|
Post by Maestro on Mar 28, 2008 22:39:39 GMT -5
Rather than staying in her room all day (even though there was a piano in it), Iseabail decided to go to one of the Opera House's numerous practice rooms and just play. It had been a while since she had tried her hand at improvising; she should get back to that. After all, one never knew when one would be called upon to simply fill up time.
Smoothing her skirt underneath her, Iseabail sat down at the piano, sheet of staff music at the ready, pencil behind her ear. She thought for a moment, picked a key, and started playing.
|
|
|
Post by Miss Jack on Mar 28, 2008 23:12:02 GMT -5
Armand could hear the barest hints of music through the old, wooden walls of the opera house. It was just cloaked enough that he couldn't pick out a tune, but he could still tell it was music. He found the source, and pushed the half-closed door open all the way.
He stood behind Iseabail, watching her for a moment, listening. The song was good. Light-hearted, but a touch melancholy. He thought that perhaps a quick counterpart on the higher notes would be a good accompianment..... but of course, she didn't have enough hands for that.
He debated for a moment, and then stepped forward before he could talk himself out of it. He place him non-obtrusively next to Iseabail on the piano bench, and with one hand, played out the accent he'd thought of.
|
|
|
Post by Maestro on Mar 28, 2008 23:39:34 GMT -5
Iseabail hadn't noticed Armand's entrance, but as he sat down next to her, that got her attention. Since she was playing, she managed not to show how she always reacted to Armand: her heart started racing slightly, nonetheless. Flashing a bit of a smile at him, she listened to what he was adding to her own melody and adapted to fit his harmonies better, adding and embellishing what they were creating together.
She tried to keep herself focused on the music, but even though her ears and fingers understood what was happening and continued to improvise, her thoughts were racing. Instead of having to seek Armand out, he had come to her. Well, perhaps he hadn't come to her specifically, but he had heard her music. Which could be a good sign. Now, though, here they were, playing music, sitting right next to each other. It was a good thing they were playing; she'd have a hard time breathing, otherwise.
|
|
|
Post by Miss Jack on Mar 28, 2008 23:58:00 GMT -5
The edges of Armand's mouth twitched upward, but he kept his attention on the keys. He liked that she kept playing, and no words were necessary for them to continue in this intimate manner of communicating.
It surprised him how easily the music flowed; how well they could read each other's notes with seemingly no inhibition at all. Every once in awhile, their fingers might cross paths and brush, and that, for some odd reason, became significant. And he suddenly thought of what he might say once their impulsive little number ended. If he could think of anything to say at all, considering he was so far coming up blank.
|
|
|
Post by Maestro on Mar 29, 2008 0:44:22 GMT -5
As the melodies and counter-melodies filled the room, Iseabail wondered what was going to happen when they stopped playing. Would they talk? For musicians, this was a very intimate act, this formulating a piece of music together, working with the inclinations and ideas of another person. They worked well together, making the keyboard an area of artistic creation. Iseabail tried not to become distracted by Armand's sheer presence, something that became harder as their fingers brushed. The fact that they were making music, though, kept her mind on what was happening at the keyboard.
They were starting to repeat things now. Glancing up at Armand, she smiled, figuring out a graceful way to end the song. She knew he would follow her lead; the two of them were practically reading each other musically.
|
|
|
Post by Miss Jack on Apr 1, 2008 18:07:59 GMT -5
He caught her slight smile and followed her lead, his fingers growing softer and softer on the keys until the ending notes faded out. He kept his chin ducked for a moment of silence and then bravely (in his opinion) glanced up and smiled at her. "Thank you," he said. "I apologize if I... interrupted..."
|
|
|
Post by Maestro on Apr 4, 2008 0:12:42 GMT -5
Such a lovely ending for what had turned out to be a wonderful improvised song. She had the bones of it in her head now; she'd definitely write it down later. Iseabail let the spell the music had cast die away, turning in Armand's direction as he spoke.
"Och, ye didna interrupt," she told him, smiling. "Ye helped me a great deal, Armand, thank ye," she murmured, placing a hand on his arm momentarily.
|
|
|
Post by Miss Jack on Apr 4, 2008 0:22:57 GMT -5
He returned the smile with a crooked one of his own. At the touch of her hand, he felt himself go still, though not in a bad way. It almost surprised him how quickly that old burn of attraction hit him. The same attraction that had gotten him into so much trouble before. Iseabail was treading dangerous water, whether she realized it or not.
