Feels Like Home [Esmeralda/Frollo]
Sept 7, 2009 0:48:29 GMT -5
Post by esme on Sept 7, 2009 0:48:29 GMT -5
It had been a few days since she had been transported from her home, to this enchanted kingdom. While of course she was concerned for her safety being so far from home, the land provided a great deal of kindness. She had not met a single person who had wanted to harm her in anyway due to her being a Gypsy. Ideals such as this were hard to come by in Paris. As she lingered the streets with Djali by her side, they smiled as both animal and human walked hand and hand together along the street. This was indeed a strange but wonderful place.
With her normal attire on of a peasant blouse, green corset, and simple purple skirt, she found a place on a nearby corner where it appeared the most traffic came by. This would be a wonderful spot to dance. Unfortunately, there were no other Gypsies around who had instruments. Luckily, along with Esmeralda and Djali, came her tambourine. It was a good thing she could multi task. With her tambourine in one hand and a hat on the ground, she began to dance to her own music.
The act was very symbolic within itself. Often times Esmeralda walked to the beat of her own drum, whether it pleased others or not. That was not her concern. No matter what, she would do what she thought was best. The majority of her life she had been in charge of protecting herself even when her father was alive. He had to worry about keeping them together but ultimately, if Esmeralda was not smart and did not think on her feet, not even his attempts would keep her alive.
”Help a poor woman out,” she called out into the crowd as her hips swung in time with the banging of her tambourine. The Gypsy would never consider herself a “poor” woman but that was a phrase that was more likely to earn her more money.
With her normal attire on of a peasant blouse, green corset, and simple purple skirt, she found a place on a nearby corner where it appeared the most traffic came by. This would be a wonderful spot to dance. Unfortunately, there were no other Gypsies around who had instruments. Luckily, along with Esmeralda and Djali, came her tambourine. It was a good thing she could multi task. With her tambourine in one hand and a hat on the ground, she began to dance to her own music.
The act was very symbolic within itself. Often times Esmeralda walked to the beat of her own drum, whether it pleased others or not. That was not her concern. No matter what, she would do what she thought was best. The majority of her life she had been in charge of protecting herself even when her father was alive. He had to worry about keeping them together but ultimately, if Esmeralda was not smart and did not think on her feet, not even his attempts would keep her alive.
”Help a poor woman out,” she called out into the crowd as her hips swung in time with the banging of her tambourine. The Gypsy would never consider herself a “poor” woman but that was a phrase that was more likely to earn her more money.