Roses after the Preformance

[Naomi Verd]

[member="Darth Metus"]

Adarlon

Naomi paced her breaths, with every second her heart would slowly stop practically beating out of her chest. All of the background dancers and side characters in the performance raced on the stage, every section would take part in the curtain call. With every bow the claps would get louder, and louder. An announcer cheerfully called their names and when it came down to Naomi and her dancing partner the crowd practically roared. Though the stand ovation was already set in motion before the curtain call even began.

"Last but most certainly not least, Lady Pavlova and her lucky dance partner, Clarke Johnson!" They raced out on the wooden stage, both hands clenched as Naomi stood up on point and they raised their hands and bowed. Her bright smile widened as he indulged in the cheerful screams and cheers of the crowds she loved. It was has everything slowed down, every performance meant so much to her. This was her life and she took it with grace and power. No one could deny how talented the young woman was. Naomi even earned a solo in one of the most celebrated and anticipated performances of this time. It was an honor for her and a fear.

There would be so much pressure on her before she to put forth what the university taught her. She could even go as far as saying she dread her solo. An empty stage but nothing but eyes on her and her art. The whole cast bowed once more before the large curtain fell down. Taking in a deep breath she hugged her dance partner and the rest of the extras. It was a team effort it couldn't have been done without all of them working together. They congratulated her and she offered as many thanks as possible. Naomi watched as they slowly all started to fall apart and go their separate ways. It was no doubtfully a full house, everyone's family and loved ones were giving flowers and exotic smelling plants in the plastic half bags and bows.

Naomi began to bounce away from what was left of the crowd, her smile still strong as she exchanged a few parting glances. She walked down and small hallway. Several dressing rooms were sprawled around the wall. Naomi was met with a door that had in gold sparkly letters, 'Lady Pavlova' pushing the door in slowly she flicked on the all of the lights. Taking in a deep breath she moved to her makeup dresser. Slowly she sat down in her folding chair and grabbed a small damp make up remover cloth and smeared it over her face. Behind her was a closed off area specific for changing, which held racks upon racks of costumes and dresses for her to wear.

Dresses she didn't even need. Pausing for a minute Naomi felt as though there was a presence behind her. Yet in the crystal clear mirror in front of her declared there was no one. Turning her head to the side for a minute she simply shook off the feeling and closed her eyes, wiping the thick black eyeliner and large lashes from her eyes. Her hair shifted slowly and came down from it's formal bun on her head down to gentle waves just touching her shoulders. With her eyes closed her dress shifted to a normal pair of jeans and tank top. Her brows creased as she finally removed her make up but her elbows meet the glass dresser.

Naomi's calloused hands held her face for a moment. It wasn't a pleasant feeling but it was nice to have her eyes closed for once and awhile.

 

[Malok]

Time.

For those whose lives were characterized by ignorance and leisure, time was but a unit with which to measure. However, for those with ambition at the forefront of their minds, time was a precious commodity. All too often did these individuals find themselves lacking in this invaluable resource; for the demands of their goals claimed every second of every day. Machinations were in desperate need of formation, power in need of consolidation...and Darth Metus found himself in the thick of it all.

In the wake of what once was, a seemingly peaceful life with one's spouse and children, came a full acceptance. The Sith once teetered on the edge of complacency, oftentimes debating giving up the Darkness in order to enjoy what he had grown around him. However, fate had other plans. In what seemed an instant, the secret of his Darkness was revealed to those he cherished most...and it cost him everything. Now, the Sith had little choice but to accept who and what he was: a Sith to the bitter end.

Yet, he was also a Father.

Yes, time was in short supply for the Sith Lord, especially with the new deadlines proposed by his Master looming overhead. However, there was still a shred of humanity left within the husk known as Darth Metus. As he criss-crossed the stars preparing to bring about his Vision, he took the time out to make a detour. Adarlon was the place in question, home to all the "movers and shakers" of the entertainment world. Here, the Sith sought a single individual: his daughter.

