Music and Stone (Closed)

[Yvonne]

Yvonne followed Henry’s lead to the play testing sounds of his fiddle, each note a promising suggestion that he might play a song for her soon, when they arrived at where they were going. The other side of the orphanage was further away than she expected; more than half of the old manor seemed to be empty of life, awaiting a time when orphans were so common these rooms would need to be revitalized for their purposes. The hybrid imagined - as the doors were closed - that they concealed tidy but dusty states of disuse on the other side.

It would take a war, a bloodbath to put all these rooms to use. She silently prayed in her own way, that such a catastrophic event would never occur in her lifetime.

The jovial minstrel threw wide a door and introduced his crossbreed companion to a wondrous place, hidden away in the deepest, furthest corner of the household. A room cluttered with instruments and stands one would read sheet music from, with both comfortable and practical furniture close by. An antique harp expected attention and respect in its corner, but it appeared so historic and valuable that Yvonne wouldn’t dare touch it. Perhaps it belonged to Mother Matilda herself, or was a possession passed down through her bloodline.

The deep dwarf’s silver eyes easily understood the darkness before them. The outlines and silhouettes of every piece of furniture and object in the music room essentially highlighted for her, albeit in vision of greyscale and grey edges. Henry brandished an oil lantern with a little flickering flame, and as though he had a sixth sense for her light sensitivity he set it down on a chair, far from her vulnerable eyes. The light source made for a confusing alteration from crystalline darkvision and perfect clarity to a murky mixture of both lights and darks, a dreamy blur that she delighted in, so long as the bard remained to guide her and she didn’t look directly into the lantern light.

Henry offered a complimentary spot for her to sit, and simultaneously backhanded her with another quip. The duality of his words spoke to her as much as the words themselves. Her cheeks ached from the many times she had smiled and grinned tonight, and yet she helped herself to another. Yvonne’s white teeth flashed toward him, from the darkness of the room and the blackness of her lips as she turned away. She never did take up his offer of a comfy seat on the sideline. He climbed onto a tall, stool-like chair to play while she drifted, exploratory about the room.

The half-drow, half-dwarf’s soft fingertips graced the wooden key cover of the piano. Henry began to strum such moderate, dulcet notes that soothed away all of the night’s stresses, of fitting in and becoming accepted at the orphanage. Her anxiety and tension washed away on the current of a melodious river. The song he played was idyllic, peaceful. She had heard it once before, the ballad’s rhythm coming back to her from a time long ago.

Yvonne was a woman more inclined to seek forgiveness than permission. She respectfully took a seat in the dark, lifted the piano cover and looked over the numerous keys midway through the melody. The piano called to her, though she had never played it, and certainly didn’t have the long fingers for it - it called her to try. The half-and-halfling’s dark finger tested a low note, miraculously in time with a low note of Henry’s. At one of the song’s many higher notes she tried a high note, and with that range recognized the instrument made some sort of sense in her mind.

A complete novice of musicianship, she drew upon her experience of dance to follow along with the tune. Her hands were a little shaky, afraid to ruin the beautiful song he was bestowing upon her ears, but her fingers would not be silent. She managed the rhythm somewhat clumsily, a note out of place here, an octave lower than it should be there. Nevertheless her effort was deliberate and thoughtful, passable even, to the human ear. It wasn’t a particularly complicated song, gradual and sweet-toned; a perfect place for her to start.

The song came to an end all too soon. She wanted it to go on forever, but refrained from letting her fingers get carried away.