beta love // ra ra riot
audition || sunny side up || sage capps
@druesaysrelax
top three /// sage | troian | callie
☼ Sage Capps ☼ 19
model // aurora mohn
likes // dancing, planning, working hard, raspberry sherbet ice cream, indie music, cutoffs and tanks, summer tans
dislikes // distractions, drugs, anyone with a lack of ambition, small towns, failure, inadequacy
- competitive dancer, wants to be a broadway choreographer. dare devil. doesn't drink, sometimes parties. focused on her future, not living for today.
the story ///
I feel the soft sand caress my toes as I dance across the surface. My feet move to the beat of the metronome keeping time inside my head. I glide, twirl and reach to the choreography I’m memorizing in these early hours. The sunrise over the ocean lights my dance floor and bathes me in a warm summer glow, the one thing about Kitty Hawk I truly adore.
“One, two, three, four, five-and-six, seven, eight. One, two, three – No, no, no,” I mutter and chastise myself for the mistake. Mistakes are not acceptable by my standards. I’m simply better than that. I reset and begin the move once more. “One, two, three, four –“
A familiar tune interrupts my practice from a few yards away, the jingle of my cell phone. I break form and dash to my bag lying on the shore, sliding down to my knees beside it.
“Oh, no,” I say to myself as I dig for the device, of course, choosing now to evade me. I grasp the clunky object and whip it out to reveal the caller ID – my mother. “Crap.”
Catching the call briskly before the last ring, I answer with a frantic greeting, “Hello?”
The shrill voice of my mother smashes through the line as I hastily tug on my canvas sneakers. “It is exactly seven-oh-two, young lady! Would you care to tell me why you are not at this breakfast table with the rest of this family?”
I cringe as I attempt to tuck the phone between the fold of my ear and shoulder while simultaneously pulling my light jacket on over my loose tank and bandeau. I knew I should have checked the time earlier. I’d pay for this. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m on my way, I prom-“
“No promises!” She interrupts my desperate apology with her stern sentencing. “Breakfast starts promptly at seven every morning for everyone in this household, no exceptions! Your father and I will inform you of your punishment when you arrive.”
I hear the line click dead. A groan escapes as I run a hand through my long blonde locks in frustration. I’ll be facing double chores for this, at the very least. I wouldn’t mind them – I mean, I did break a rule – but the time spent on completing them interferes with my valuable rehearsal time.
My mother and father operate our household with a strict set of procedures we as children must comply with and when one is disobeyed they have the inclination to exact retribution in extreme measures. I’d complain, but there’s no use. The structure won’t change and I know it has honed my ambition and determination. Once I’ve achieved my goals, petty chores won’t mean a thing.
With my punishment budding with the passing seconds I fling the cross-body over my shoulders, snatch up my long board and head for the pavement of the boardwalk. As I ready for the wrath of my mother I treasure the knowledge that the price I pay for ambition can only last as long as my road to success.
audition || sunny side up || sage capps
@druesaysrelax
top three /// sage | troian | callie
☼ Sage Capps ☼ 19
model // aurora mohn
likes // dancing, planning, working hard, raspberry sherbet ice cream, indie music, cutoffs and tanks, summer tans
dislikes // distractions, drugs, anyone with a lack of ambition, small towns, failure, inadequacy
- competitive dancer, wants to be a broadway choreographer. dare devil. doesn't drink, sometimes parties. focused on her future, not living for today.
the story ///
I feel the soft sand caress my toes as I dance across the surface. My feet move to the beat of the metronome keeping time inside my head. I glide, twirl and reach to the choreography I’m memorizing in these early hours. The sunrise over the ocean lights my dance floor and bathes me in a warm summer glow, the one thing about Kitty Hawk I truly adore.
“One, two, three, four, five-and-six, seven, eight. One, two, three – No, no, no,” I mutter and chastise myself for the mistake. Mistakes are not acceptable by my standards. I’m simply better than that. I reset and begin the move once more. “One, two, three, four –“
A familiar tune interrupts my practice from a few yards away, the jingle of my cell phone. I break form and dash to my bag lying on the shore, sliding down to my knees beside it.
“Oh, no,” I say to myself as I dig for the device, of course, choosing now to evade me. I grasp the clunky object and whip it out to reveal the caller ID – my mother. “Crap.”
Catching the call briskly before the last ring, I answer with a frantic greeting, “Hello?”
The shrill voice of my mother smashes through the line as I hastily tug on my canvas sneakers. “It is exactly seven-oh-two, young lady! Would you care to tell me why you are not at this breakfast table with the rest of this family?”
I cringe as I attempt to tuck the phone between the fold of my ear and shoulder while simultaneously pulling my light jacket on over my loose tank and bandeau. I knew I should have checked the time earlier. I’d pay for this. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m on my way, I prom-“
“No promises!” She interrupts my desperate apology with her stern sentencing. “Breakfast starts promptly at seven every morning for everyone in this household, no exceptions! Your father and I will inform you of your punishment when you arrive.”
I hear the line click dead. A groan escapes as I run a hand through my long blonde locks in frustration. I’ll be facing double chores for this, at the very least. I wouldn’t mind them – I mean, I did break a rule – but the time spent on completing them interferes with my valuable rehearsal time.
My mother and father operate our household with a strict set of procedures we as children must comply with and when one is disobeyed they have the inclination to exact retribution in extreme measures. I’d complain, but there’s no use. The structure won’t change and I know it has honed my ambition and determination. Once I’ve achieved my goals, petty chores won’t mean a thing.
With my punishment budding with the passing seconds I fling the cross-body over my shoulders, snatch up my long board and head for the pavement of the boardwalk. As I ready for the wrath of my mother I treasure the knowledge that the price I pay for ambition can only last as long as my road to success.
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