melody in e minor (thompson)
Sept 25, 2024 22:16:06 GMT -5
Post by florentine, d4b ❁ on Sept 25, 2024 22:16:06 GMT -5
florentine.
i have been exploring, lately. i've made a new rule for myself: if there is a door, i must open it, and see what is inside. so far, i've gotten kicked out of the avox quarters, the kitchens, and three different hallways which all looked exactly the same. the swipe cards are sometimes a problem - of course, as a lowly district kid, i am not authorised to access a significant part of the building. but i'm working on it.
today, i found the rooftop. this is a place it seems that i am allowed to be, because there is netting strategically placed between myself and jumping to my death, and the door is unlocked, and mr. goody two shoes from two is already up here, making a racket. i don't think he would be here if it was off-limits. as i get closer, i see that it's a flute he's huffing on - he must have brought it from home, because personally i haven't been offered a single musical instrument in the whole time i've been here. i'm glad, because my rendition of für elise on the piano would probably expose me as a fraud right there on the spot.
i sit and watch the kid play for a while. if he notices me, he does not look up - he is fixated on the noise he is making, which is somewhere between decent and painful to behold. credit to him, though, to be prioritising a half-mastered art form at a time like this. it's almost optimistic.
the rest of the rooftop is empty; a swimming pool, rippling and over-chlorinated, lays between me and the boy, who's name i believe is thompson. i've been watching him, because from what i've gathered, he's an academy kid, but he doesn't speak like one or act like one or shoot fire out of his eyeballs like one. it's eccentric, for sure.
respectfully, i wait for him to come to a pause for a breath before i interrupt him, announcing my presence by calling out across the pool.
"what's the plan, then? is it a lullaby-based strategy?" i do not intend to be mean; quite the opposite, in fact, but when his eyes lift to meet mine i catch something there i do not like. he looks like that time i ran over a rabbit with my bicycle and it made eye contact with me right before my front tire collided with it's face.
i try some damage control. "you're really good, though. where'd you learn to play like that?" fact is, i don't know anything about what makes a good or bad woodwind player, but i am am a good liar, and i say it with conviction.