Can't close my eyes [incomplete]
WHO: Millions Knives (returntoeven) and Islington (oops_atlantis)
WHERE: Knives's residence
WHEN: April 4th, shortly after this post.
WARNINGS: There will be feathers.
SUMMARY: After being rudely interrupted by a kitty-induced post to the network, Knives resumes playing depressing music on the piano. Islington notices his moodiness, and discussions ensue.
FORMAT: Paragraph.
His fingers moved smoothly over the keys, the steady stream of harmonious notes soothing -- or at least, they were supposed to be. The mood had been shattered by Fleuret's untimely decision to tamper with his comm, and though he was trying to reclaim it, the earlier peace he'd found would not return. His hands didn't falter, stubbornness keeping them in the proper sync, but the motion seemed almost forced now. Mechanical. It was unfortunate, especially since music like this usually did have a calming effect on him -- for the most part, anyway. It was a substitute for what he really wanted to do, and he knew it.
The past week or so hadn't been 'stressful' per se. Honestly, they'd been fairly quiet. However, the chat with Shatterstar had gotten him thinking again, wondering about things he should leave alone. The fact that he was living a twilight, doomed existence was one of them. Another was the thought that maybe, just maybe, someone else from his world would should up here -- someone with preconceived notions of what he should be like when he had undeniably changed. What would he do? How would he deal with it?
Distracted, he hit a wrong note. It rang out with abnormal loudness, and he stopped playing a moment, trying to collect himself. Then, after another moment of brooding contemplation, he started all over again, unwilling to give up his empty comfort just yet.
WHERE: Knives's residence
WHEN: April 4th, shortly after this post.
WARNINGS: There will be feathers.
SUMMARY: After being rudely interrupted by a kitty-induced post to the network, Knives resumes playing depressing music on the piano. Islington notices his moodiness, and discussions ensue.
FORMAT: Paragraph.
His fingers moved smoothly over the keys, the steady stream of harmonious notes soothing -- or at least, they were supposed to be. The mood had been shattered by Fleuret's untimely decision to tamper with his comm, and though he was trying to reclaim it, the earlier peace he'd found would not return. His hands didn't falter, stubbornness keeping them in the proper sync, but the motion seemed almost forced now. Mechanical. It was unfortunate, especially since music like this usually did have a calming effect on him -- for the most part, anyway. It was a substitute for what he really wanted to do, and he knew it.
The past week or so hadn't been 'stressful' per se. Honestly, they'd been fairly quiet. However, the chat with Shatterstar had gotten him thinking again, wondering about things he should leave alone. The fact that he was living a twilight, doomed existence was one of them. Another was the thought that maybe, just maybe, someone else from his world would should up here -- someone with preconceived notions of what he should be like when he had undeniably changed. What would he do? How would he deal with it?
Distracted, he hit a wrong note. It rang out with abnormal loudness, and he stopped playing a moment, trying to collect himself. Then, after another moment of brooding contemplation, he started all over again, unwilling to give up his empty comfort just yet.