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 Posted: Sat May 14, 2011 9:10 pm
Everything had been so hectic after the incident on the island that Rosc had almost forgotten to practice for Prof. Blue's music class. Almost.
He'd been lying in bed, dozing off an ache in his back when there was a low twang by his window-seat. Scarred eyelids shot open as his vision flicked on, his head turning to see Nightingale pawing at one of the strings on the harp that sat next to his cello. The instrument was a stark contrast from the one he was used to. He couldn't see that his cello was an almost black-gray color with black designs on the belly while the harp was a ghostly silver with black strings, but he could see other differences. His old cello was smooth but not an elegant instrument. It barely had much of a curve to the scroll, but the harp was much more flashy. Carvings in the pillar that made up the tallest part of the harp, carvings along the top-piece. He sighed and sat up, wearing socks, pants, his bandages, and his bracer, no blindfold. His pets were used to the empty sockets.
Nightingale looked up when he was close, one of her own bandages was caught among the strings.
"Gale, you shouldn't play with that," Rosc said and bent down to untangle her, picked her up, and set her on the window-seat.
"There, you sit and stay out of trouble while I practice for class, okay?" he said, giving her a raised eyebrow. The Wishing Helper just gave him a blink before setting to cleaning her fur. The incubus shook his head and pulled up one of the armchairs in his room to the harp, sitting on the edge, back straight, wings folded at his back. He tried to imagine a piano on its side as he slipped one finger behind a string and then pulled, listening to the note that came out. Again with a different string, then again with another, orienting himself with the placement. It wasn't terrible, but he was still a little rusty on his comparable instrument, so he wouldn't be able to play anything of great substance, not yet. Much as he disliked it, it would probably do him good to go down to the demon commons and practice on the piano again, get used to the darn thing again. Especially if Blue was picking random instruments to assign to the students.
But that was for later.
Rosc let the harp lean against him, almost as he allowed his cello. Or Sin. He wondered if she was practicing her trumpet as well. Probably not, since it was a rather loud instrument and all he heard was the sound of his fingers plucking slowly at the strings to a tune he knew. It was one of the few songs he liked that had lyrics to it. Something about it... His fingers were slower than the background music called for, but the quick succession of notes was distinguishable as a specific tune and not something that he was just picking at.
He spared his cat-like pet a glance. Ripley had wandered off somewhere and Ban was curled up on the foot of his bed taking a nap, so Nightingale was the only one around and awake. She'd adjusted rather well. She still slept on his chair or the window-seat rather than on the bed with his other pets, but she didn't run from him, sometimes sat in his lap when he was working on home-things. She was watching him play, her tail waving back and forth.
"Not as good as the cello, though," he told her, her ears perking up at the sound of his voice among the hesitant plucking. He'd gotten into the awkward habit of talking to his pets a while ago. Unlike other demons, his pets couldn't tell his secrets to anyone.
"I'd play a bit of that for you, but Blue said we need to play with these a bit. Maybe in a couple of hours," he added, moving on to another part of the song in his head.
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Posted: Sat May 14, 2011 9:11 pm
His fingers moved slowly across the strings as he had no idea what the proper technique was. They felt a little sore, but pain was something he was used to.
He didn't use his thumb whatsoever and the pedals were untried. But it didn't sound horrible, harp, piano, and guitar really were the kind of instrument that you couldn't get absolutely wrong. Bowed strings could make a terrible sound, woodwinds could screech, brass could fail. Well, drums and such couldn't really go wrong, either.
Rosc supposed he should feel lucky. At the very least, it was something he could figure out on his own, something he had some measure of experience with. From what he saw, most of his classmates didn't. He had noticed a couple who had seemed comfortable with what they had been given, others like Sin and the little undead ghoul who had been completely at a loss.
The flat of his hand stilled the strings as he pondered. He'd helped her get a more appropriately sized cello, had she really managed to get it working? The patchwork certainly hadn't. He'd heard the plucking, could tell what instrument it was from. Plucking was not something he usually did, nor did the artists he listened to. It wasn't what made the cello sing. It was like comparing a song to someone saying "Ow" in different notes. Boring and short. It was fine if that's what you wanted, and he'd heard it work before in some songs, but always in the background with another cello over it. If you wanted to use that kind of playing, use a bass, he though.
But he'd gotten away from his practice. He'd found his vision drawn to the old cello not even out of arm's reach.
The fingers on his left hand went back to the harp strings and plucked at the longest strings, trying to find the notes he was looking for, to familiarize himself with them. Another song came to mind and he pulled a pair out, then another, then back to the first. Again. Again and his right hand moved to some shorter strings, plucking a slow melody he could have played so much easier on his own instrument.
The clock on his desk chimed and he jerked around, staring at the raised numbers on its face. Two hours already? He'd gotten lost in the music that he'd actually managed to get through the hours that Blue had wanted them to. He rubbed at his fingers for a moment before setting the harp upright. He even gave it a bit of a pat as he stood and moved away, to retrieve his blindfold and coat. He figured if he was done practicing, he could check on Sin.
(Word count: 1,295)
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