By no means did he anticipate this encounter going well, for the last time they had spoken...he almost had a vase cave in his skull. However, there wasn't a Cause or Aspiration that would have prevented him from coming. Ever since she had emerged from her cloning tube, [member="Naomi Verd"] was different than her siblings. Where [member="Anastasia Verd"] valued power and [member="Adela Verd"] valued Mandalorian culture, Naomi simply aspired to dance. Metus fondly recalled the "good old days", when he'd catch her waltzing about the halls of their home...

...and despite all that being gone now, he wanted to see her dream finally realized. As such, the hooded Sith procured for himself tickets to her latest performance and made his presence as anonymous as possible. The shadows of the dim theatre were his ally, affording him to smile with pride as his child danced boldly across the stage. She had grown considerably, and her skill far surpassed any that danced alongside her. To say the least, the Sith Lord was impressed.

When it was all said and done, Darth Metus found that his throat was parched. Apparently cheering at the top of one's lungs had a lasting effect. Nonetheless, as the crowds began to disperse, the Sith made his way backstage. He was, briefly, stopped by a duo of security personnel who demanded to see some form of identification...but a simple touch of the Force changed their minds. They practically escorted him to the dressing room in question, and them admitted him within without a word.

As the door slid shut behind him, the Sith gazed at his child...and was at a loss for words. So, instead of rambling or saying anything that would arouse anger, he simply extended to her the gift that he had brought along. It was customary for parents and loved ones to present their performing children with roses, and Darth Metus did just that. "You did so well tonight, Naomi." he eventually managed to say. "You've come so far from dancing about the hallway...I'm proud of you."

 

[Naomi Verd]

She shook her head in her palms, Naomi could not playing the performance over and over in her head. A small detail she left out even though her partner corrected her mistake it was impossible that anyone would notice. Her face was still covered and her eyes closed. With her face still buried in her hands Naomi jumped a little upon the opening of her dressing room door. No one was allowed access into the dancer's room unless approved by the performer. This man was absolutely not being approved by her.

Quickly her stomach practically dropped when it was none other than [member="Darth Metus"] facial expression wise her brows creased and there was a definite frown pasted on her lips. Naomi turned in her chair every time he spoke her name she would cringe a little inside. The roses were presented to her as a gift, an offering for her work. The Clone slightly raised her chin and looked down at the flower. Her hand hesitantly took the roses and then threw them gently into her trash bin. When he spoke of how proud he was she rolled her eyes, it made no sense to her why he would say such a thing. Surely he had daughters who were more affection worthy, Naomi wanted none of his.

Her facial expression could have been taken and read in multiple ways. There was traces of disgust, bewilderment, anger, and depression. Boldly she offered him nothing in return but her silence and cold scowls. She left everything she knew for a reason only to have it follow her to her work place. Though that was not nearly the hardest part in order to disappear. Naomi tried very hard to convince herself that there was something worth looking for in him but the longer she stared and the longer the silence was dragged out the more mental flaws she could point out. Him being with in range of her was a total insult to her and a spit in the face.

Overall she was not disappointed that she had seen nothing change in this man's eyes but already owned the knowledge that the image he held in he mind would never change. Naomi ran through all of the words she could say, though right now the silence was heavy and no words were needed. Until she breathed, "Please understand you are not welcome in this room and I will only ask you once to escort yourself sir." She spoke as though he was a stranger to her. Her hand slowly gestured towards the door. Naomi turned in her chair, she knew it would take more than that for him to leave but the young woman could only hope it would send him off.

The anger she carried with her after leaving her family was still bottled up within her mind. Little pieces had bleed out through several sleepless nights and excessive runs and practice by her lonely. She lifted her feet up and slowly unwrapped the shoes, there was a soft relief upon removing them. Her hands gently massaged her toes and flexed them, they were a distorted evidence of power and determination. Sliding them into a pair of fur lined shoes, she stood up. Naomi could not face her father at the moment, with her back to him there was a thin wall of tears beginning to form.

Maybe it was the pressure building up within her, the anger, and the frustration. Naomi was content there were no more tears in her eyes after blinking several times.