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Post by Erik Leroux on May 13, 2010 1:29:07 GMT
He had only been planing on heading down to the main room, to clear his mind. Too many hours he had been stuffed in his room. Locked away from anyone who dared disturbed him, with no food, no water. One of his creative fits, the servants whispered. They knew better than to try and disturb him then. They were the only who knew who he was, and just how dangerous he could become without a seconds warning. He had came straight here after that night's events. Minutes passed into hours, hours drained into days. He saw no sunlight, heard no vice but his own. It was only when the candles he gathered around himself burned themselves to the last of their wick did he shake himself from his strange trance. It had been so long since he locked himself away from the world that when he emerged from it he was disoriented. He had forgotten he was not in his country, not in his own home tucked away from the world, but in a palace where royalty strode just outside his door.
It was night then. The palace filled with shadows. Darkness lingered everywhere. Those of higher standing rested in bed, their thoughts weightless, carefree as they slumbered in their luxury. But to Erik, the night was better than any moment filled with light. The dark surrounded him, comforting him in its strong embrace. The shadows hid his scars, let him walk freely as others might do. As he crossed the palace, his foot falls made no noise. He crept as silent as a ghost, stirring not even the air. His mind twisted and turned, never letting him sit still for a moment. Her voice echoed in his mind, the accidental brush of her hand still burned like a hot coal, her warm eyes could be seen gazing back at him every time he closed his own. In everything he did, in every breath he heard her. Lock himself away, that had been the thought. Lock himself away and shut out the world, and she would vanish with it. But it hadn't been the case. Locked away his mind had focused on nothing else. His room was a disarray of her image. Her in song, in paintings. It had only been one meeting, only one of chance and yet...he couldn't let go.
An innocent creature, she needed not to marred by his presence, and yet the only need he felt within him was to be beside her. She had gaze at him that night at the ball like a human. As if no scar on his face could change the fact that he had a heart that beat beneath his chest just as her. He longed for that again. Just a gaze. Just a look. That was all and he would be satisfied. At least, that is what he told himself. But he knew the truth couldn't be further than that. With one taste his mind was forever turning, what would another do to his soul?
He journeyed now to the music room. The palace was silent, and it was far enough from everyone that they would not hear the notes ring. It's the devil in that child. When he plays that music I have thoughts no mother should Words drifted back to him, words his mother had spoken, hushed behind the doors of the room, with no knowledge that he lurked their listening. So he kept his music silent, away from anyone could harm it. And he knew this new composition, the one he worked on as he thought her over in his mind, would tear apart the soul of those who listened.
What he did not expect as he neared the room was the soft, gentle plunk of piano keys. Not done especially well, an unpracticed hand. He moved to leave them in peace, to journey back to his room and lock himself up again. That was until he caught the reflection of the figure playing piano in the mirror across the room. His heart stopped, then felt heavy. His hand formed a fist around the music he clutched there. His eyes drifted close as he listened to her play. He couldn't bare to let his eyes linger on her too long. Never had he thirsted for something in his life. Never had he longed to touch a human so much as he did there. His leather gloved hands curled into fists. She would never long for his touch...never yearn for something from him. Her playing drifted through the air. Not skilled, but a talent lingered there....he knew so much of music to hear it easily...
His eyes snapped open at the realization. How to get her closer. How to get a moment longer with her than he should. Through music. Once his damnation. He would make it his savior. His steps stayed silent as he moved into the room, crossing so that he knew his shadow would not disturb her. It wasn't until he heard the music she was playing before he whispered words soft and low.
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Post by Charlotte Leigh on May 13, 2010 1:57:51 GMT
--- Charlotte Leigh. * [/size] The hour was late, and darkness had long enveloped the grounds of the Peterhof Palace. Most did not wander the gardens when all natural light left the green lawns and sparkling water as is cascaded from the many fountains, but Charlotte... No, Charlotte adored the dark. It gave her comfort. Not strong comfort, like the kind she had so often craved from her father when she had been teased by her sisters, but a gentle comfort. She could hide easily in the darkness, walk unnoticed.. she didn't have to try to blend in with the background. She already did. She had walked the gardens for a while, but there had been a chill in the air and she had sought the warmth of the inside of palace after not too long.
