Post by nastya on Aug 14, 2011 16:43:28 GMT -5
The ballroom, large and elegant, was almost never occupied. With the exception of school functions, Nastya could come here every day and count on the fact that no one would be around. This was where she came to be alone and get away from the excitement that was the senior dorms. Here, Nastya could sit and gaze out at the hard wood floor, remembering a time when she would be the center of attention at parties. So many balls she had attended in her life, so many times she had been put in a fancy gown and paraded through a crowd of people to show her off. Things in Russia were much different than the states. While girls here were thinking of what they wanted to do with their lives, Nastya was being pressed into finding a suitable man to marry.
And so, the ivory-skinned beauty walked through the ballroom, the heels of her shoes clicking softly on the wood. From her toes up, Nastya was a sight. With her black and silver Manolo Blahnik stilettos, from his upcoming Russian Tolstoy collection, to her midnight blue skirt and blue-lined blazer. The blazer wasn't her style, but it would have to do, for the next year at least.
Making her way to the grand piano in the corner of the room, Nastya sat down, lifting the cover off the ebony and ivory keys. Running her french-tipped fingers along the keys softly, Nastya closed her eyes for a moment and remembered playing music for a room full of people. In music, she could lose herself, could fade into the background along with the song while everyone focused their attention on dancing and talking to each other.
Putting weight into her fingers, Nastya started to play Mikhail Glinka's "La Séparation", a soft melody which filled the air. Closing her eyes, Nastya knew the melody by heart, needing only the touch of the keys to remind her how to play. In her own mind, behind her eyelids, Nastya was transported back to a place with a heavy layer of snow.
To play Glinko's nocturne, one had to be in a calm state of mind. For so long Nastya had been angry at this school, and it's students and professors. The horrible chopped sounds of the English language and their taste in food, fashion, and everything else. But when she was in the ballroom, she was back in her own country, back with her younger sister. Perhaps they were strolling through the gardens of St. Petersburg which put Varsailles to shame, or perhaps they were just sitting in bed reading. Either way, they were together, and nothing else mattered. Nastya missed those times, but one day she would return, and things would be different without living in the care of her parents. Whether society liked it or not, Nastya was determined to do something with her life, rather than just going from being a politician's daughter to a politician's wife.
And so, the ivory-skinned beauty walked through the ballroom, the heels of her shoes clicking softly on the wood. From her toes up, Nastya was a sight. With her black and silver Manolo Blahnik stilettos, from his upcoming Russian Tolstoy collection, to her midnight blue skirt and blue-lined blazer. The blazer wasn't her style, but it would have to do, for the next year at least.
Making her way to the grand piano in the corner of the room, Nastya sat down, lifting the cover off the ebony and ivory keys. Running her french-tipped fingers along the keys softly, Nastya closed her eyes for a moment and remembered playing music for a room full of people. In music, she could lose herself, could fade into the background along with the song while everyone focused their attention on dancing and talking to each other.
Putting weight into her fingers, Nastya started to play Mikhail Glinka's "La Séparation", a soft melody which filled the air. Closing her eyes, Nastya knew the melody by heart, needing only the touch of the keys to remind her how to play. In her own mind, behind her eyelids, Nastya was transported back to a place with a heavy layer of snow.
To play Glinko's nocturne, one had to be in a calm state of mind. For so long Nastya had been angry at this school, and it's students and professors. The horrible chopped sounds of the English language and their taste in food, fashion, and everything else. But when she was in the ballroom, she was back in her own country, back with her younger sister. Perhaps they were strolling through the gardens of St. Petersburg which put Varsailles to shame, or perhaps they were just sitting in bed reading. Either way, they were together, and nothing else mattered. Nastya missed those times, but one day she would return, and things would be different without living in the care of her parents. Whether society liked it or not, Nastya was determined to do something with her life, rather than just going from being a politician's daughter to a politician's wife.