With every passing year, Lumiere only grows emptier, more and more of a shell of what it used to be -- and the less people there are, the harder it is to get away with being just one strange face in a crowd. He's already come close to being caught before, lingering a bit too long as he watched Maelle pick herself up from a fall as she ran through the streets, almost reflexively thinking he should go to her, and then. He knew better, at least, managed to slip away.
But now, he's taking risks again. Fingers running over a piano, tracing through a slight gathering of dust. Sometimes he can tell himself that Lumiere doesn't feel much like home anymore, with everything he's left behind and had to cut away from himself, with how long he's been away, with how he's learned to live out on the Continent -- but then this. Lingering memories, echoing of a place he once thought he belonged, and a pull deep in his chest to the feel of the keys under his fingers as he plays to a waiting crowd. He can still play, away from here, but its just not -- the same. A different sound, a different feel. A different time. A life he used to have.
He really, really can't be here. But since he is, since no one's here, since the air in the concert hall is still and quiet in a way that almost, almost makes him think of the way a crowd would as one hold their breaths in anticipation for the first note . . .
He sits down, straightens, lifts a hand above the keys. A single sound, clear and high, ringing through the space -- almost involuntarily his eyes fall shut, breath caught a little in his throat. One single note and the echoes of memories are in his mind, and before he can even think to stop himself his fingers are already moving, just one phrase of a gentle, familiar melody. Papa and maman are watching in the crowd, Clea with them, but Alicia is beside him, a familiar weight on the bench, leaning in and eager to watch him play -- and.
His eyes snap open, a tension immediately winding through his body. The moment disappears. Someone -- is here. And its a little too late to try to shrink into a shadow and pretend he was never there. ]
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lumiere meeting things
Date: 2025-05-21 05:31 pm (UTC)With every passing year, Lumiere only grows emptier, more and more of a shell of what it used to be -- and the less people there are, the harder it is to get away with being just one strange face in a crowd. He's already come close to being caught before, lingering a bit too long as he watched Maelle pick herself up from a fall as she ran through the streets, almost reflexively thinking he should go to her, and then. He knew better, at least, managed to slip away.
But now, he's taking risks again. Fingers running over a piano, tracing through a slight gathering of dust. Sometimes he can tell himself that Lumiere doesn't feel much like home anymore, with everything he's left behind and had to cut away from himself, with how long he's been away, with how he's learned to live out on the Continent -- but then this. Lingering memories, echoing of a place he once thought he belonged, and a pull deep in his chest to the feel of the keys under his fingers as he plays to a waiting crowd. He can still play, away from here, but its just not -- the same. A different sound, a different feel. A different time. A life he used to have.
He really, really can't be here. But since he is, since no one's here, since the air in the concert hall is still and quiet in a way that almost, almost makes him think of the way a crowd would as one hold their breaths in anticipation for the first note . . .
He sits down, straightens, lifts a hand above the keys. A single sound, clear and high, ringing through the space -- almost involuntarily his eyes fall shut, breath caught a little in his throat. One single note and the echoes of memories are in his mind, and before he can even think to stop himself his fingers are already moving, just one phrase of a gentle, familiar melody. Papa and maman are watching in the crowd, Clea with them, but Alicia is beside him, a familiar weight on the bench, leaning in and eager to watch him play -- and.
His eyes snap open, a tension immediately winding through his body. The moment disappears. Someone -- is here. And its a little too late to try to shrink into a shadow and pretend he was never there. ]