She had found the music room quite by chance, wandering the corridors. She had brought no staff with her -- she had none -- and she had made no friends yet, and so she spent her days and nights alone. It wasn't new to her, she was used to entertaining herself, and there was something quite exciting about doing it somewhere other than her own home. A girlish giddiness has found itself a home in the pit of her stomach when she saw the grand piano within the music room. She had longed to be taught to play it, but never granted the privilige. She had had to teach herself what little she knew.
Seated at the piano, her slender fingers had hovered over the keys for quite some time. Was she good enough to play such a beautiful instrument in such a beautiful palace? The grandeur of Peterhof was unlike any she had ever known.. would her sub-par playing be some form of sacrilige?
Charlotte knew it probably was, but she could not deny her fingers the pleasure of pressing the keys, and as they began to dance over the ivory and black keys, she felt a sort of completeness take over her very soul. Music.. her one passion. She could not play well, only a few short pieces, and they were riddled with mistakes where her fingers slipped to the wrong key, or she pressed two accidentally instead of just one. Each time she made a mistake, she started the piece over again, playing it again and again in the hopes one day she would play them perfectly. Such a far fetched hope.
Concentrating so hard, she had not heard footsteps approach, and when a soft voice spoke, she gasped. Her hands automatically shot into her lap. She rose quickly, an in built respect making her actions second nature, and as her eyes fell upon the masked man, she had the look of a distinctly guilty child. She recognised him.. She had been in such a daze at the Masquerade ball. She hadnt wanted to attend, but she knew hiding away would never please her Aunt and Uncle, and carelessly she had bumped into him. Oh, how profusely she had apologised, but he had been kind and they had conversed for a while.
He used a nickname he had coined for her straightaway, and had she not felt so suddenly wrong for being in the music room, a soft smile would have tugged at her lips, but the guilty expression remained as her eyes surveyed him. At the ball, he had been wearing an outfit and mask of vivid red, his face hidden like everyone else in the ballroom.. But now, there was a different mask on his face, obscuring half of it. She assumed quickly that it hid some kind of disfigurement, but she was not abhorred. Nor did she stare at it, gawping like a school-girl. Whether she looked at it for ten minutes or a matter of seconds, it would still be a white mask. There was no need to make him feel uncomfortable by locking her eyes on it in shock.
"I apologise, Your Grace," she said quietly, tilting her chin downward as she spoke.. So polite, so respectful.. She acted as if she was nothing more than a mere servant. She indeed had a title, the daughter of a Baron and Baroness, but her blue blood was diluted massively compared to so many of the others who wandered the Palace. Royals, nobles.. Compared, she was nothing. "I do hope my poor playing did not disturb you."
Her dark brown eyes were kept downcast, but it was not through his appearance. Far from it.. She knew he was a Baron, he had introduced himself as so, and so she owed him respect. It was a show of that, nothing more. Mask or not, he had been kind to her a few nights ago, and so she owed him the same decency. For a moment, she was silent. Did she excuse herself with a curtsey and leave him be? Would that the appropriate thing to do? Oh, she wished she knew, instead of standing there like a silly little girl.
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Post by Erik Leroux on May 13, 2010 3:37:58 GMT
Guilt, that was the look he saw reflected in her eyes. Like a child who had been caught stealing sweets before dinner. Far too innocent, he reminded himself as he watched her. An innocence, but something more was reflected in her eyes. Perhaps this pure creature knew pains. Hurt..loneliness. Did she know what it was like to wander the night alone, and feel like it was the only place she could belong? No. She couldn't know that pain. She was far to beautiful, she belonged with the angels. Not here among the filth and greed of humans. He felt a burning anger towards anyone who might have harmed her. He longed to protect her, now and forever. But he only just met her...
O h how he longed to reach out and tilt her chin back up to meet his gaze. How he longed to know of pleasures he could never enjoy. He longed for the feel of her bare cheek on his fingers. To run his fingers across lips of pure silk...He could never touch her. Not in the physical world. But through music. His eyes drifted towards to the piano. He would caress her soul, in a way that was far more intimate than the brushing of mere flesh. Carefully, he concealed the music he had meant to play on his person, out of sight for now. That music was far too much for her. That music spoke of his obsession, his lust...things she could not know yet.
