[May MP] Let the show begin - Artistic flying showcase (open)

Saturday, 29th May 2004

It was the day of the first artistic flying showcase at Durmstrang and Sevastyan was actually quite excited about it. While he had not really followed the sport from its very beginnings, the Russian wizard felt that it was hard to ignore it now that it was getting more and more popular - especially in Russia. He was actually quite proud that he was the Durmstrang headmaster who made it possible for students to join the artistic flying club. Admittedly he had also had some pressure from the Shishkins who ran the artistic flying school in Rybinsk and currently had four children plus several members of the extended family at Durmstrang and wanted better training conditions for them.

The weather was perfect today, with Midsummer coming closer the days were finally longer and it was rather pleasant in the sun even though it was not warmer than 50°F / 10°C. There were some pretty decorative white clouds on the otherwise blue sky and everything seemed just perfect for an open air event.

As the Quidditch arena filled with people, Sevastyan used magic so that his voice would carry through the entire arena. “Welcome to the first artistic flying showcase at Durmstrang. As most of you know there are some successful junior athletes among us. Enjoy the show!”

He gave a nod to the club captain @Zhenya Shishkina to signal that the show could begin and she could turn on the music.


[OOC: Open to spectators and performers. There’s no set order of performances so @Ruslan Shishkin @Rodion Shishkin @Nikon Zima @Iroda Alieva @Anna Filimonova @Zhenya Shishkina could post whenever if they want to. There are also some NPC athletes listed here so spectators could also mention them.]

Ruslan had expected the showcase would run in order of age, but instead he was surprised when each of the artistic flyers had drawn a stone out of a bag which had then glowed with the order in which they would be competing. Thus instead of being one of the first artists to perform he was fifth, and already his sister Zina and fellow first year cousins had flown while he waited for his turn.

Normally the first year wasn't nervous. True, he hadn't flown in many competitions yet, but he'd performed in small showcases for several years already and he loved being in the air. Today was different though, because he knew practically the whole audience and he would also have to face them afterwards if he made a mistake. Smoothing down his dark grey leotard he took a deep breath and decided to think about all the good things about today. He was also excited because finally he had convinced his coach to allow his own choice of music for his performance today. It was, he argued, good that his classmates could hear that modern music could be used for flying showcases as well as the classical pieces that most artists preferred. Standing at the side of the arena he carefully patted his hair to check it was all in place (Zhenya had performed a charm for him so it wouldn't fly around when he was in the air) and flxed the fingers that held his broom. Arseniy Misin was just coming to the end of his performance and Ruslan mounted his broom, heart pounding in anticipation.

As his name was announced he rose into the air, hovering at the corner of the arena as he waited for the first bars of his music to begin. He knew that some of his housemates liked the muggle singer Beyonce and he'd loved "Crazy in Love" ever since he'd heard the song a few months previously. It was cool, it was modern and best of all it had a beat that he could fly to. The music started and he soared out into the arena, initially mounted normally on the broom but already flipping his feet up so by the time he was in full view he was standing, arms outstretched as if to accept the applause he deserved. He held the post for a couple of seconds then went quickly into a handstand, having perfected the move so it looked like a half-flip.

He could hear people cheering and was sure it was his fellow first years, but he was just getting started. Already the feeling of happiness was washing over him, the sense of being where he belonged as he went through his routine as if it was as easy as walking. He flew the double figure of eight tighter than he'd ever managed before and swooped down, coming out of the dive whilst doing the splits on his broom. That one always got a reaction - somehow people forgot that boys could be just as elegant as girls in this sport. He sent his broom into the spiral he'd perfected just a few weeks earlier and then jumped - he heard the gasps and thrilled to the sound - before landing back on his broom on one leg, the other raised behind him in a perfect arabesque.

Right on cue the music finished and Ruslan bowed from his broom, stil standing, before flying out of the stadium without bothering to reseat himself. He felt great!

Zhenya had been equally looking forward to and dreading the artistic flying showcase and the following competition for the beginners. She had done her very best to prepare everything, had tried to teach the beginners all they needed to know to be able to give a little performance and had helped all others refining their routines.

She was proud of the club members - professional flyers and beginners alike. They had all trained well these past weeks. Nonetheless she was scared that something might still go wrong. Artistic flying was a dangerous sport. The last thing they needed was a bad accident during the showcase which would not serve as an advertisement for the sport but rather drive people away.

Nervously Zhenya watched the first few performances, among them also Zina, her sister and her little brother Ruslan. Rusya was a joy to watch as usual. Zhenya couldn’t help but smile when she saw how he reacted to the crowd. He was really great and would surely have a great career in the future. As a first year he was lucky that he didn’t get too much pressure from the family.

She applauded after each and every successful performance and then it was her own time to get out and show the school what she could do. Zhenya wondered if Conrad was in the crowd, watching her but didn’t bother to look for him in the stands. She had to focus on her routine anyway. While the girl would have loved to do a new showcase, something modern and fun like her little brother had offered, she hadn’t had time to work on a new number. Instead she had decided to show her old free program to ‘Valse Triste’.

