Ceridwen Brame D2 WIP

There's a rhythm in everything. The birds in the trees, the creek in the woods, even the bustling city machinery. All in sync with in itself, in it's own little world. I like to think that I have my own rhythm too. That my fingers give off a melody only unique to my own. Despite what my mother might shout at me. 'You're wasting your time!' she says 'become a career!' she says. Maybe in a different time I would've eventually given in to my mothers demands, but the thing is, I hate careers. I've seen them train, watched them in their practices, and even seen them put that practice to good use in the Games. It never appealed to me. In fact, I find it quite disturbing and appalling the amount of joy they take in what they do. I stand in the music room now, running my fingers over the lid of the grand piano. No one ever uses this room except for me, usually only during my piano lessons. There's other instruments in here too, like a violin, cello, accordion, and a couple others. But I find the piano the most interesting. The lessons were one of my fathers bright ideas. He says I should be free to choose what I want to do with my time and that I should do whatever makes me happy. If only he was home more often then maybe I could crush my mother's idea of me being a career.

I prop open the lid of the piano and expose the strings underneath. Once I'm sure it wont fall, I sit on the piano bench and poise my fingers over the keys. I want everyone to hear me. I want them all to hear what I can do. My fingers start moving on their own from muscle memory and I lose myself in the melody. It's the hardest song I know and it's also my favorite one to play. Hard songs are entertaining and keep me on my toes. They give me something to fully concentrate on, plus I like a good challenge. I can never quite remember the name of this song though. I know it starts with something like an 'Ave' and it's two words, but that's not enough for me to remember. It doesn't really matter though, as long as I remember the song itself, I don't care. The song rings out from the piano and rings true through out the music room. I know my mother can probably hear me from the study and I know she'll be down here any second. She'll tell me to stop playing, to go to the practice center and be with other careers. And I'll just ignore her like I always do. I could hear the director in my head say action as the clipping noise of her heels on the tile in the hall became louder. "Ceridwen Lu Brame!" Her voice comes out so ragged and high pitched that my fingers slam against the keys and make an equally horrible sound.

"You don't practice outside of your lessons, you should be down at the training center if your going to waste your time." Those words dripped with venom as she spoke them. I don't look at her because I know all too well the expression that's most likely on her face. A mixture of anger and frustration with a dash of disappointment.