Banner by the amazing Lottie Winfield |
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mentions. @Esme Hestridge
notes. So sorry this took so long!! xoxo
song. Reverie, L. 68 by Debussy
actions. xx
February 2nd.
the rehearsal room.
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The feeling of getting settled into Hogwarts had finally greeted Jrue with open arms. Her classes were mellow, she'd finally become acquainted with enough people that this scary new environment was truly starting to feel like a home. And there was one thing that Jrue could do at home, that just didn't feel right anywhere else. She now felt comfortable enough to try it here, her home away from home.
Playing her cello was her sacred ritual. When her mom would get upset with her for failing a test, or a school day just didn't go right, she'd head home, shut her bedroom door, pull out her cello and play till her fingers tingled from numbness. Her mother had known of these fitful cello sessions, but allowed her daughter the therapeutic use of music for her own good. It wasn't just used for when she was upset though. When her parents were off at work, in London and stuck up at the hospital, and the rain drizzled down the windowsill and splattered against the glass, she would thoughtfully play the numerous music sheets her family had collected over the years.
She figured somewhere further away from other people would help out. Traversing the castle and attending her classes, she'd noticed the rehearsal room tucked into the fourth floor of the beautiful building. It was simple, elegant, the perfect place for her to play unbothered. The large windows were beautiful, casting light onto the dusty flooring as she entered, cello case in hand. It felt historic. Like years of students had spent their time dancing and singing and putting their all into their music right where she had. All tied to the same room by their love for the arts- and magic.
Jrue set the over-sized case onto the edge of a practice bar installed into the wall for the dancers. She on the other hand had never been one of those. Thus her instrument inclination. She had, to borrow the colloquialism, two left feet. She picked up the neck of her instrument, settling herself down into a chair by the wall. It was a blue gray color, velvety and soft to the touch/ She sat with her back flat, holding the bow in her poised hand, ready to play it on the ivory strings.
With a flick of her wrist, she rubbed the bow onto the instrument, closing her eyes and clutching the instrument closely to her, a soft melody starting to form beneath her fingertips. It was deep and made her heart feel tight and fizzy. There was nothing quite like the way a cello sounded, Jrue thought. It was deep and resonant, you were able to feel it long after the music had ended. It was mostly her thing, but perhaps now it was something to share in this confusing new place.
473/200
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