バラを刈るReplies: 11 / 91 days 11 hours 16 minutes 43 seconds
- [Allowed] Taskaru
r e a p i n g . r o s e s
there were two sides to the world. the known and unknown. the unknowing beings carried on with their lives. working, laughing, dating...killing. the knowing silently watched from the back of the bus, was the wallflower of the club, the man sitting in the cafe keeping to himself with earbuds in. they were the ones we feared without knowing it. they kept our secrets, bled our tears, locked our hearts up from the broken actions of a lover.
these few beings that exist among-st us are known to one another, and only one another. unless they're willing to spill themselves to a ''norm'', they were undetected. their abilities ranged from telekinesis, mind reading, exceptional talent, or even traveling through the space as the oxygen we breathe.
there was a particular girl who has masked her ability by performing a natural talent and art of playing the cello, violin and piano. she masked her ability within the lore of her ancestors and parents. all throughout her families eras, they have released favorable music, selling millions. they have taught classes, orchestras, churches. upon playing in the streets, she sensed something...known.
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[center [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OtVbdCpNetE Music Inspiration]]
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The resonating sounds of the rain hummed along to the cold digits dancing across the keys of a German 'Blüthner' grand piano. The Julius Blüthner's unparalleled beauty of tone reverberated against the floral, yet old wallpaper of this lone Victorian home. The harmony of the piano sunk low into the hard wood floor, reaching her foot on the pedal and sending her body into a flurry of chills & ideas. She played slowly, picking up the tune just a bit to add some sort of anticipation to her melody. The composition of coarse, elegant sharps and flats fused together weightlessly to amalgam a new song for her quite empty journal. The sole purpose of her sheet music to be written in.
This woman in particular had written dozens of concertos for the ambition to someday publish them. Her talent was staggering to the ears of professionals whenever she played publicly, but she was never one for excessive fame or acknowledgment. Elizabeth was un-touchable. Uncrowned by any kind of production company free to create whatever piece that came to heart.
In the earlier years of her ancestry, everyone apart of her family had this talent. A marvelous ability to play any instrument, in any tune, in any spot. This wasn't because they practiced and bled from the their fingers until dusk. The mere fact that there is hidden presence in this world is what makes them so invisible and proficient. They were referred to as the 'Unknown'. The unexplained existence of these people were what kept everyone under wraps. Kept children safe, crying widowed women from feeling alone and helpless. They were the dream weavers, the cold wind at night and the fresh breeze from the ocean. The abilities ranged from being able to cook or play music exceptionally well to create life itself from dark matter, or a grain of sand. There was power humanity chose to ignore. Every so often, they are presented with a little bit a humor. A passing stranger eyeing them suspiciously as they play, or cook, or mend a piece of steel secretly with their finger itself. It makes all of them smile devilishly as they hold a secret that could nearly destroy the common sense that has been made and constructed for those type.
In the dim light of the morning, as Eli played carelessly, she couldn't help but notice that in fact it was raining, but it was raining harder than usual. Almost as if someone was setting the mood for her. The look of pleasure spread across her face as a small but considerable smile appeared across her lipstick stained lips. The ruby red color matching her cheeks. The past nights have been a rush to meet with her parents'. Share with them her works and her times at home and work. Her ability to create new melodies was the most exciting her her. They would smile warmly; watching her bleed all of the knowledge she'd gain between absences with them.
[i 'To begin the day, yes?'] Eli thought to herself, her soft voice resonating within her mind as quiet, tired moan. It was the moan you heard as two lovers pillow-talked through the quietest hours of the night, simply of nothing but whatever makes them blush or smile in the dark. The window illuminating their faces, just enough to give them a focus on each other - only fall deeper into each other's arms and whispering voice.
Standing, the chair underneath of her groaned. The released pressure allowing it to sigh in relief and breathe the air she'd leave for now. To lightly reflect the window nearby, with streams of raining gliding down the panel to the gardens below. As Eli made her way out of the room and down the corridor of her old home, she maneuvered passed the spiraling stair case that reached high into the dwelling area of her bedroom and other work space. Floorboards creaked under her bare feet. She mastered the sounds each and every one created under the pressure of someone. Mimicking the noises in her head as she looked down to step on particular ones, just like her own ivory piano keys. She made her own walking experience just her own.
The hallway opened up to a kitchen brightly lit and welcoming with a bouquet of aromas that filled her nose sweetly. Coffee, just brewed, simmered on the black, marble counter top littered with ingredients to cook her first meal of the day. Elizabeth had gotten carried away - which happens often - with the piano, that she had forgotten her daily essentials. The things that pull the introverted child from herself to mingle with the outsiders just enough to appeal friendly. The coffee, imported from Brazil was poured carefully into a mug, decorated accordingly to match the night skies stars. The steam broke through the morning grog and danced through the air before disappearing and waving goodbye.
The music she wrote earlier played in her head, echoing against her eyes. Her temples. Her bones. Creating a calm tone to the room without anyone else - if they were present - knowing.
Every morning began the same; a binge of music, a cup of coffee, and a meal grown and prepared by her own hands. It was bliss. The only thing missing was someone to actually share the moment with. To look up and ask a question regarding a certain ingredient or to ask what the news had in store for them to gawk at. Emphasizing or sympathizing with whatever the publishers decided to print for the locals. Elizabeth hummed to herself and began cutting squash, trying to conjure up a plan for the day as the warm sensation of caramel coffee ran down her raspy throat.
Hopefully it was going to be a good day.
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