Fiddling Around... (Open, Multiple Threads)
There was music in the library.
It wasn't coming from the radio, since the musician had pilfered the machine for its electronic components some time ago. The music was coming from a Stradivarius violin, polished to a loving sheen and played with a careless grace. The music itself had no real melody, just a variation on a few notes, rising and falling, long extended chords interspersed with spiccato bursts of sound. It wasn't displeasing to the ear, just absentminded, much like the musician himself.
The Doctor sat in a comfortable armchair, feet propped on an intricately carved, solid wood table. His brow was creased with thought as he played, the intent look in his eyes the same one he had worn as he had pored over the stacks and stacks of obscure scientific texts that littered the table top. He had been studying for hours before fetching his violin, hoping that the abstracted music would jar something loose in his mind.
Conversation might help as well. Stop in and say hello.
It wasn't coming from the radio, since the musician had pilfered the machine for its electronic components some time ago. The music was coming from a Stradivarius violin, polished to a loving sheen and played with a careless grace. The music itself had no real melody, just a variation on a few notes, rising and falling, long extended chords interspersed with spiccato bursts of sound. It wasn't displeasing to the ear, just absentminded, much like the musician himself.
The Doctor sat in a comfortable armchair, feet propped on an intricately carved, solid wood table. His brow was creased with thought as he played, the intent look in his eyes the same one he had worn as he had pored over the stacks and stacks of obscure scientific texts that littered the table top. He had been studying for hours before fetching his violin, hoping that the abstracted music would jar something loose in his mind.
Conversation might help as well. Stop in and say hello.