l'inverno è noioso

Starling would hold his position, waiting for another critique, another set of tips on how to absolutely perfect it. His face would be free of most of its usual anxieties, instead set with thick lines of determination. The only thing that mattered to him right now was learning everything Motif wanted to teach him. He had so many teachers in his life, and he was rather blessed with it, but that didn't mean he didn't accept the knowledge any less. He loved the fact that Motif was taking her time to help him, and he cherished this time, so he would use it all to try and learn as much as he can. She, however, didn't offer any more tips, but that didn't make Starling relax his stance or think for one moment that he had perfected it. He couldn't of! It still felt so awkward. His toes would knead against the ground, trying to be able to hold that with his knees bent. He felt awkward and...stretched. When she asked him about swimming he blinked, sky blue eyes lifting up to stare at his aunt. "Sw-wimming?" He asked softly, his voice catching over the syllabls as his eyebrows rose. What did that have to do with anything? How could the idea of swimming possible be connected to what they were doing right now? But, she was the teacher! With a gentle shake of his head he answered. "W-well, n-not now, really." He said softly, relaxing his knees for a moment before bending them again. "I-it is w-winter. The w-water is c-c-cold."

"Burn Baby Burn" | "Italian"