Private Tales A Lilting Impression

[Tadgh Fahalla]

Tadgh wasn't particularly impressed by much in the courts these days; unlike many of those around him he'd lost interest in most of the day-to-day activities and goings on of the Winter Court, even with some of the more unsavory things he knew as someone in his position. He'd heard of a performance by a skilled musician today, and went to the appointed location in order to find this going on. Of course, this wasn't for his own enjoyment, he was working, like he almost always was, and today was no exception. He would find this musician and record so many things: the number of people attending, which courts they were from, where these people were from within the winter court if possible, and of course listen for whispers, gossip, and rumors, among other things said quietly.

He found a seat for himself and began writing in one of his notebooks, which he often carried many of in a satchel along with quills and ink. Before long the performance started, and he wondered what kind of tune he might hear on a colder day such as this, and what instruments might be played. He was usually deaf to this sort of thing, though, as he'd heard much of it in his lifetime, and it took a special performance indeed to even grab his attention. Besides, he was paying more attention to the details of his work anyway.

 

[Diedra Rhawen]

Off-stage, Diedra cursed quietly. Nearly all of the pieces had been prepared weeks to months in advance aside from the last one. The ending she couldn't figure out. She tried different chords, different melodies, but nothing fit. It was annoying. She never had any issues figuring out what the world was playing for her before, but it kept changing. Everyday, a new ending played around her, but none of them allowed it to conclude like her other pieces.

The people in the audience wouldn't care, regardless of how she chose to end the song. Every option sounded great and the crowd would cheer for the young noblewoman with the gift of music.

The hall quieted down. Showtime. She sauntered out onto stage in a stunning gown, crystals shimmering from top to bottom, as she took a bow and sat at her piano. Armfuls of sheet music were spread across the stand, though she never looked at them after she wrote them. It was more so for the page turner's benefit. Someone had to know where they were in the program.

Hands lowered to the keys and she began, a slow piece in a minor key to start.

 

[Tadgh Fahalla]

He watched the young duanann's movements with the type of focus he always had when he was recording a subject; writing on a younger fae was always something of interest, as many of their potential deeds were heretofore unknown, and the long life of a gifted duanann in particular was bursting with potential. This one already had a reputation for musical skill--what beautiful music would she create in her time, he wondered.

He was just about ready to write when he saw her finally get to the piano. He didn't think much of it, starting to take notes, until he heard that first note, which rang through the air and struck something in his soul in a way he hadn't felt in a very long time. Maybe ever. He looked up to see her, watching her face, her hands... Then the rest of the music started. Something about the melody--well, it could be anything, Tadgh wasn't musically inclined--stirred his soul and prepared it for the coup de grace of the rest of the piece, whatever emotional resonance the young duanann was planning.

In fact, he almost forgot to start writing, his hands idle at the sounds...