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Post by tristan kimberley avensis on Jun 12, 2009 13:05:38 GMT -5
Tristan-Briar Kimberley Avensis
  
Being a theatre major, there wasn't much that Tristan did in the way of music. The most she would ever do with it would be to listen to it, form an opinion on it, and dance to it. She was very restricted in where she could and could not apply her creativity, and she had almost failed the entrance exams because of just one thing. She wasn't as musical as they would have liked. She was perfectly capable of singing, and of playing the piano. She just didn't much like to do so. She had stopped with anything vaguely reminiscent of her childhood when she grew into her teens, and was fully aware of what it looked like she had done, much as she didn't remember, or claimed that she had nothing to do with it.
Leave Tristan to choreograph a dance, and she wouldn't have a problem. Leave her to learn one, and there was even less of a problem, apart from the boredom issue that she would have, having learned the dance after watching it through twice. She could act, pouring her whole heart and soul into every single word or action, making people believe everything that she said and did. Her only failing in The Arts was that she completely lacked confidence in singing. It wasn't that she was bad, or that she had ever had a negative response. It was simply that she just hated doing it, and it made her feel more self-conscious than she normally was (and she's more self conscious than people would imagine).
Knowing what she had to do didn't make it any easier as, in her free period on the first Thursday morning of term, she made her way into the Music Department. She looked around, lost, for a moment, before ducking into the first empty room that she saw which actually housed an instrument. There was a harp in the centre of the floor, and this was what caught Tristan's attention first, although another instrument quickly replaced it, for completely different reasons. The harp, with its bowed shape, many strings, and strikingly bright finish seemed almost ethereal, certainly too pricey to touch. The piano in the corner of the room, however, loomed alarmingly, making Tristan press her back against the door. Pianos held a certain amount of foreboding for her that she wasn't willing to deal with. Freud would have had a field day with Tristan, as there was no actual reason that she could remember for feeling this way.
Slowly, back pressed against the wall, her eyes fixed keenly on the piano, Tristan edged around the room, not really sure where she was headed, or why she was headed there in that fashion. As soon as she was across the room from the piano, directly opposite the gleaming ebony and ivory keys and the plush stool, she stopped and stared. She didn't know how long she was stood there for, although it was no longer than two minutes, but the feeling of dread hadn't really dissipated. Shrugging it, pushing it away with some force, Tristan moved towards the piano as if she knew exactly what she was doing, as if she wasn't afraid at all. A confident performance, her smile wavered only slightly as she sat on the stool before the hulking instrument. Closing her eyes, she just sat there for a moment, trying to relax. She drifted off into a world of her own, where all of her fantasies were running amok, combining, intertwining, separating and creating completely new scenarios. She didn't realise that her fingers were moving their way deftly up and down the keys, playing a haunting and chilling melody that was engrained forever into her deep subconscious.
status: complete
length: not long enough =/
tagged: open
outfit: clickers
music: random itunesness
mood: irritated
muse: sorta good
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