(Untitled)

[the_dungbeetle]

In his youth and when his father's business had prospered, Gregor had been approached by his parents and, begrudglingly on his father's behalf, offered piano lessons. In these times, they had still been breaching the upper class, living steady comfortable lives while not being too plagued by spare time or too troubled by hard work. it had been a

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[patriotqueen]

Gregor with a violin, looking at it with a face he couldn't quite determine was supposed to express. He wondered if it too was one of those things that appeared from home. It seemed to be the time of year for it. (If he were religious this was where he would pray for the wine-cellar to make an appeareance in the cave.)

"Didn't think you the musical type." He said, by means of introduction.

[the_dungbeetle]

"I'm not, actually." Said Gregor, glancing up from the smooth wood and sloping lines of the instrument and then back again. He knew it well, the violin, though not as well as dear Grete. When she played, it was so precious and so true, like her one gift she had to offer and he knew in his heart that with proper training, she could be truly wonderful. But how she would play if he had her violin, he did not know.

"It is my sister's instrument." He mentioned, running his fingers carefully along the bow, enjoying the subtle smell of the Samsa home that lingered within the case. "She is very talented."

[patriotqueen]

And throughout several pages Guy had been certain his sister was going to use the violin to try and kill the monstrosity. But she never did.

"So it is one of those things that simply appear here." He commented.

[the_dungbeetle]

"Yes, I suppose so." Gregor said, holding the violin carefully by the neck. How unfortunate he had it now and that his sister could not play, buut yet so fortunate that he had it to be reminded of her. The way she played, the way her hair tumbled haphazardly into her eyes and how she'd plait it back out of her way. How Mr Samsa would sit in his chair and listen as Mrs Samsa prepared a meal.

"It's unfortunate, as it will be wasted on me. I cannot play." And he certainly wouldn't be giving it away to someone who would, as selfish as it was.

[patriotqueen]

"Hang it on the wall. Makes for an intellectual piece of decoration." Guy said with a grin, almost shrugging.

[the_dungbeetle]

"Oh, yes." Gregor said dryly, "Perfect for when I invite friends over for tea and literature readings." Which he didn't do at all, though he blamed it on that he hadn't all that many friends and that the idea of carrying tea all the way back to the caves to be rather troublesome.

[patriotqueen]

"Tea and bickies and quiet candle-light reads." Guy said, and then, utterly serious added. "When am I expected?"

[the_dungbeetle]

Gregor laughed lightly, and stooped to place the violin carefully back within the safe confines of the time worn case. "Whenever you would like," he said lightly, running his hand briefly over the polished wood and allowing himself to eye it lingeringly before he slowly closed the lid and shut the clasps.

"Surprisringly, my schedule is quite open. It's very strange, to have so much free time."

[patriotqueen]

"That rather is the problem here. How about now?" Guy said with a brilliant smile.

[the_dungbeetle]

"Unfortunately, I have found the majority of the island professions to be outside of my own expertise." He admitted, thinking of the building crew and the hunting parties and so forth. Perhaps with time he could develop the ability to perform such tasks, but at the time most present, he lacked the strength and skills necasarry.

"At the moment, I have nothing to keep me." He smiled slightly. "Aside from your company, and an old violin."