Malcolm researching dancing \o/

The Starlit Masquerade is rapidly approaching and Malcolm is locked up in his secluded cottage with the blinds tightly closed. Not a peep nor sliver of the main office can be seen, in nor out. Francis pranced around, following Malcolm frenetic energy as he steps between his bookshelves, tracing the spines for anything that could help him at all. Francis stood on top of a stack of books and nearly toppled it as he lept off to continue the tour of the room. Malcolm was on the brink of tripping over just how many books he was pulling out as a reference. Around his office were books opened lying atop other papers with various references and callings to other books. There was scarcely a space to even breathe in the room.

“This happens to me every year, doesn’t it, Francis? Catastrophizing over what to do for the masquerade… How do I dance again, Francis! Just imagine everyone watching me fumbling on the dance floor. I-I’m not sure I can handle it.” Malcolm gestures in frustration. Francis only bleats back. The sound is rather agreeing if Malcolm says so himself. He pores over his books and writes detailed notes about the list of dances that could come up and the songs they are associated with. The time signature, the starting instrument to enter on, how many beats he should hold a pose for. All the theory swirls in his head. Unfortunately, it cannot completely translate to how the body will follow.

“Alright Malcolm, you’ve done this before. Let’s try this again.” Malcolm props open a book against another stack of books and observes the proper hand positions. He mimics bowing the appropriate height before raising his arms to the hands of an invisible partner. 1… 2… 3… 4… 1… 2… 3… 4… Malcolm mimes the steps in place. Knees bent, then stretched on his toes, then back on his soles. The box step for the waltz is easy enough… without moving, music nor a partner. 

“Do people even still do the box step Francis?” Malcolm looks over forlornly as Francis hops. “Yes that’s right Francis, we have to start at the fundamentals.” The cossetling lifts his arms up once again and steps forward, onto a pile of notes. He falls down in a flurry of papers. He looks up as they drift over him as they fall. They certainly look more elegant than he feels. “Ah… let’s tidy up the space first.” He says, looking dismayed at what happened. 

Malcolm swiftly cleaned up a free space on the floor as Francis helpfully nudged books out of the way. “All right! Right at the start again, Francis?”. The cosprout merrily bleated and started the record for the music. 1… 2… 3… 4… 1… 2… 3… 4… Francis stumbled on his steps but gained confidence as he swung his imaginary partner around the study. He continued on until the candle light extinguished itself in the wax. Surely, this would be a good place to rest and start on the newer dances tomorrow.