[He walked smoothly through the crowd, and it parted for him, as it usually did. People tended to notice him, to move aside for him. He was noticeable. Some knew him as a dancer and looked upon him admiringly, but he wasn't moved by their admiration, for the most part. Not that he minded it; it was simply what he was used to. He'd always been admired, for he'd always stood out.
He was different.
And so, at least in this moment, was the soldier standing stock-still in the midst of the crowd, not drifting out of his path as most others did. He was difficult to miss, because this wasn't his proper place. He was gray among colors, still amid movement. The dancer didn't assume that the soldier was staring at him, though he was facing in his general direction. He was also, the dancer saw, a soldier with one leg. How curious. The dancer wondered what it must be like to be a soldier, to protect people, instead of dancing endlessly in circles.
The dancer was a quiet man, but he wasn't shy in the least, and he didn't hesitate to approach.] Good evening.
/pirouettes
He was different.
And so, at least in this moment, was the soldier standing stock-still in the midst of the crowd, not drifting out of his path as most others did. He was difficult to miss, because this wasn't his proper place. He was gray among colors, still amid movement. The dancer didn't assume that the soldier was staring at him, though he was facing in his general direction. He was also, the dancer saw, a soldier with one leg. How curious. The dancer wondered what it must be like to be a soldier, to protect people, instead of dancing endlessly in circles.
The dancer was a quiet man, but he wasn't shy in the least, and he didn't hesitate to approach.] Good evening.