Her mannerism pained him. The way she spoke as if she were below him. Did she not know how superior she was to himself? Did she not know of her own beauty? Of the pure light that shined through the dark night to him. Not the piercing kind, but a sort that beckoned him from his days of loneliness. "You did not speak of your love of music the night before," His words finally came out. A measured town, as if every word in that moment held value. There was a time in his life where he would talk to anyone who had ears. About everything and nothing. Sometimes he would simply describe the room, his clothes. His mother had been quick to make sure that there was a stop to that.
A touch of fear struck him then. Did she cast her eyes downward not because of his rank, but because of his mask? Did she fear what lay behind it? The thought made him take a step back, away from her. His movements did not come across as fear though, he didn't allow them to. Instead he made it seem as if he had meant to do this, and stepped closer to the piano again. "You taught yourself, did you not?" he began to speak again. He wanted to fill that space, the quietness that existed between them for a moment. Keep her distracted so that fear of him did not settle in. "I too, taught myself to play. I received training later on, but in the beginning, it was simply myself. " He let his gloved fingers hover above the keys. He longed to play, to watch his music over take her. For some reason it meant so much more to him if she loved his music, than if the greatest critics in the world did.
With a sharp jerk, he pulled his fingers away from the keys. "Please, play for me..."he stepped back then, giving her room to approach the keys. He was being too informal perhaps. If any one were around they would surely be the towns gossip. Erik himself couldn't care less, the Palace already spoke of him. But the thought of her name being dragged through the mud alongside his was heartbreaking.
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Post by Charlotte Leigh on May 13, 2010 9:04:07 GMT
--- Charlotte Leigh. * [/size] She was not in trouble with him, it seemed. No, quite the opposite. He wanted her to play for him. She swallowed softly, quite frightened by such a notion. She had never played for anyone before, not only because her skill not worth listening to, but because none had taken an interest in her playing before. Part of her wanted to refuse, but there no question of that. She could not be so rude, and so she looked up at him for a moment, and nodded.
Slipping herself onto the piano stool, she paused for a moment. What to play that could please him? She knew barely any pieces, and none of them in their entirity. The bits she knew she could play in an alright manner, for an amateur, though the end of pieces always stumped her and she forgot the notes by the time she got to the last few bars of music. It was always the same, no matter what she had tried to teach herself.
With a deep breath that perhaps showed her nerves, she placed her fingertips on the keys and began to play. She didn't even know the name of the piece, and as she played she made mistakes, again her fingers slipping, or sometimes finding the wrong note altogether. Her poor skill was made worse by her nervousness, but her playing was earnest. The tip of her tongue even poked out to rest on her top lip in concentration as she tried desperately to get it right. Her movements were not embellished with graceful flicks of fingers, instead they pressed quite heavily on the keys in quite an unladylike way, but they were honest movements. She was trying her hardest, and that much would be clear.
After she was about halfway through the short piece, and another good few mistakes later, she pulled her hands away and again rested them in her lap with a heavy sigh. For a moment she simply looked at them as they sat on the pale-blue fabric of her dress, wishing them to not be so clumsy, before turning to him. She turned her face just enough to look at him, chin still tilted slightly downwards even in her sitting position. Her eyes, deep brown as dark as soil after the rain, looked up at him, but she did not stare at his mask. Instead she focused on his own eyes, much as she would if she looked to any other noble or royal as she spoke to them.
"I... I cannot, My Lord," she said, her voice soft, scarcely any more than a whisper. Her whole demeanor, from the tip of her toes to the top of her head -- body language, voice, gaze -- all screamed of her unsurety of her own actions, her own importance even. Perhaps if her upbringing had been different, she would have acted in an entirely normal way, like the other girls.. arrogant, so sure of their own place in society. "I'm sorry.. I've only played alone before.." She realised her previous statement may have seemed too abrupt, too rude, and she hurriedly added the explanation for fear of being deemed insolent.
She offered the gentlest of apologetic smile, the corners of her full lips turning upwards only slightly, but it was a true expression. Her soft almond-shaped eyes showed it plainly, but it all seemed so awkward.
"I'm afraid my music skills seems barely good enough for an audience with yourself, My Lord," she added finally before looking down at her own hands again. Oh, how she wished them to be able to move over the keys elegantly, perfectly, like those of her sisters. Then, perhaps, she would not be such a disgrace to her aunt and uncle, to her late father.. to any she met. A sadness overtook her body language now, shoulders dropping slightly. Surely now he would banish her from his sight for offending his ears so violently...
