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Author's Notes: So I decided to do an alternate universe here. I wrote this all out before I forgot. This is in technicality a teaser. After reading an article about the New York City's ballerina, Jenifer Ringer and finding it amusing that I had just saw the Moscow Ballet thanks to someone dear...I felt the urge to do a story about the competitiveness of the world. Especially considering that I am using Belarus and Hungary because they are different nations and despite supposedly being sister nations I call shenanigans. Just for the fact that I like a sense of rivalry in stories and how nasty it can be to be the new kid or foreigner. I felt like making this RussiaxHungary...but what is rarely done is having those two, along with Belarus and Austria, within the storyline. They're all going to be special roles and for the sake of a twist here and there, other nations might appear. Please, enjoy this teaser of competitive nations and the world of classical dance. Critiques welcome~. Mind you, I was just typing away. XD

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Chapter 1 : Blisters
In life, as in the dance, grace glides on blistered feet. - anonymous

Structure. Discipline. Memory. Routine. Pressure. Criticism.

They are all few of many characteristics involved in the world of dance and in the world of art as well. As human beings, life is lived to the best of capabilities. As human beings with flaws, there is always the self-criticism about where we are currently in our journey through life and where we want to end. Throughout childhood, everyone is educated and disciplined to certain rulings and teachings, wondering if anyone else went through the same structures. We choose to keep that in mind and bear with what is dealt to our hands. What is given to us is for us to take, remember, recall, and used to keep ourselves in line. Even so, sometimes we break these rules, these routines, and begin to lose motivation as walls begin to crumble. Where, to whom, do you turn to when everything starts to fall?

Here she is, the tattered doll, beaten and sucked dry from her emotions outward. Her passions for art, dance and language deterred due to her slow lack of motivation and life. Soft brown hair, emerald eyes that have lost their value, a pale visage and rose-tinted lips left to speak her sorrows. Yet, she could not muster her inner speech.

"You have outdone yourself this time Elizabeta. Prima ballerina...Hah." Her laughter contained bitterness.

A Hungarian woman, raised out of homeland in a nation forever foreign to her tongue, and never matching the equivalence of her fellow dancer: Natalya Arlofskaya. Natalya was born in the Republic of Belarus, obsessed with catching the eye of a certain diplomat's puppet, Ivan Braginsky, she did everything to get anyone out of her way. Her goal to lead the ballet is something that spread like wildfire when the news came about. Her accomplishment to reach such status was only to get closer to the Russian man. Whomever shined the brightest would have an opportunity to be taken into Russia and trained for a troupe of well-known dancers: the Moscow Ballet. The bitterness released from the Hungarian was about the choreographer's choice to have two primas. Something Ms. Hedervary knew she did not wish to be, holding the weight of dependence of her fellow dancers, and the weight of death from Natalya.

As if on cue, in came Arlofskaya, "You little glory-stealing-fool!" Any retaliation was irrelevant, for the call of war was early, and quite on time.

Description
Author's Notes: So I decided to do an alternate universe here. I wrote this all out before I forgot. This is in technicality a teaser. After reading an article about the New York City's ballerina, Jenifer Ringer and finding it amusing that I had just saw the Moscow Ballet thanks to someone dear...I felt the urge to do a story about the competitiveness of the world. Especially considering that I am using Belarus and Hungary because they are different nations and despite supposedly being sister nations I call shenanigans. Just for the fact that I like a sense of rivalry in stories and how nasty it can be to be the new kid or foreigner. I felt like making this RussiaxHungary...but what is rarely done is having those two, along with Belarus and Austria, within the storyline. They're all going to be special roles and for the sake of a twist here and there, other nations might appear. Please, enjoy this teaser of competitive nations and the world of classical dance. Critiques welcome~. Mind you, I was just typing away. XD

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1 : Blisters
In life, as in the dance, grace glides on blistered feet. - anonymous

Structure. Discipline. Memory. Routine. Pressure. Criticism.

They are all few of many characteristics involved in the world of dance and in the world of art as well. As human beings, life is lived to the best of capabilities. As human beings with flaws, there is always the self-criticism about where we are currently in our journey through life and where we want to end. Throughout childhood, everyone is educated and disciplined to certain rulings and teachings, wondering if anyone else went through the same structures. We choose to keep that in mind and bear with what is dealt to our hands. What is given to us is for us to take, remember, recall, and used to keep ourselves in line. Even so, sometimes we break these rules, these routines, and begin to lose motivation as walls begin to crumble. Where, to whom, do you turn to when everything starts to fall?

Here she is, the tattered doll, beaten and sucked dry from her emotions outward. Her passions for art, dance and language deterred due to her slow lack of motivation and life. Soft brown hair, emerald eyes that have lost their value, a pale visage and rose-tinted lips left to speak her sorrows. Yet, she could not muster her inner speech.

"You have outdone yourself this time Elizabeta. Prima ballerina...Hah." Her laughter contained bitterness.

A Hungarian woman, raised out of homeland in a nation forever foreign to her tongue, and never matching the equivalence of her fellow dancer: Natalya Arlofskaya. Natalya was born in the Republic of Belarus, obsessed with catching the eye of a certain diplomat's puppet, Ivan Braginsky, she did everything to get anyone out of her way. Her goal to lead the ballet is something that spread like wildfire when the news came about. Her accomplishment to reach such status was only to get closer to the Russian man. Whomever shined the brightest would have an opportunity to be taken into Russia and trained for a troupe of well-known dancers: the Moscow Ballet. The bitterness released from the Hungarian was about the choreographer's choice to have two primas. Something Ms. Hedervary knew she did not wish to be, holding the weight of dependence of her fellow dancers, and the weight of death from Natalya.

As if on cue, in came Arlofskaya, "You little glory-stealing-fool!" Any retaliation was irrelevant, for the call of war was early, and quite on time.