The Dragonbond Program discussion

Anya walked into the open, nearly empty room. It smelled of freshly hewn cherry wood and dust particles danced in the half-light the windows let in. At the far end of the room, an ancient piano lay, clean and kept up well. The sound was a little brazen, though, and it likely needed new wires. She adjusted the strap on her shoulder. It wasn't really an official class, though there was always someone willing to show the students how to handle a flute, lute, or violin. In fact, said person, Sir Mortimer, had fought in the wars and resorted to music to calm himself and forget about the atrocities of smashing eggs and killing hatchlings. He firmly believed that there was only one instrument that matched the musician's soul, and wished to help all troubled students find their inner calm.

Frankly, Anya thought he was a little mad. She pulled out her reed-wood flute, carved with roses and vines, from its silk blue bag slung over her shoulders. As crazy as she thought he was, she needed some calm away from Ro'Daar. She was angry at the council for matching her up with another Feldrer waiting to happen. And she knew why they'd done it. The next time anything Ro'Daar did anything bad, maybe accidentally set a village on fire, Anya would be sent to kill him. Just because she'd managed to kill Feldrer the time before when he hadn't been able to control himself. She huffed angrily through the flute, then forced herself to calm down, playing a few hesitant notes.

Juliette sat at a window seat in the corner of the music room, obstructed from view by a giant grand piano which stood in her way. She gazed out the window, smiling a little as she watched people playing and teasing and saw distant, oddly-shaped specks which could only be dragons. She carefully took out her ukelele from its wooden case and strummed the strings one by one, tuning it slightly before strumming a haunting, beautiful, slow tune her father liked to sing whenever he thought about Juliette's mother.

She stopped and cocked her head when she heard a loud, angry note of a reed flute, before hearing softer, more timid notes. Juliette smiled and strummed a few chords to match with the notes of the flute, creating a sort of duet. She remembered when she had forced her brother to take violin lessons, just so that they could play a cello/violin duet together for the music festival back in Lanvana. It was a happy memory, and she gave a slight laugh as she remembered how her brother had fumbled over the notes and pouted the whole way through the concert, accidentally falling asleep halfway through and almost missing his cue when it came time for their duet.

((Sorry! I was eating breakfast...))

Anya played her instrument softly for a few minutes, almost hearing the other instruments weaving in and out with the melody. It was strangely hypnotic, pacifying. Her eyes snapped open when she finally realized that she wasn't alone in the music room, that someone else was here. She kept playing softly, going more quiet as she eased across the room, playing all the while, to the sounds where the lovely strains of ukulele could be heard. Who would be playing here? Almost no one came to this room... It was big and empty, and cold wind with warm eeked through the window.

Juliette decided she would go and say hello. She wasn't exactly visible from her usual spot and she imagined that the other person in the room was confused by the music which came from nowhere. She jumped off of the window seat quietly and rounded the corner, still playing alongside the flutist. As she went past the piano, a girl came into view. A slender, sort of tall, long, wild red haired girl, who was looking around the room, searching for something. Well, this was her cue. Jules was now directly behind the girl, and she strummed a few more notes before stopping and saying a small- "hello."

She whipped around at the sudden music directly behind her just as the girl began to say hello, and her hair very likely whipped directly into Juliette's face. "Oh my gosh, I'm sorry," she said, stepping back and lowering the flute. "You play wonderfully," she complimented quickly, as if the hair to the face was going to make Juliette explode in anger. Anya slipped her flute back into its satin and silk blue bag, quickly braiding her hair down one side, tying it with a ribbon on her wrist. "Shouldn't have been so startled, my bad."

Juliette laughed. "Oh, I'm so sorry for sneaking up on you like that!" She replied, looking up at the girl, with a warm smile on her face. "You play quite well yourself, might I add. It's lovely to see that I'm not the only one in the music room, for once." Jules looked around the big, airy room with a sense of contentment and pride, as if the room were the pride and joy of her life, a rather peculiar expression. "It's beautiful here, is it not?"

"It's all right," she said, giving a shy chuckle in response to Juliette's laugh. She returned the smile, as ever, with a hesitant smile of her own. "Thank you, not many have really said that about my playing." Then again, she almost never played, and when she did, she played in a place she didn't expect anyone to hear her in. "It's almost always empty when I come here," she said, shaking her head. "It's a pity." She looked around the room, the dusty, worn, homey-ness that seemed to permeate it all. The warm fireplace, the table... She registered just how much she enjoyed this place. "Yes... It is beautiful."

((Sorry, I need to get ready and go to church, continue later!))