As the waltz began, Zhenya sped up. She liked it when the wind blew into her face and she felt that some elements worked better when she flew fast. She had reduced the number of jumps in her jump sequence, not wanting to take any unnecessary risks. However, she flew complicated patterns with lots of sharp turns and changes of direction, still wanting to demonstrate her skill level.

Her favourite part, however, were her spins. She just loved the feeling when she pulled her broom into a vertical position and spun around its axis. Her spin variations were probably her best technical elements anyway. Her longest and fastest spin was quite at the end of her program, not so much to end with a highlight but rather because she always felt a little dizzy afterwards. After that was done she only had to finish her routine with a pose and bow to the crowd.

Dismounting her broom again, Zhenya felt relieved that she had got through her performance without any disruptions. She had once almost missed the platform after a split jump but somehow had been able to balance herself and continue as though nothing had happened at all. She could tell by the response of the crowd that her sad waltz hadn't been the kind of music everybody had been dying to listen to but that couldn't be helped. In the shortness of time and with all her duties she just hadn't had a chance to come up with something else.

As she went backstage again, she smiled at the next athlete and muttered "good luck, have fun out there". Then she went to find her younger siblings to congratulate them on their good performances.

It was the day of the showcase, and Nikon was surprisingly about as far from nervous as he had ever been when presenting. This wasn’t a competition, where there was a chance for him to lose. He didn’t have to worry about looking better than anyone else, and instead he got to enjoy the lack of stress and fact that he was about to showcase his best skills as to what he could do. Nikon was a hard worker in this regard. He was naturally talented, naturally built for the sport in physique, but his skill was perfected through blood, sweat, and tears. He had been given nothing in this life, not even a family with wealth to speak of.  His parents scrounged to pay for his supplies, he got through school on scholarships and he got those through his work ethic. While he cared little for appearances in general, he took his work very seriously. He knew he was good, and he was excited, just a little, for a chance to show off without having to pit himself against the others. For once, he complimented Rodion on his own performance rather than making some snide, catty remark. He had been enjoying banter with the other lately, and looking forward to seeing where things led. He knew Rodion wanted him. He wanted Nikon just as badly as Nikon wanted him, but he wouldn’t admit to it yet—and that was part of the fun. Teasing. 
 
He would tease him now, too. Nikon wasn’t going to put on his best for this showcase, he needed to hold onto his best for competitions and allow it to surprise the others with his ability… but he knew he would do well, and there was little pressure regardless. He mounted his broom, blowing a kiss into the stands, particularly at Rodya, and pushed off. He was high in the air within seconds, turning upside down and into a barrel roll. Coming out of the roll, he pushed onto his feet, riding the broom much like a surfboard, and backfliping along with the broom, his feet not even leaving the pedestals. When right-side up, he switched his feet on the broom in a zig-zag pattern, all while taking a long circle around the pitch. 
 
He continued doing tricks he knew would impress the people in the stands for a few moments more, before ending his showcase with a steep nosedive which he only barely pulled out of in time. His feet struck the grass, and he looked up and listened for the applause with a large grin. They loved him, didn’t they? He wondered if Rodion would congratulate him on his showcase, too. Maybe in more ways than one. 

This wasn’t a real competition, but no one could convince Iroda of that if they tried until they ran out of breath. She knew what had gone unsaid. There would be no “winner” or “loser” but she didn’t want to be the one who got the least amount of applause. She wanted to win this non-competition by being the best one there, the one who everyone was still talking about days later. Zhenya had gone before her, and Iroda was vaguely impressed by her rival’s talent, but was trying to talk-up her own talent in her mind, psyching herself up for the best performance this school would ever see. She had been practicing a new routine special for this showcase. She didn’t want to use anything that she might want to use in a real competition, just in case it tipped Zhenya off and allowed the girl to steal yet another title from her.  
 
She didn’t like the way the boys and girls were mixed together, but she enjoyed watching the men perform—especially Rodion Shishkin—who she found very attractive. Nikon, however, irritated her. She wanted to hate him, because he was so obnoxious and abrasive and cocky—but he was really good, and she found herself admiring his skill despite herself. He was older—practically a senior-level now. Of course, he would be “better” technically than her. She wasn’t technically flawless. It was her vision and artistry that had nearly won her a title in her last competition, but her technical struggles had lost it for her. She was working on that, trying to get better at the skills. 
 
She mounted her broom and kicked off, the wind brushing coolly against her face and whipping her long plaited hair out behind her. She loved the freedom she felt on a broomstick, the adrenaline of a performance, and the art itself. She kept her performance to a technical minimum, doing less “tricks” and more artistic expression, as was her forte. She wanted to save the technical things for later, to impress Zhenya when they were neck-and-neck. Opposite of Nikon, she wasn’t just going gymnastics back-to-back. 
 
When she landed, she listened out for applause and hoped it would be as loud as, or louder, than Nikon’s. She hated having to follow such a show-off, a near-senior, and a boy to boot—but that was just how it happened, she supposed.