Music has charms to soothe a savage beast.
As he debated with himself internally, Asher gently tapped out imaginary cord after imaginary cord onto his knees with his fingers. He’s antsy, but tentative and not really sure why the hell he’s making such a big deal out of this to begin with; it’s stupid and he knows it. He’d spent the last ten minutes staring at the piano from afar, warily, as if it was going to speak to him or attack or do something other than sit there all inanimate-like, the way pianos tend to do.
With a quiet growl of frustration directed at no one but himself, after about ten minutes of continual contemplation and finally gathering his wits with a mental ‘fuck it’, Asher eventually pads across the rec room, taking a seat at the instrument and unconsciously shifting to the far right side of the bench out of habit. It’s where she usually sat and it had been that way for as long as he can remember. Maybe even long before that still. Back home, the empty space beside him had always been some sort of unspoken, open invitation for her, one that very rarely ever went rejected by his count.
She wouldn’t be making an appearance thing time, though - for once, it wasn’t because she was otherwise occupied with the newest toy she’d managed to lure into her web - but he saves her seat for her all the same, his right hand coming up to the keys and playing out the familiar opening of Beethoven’s Bagatelle in A minor, his left hand soon joining in.
He supposes that there really was a bit of truth to be found in that saying about music soothing the savage beasts. Dan never talked when he played, just sat and listened, with never so much as a temper tantrum or a complaint out of her. She was just Danica then, no pretense, no worries or need to save face for anyone; no one could be a total bitch 24/7 - she did make an impressive run at it, though - and his sister was no exception. Of course, if he had ever told anyone that, she’d very likely skin him alive.
Once he'd relaxed and all of the initial stiffness melted away, the melody transfers almost effortlessly from his memory, to his fingers and out onto the keys. For the moment, he forgets where he is, forgets that the seat beside him is empty and cold, and just plays on.
[Yes, he's playing Für Elise 'cause he's cool like that. Interrupt him at your little hearts' content. He's mellow and probably at his least volatile ATM, might even be willing to take requests :P Not sure how long this mood'll last so, um, consider yourself warned? Slow time and late tags are welcome and as I'm currently in the process of switching systems, I'm likely to be slow myself.]
With a quiet growl of frustration directed at no one but himself, after about ten minutes of continual contemplation and finally gathering his wits with a mental ‘fuck it’, Asher eventually pads across the rec room, taking a seat at the instrument and unconsciously shifting to the far right side of the bench out of habit. It’s where she usually sat and it had been that way for as long as he can remember. Maybe even long before that still. Back home, the empty space beside him had always been some sort of unspoken, open invitation for her, one that very rarely ever went rejected by his count.
She wouldn’t be making an appearance thing time, though - for once, it wasn’t because she was otherwise occupied with the newest toy she’d managed to lure into her web - but he saves her seat for her all the same, his right hand coming up to the keys and playing out the familiar opening of Beethoven’s Bagatelle in A minor, his left hand soon joining in.
He supposes that there really was a bit of truth to be found in that saying about music soothing the savage beasts. Dan never talked when he played, just sat and listened, with never so much as a temper tantrum or a complaint out of her. She was just Danica then, no pretense, no worries or need to save face for anyone; no one could be a total bitch 24/7 - she did make an impressive run at it, though - and his sister was no exception. Of course, if he had ever told anyone that, she’d very likely skin him alive.
Once he'd relaxed and all of the initial stiffness melted away, the melody transfers almost effortlessly from his memory, to his fingers and out onto the keys. For the moment, he forgets where he is, forgets that the seat beside him is empty and cold, and just plays on.
[Yes, he's playing Für Elise 'cause he's cool like that. Interrupt him at your little hearts' content. He's mellow and probably at his least volatile ATM, might even be willing to take requests :P Not sure how long this mood'll last so, um, consider yourself warned? Slow time and late tags are welcome and as I'm currently in the process of switching systems, I'm likely to be slow myself.]