soul_campaign | 20th February | late evening

Entry tags:

20th February | late evening | audio

[ Who knows where Re-l has managed to find a piano in Death City, particularly coming close to midnight - the entire point of tonight's excursion was to play again without a large audience, at least in theory.

( But then again, her device seems to be recording as she sets it down, tripped by a stray touch of her finger to the screen as she sets it down on top of the smooth black wood..)

It's been years since she's last touched a piano for more than a spare few seconds or stolen notes before she continued on a busy day of investigations. She'd humored her grandfather by giving up the instrument years ago when it had 'distracted her too much', but Death City was without those distractions, and after a few hesitant notes she begins to play.

Chopin's Nocturno seems to be what her fingers have chosen to play tonight, even though it's been an eternity since she'd played it last. Her fingers seem to be finding the right ivory keys to press without fail, despite the late hour and time away, every piano seems to be made the same, whether in Romdeau or in Death City.

It's a fitting song, at least, for those who might need a lullaby or perhaps just to fit Re-l Mayer herself, and not much longer than five minutes later the song comes to and end, a long silence precipitating the end of the audio feed. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

How beautiful.

I remember when I would listen to ... someone play once. It was always so soothing.

I've been told that it is either soothing or depressing, depending on the person.

I'm not sure which I agree with, yet.

You should know...

If you don't know which you want it to be, the music won't be able to help you, either. Music is like a painting... it's personal and there is an audience that can view it, but you know know its true meaning.

And if it's to be nothing but music?

It is never just music.

You sounds so assured about that. [ A little chuckle. ]

Humans are not so easily measured.

Nor is music.

If you have no feeling, there is no point to creating anything.

And why not? Even voids have a beauty of their own in their sheer sprawling, empty spaces.

You consider yourself a void?

Perhaps.

My emotional sphere is not nearly that of most people in this place.

That's hardly an excuse.

I take back what I said, and so should others... there's nothing that can be drawn from a void. Yes, you may be beautiful, but if there is nothing else there... you should try to find something.

It may be not as much as someone else's, but you should be able to understand what music does to one's soul.

But isn't it true that most artists draw their inspiration from the voids of depression or despondence? Beethoven made symphonies without hearing, and in a sense that is a void. Out of a void of silence he created beautiful things.

[ A little snort. ] What does my physical beauty have to do with emptiness or finding something to fill it with?

I don't claim to understand that sort of thing just yet, actually.

The reason that I paint is to remember my heart. I find my own happiness in what it is that I create and allow joy to flow out of my work. It is not drawing inspiration, but finding a way out of it!

Hardly. Beethoven became deaf years later... he still wanted to create even though he could not hear. He drew from his weakness and found his strength. Drew from that blackness and was still able to create something that can touch the soul.

[ Hm? ] Because if you're just a pretty face, there's not much else to cling to, is there? [ Says an equally egotistical individual. ]

And when the world falls apart, what will be left of your joy and your paintings? Nothing. [ Time to sound domineering and holier than thou at the moment, an almost sardonic little laugh at that. ]

I am a pretty face with nothing else to cling to, so far as I can tell. And I am still very much alive and working in my 'void' and perfectly able to think and create. Though, I suppose, that may lie in the paradox of being created for a specific purpose and then destroying - inadvertently or not - that purpose block by block.

Until that time, I will have left something behind that is beyond myself and able to reflect something that is deeper than even I can comprehend. [ Hmph! ]

You're not alive. Living people actually have something that they want to be. What is that you want to be? Or are you so much a void that you cannot even tell me that!

I have a heart beat, and I bleed well enough. That, by definition, means I'm alive.

I am already what I want to be and what I'm meant to be. That is how I was created, DNA picked and chosen piece by piece.

How wonderful.

Congratulations on becoming a void. I'm certain that you can live very happily like that.

I have been since the beginning, you congratulations aren't necessary.

You've been this way all along... and you haven't even tried to change?

There was no point, really, in trying. [ Not that she's going to bother trying to explain why. ]

There's always a point in trying. If you're happy being nothing, then that is all that you'll create. You might be able to make music that sounds lovely, but you have absolutely no soul for it. Something pretty that will be easily forgotten! If that's all that you want to be, then I feel sorry for you...

... no, I can't feel sorry for you. There's nothing to feel sorry for.

There's no point in explaining my situation to someone so emotionally driven. That's not what it takes to understand what life is in Romdeau.

Yes, well... You're not in Romdeau!

Obviously. If I was you would have learned to better control yourself.

Sorry, I don't take orders from nothing.

But if I were you, I'd try not to live my life like I'm back home. I stepped away from Britannia and became something else. It might not be the best, but I'm getting to where I can be proud of myself for me.

Oh, why do I bother? You'll either figure it out yourself, or just continue to be ignorant.

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