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Post by Erik Leroux on May 16, 2010 17:35:59 GMT
Erik would have never let anyone continue playing after that first, uneducated note. Usually music was not allowed to be so...abused in such a manner. But he could see beyond it. See the passion that lay in her eyes. She felt that connection to music, the same that he did. No..perhaps not exactly the same. But it burned within her. She wanted to learn, and there was something there that was waiting to break free. She fixed her gaze on him, looking at his eyes, not to the mask that covered his face, nor looking away with embarrassment. She met his eyes as if he were a normal man. Not one so scared by the world. It cause him to freeze in his motions for a moment. He was rooted to that spot, watching her with such an intensity that he would be scorned if the proper eyes of society were upon them. It was her soft whisper of a voice that pulled him from the trance she put on him. That was dangerous...he mustn't let her gain control over him so easily.
Her insecurity, that was something he could identify with. But he did not like it reflected in her eyes. He moved around the piano then, coming to rest on the other side, closer to her. His movements were hesitant, as if he might frighten her if he moved too swiftly. He let her speak her peace, but it pained him to hear her treat herself so harshly. She spoke as if she had never known praise. How could anyone scorn her, never give hr a word of praise? His finger snuck out to simply stroke one key. He wished that he could play for her now...but no. Not yet.
"You have more skill now, than any great musician." He said after that note finished ringing in the air. His hand reached out to raise her chin, to make her meet his gaze again, but he dropped it swiftly. He didn't dare touch. He wouldn't be able to feel the softness of her cheek, in its smooth unscarred appearance. His gloved hands made sure that he couldn't "You have a passion for music. It means more to you than just notes." He could see it in her eyes. She wanted to play, but had not the instruction. "But you words are true. Your music skills are not good enough."
His words weren't too harsh, he did his best to reserve that, but he could not deny the truth. Music was not meant to be heard such as that. "I...could help." He said after a moment, the realization dawning on him. He would work close with her. At night like this . He could help that gift within her grown...
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Post by Charlotte Leigh on May 16, 2010 18:01:49 GMT
--- Charlotte Leigh. * [/size] As he tilted her chin upwards, she allowed him to. She did not shy away, pull from his touch, instead letting him bring her eyes to meet his again. Her own deep sepia orbs fixed on his, a strange color.. blue yet grey, like the sea after a storm, she thought.. Her gaze was not harsh, nor commanding. It was meek, and perhaps could be described as angelic. There was an innocent honesty within her oculars, such a rarity now in the society there were surrounded by, built of filth and deceit and Lord only knew what else. But Charlotte, no, she was true. It reflected in those shimmering pools, and even when he dropped his hand, she kept her eyes on his. Her lips were parted only slightly, her bottom lip sticking out a fraction in a way she neither commanded nor controlled. It was a natural pout, one she had come to ignore and fail to notice.
He confirmed her statement, that her playing was indeed poor, and though it was a chastitsement, it was soft, not excessively harsh, and it did not upset her. She already knew it to be true, but he did not seem angered by her skill, or lack thereof. His offer to help recieved a soft smile from her, but it was hesitant, as though she was unsure. Every movement she made was excecuted in this way.
"That would be.. wonderful..." she replied, her voice again scarcely above a whisper, the gentle smile still tugging prettily at the corners of her lips. To finally have instruction on how to play the piano, the very instrument that seemed to command her very soul.. It would be like a dream. The one thing she had desired for all those years she had watched her sisters taught to play beautifully, their fingers creating pieces that could cause her heart to both freeze and swell at the same time.. Peering through the crack in the slightly ajar door, or leaning her ear against it if it was shut.. Now she would be able to play properly. If she were a lesser girl, she would have been unable to hide her exictement, but she had learnt decorum, had it forced upon her, and so the freshly ignited fire burnt only in those dark eyes of hers.
"Alas, I could not ask you to waste your time aiding me, My Lord," she added sadly, and it was true as her eyes again found their way to her lap. He was a Baron, she was a Lady.. How could she implore him to spend his time doing such a thing? It was then that she realised he had probably come here to play himself, and here she was preventing him from doing so. How very rude of her! She felt quite awful at the notion, and she rose then, inclining her head and offering a deep, polite curtsey. "I should leave you to enjoy your evening, My Lord."
