Name:
Arendelle
Song:
Arrival of the Birds
Explanation of song:
It represents the highs and lows, the failures and triumphs of Arendelle's life.
Dream:
Triumph surged through her, alighting the blood in her veins. She was beautiful, she was graceful— she was flawless. One plié, two arabesques, and three pirouettes. Her toes held all her weight as she spun en pointe under the stage lights. Her tail arced through the air beside her, flowing like water to the rythym of the orchestra. A leap, another turn, a head held high against the world that told her so many times she would never make it. She was doing it. Oh yes, Arendelle Caverly had made it. Nineteen years of age, she was performing at the Royal Opera House in London, England— any performer's dream. And performing she was. The jellybean dragon was flying. Nothing could touch her; not the ground, not their whispers, not the fear. She was in a world where the only judge was herself. Proud was her father, proud would have been her mother. Proud was Arendelle. There was no fear of falling. There was no stress of messing up. There was only wild joy and a deep feeling of accomplishment. She had done it.
Dramatically lit art:
link
Arendelle
Song:
Arrival of the Birds
Explanation of song:
It represents the highs and lows, the failures and triumphs of Arendelle's life.
Dream:
Triumph surged through her, alighting the blood in her veins. She was beautiful, she was graceful— she was flawless. One plié, two arabesques, and three pirouettes. Her toes held all her weight as she spun en pointe under the stage lights. Her tail arced through the air beside her, flowing like water to the rythym of the orchestra. A leap, another turn, a head held high against the world that told her so many times she would never make it. She was doing it. Oh yes, Arendelle Caverly had made it. Nineteen years of age, she was performing at the Royal Opera House in London, England— any performer's dream. And performing she was. The jellybean dragon was flying. Nothing could touch her; not the ground, not their whispers, not the fear. She was in a world where the only judge was herself. Proud was her father, proud would have been her mother. Proud was Arendelle. There was no fear of falling. There was no stress of messing up. There was only wild joy and a deep feeling of accomplishment. She had done it.
Dramatically lit art:
link


















i do all kinds of stupid and silly stuff

