Arabesque (ff7)
ARABESQUE
WE'LL WEAVE OUR DAYS TOGETHER LIKE WAVES
for 31_days
Series: Final Fantasy 7 continuity
Characters: Vincent Valentine, Lucrezia, party member cameo
Rating: G-PG
All characters belong to Square-Enix
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SET PRESUMABLY AFTER THE EVENTS OF DIRGE OF CERBERUS, WHICH IS
LIKEWISE THREE YEARS AFTER THE FINAL FANTASY VII CONTINUITY.
--------------------------------------------------------------
He arrived halfway into a very familiar song. It was been several long years since he had heard it played that way--since he himself attempted to pull a melody out of the instrument with clumsy hands--that the sudden reoccurrence of it stopped him in his tracks completely. So instead of continuing into the narrow hallway that led to the bar, he found it prudent to loiter outside in the dark; it was rude to interrupt a story.
It was the same song, yet it wasn't. In the way a keen listener of music knew how to differentiate between a clumsily-played overture by a master and a masterfully rendered overture by an amateur, the heartbeat-quick pauses in the transitions told him the story of another life. The one he had learned by heart went on a little differently, unraveled in a different room, at a kinder time.
It had been sunlit, in that room. For all its dreary cragginess, Nibel's sun rose majestic over the mountain range, and set in an alarming burst of colour that bled all over the stone-and-brick village, giving it a robustness that was otherwise absent in its vacant facade. It would have been in the early hours of the evening, because that was when the mansion was empty, and the basement locked for the professor's mad personal affairs.
"Andantino con moto."
It would have been a different set of hands poised over a different set of keys--still Nibel ivory, tuned by the fine craftsmen the village produced--and a different shadow that fell across the room as she moved to urge the last bar out of the piano.
"Shouldn't you be researching more interesting lives in that secret file of yours?" Even while she lifted her head to look at him, her right hand still moved along the octaves, in a light, swift melody.
It would have been his imagination sometimes, and still sometimes a kind trick of the sunlight and the dancing dust, but her face would crease with the ghost of a smile; the most pleasant of all the ghosts he still carried in his memory.
"It plays all the time like a soundtrack to a film. Repeating again, and again. It makes sense to look it up."
"Oh?" She would cock her head. "I don't hear it..."
"...in here, Professor," he'd said, tapping his temple.
It had disconcerted him how such a piece that had the overall effect of lifting up the spirit of those who listened to it--everytime it played in the empty mansion, he felt always like he was coming home to something, and not miles away in the gloom of company quarters--should fail to reflect on the eyes of the woman who played it so well.
When he watched her at the doorway of the windiest room in the mansion (windows thrown open to allow the afternoon drafts from the mountains to enter), it seemed that while the music ascended on lighter, surer, clearer strings, she grew sadder. It seemed to him that she was watching things spiral to a darker day.
The wrong key broke the final bar abruptly, shattering his daydream, returning him to murky Midgar; Midgar whose light fell weak, like the feeble breath of the dying. Even now with the plates overhead obliterated and the sun filtering into the slums for the first time in decades, the city seemed to forget how it was supposed to looked like without its flashing neons, its broken gas lamps that once, long ago, was as close to the sun as the light-starved populace could hope for.
"Oh! You're here! Come in, come in!"
The door to Seventh Heaven was thrown open, its warm interiors a shock of brightness in its corner of the street. Beyond the slender outline of Tifa in the doorway, he could make out the rest of the party, and some junior members of the WRO. Marlene was at the old piano with Tifa's sheet music open on the stand, her head turned away from him as she spoke with Denzel, her left hand still tinkering as she spoke.
Why do you keep playing this same song every day, Professor? he'd asked. There was change in repetition, and he felt it now, almost imperceptible between them. It would only be a few hours before he would find her collapsed in the kitchen quarters, pale and vomiting the viscous liquid that was the telltale sign of a body attempting to resist Jenova infection. It would only be days before he would find himself in the forbidden laboratories underground, confronted with the horror that Hojo was cultivating in cocooned silence.
It would only be decades before the final stand, and a few more before this, the fourth anniversary of Meteorfall. As if she had known it all along, she had played on.
So this song can one day reach kinder times, Vincent, she had murmured. The sun had set then, bringing with it a red gloaming. Lighter times.
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Energy, during the propagation of a ray of light, is not continuously distributed over steadily increasing spaces, but it consists of a finite number of energy quanta localised at points in space, moving without dividing and capable of being absorbed or generated only as entities. - ALBERT EINSTEIN
According to its dual nature, light can also act as a particle. In other words, we move all objects to some unknown future so we can see their past. - A. KIERULF
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» Yes I wanted to play on the fact that an 'arabesque' latticework/ motif emphasizes repetition, and how "...these forms, taken together, constitute an infinite pattern that extends beyond the visible material world." Also because of this wonderful piece that, despite its simplicity still kind of casts Esuna over me on stressful days: Arabesque: Andantino con Moto »
» Uggh it's rather chilly as of late, though pleasantly so; I'm quite glad for it, somehow. Trying to 'go with the flow' on the 31_days project thing, which is working well so far. STRESS SHOULD COME FROM WORK, NOT FICCING! 8D
Crossposted to ff7
WE'LL WEAVE OUR DAYS TOGETHER LIKE WAVES
for 31_days
Series: Final Fantasy 7 continuity
Characters: Vincent Valentine, Lucrezia, party member cameo
Rating: G-PG
All characters belong to Square-Enix
--------------------------------------------------------------
SET PRESUMABLY AFTER THE EVENTS OF DIRGE OF CERBERUS, WHICH IS
LIKEWISE THREE YEARS AFTER THE FINAL FANTASY VII CONTINUITY.