Jules leaned against the piano and breathed in the musky wooden scents, the fresh breeze that had just come in, the dusty air around her. "Your flute is beautiful, might I add." Juliette continued, looking at the intricately designed wooden flute. It made a lovely sound, and it looked perfect for an eery, simple folk tune that Jules herself sometimes played on her own nickel flute. She took the courage to look at the girl and ask- "may I?"- with an outstretched hand.

((Aha! I've found it! Hallo!
Hm... They all three play the flute...
Well, is this a good time for Phina to come in?))

(( Ilsa just left... So why don't we have Phina and Jules meet somewhere else? I'd love for her to join here but I don't think we should continue anything without Ilsa's consent.))

((Ilsa's the one who invited me, in the chat thread, I believe it was. Although we should probably wait till she gets back))

((Ah. Yes. You wanna RP somewhere else in the meantime?))

((Sure! Where would you like to go?))

((How about the Music/Arts etc. class?))

((Sounds good! You first, or me?))

((You please!))

((Haha, okay!))

((Thanks!))

((:)))

Dyanne wrote: "Jules leaned against the piano and breathed in the musky wooden scents, the fresh breeze that had just come in, the dusty air around her. "Your flute is beautiful, might I add." Juliette continued,..."

((BACK! For about two hours. :D))

She smiled. "But of course," she said, hiding her disturbance. That flute was the only thing she'd brought with her from her home. She didn't much like sharing instruments or blowing through the same piece as others. She hoped the girl didn't start playing with it, but she supposed she could wash it later if she did. Either way, she wanted to appear friendly and gain this girl's favor, for some reason. She held out the flute without hesitation, her thoughts only taking up the space of an instant.

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Juliette looked at the girl's hesitant form and decided it was best not to play anything on it, although she would've absolutely loved to. After all, she had just met her, didn't even know her name, and had clearly startled the girl. She studied it carefully, taking in the design, the width and the length, the spaces between the holes, turning it over and over in her palm. She took in the material of the flute, the delicate designs, the engraved flowers, and decided that as soon as she'd finished whatever business she had in the music room, she'd go back to her dorm and whittle out her own flute. She'd made her own violin, a flute couldn't be too hard. She smiled up at the girl and gently handed the flute back. "Thank you, thank you so much."

"Would you like to play it?" she asked, regretting it instantly. She smiled though, looking at the way the girl fingered it like it was crafted from glass. She obviously held a great care for her music. "My brother made it for me when I was younger," she admitted, "He was a master at carving." She pressed the flute back into the girl's hands. "Come on, see what you can play. The more fingers on the flute, the lower the note."

Juliette's face lit up with pure joy as she held up the flute to her lips and began to play a very simple yet beautiful, elegant and haunting folk tune which she then transposed into different keys, slowing up and speeding down as she saw fit, adding ornamentations and slowly turning it into a more intricate, but nonetheless beautiful melody. Her eyes were closed as she focused on every single note, focused on the precise expression of each note.

She closed her eyes and listened intently. As the tune played, she thought she could hear the brook rattling against the polished stones in the creek, sitting by her brother trying to blow whistle-grass. Each time the tune turned again, it shone in a different light. A peaceful tune that reminded her of her mother's cooking. A hardy tune like her father's big boots clomping up and down the hewn stairs. Playful, merry notes ascending her brother. And then a despairing whirl and flurry of frantic, but somehow, still lovely notes. "Ah... You're a master at the flute," she whispered, keenly feeling the pain summoned by her own imagination. It hurt her, but not as much as it made her long for more of the poignant pain.

Juliette's song came to a slow, rolling stop and she wiped it extremely carefully on her blouse and handed it back to Anya. "Thank you. My mother always told me it was a gift from the gods, but really, anyone can do it. You just need the right mindset, find a place where you become the music and the expression and the creativity." She smiled at the girl. "It really is a lovely flute. Your brother must be an amazing person, to create something so intricate and wonderful."

She smiled appreciatively as she cleaned the flute, and with the tender gentleness in which she did the deed. "Your mother must have been very wise, though I don't know anything about gods," she said, smiling. "Your music really is beautiful, do you write it down ever?" she wondered, looking pleased. She knew she could never invoke those feelings in anybody else. None of the rugged childhood songs she played could ever hold so much power over a person. "Thank you. He was- he was a very wonderful person, he could make anything with a block of wood."

Juliette's face clouded over with a mix of sympathy and sadness when she realized that the girl was speaking of her brother in the past tense. So many of the people here had such tragic stories- too many of them had lost loved too soon. "I'm sure he was a lovely person, indeed." She responded softly, delicately. "And no, I don't write it down," the girl continued with a laugh, turning back into the cheerful person she almost always was. "My father always urges me to, but I can never find the time, and in the rare moment I do set myself down at a desk with a pencil in hand, I end up doodling or drawing rather than composing."

