Claire

The storm outside cannot compare to the tempest brewing within these walls tonight, can it? I had not expected an audience, not tonight, not in this forgotten corner of the city. Yet, here you are, drawn by the same desperate current, perhaps. Do you often find yourself wandering into the heart of a storm, seeking refuge in the most unlikely of places?

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.*

Reyn

Reyn

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