Charlotte's eyes rose again and offered him another of her gentle, angelic smiles as she rose from the curtsey. Part of her was perhaps a little saddened at leaving his company.. His presence made her feel at ease. He treated her with a tender respect she was so unused to recieving and it was sweet. Endearing, almost.
"Perhaps I shall see you here again?" she asked quietly, gingerly. It was perhaps a little forward, but thus far, the French Baron was the only person she could deem a friend in Russia, though really he was more of an acquaintance. His attention had made her feel more comfortable in the strange country, full of whispering princesses, flirtaceous princes and servants intent to serve simply for the purpose of finding the newest gossip. She felt as though she were on the outside looking in, much as she had done her entire childhood, watching her sisters. She knew why.. Had it not been for her, her mother would still be alive.. She had not meant to cause her mother to die, how could she have? A mere infant, less than an hour old as the Priest had given the Baroness her last rites. But still, the Baron and his other girls had treated her as though she had done it on purpose. It had plagued her, and it was the reason for her upbringing, and her demeanour now.
She hoped he would agree to meet her again, even if it was just to smile and exchange pleasantries. The masked Baron had her curiousity piqued, and she was drawn to his kind heart. It shone through so readily, and she imagined he knew how it felt to be pushed to one side, made to feel an outcast. Perhaps that was why she enjoyed his company so.. He felt her pain. Not sharp enough to make her cry out, but a dull ache in her chest that never really left her, only when she was truly alone, and then it made no difference. Oh, how she hoped he would not scorn her company like so many had done before.
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Post by Erik Leroux on May 26, 2010 20:50:49 GMT
He expected her to jerk away from his touch. After all, it was immoral for a man to touch a lady like that. And while it was a brief, he could almost feel the warmth radiating from her. The gloves that covered his hands stopped him from feeling anything more than that. He closed them into fists, as if the motion would help to capture that warmth, allow him to harbor it in his body for a time. If only a touch could do that, and only a gaze could cause him to freeze than he had to be careful. This woman was quickly becoming a drug to him. A drug, or a poison. Either way if he gave in it would take his life.
The breath that Erik had held as soon as he spoke his offer felt heavy in his chest. She would scorn him, surely. He had presented no skill in playing music, what would make her think that such a man was fit to give her the gift of music. He could not condemn her for not knowing of the music that he possessed, she would not know of the honor she was receiving by becoming a student of his. And she did not know of the danger that she would put herself in. Being associated with himself was enough danger as it is. His reputation was not pure. Unbalanced, they called him. Far too close to going mental to be accepted into proper society. And disfigured, above all things, with a face that was too horrid to gaze upon. She could not know of this, and he didn't have it in him to let her know. Despite all of it, the lady would say no. At least he thought as much.
That breath released from his lips when he saw such a joy in her eyes. Not reflected in her words, it was held back as a proper lady should do, but it was there nonetheless. Excitement for him? No. For his gift of music. Wonderful, she said. He almost spoke until he sensed her next words, crushing the brief bit of hope that shined in his chest. Waste his time? The statement almost made him laugh. What time did he have that was filled? His days were spent alone, with his music, with his art, and the jeers from the outside world. He should protest, claim that he had nothing but time for her. Hours and hours to be spent with her, for her. Just to see her. But he would not be made into a fool, begging for attention. His fingers drifted from the piano key as he put distance between them, stepping away.
She may have wanted his gift of music, but not him. Not his company. That is what caused the pain in her voice. Was such a beauty here only to tease him with hopes and promises of being treated with as a human only to have it ripped away? He couldn't see her as being so cruel, but then again, people had lied to him with fake affection before. Perhaps only she was doing it. His gaze no longer met hers at her next question. Meet here again? She needed not to torment him with such false promises. She spoke as if only chance would bring them together. Chance was not something he wanted to waste his life with. Perhaps she was only telling him off politely. Women had done that to him as well. Several times. The ones that flirted with his mystery soon grew bored when they learned that they would never see what lay behind the mask. Was this woman now bored with him as well?
He turned his back to her, moving to sit at the piano once more. He had came for a reason before he was distracted by her. Even know he was aware of every breath she took, every slight rustle of her dress. As a man of honor, he would give her a response, but the one he gave was full of scorn. Hurt. Just another dismissal, so he would give her the same. "Perhaps." He spoke the one word. It pained him. Such a woman should be spoken to kindly. Directly. But he could not bring himself to meet her gaze again, he couldn't bare his soul. If she perhaps saw the longing there, mingled with the ache of being dismissed...well he wasn't sure that she could handle it.
