Work Text:
Blades leave strokes along the ice, adding slices across the smooth surface.
One foot in-front of the other, slowly slipping in and out.
As the music begins to rise in sheer volume, he no longer feels the weight of the ice beneath his feet.
The world blurs around him into a silent shade of snow.
As soon as the moment began– it slowly faded into its finish as he felt himself launch upon the ground skidding on to his knees.
Damn it.
He felt his body groan pushing itself away from the pit settling within his chest. He slowly slid towards the source of the loud music, rewinding back to its beginning.
Starting back at the center of it all. All lights on him.
Gracefulness was never a word he would use upon himself. His strokes shaved the ice, depicting patterns of torture upon the once pristine surface.
Friction pushing upon each and every move he presented. Each swing of the foot, each turn, each switch led to an even larger push at the end until he returned back to the initial incident.
One foot in-front of the other, slipping in and out.
The rise of the music in all of its glory. Holding his breath as he began to dive, against the weight of gravity, against the very laws of nature.
He landed to the floor, breaking the tension, causing the ripples to spread from his point of entry.
Damn. It.
Gathering himself off the ice, his gait slightly off he began his stride towards the music once again.
Smooth calm glides never came naturally to him. Being told to let go was not an option.
Cannibalizing intensity was all he had– even if it only threatened to bring his routine further to the pit he continued digging for himself. Returning back to the beginning.
Center.
Glide.
Switch.
Turn.
Spin.
Glide.
Switch.
Fall.
Center.
Glide.
Switch.
Turn.
Spin.
Glide.
Switch.
Fall.
Center. Glide. Switch. Turn. Spin. Glide. Switch.
Fall.
CenterGlideSwitchTurnSpinGlideSwitch Fall.
CenterGlideSwitchTurnSpinGlideSwitch Fall.
CenterGlideSwitchTurnSpinGlideSwitch Fall.
He fell into the darkness, into the hollowed dark of the empty rink as it continued to blur into specs of black and white.
The only source of light coming from the small flood lights surrounding the room.
The only sounds being heard were the scratches of his dulled blades along the sullied ice. His movements were less than perfect, only being fueled by the pure desire to no longer need to keep this perception of coolness upon his tempered head.
The slow desensitization of his body as it lay upon the ice, as it finally accepted its new reality of being a spawn of heat for the ice to gather upon.
Center? Perhaps a turn or maybe it was a switch.. No- a glide.
One foot in-front of the other, slipping in and out.
And the finishing touch, tying it all together perfectly with a neat ribbon upon its stubborn head…
Fall.