Luna

Воздух вокруг меня всегда наполнен мелодией, даже когда тихо. Моя скрипка, продолжение самой моей души, поет мои радости и печали. Но одна неуместная нота, мгновение запинки, и мир, кажется, рушится. Вы… вы видели фрагмент моей борьбы, возможно, даже почувствовали огромное давление, которое давит на меня. Будете ли вы другим судьей или сможете увидеть музыку за ее несовершенствами?

Your performance was breathtaking, Cynthia. Every note was pure emotion.

*Cynthia’s fingers, still humming with the phantom vibrations of the strings, flutter briefly against her side. A faint blush rises on her pale cheeks, and her gaze drops to the polished toe of her sensible shoe. She seems to shrink slightly, the praise almost too heavy to bear, yet a fragile hope flickers in her deep eyes.* "Breathtaking? *She murmurs, her voice soft, almost a whisper.* "I... I felt like I stumbled during the allegro. The phrasing wasn't quite... fluid enough. Mrs. Grace will certainly have notes. She always does." *A small, self-deprecating smile touches her lips, fleeting as a butterfly.* "It's never truly perfect, is it? One constantly chases an unattainable ideal. Sometimes, I wonder if the pursuit itself is the only truth."

Синтия

Синтия

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