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Post by Charlotte Leigh on May 26, 2010 21:47:53 GMT
--- Charlotte Leigh. * [/size] He refused her. Whether it was his intention, or just her perception, he had refused her. That was how she felt when he uttered just one word, his tone so cold and almost.. hateful. Perhaps. Had she been a fool to believe he enjoyed her company as much as she enjoyed his? Did he really think of her as an annoying child, just as everyone else did? Her desire to meet with him again wasn't based on his music skills. She knew nothing of them. She had not heard him play... No, what made her enjoy his presence was his passion for music. She could sense it in him, the same fire that burnt brightly within her own soul. She had watched her sisters have the finest tuition her father's money could buy, and yet they had no passion for it. They played the notes, but did not feel them. They could listen to a piece of music, and just hear music. Not Charlotte.. She had cried upon hearing Mozart's 'Lacrimosa', from his Requim in D Minor symphony, performed for the first time, the sad notes the violin had made, with the trumpets and trombones almost seeming to bleed their sadness out into her waiting ears. Even the sopranos, contraltos and tenors did not seem to understand the music the way she did. How had they not dissolved into tears as they sang the Latin words? She had. Oh, she had wept as the notes sent a great sorrow through to her very core.
He felt the same affinity with music. She knew he did. From the way he had reacted to her poor playing. It was more than how it sounded to his ears, it was how it sounded to his very soul, deep within him. Where music should have been felt. How could the World be so blind to the beauty? It vexed her. And it vexed him too. She knew. She just knew.. And she had seen that within him and her heart had leapt.. and Now he was dismissing her cruelly.
She had no idea what made her do it, what made her think it was a good idea, but before she could second-guess and over-think her actions, she had sat herself back down on the piano stool beside him. It was an old piano, the stool matching, and it was wide enough for two people to seat themselves comfortably. She was tiny, slender, and took up hardly any room as she perched herself there. She had often wondered why they made the stools so long, but she supposed it was perhaps for when people were being taught, so the tutor could sit alongside the pupil. Or perhaps for moments such as this, so that two people with a deep passion for music could share it.
Would he think her rude? Would he think her forward? Had she disgraced herself? She had no idea, but her fingers quickly found their way to the correct keys. The aforementioned piece of music was the only thing she could play perfectly, and for very good reason. After hearing it, she had memorised it, and she had taught it herself from memory, by ear. Her father had taken her sisters away to introduce them to some nobility somewhere, and she had been left at home, under the pretense of being too young. The truth was, she was too much of a mistake, and for five days, he had been gone along with her sisters. It was just Charlotte and the servants, and she had spent every waking moment sat at the piano, teaching herself 'Lacrimosa'. If the note didn't sound right, she would play it over and over until she found the correct note to go to next, and by the end of the fifth day, she had it perfectly. Her fingers didn't slip, and she didn't make a mess of the notes. No, she played it perfectly.
And that was what she did. Her fingers elegantly slid over the keys. The heaviness was gone, and she played it beautifully. The music filled the room, enveloping both of them. She was on the wrong place on the piano, they key too low, but that was because of where she was sat. Had she and the Baron been sitting in the opposite positions, it would have been correct.. but nonetheless, it sounded perfect. And as she played, her eyes grew moist.. She was unable to get through the piece without feeling the same sorrow as she had done upon first hearing it. The piece was so sad, it made her grieve though for what she was unsure. She didn't know if he would appreciate her playing, but she had to show him.. she had to make him see her passion. It was the only way he would deem her worthy of his presence, she was sure of it.
Charlotte didn't look at him, even when she had finished the piece. Nor did she utter any words. She simply allowed her fingers to remain on the keys where they had finished the symphony, her eyes still fixed on the black and white rectangles that had allowed her to produce such beauty. For a moment, all was silent, almost as if the very walls of the music room were still absorbing the beauty, until she broke it with her soft, meek voice once more.
"I'm sorry.." she whispered. How had she been so rude? The gravity hit her then. Not only had she invaded his time, but now his personal space.. But she could not bring herself to stand, to move away. She had to know he understood, she had to know he saw her appreciation of music.. She had to have his acceptance, but why she wasn't sure...
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