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Post by Deleted on Dec 6, 2017 4:44:41 GMT
❝ Sing us a song, you're the piano man.
Sing us a song tonight.❞
There was something about the sound of a piano that gave Alana goosebumps. It always played a very distinct sound that one could associate with the deepest of emotions. If only thoughts could be turned into a melody, if only imagination could be in tuned with musical notes, if only the heart could sing-along; only the keys of a piano could enhance a process that made everyone human.
Alana almost felt like a stalker as she sat in the front row of the empty music hall in the university. Empty except for Alistair who sat center stage with his piano. She couldn't figure out what the music was, but she could feel every emotion that it portrayed. Ali, if anything, was the world's most silent man. At least that was what she thought after a year of friendship. She always thought of him as a shy puppy who sometimes tends to be awkward- but she adored him nonetheless. And at least she knew she could trust him.
It was probably an intimate moment- but Alana couldn't help but invade it. She was walking across the halls, clad in a white button down and khaki pants, she was on her way home when she heard the beautiful echoes that harmonized with her emotions. What an intricate melody, she thought. Alana was not an expert in music, but she did appreciate the details that came with art- all forms of art. And Ali was clearly a maestro.
She closed her eyes, humming the tune that she had familiarized herself with- as if he wasn't there, and she wasn't watching.
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Post by Deleted on Dec 10, 2017 0:26:02 GMT
[attr="class","ohlove"] [attr="class","lacking"] [attr="class","eyes"] ✎ tag: @alana ※ wearing: Here.✉ notes: Coworkers to friends! both were silent. the air in my lungs, my hands on the keys. He couldn't focus, couldn't function. It was all he could do to drag himself out of bed... But like always, he did, and like always, he taught throughout the day with a kind smile on his face to his students. But now that the day was over and he'd finished his grading far into the evening, he was in the concert hall alone - all lights off but the piano's stand bulb to read music - and he played a quiet tune to himself with. The posture he held was nearly alien, shoulders halfway slumped and head hanging heavy from them as eyes stared through nothing beyond his own fingers; not quite a shell of the professional he always was.
Alistair knew the song too well. It was one of the first full pieces he'd learned in high school. There was no music on the piano, just a blank flat of wood that lifted to show the keys. A while had past but he continued to replay the phrases without the end, fingers flowing familiarly over ivory that welcomed his touch. The keys were the one thing that kept him relatively sane, that kept his head quiet, that kept the dreams- the white shirt caught his peripheral vision at some moment when she broke her perfected stillness down on the auditorium floor in the darkness.
Immediately his fingers stopped and he straightened his shoulders and back. Holding his breath, Alistair stared a moment at the dark figure that'd been listening to try and let his change to the lack of light. "Pardon me." He recognized her then with the lines of her face finally fading in as his sight adjusted. Alana Young had quickly become quite the talk here at the University; a young and hard-working artist that had the natural talent for both instruction and application.
Unlike Alistair, she enjoyed the life of a social butterfly. Like Alistair, she adored the deeper effects of art in their students' lives. It had been nice to have a colleague that felt just as much honor in impacting their students as he did. When they spoke, they often did so with passion over their students recent achievements or worries for them. She had a kind heart. Still, he couldn't help feel a brief horror at being a little invaded in his less-than-professional moment; a 'deer in the headlights' look on his face. "Miss Young," he greeted. "Hadn't seen you."
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Post by Deleted on Dec 28, 2017 5:23:02 GMT
❝Sing us a song, you're the piano man.
Sing us a song tonight.❞
There was something about the sound of a piano that gave Alana goosebumps. It always played a very distinct sound that one could associate with the deepest of emotions. If only thoughts could be turned into a melody, if only imagination could be in tuned with musical notes, if only the heart could sing-along; only the keys of a piano could enhance a process that made everyone human.
She hoped he didn't see him. At least in her head- just because he was one to be a nervous wreck. Something Alana had noticed a few days after she had first met him. He always seemed more nervous than usual, and Alana actually found it quite amusing. Then again, if he had seen her listening to his private time, she could only imagine the kind of paranoia he would feel at it. And the last thing she wanted was for him to think of her otherwise. Then again, most of how he acted was not in control- she just tried to take it at face value.
Her heart skipped as she heard his voice. She was afraid to open her eyes- or even to see his reaction. She really just needed some time alone, and when she heard him play she took it as a chance to relax. It wasn't everyday that one got a musical piece from a professional- more so, someone whose company she truly enjoyed. But it was also an escape for her, just like it was for him. She opened her eyes, a guilty look on her face as she spoke. "I'm sorry!" she shrugged, a smile also written with the blameworthy curve of her lips. She stood up and clapped- an applause he deserved but just for a few seconds.
"I'm sorry Professor, I'm just..." it was good though that they have known each other for a time. She knew that he probably was nervous ,but at the same time, she didn't mean any harm. "I was just trying to relax, and I heard some music, and I saw you....and I figured why not. He wouldn't mind." she shrugged again, her chuckle masked in a teethy grin as if trying to play innocent. "Right? You didn't?" she tucked her hair behind her ear as she stood up. "...but don't stop." she requested.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 28, 2018 1:39:28 GMT
[attr="class","ohlove"] [attr="class","lacking"] [attr="class","eyes"] ✎ tag: @alana ※ wearing: Here.✉ notes: Shifting focus. both were silent. the air in my lungs, my hands on the keys. For an odd amount of time she remained seated and still without a move or a word until finally standing to her feet and giving him a small round of personal applause. At this, his cheeks heated with blood rushing to the surface in a deep shade of rose and caused him to dip his head to try and let the shadows cast about the room hide the color. She was quick to apologize and that was what made his heart tug enough to pull from his wordless shyness to shake his head and respond with some airy, quiet attempt at telling her it was fine.
As if suddenly realizing a discomfort where they were, his hands hastily shot down to his lap and clasped one another in some kind of form of self-stabilization to keep calm and steady. "I'm sorry Professor, I'm just..." she felt guilty, it was written all over her face now halfway in the light of the dim stage. Her guilt just rubbed off on him and weighed down his chest. "I was just trying to relax, and I heard some music, and I saw you....and I figured why not. He wouldn't mind." What was music for if not to aid the spirit? Who was he to deny her that? It was selfish to feel so self-conscious regardless of his week, his exhaustion, his thoughts- regardless of anything.
Her light trill of laughter couldn't help but make the side of his lips tense and pull up only a hair in a tired-man's smirk. For a brief second the laughter was all he heard in his head - clearing a myriad of slow, droning, voices and sounds that constantly and quietly plagued him. A word here, a thought there. Minor enough to feel mad without actually falling victim to madness. "Right? You didn't?" Idiot, he hadn't answered! "Oh! Ah-," he shook his head in quick, short motions and cleared his throat while adjusting his posture along the piano bench. "N-no. No. Only startled me," mostly true, "...but don't stop." His lips remained slightly parted for a moment while he contemplated the words. A soft plea. Something she needed, though he dare not ask, that could be soothed by the keys... and when it came to helping heal the heart of another, Alistair never could say no.
"Of course," a new air overcame him; his words softer, patient, and more focused now with a purpose, "what would you like me to play?"
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