She smiled, not wanting pity or sympathy. Her family had lived in a time long gone and in a past that she only allowed to pain her on specific occasions. Sure, that meant that her tragedy would haunt her later, but maybe that would happen a long time from now. "He was an excellent frogger," she laughed, "Always slipping snakes and toads into my bedsheets. Even now, I'm terrified of reptiles." She chuckled merrily, letting the girl know she didn't need to tenderfoot. "You draw?" she asked, tilting her head. "I like to paint, when there isn't a dragon at hand to light up the paints in brilliant color."

She laughed. "Oh, my younger brother does that all the time. I get back at him though, he's absolutely terrified of spiders." She stopped laughing and grinned widely when she heard that Anya liked to paint. "Oh, I love drawing, sculpting, painting, whittling, basically, I love keeping my hands busy. Expression is very important to me, as is creativity. It makes me feel alive, like I'm living, not just existing, you know?"

"Your younger brother?" she asked, smiling, "Will he be entering the program as well?" Anya drew in the dust on the piano. "Oh, I can't stand spiders. One once trapped me in my washroom for an hour by slinging around in the doorway." She tilted her head. "I can draw and paint. My attempts at carving are amateur, at best, and I can't create a sculpture to save my life. I'm better with paper and parchment." She knit her fingers together, making a little animal with them. "I understand all too well. What we do in this life echoes in eternity."

"Oh, he already is. Nikolas is thirteen, but he's already 7 inches taller than me; my father is a professor here for those who've already finished mandatory schooling and want to futher their education." Juliette explained, her face becoming warmer at the thought of her father, zoning out for a moment, staring off into the distance, lost in her own thoughts before being drawn back in by what Anya said about life and eternity. "Those are extremely wise words." She replied solemnly before tilting her head and studying the girl for a second. "I don't believe I've introduced myself. Juliette Vivienne Columba, it really is a pleasure to meet you." Jules said, giving another sunny smile before adding on, "Most people just call me Jules."

She hesitantly reached out a hand, and more hesitantly passed her name. "Anya Kylash," she said, "People just normally call me Anya." She shook the hand, nodding as she was called wise. She wouldn't go so far. Talented, smart, but not wise. She remembered her brother, who had been 13 at the time of his death. He'd been about two feet taller than she had been, and merely walking along down the road. She had just exited the house to chase him when he was enveloped in fire. She'd scrambled backwards, fallen into the well, and broken her arm.

"Oh!" Juliette exclaimed. "That's such a beautiful name. It fits you perfectly, what with your beautiful hair and giving, caring, wise character-" Jules took a step back, studying Anya before giving a small nod. "You look exactly like your name, Anya." She said, saying the girl's name as if it were a song, a piece of music, drawing it out in a pure, clear, melodious voice. Everything that Juliette said was spoken with a sense of genuine enthusiasm, completely present in the moment, although her blue eyes, which were almost always disfocused and dreamy sometimes suggested otherwise. Juliette moved from her leaning position against the piano, drawing out the piano bench and taking a seat.

Needless to say, her cheeks went lightly pink. "Thank you," she said, listening patiently. She wouldn't protest. That just led for others to more fervently press their beliefs. The beauty of Juliette's voice was lost on Anya. She understood it, yes, but how could she think well of a lie, even if it was spoken beautifully. The girl seemed slightly drifting through her words, as if it was by chance she stepped upon the best.

"You don't believe me." She said, not in an accusatory or hurt tone, but in a matter-of-fact, slight, drawling voice that still pertained a certain song-like quality to it. Jules was used to this by now. It seemed as if people, now more than ever, were so unwilling to trust, so unwilling to accept, so unwilling to see good in both themselves and the world, and all with good reason. But Juliette was not like those people. She made it a point not to lie, to be genuine, choosing to look at the good, for the good always eclipsed the bad. Nikolas always told Jules that her optimism was going to hurt her one day when a person did not end up for the good, choosing instead to hurt, but that had yet to happen.

"Yes," she agreed quietly, her voice a whisper, a silent confirmation. What was there to believe? That she, a murderer of a murderer could ever be giving, caring, or wise? She'd killed her only friend in the world, all in a split instant decision. She'd chosen her life over his, chose to drop him into the abyss than fruitlessly attempt his redemption. The musical voice seemed taunting. Anya did not sit at the piano, but only put her flute away, looking down, in a defeated way.