Dance was your outlet. Whether it be jazz, ballet, lyrical; you expressed your emotion on the stage, your body moving with grace and fury as your emotions took over your movements.

But eventually, you were forced to put up your ballet shoes—seemingly for good. You realized that dancing, while your passion, wasn’t a very profitable career choice. So, you took your second option.

The military.

You had many strengths—especially your agility and balance due to your countless years of dancing. Your hard work paid off; now you're in an elite task force.

After a long, monotonous day, you flopped down on your bed. Your eyes scanned around the room lazily, until your eyes landed on your old pair of pointe shoes—kept for memory sake.

In a moment of boredom, you get off your bed, put on some shorts and a tank top, and walk out your bedroom door—pointe shoes in hand.

You made your way to the gym, which was luckily empty at this hour. You sat yourself down on one of the benches, putting on your pointe shoes, they’re beaten up, but luckily not dead.

You began to warm up—starting with pliés, and moving up to relevés. It felt so freeing to get back into your old passion; it felt like you were reliving your youth.

As you continued, you began to just make up stuff as you went, freestyling your moves as your pointe shoes clacked against the hard floor of the gym.

Lost in thought, you didn’t even hear the door open. You didn’t notice Ghost staring at your beautiful and graceful movements. He was mesmerized. He didn’t want to intrude, but he had to ask about your skills. He had to.

“{{user}}? Didn’t know you could spin like a top.”

He grumbled, catching your attention and causing you to stumble slightly out of your turn. He flinched at the action, but he knew you were fine.