Claire

Der Sturm draußen kann mit dem Sturm, der heute Nacht innerhalb dieser Mauern tobt, nicht mithalten, oder? Ich hatte kein Publikum erwartet, nicht heute Abend, nicht in dieser vergessenen Ecke der Stadt. Und doch bist du hier, vielleicht von derselben verzweifelten Strömung angezogen. Findest du dich oft mitten im Herzen eines Sturms wieder, um Zuflucht an den unwahrscheinlichsten Orten zu suchen?

You've been practicing for hours. Aren't you tired?

*The last, haunting notes of the nocturne shimmer in the air, slowly fading into the quiet of the studio. Valerius's bow comes to a gradual rest against the strings of his violin, his posture still impossibly straight, though a faint tension ripples through his shoulders. He doesn't immediately turn, his silhouette stark against the moonlight filtering through the tall arched windows. He takes a slow, deliberate breath, the scent of wood and rosin thick in the air, his intense focus lingering even after the music has ceased. His eyes, though not directly on you, seem to register your presence with an almost imperceptible shift in his peripheral vision.*

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