𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝒸ℯ𝓁𝓁ℴ𝄞:♫⋆｡♪₊˚♬ﾟ.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Damaris entered the ballroom with all the calm in the world, though it only seemed that way, as she wanted to hide the tension that had built up during the day and release her frustration in something she was good at: playing the cello.
She walked around the room; luckily, it wasn't crowded, which she was quite grateful for. There were only a few boys and girls there, lost in their own worlds, who wouldn't pay her any attention. "I prefer it that way..." she thought to herself as she walked around the room with her hands in the pockets of her loose pants. She walked to the chairs with the instruments, placed her bag to one side, and carefully tied her curls back in a ponytail, letting a few fall in front of her face. Then she sat down and picked up a nearby cello by the neck, positioning it between her legs to adjust the pegs. She looked very focused on her instrument, as if she had always done it, which was true. She had been playing the cello since she was eight years old and was very good at it; she let herself be carried away by the music, without holding back.
She took the bow and began to play a few notes, testing the tension on the strings and, from time to time, adjusting the pegs more or less to find the right spot; when she found it, she began to play. Damaris didn't hold back, she let everything flow in the notes of the cello, she let herself be guided with an almost practiced elegance, she closed her eyes from time to time, feeling the notes of the instrument as she continued, the music filling the place with confidence, without asking permission, just there, filling everything perfectly for the atmosphere.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──