I probably wrote this the day Black Widow came out. No, I haven't seen the movie yet. I wrote this from a needed catharsis after seeing all the spoilers. I figured why not publish it the day Hawkeye comes out since Yelena will be there.
Disclaimer - I'm not a ballerina.
I hope you enjoy :)
Poser:
"First position!"
It's natural for Natasha's body to move on command. Second nature. Ironically, almost like she's acting on her own will.
Her heels press together, backs of the knees touching as her toes point outwards. Her arms curve in front of her torso, hands hovering at her hips. Slightly bent elbows, symmetrically curved fingers, palms facing upwards.
A perfect master turnout. Anything less is unacceptable.
"Second position!"
Natasha's gaze remains straight as her body opens up to the next move. Her toes stay pointed but her feet spread exactly a foot apart. They know if anyone is even an inch off. Her arms maintain its curve but her hands follow the lead of her feet, resting in front of her thighs.
"Third position!"
The Widows move in sync. They always do. They have to.
They're uniformed in the studio. Sixteen girls lined up four-by-four. All dressed in tight white tutus and pointe shoes, hair pulled back into perfect buns on the back of their heads. Matching blank, stoic stares with slightly pursed lips.
Mirrors make up every wall. Everyone can be seen and caught, every move detected at every angle. Anyone can spot anything. Everyone sees each Widow keep their pointed toes maintained, moving one foot back inside to meet that heel at the centre of the other foot. Left arm gracefully points outwards from the shoulder, palm facing downwards as the right arm rises and curves above her head.
"Fourth position!"
They look like porcelain dolls but move like robots. If not for the differences in body shape, face structure, hair and eye colour, and skin tone, they'd be copies.
The heel touching the centre of the other foot stretches outwards as the left arm curves in front of them, circling their torso.
"Fifth position!"
The finale.
Keeping a sharp angle, one heel lines up with the toe of the other foot. The left arm now curves above their heads, mirroring the right arm.
"Relevé!"
The Widows rise, standing on their toes. Fully en pointe. Torsos and calves tighten as they hold the stiff position. It isn't until the wave of their trainer's arm that they move.
They travel delicately on their toes, each Widow following the same right foot-left foot pattern and rhythm. Their faces remain expressionless, glancing downwards to build a demure façade. The perfect Widow mask.
They pass each other in mismatched yet intricate routine, weaving into one another like the braids normally in their hair or many little spiders crafting a single web. A composition of delicate steps that barely make a sound on the studio floor.
When they stop in a new four-by-four arrangement, they arch their backs, leaning all the way and curving their necks even more to create a half-moon illusion. Their right arms curve around and above their heads as their left arms stay bent like hooks. They all resemble fragile ornaments, trinkets.
Natasha looks at the Widow next to her and it's Yelena. They mirror each other as ballerina looking at each other upside down like when they were children doing back bridges in Ohio. Who they were when they were alone in Ohio and even Cuba isn't who they are now in the presence of other Widows and their makers.
The transition from their supposed home to the Red Room was so much so a heartbreak that it felt like death. A death of a young girl constructed and reborn into a Black Widow.
If only Yelena knew the truth but was it better to have never had that childhood, or to have it and then lose it? What's worse? Knowing and not being truly able to have it or not knowing and never understanding what it really was?
Natasha's eyes flicker back to Yelena for a moment. She watches her sister's stony expression and notices her lips move so slightly that the mirrors would've caught it, that Natasha would've missed it if she blinked. Yelena said something so inaudible it might as well have been a soft, wispy exhale.
But of course Natasha caught it. They're trained sisters, experts on avoiding trouble from authority. And Yelena knows it. A body could answer back and react but what could be done with someone who just looks?
Poser, Yelena barely whispers before all the Widows are ordered to straighten again.
Thank you to anyone who has read this story. Please let me know what you thought. If you have a story idea that you want me to write or a story that you want me to beta, don't be afraid to ask!
~ MysteryGal5