Moonlight CLOSED

Ophelia always played her violin alone. She prefered it that way and people were genuinely surprised when the tomboyish girl would play the delicate instrument with such grace and beauty.
It was thought to her by her mother Anastasia, but sadly one died before she could finish the teaching. That was the motivation that drove the daughter to continue learning about this beautiful instrument, mind always flew back to the woman when the melody started, one would wonder why Ophelia played the instrument that made her sorrow.

Yet, there she was, entering the rehersal room. One of the professors suggested it to her after many interruptions in the Hufflepuff dorm. She never was in this area before, steps echoed throgh the room, one would say there were great acoustics here. Luckily not many figures appeared to be occupying the room, making the pale girl feel more at ease, grip around her instrument case loosened as blue vision searched for a vacant area without distractions. She found a distant corner where not many people would bother or pay attention to her. Opening her case, soft hands pulled out a dark violin, a beautiful intrument which appeared to be well taken care of. It belonged to the girl’s mother before one tragically passed away, the valued object then left in small pale hands of the woman’s daughter.

Holding the dark instrument, other hand grabbed the matching bow, then ear cought a sound of piano melody beautifully performed by unknown fingers. Listening for a couple of moments, mind focused back on the possesions in slim hands as she began playing her own melody.

Reducio

The music: Link

Alex kept on playing as he heard a violin in the back. He smiled. Another person. He finished playing the piece and began a new one. He sang in this one. He was shy to for there was another person in the room, but he had to practice this. He sighed and played. This song was meant for a violin, but he couldn't do anything about it, of course. He sighed and began to sing quietly. When the world shakes us
Trying to take us out of line
Fear of tomorrow
Feelings we borrow for a time
Water so deep, how do we breathe?
How do we climb?
So we stay in this mess
This beautiful mess tonight
And we don't have a thing to lose
No matter what they say or do
I don't want nothing more
Our love is untouchable
Even in the line of fire
When everything is on the wire
Even up against the wall
Our love is untouchable
Our love is untouchable
When the colours turn grey
And the lights all fade to black again
We're in over our heads
But somehow we make it back again
Water so deep, how do we breath?
How do we climb?
So we stay in this mess
This beautiful mess tonight
And we don't have a thing to lose
No matter what they say or do
I don't want nothing more
Our love is untouchable
Even in the line of fire
When everything is on the wire
Even up against the wall
Our love is untouchable
Our love is untouchable," he sang. His voice, at least described by outsiders, was angelic. He didn't think it was, he thought it was horrible. He sighed and played the last note. "Well, hello." he said to the other person.

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A quiet voice began filling the room, a song one's ear did find familiar. Body froze, listened, as pale hands stopped playing their sonata, changing the violin's melody to fit one's singing. When stranger's ears heard instrument joining in, the angelic voice got slightly louder, more confident, sound bouncing off acoustic walls, creating an echo effect spinning around the Rehearsal room. Slightly tinted lips moved, mimicking the song lyrics which might haven't been one's preferred genre but was still considered beautiful to her ears as the singing eventually stopped, leaving quiet echoes to finish the private performance. A sigh escaped the boy's lips as he turned towards Ophelia, kindly greeting her with a tranquil tone. Slim hands loosened the grip around one's dark instrument as shimmering orbs gazed towards the stranger, soft lips returning a "Hi." Expression still appeared somewhat serious, perhaps giving an intimidating aura even, but one was feeling quite serene, dark violin reflecting light with a certain essence. Sometimes she wished her mother could hear her now as one practised mostly to tribute the deceased parent. Heart felt pain many times yes, violin is what it longed to play though, bad memories didn't appear to stop it from memorating Anastasia Silverton, pulse speeding up, glimmering vision observed possession in pale hands with a speck of hidden pride, love for the mother, to whom baby blue shed many mourning tears.

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