The small ballet studio was rather quiet, having no classes at that moment in time. In actuality, it was early on a Saturday morning, about thirty minutes before the first classes begun. Inside of the classroom, sitting on the floor in front of the mirrors, was a small Eilian who was busying himself by fitting on his tiny ballet shoes. The only real reason he was here so early was because his father had some "urgent business" to attend to, or something along those lines, and so the Betzalel was dropped off at his morning class ahead of schedule.

It was a brilliant stroke of luck that the instructor who owned the studio was also there early to practice, and because of that, Rue did not have to wait out on the sidewalk until the doors opened officially and class begun. He was quite unused to the place being so quiet, though, even though he appreciated the silence and alone-time. Usually, there was some pretty sounding music playing along while they practiced... To make up for the lack of any waltz or sonata, Rue began to hum to himself as he finished tying his shoes and stood in front of the large mirrors.

For a little while, he stood there, just looking at his reflection. He was one of the sole males in his class, not to mention one of the sole Eilians, and so he was occasionally ridiculed for wearing a leotard just like the others did. Rue paid all of the others no heed, though. He had no need to associate himself with such meanies. He knew he was pretty, and he was a ballerina... At least, he would be one day. And ballerinas were pretty. He was pretty. That was that.

The humming Rue was making, which started out as little more than random notes, formed into a little song. Before long, he was spinning and prancing all over the empty floor, dancing his own dance and pretending he was a gorgeous ballerina, all frills and ribbons and legs, moving gracefully across the stage. His mind began to stray farther and farther away from the impending class and the forced participation with other children. Yes, here, all by his lonesome, he was a prima ballerina, and no could say otherwise.