"My pleasure," he murmured. "You always distract me from myself..." Inwardly, he cursed himself for not being strong enough to push her away.
|
|
|
Post by Maestro on Apr 4, 2008 0:48:21 GMT -5
She smiled slightly, finally realizing what she'd done. Pulling away to scribble the motif of their piece down (lest she forget it later), Iseabail tried to make it look natural. A strand of hair fell in front of her face as she wrote, partially obscuring her eyes.
"Glad I could be of help," she murmured, glancing up at Armand, a smile on her face. She seemed to be constantly smiling when she was with him, she had noticed. It was a very pleasant thing, smiling at Armand.
Turning back to her music, strand of hair falling again, she said quietly, "It's good to see ye here again, Armand. I'm glad ye are feeling at least a bit better," she told him, still smiling at him. In truth, she was ecstatic that he had found her. And they weren't in her room, so everything should be all right, right?
|
|
|
Post by Miss Jack on Apr 4, 2008 0:59:19 GMT -5
Armand sighed. She was determined to make this difficult, wasn't she? Then again, she probably didn't even realize what she was doing.
"More or less," he muttered, glad that she was looking away, since he couldn't seem to. He reached out and tucked the stray strand of hair behind her ear. He could, reasonably, ask her how Tosca was fairing without him, but he didn't. Conversation seemed so trivial at the moment.
|
|
|
Post by Maestro on Apr 4, 2008 1:18:17 GMT -5
Iseabail smiled, blushing slightly as he tucked her hair behind her ear. "Thank ye," she murmured, blush spreading a bit. Her hair liked to fall out of whatever she had done with it at the most inconvenient times. Although, she had to admit, she hadn't minded what had happened with it, this time.
Looking back up, her eyes found Armand's, blue eyes looking into blue eyes. She didn't want to look away; she gazed into his eyes as she started to whisper, "Tosca's not the same without your voice and...," she trailed off, not even sure of what she had been going to say.
Very slowly, as though she were in a trance, Iseabail reached out to Armand, touching his cheek lightly with her fingertips, still looking into his eyes. She tried to speak again, but she couldn't find the words, lost in Armand's icy blue gaze.
|
|
|
Post by Miss Jack on Apr 4, 2008 13:04:23 GMT -5
He didn't have the strength of will to pull away, but his concern for her well-being kept him from rocking forward and taking her lips in his. The best he could do was leave it in her hands. If she wanted him, he knew he wouldn't be able to refuse her, but he would never take what wasn't his.
He reached up and grabbed her hand, his thumb pressing against her palm, but he didn't push it away.... and waited, for her to direct him.
|
|
|
Post by Maestro on Apr 4, 2008 17:32:01 GMT -5
He wasn't pulling away. The last couple of times they had been this close, something had happened and then Armand had run off. Maybe things were slightly different?
Her gaze never faltered from his, but she had been noticing his lips. Iseabail could almost still feel his lips against hers, but it had been too long. Slowly, almost hesitantly, with her hand still on Armand's cheek, Iseabail closed the short distance between them, bringing their lips together in a sweet, gentle kiss.
|
|
|
Post by Miss Jack on Apr 5, 2008 22:01:45 GMT -5
Armand couldn't deny the slight release of elation at her decision and his eyes closed at the soft, chaste and very sweet touch of her lips. It was familiar, impossibly so, and yet at the same time very foreign. He grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her closer, lips parting slightly and meshing against hers.
|
|
|
Post by Maestro on Apr 6, 2008 1:41:19 GMT -5
Iseabail smiled, her lips curving against Armand's. So, he had wanted her to kiss him, had he? She was perfectly happy to oblige, as he could probably tell right now. Closing her own eyes, she let herself press closer to Armand, the hand that had been on his cheek slipped around to tangle in his hair.
As Armand's lips parted, Iseabail responded, her lips fitting with Armand's almost perfectly. Her other arm danced behind his back, hand resting on his shoulder.
|
|