--------------------------------------------------------------
He arrived halfway into a very familiar song. It was been several long years since he had heard it played that way--since he himself attempted to pull a melody out of the instrument with clumsy hands--that the sudden reoccurrence of it stopped him in his tracks completely. So instead of continuing into the narrow hallway that led to the bar, he found it prudent to loiter outside in the dark; it was rude to interrupt a story.
It was the same song, yet it wasn't. In the way a keen listener of music knew how to differentiate between a clumsily-played overture by a master and a masterfully rendered overture by an amateur, the heartbeat-quick pauses in the transitions told him the story of another life. The one he had learned by heart went on a little differently, unraveled in a different room, at a kinder time.
It had been sunlit, in that room. For all its dreary cragginess, Nibel's sun rose majestic over the mountain range, and set in an alarming burst of colour that bled all over the stone-and-brick village, giving it a robustness that was otherwise absent in its vacant facade. It would have been in the early hours of the evening, because that was when the mansion was empty, and the basement locked for the professor's mad personal affairs.
"Andantino con moto."
It would have been a different set of hands poised over a different set of keys--still Nibel ivory, tuned by the fine craftsmen the village produced--and a different shadow that fell across the room as she moved to urge the last bar out of the piano.
"Shouldn't you be researching more interesting lives in that secret file of yours?" Even while she lifted her head to look at him, her right hand still moved along the octaves, in a light, swift melody.
It would have been his imagination sometimes, and still sometimes a kind trick of the sunlight and the dancing dust, but her face would crease with the ghost of a smile; the most pleasant of all the ghosts he still carried in his memory.
"It plays all the time like a soundtrack to a film. Repeating again, and again. It makes sense to look it up."
"Oh?" She would cock her head. "I don't hear it..."
"...in here, Professor," he'd said, tapping his temple.
It had disconcerted him how such a piece that had the overall effect of lifting up the spirit of those who listened to it--everytime it played in the empty mansion, he felt always like he was coming home to something, and not miles away in the gloom of company quarters--should fail to reflect on the eyes of the woman who played it so well.
When he watched her at the doorway of the windiest room in the mansion (windows thrown open to allow the afternoon drafts from the mountains to enter), it seemed that while the music ascended on lighter, surer, clearer strings, she grew sadder. It seemed to him that she was watching things spiral to a darker day.
The wrong key broke the final bar abruptly, shattering his daydream, returning him to murky Midgar; Midgar whose light fell weak, like the feeble breath of the dying. Even now with the plates overhead obliterated and the sun filtering into the slums for the first time in decades, the city seemed to forget how it was supposed to looked like without its flashing neons, its broken gas lamps that once, long ago, was as close to the sun as the light-starved populace could hope for.
"Oh! You're here! Come in, come in!"
The door to Seventh Heaven was thrown open, its warm interiors a shock of brightness in its corner of the street. Beyond the slender outline of Tifa in the doorway, he could make out the rest of the party, and some junior members of the WRO. Marlene was at the old piano with Tifa's sheet music open on the stand, her head turned away from him as she spoke with Denzel, her left hand still tinkering as she spoke.
Why do you keep playing this same song every day, Professor? he'd asked. There was change in repetition, and he felt it now, almost imperceptible between them. It would only be a few hours before he would find her collapsed in the kitchen quarters, pale and vomiting the viscous liquid that was the telltale sign of a body attempting to resist Jenova infection. It would only be days before he would find himself in the forbidden laboratories underground, confronted with the horror that Hojo was cultivating in cocooned silence.
It would only be decades before the final stand, and a few more before this, the fourth anniversary of Meteorfall. As if she had known it all along, she had played on.
So this song can one day reach kinder times, Vincent, she had murmured. The sun had set then, bringing with it a red gloaming. Lighter times.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Energy, during the propagation of a ray of light, is not continuously distributed over steadily increasing spaces, but it consists of a finite number of energy quanta localised at points in space, moving without dividing and capable of being absorbed or generated only as entities. - ALBERT EINSTEIN
According to its dual nature, light can also act as a particle. In other words, we move all objects to some unknown future so we can see their past. - A. KIERULF
--------------------------------------------------------------
» Yes I wanted to play on the fact that an 'arabesque' latticework/ motif emphasizes repetition, and how "...these forms, taken together, constitute an infinite pattern that extends beyond the visible material world." Also because of this wonderful piece that, despite its simplicity still kind of casts Esuna over me on stressful days: Arabesque: Andantino con Moto »
» Uggh it's rather chilly as of late, though pleasantly so; I'm quite glad for it, somehow. Trying to 'go with the flow' on the 31_days project thing, which is working well so far. STRESS SHOULD COME FROM WORK, NOT FICCING! 8D
Crossposted to ff7