. More confident. It wasn't uncommon; though it was easier when there was nothing but music, swaying her body. She moved like she'd never move in front of another person, purposefully dropping to a squat in a sinful way on one beat to brush Arion's legs. It's not like anyone was going to see, right? So who cared? Dancing was freeing. Letting her body sync with the music, swaying her hips to the beat of the songs that pulled at her veins, just screamed dance! at her. Hazel felt stupid powerful in that moment, feeling the crescendo of the chorus in her heart, the thump of the beat in her the bob of her head. Just fluid movement timed to the fine thrum of good art.
"Hago música que entretiene,"
★
(also this was straight up a concept madi thought of weeks ago, im throwing her under the bus right now, no shame)
© MADI
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WITH EVERY HEARTBEAT I HAVE LEFT
i will defend your every breath; i'll do better