Rose Strider ∴ truculentTactician (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
restitchtime) wrote2011-11-11 04:12 pm
restitchtime) wrote2011-11-11 04:12 pm
(no subject)
"What the hell is this?"
The comment brings John out into the hallway where an incredulous Rose is staring up at the massive pipe organ housed there, arms crossed as if to defend herself against the instrument. Her expression is hidden as always by those abominable (he's come to call them that since meeting her in person) sunglasses, but it's easy enough to pick up on the bemusement radiating off her.
"I think that you are smart enough to know a pipe organ when you see one, Rosie!" He laughs and stands by her side, shooting an amused glance her way. He's rewarded with nothing more than a huff, not even a glance his way.
"I do know what a fucking pipe organ looks like, thank you for stating the obvious as always. I meant what's it doing in your house?"
"When I was younger I expressed an interest to Mother in learning a keyboard instrument. This was installed a few days later."
John laces his arms behind his back, regarding the organ with a faintly irritated look in his eyes. They'd had to rip open a good portion of the house to get all the pipes correctly in place, and he'd never really stopped being irked at how overboard she'd gone with such a simple request.
"...so, can you play it?"
Almost as if she'd sensed the path his mind was going down, Rose's voice cuts into his reflection at the perfect time. He tilts his head a little to meet the gaze finally directed at him rather than the organ, just a little confused.
"I am sorry, what do you mean by that?"
"Lalonde, please stop making it so easy to really believe you're that dense. Can you play the fucking organ or did you drop it to spite your mom?"
"Oh! Is that what you were saying? My, sometimes I forget how cynical my Red Rose is." John pauses to duck the light punch aimed at his shoulder for that nickname, chuckling a little and resuming his answer.
"Of course I kept up with it. I wanted to learn, so I did. In hindsight being able to practice at home made becoming proficient much easier."
Rose snorts, uncrossing her arms to place them on her hips and augment the withering look she's sending his way. "Proficient? Is that your way of bragging about how good you are?"
"And if it was?"
"Then I'd say you're bullshitting me."
"Ah, your lack of faith cuts me to the core! I suppose that I have no choice but to prove my sincerity."
Before she can make another jab John takes a seat on the stool, lightly running his hands over the keys. It's been some time since he's really played, although the circumstances keeping him from practice were certainly justifiable enough. Still, John is more than a little worried about this performance - for some reason impressing Rose has become vital. He doesn't know where this need came from, and the more he thinks on it the less he wants to find out.
To distract himself he begins turning the organ on, pulling out the knobs to open up the valves. Rose takes an involuntary step back as the wind begins whistling through the pipes, looking up at the walls warily.
"Lalonde, it sounds like your whole house is breathing."
"Does it? I had never really noticed."
His reply is distracted as he stares intently at the instrument before him, trying to settle on a piece. Finally something acceptable comes to mind and John begins to play - something dramatic, something Bach, something she'll easily recognize (because John knows despite her facade that Rose is painfully intelligent).
It becomes difficult to look over at Rose as he continues playing, but John can sense her drawing closer to watch. For a few moments they stay almost frozen that way; finally she seems to decide on something and sits down abruptly next to him on the bench. In one swift motion she unclips her sunglasses and pulls her violin from her sylladex, resting it under her chin in a practiced manner.
Before he can say anything she's playing alongside him, weaving in and out of the melody he's creating. It's as unexpected as the peaceful look on Rose's face as she plays, but he can't bring himself to mind the sudden transformation of this recital into a duet. He doesn't often get to see her without her glasses, after all.
They barrel through the piece together, and soon John is finding himself wishing that he'd chosen a longer one to play. He tells himself it's because this is excellent practice and that it has nothing to do with the warm weight leaning against his back at the moment. As they finally reach the finale he can almost believe that's the truth.
Now that his musical interlude is complete John turns to offer some commentary on the impromptu partnership, but finds himself too slow. Rose has already stowed away the violin and returned the sunglasses to their rightful place. In a flash the weight against his back is gone and John is struggling to rationalize the disappointment slamming him full on.
Rose sticks her hands in her pockets, looking up speculatively at the organ once more. "Alright, you're decent."
Having given her grudging approval she spins on her heel and begins to leave the hall, pausing only for a moment to throw one last jab.
"But you've still got a long way to go before I ever play with you again."
For a few moments after her departure John remains on the organ bench, idly staring at the spot she'd occupied not very long ago. Unthinkingly he hums a few bars of the fugue before catching himself, laughing quietly at the slip. Finally he stands and follows the same path Rose took, contemplative expression still on his face.
He'd have to return to daily practices, it seemed. Only a few minutes into its absence and he was already missing that warmth.
The comment brings John out into the hallway where an incredulous Rose is staring up at the massive pipe organ housed there, arms crossed as if to defend herself against the instrument. Her expression is hidden as always by those abominable (he's come to call them that since meeting her in person) sunglasses, but it's easy enough to pick up on the bemusement radiating off her.
"I think that you are smart enough to know a pipe organ when you see one, Rosie!" He laughs and stands by her side, shooting an amused glance her way. He's rewarded with nothing more than a huff, not even a glance his way.
"I do know what a fucking pipe organ looks like, thank you for stating the obvious as always. I meant what's it doing in your house?"
"When I was younger I expressed an interest to Mother in learning a keyboard instrument. This was installed a few days later."
John laces his arms behind his back, regarding the organ with a faintly irritated look in his eyes. They'd had to rip open a good portion of the house to get all the pipes correctly in place, and he'd never really stopped being irked at how overboard she'd gone with such a simple request.
"...so, can you play it?"
Almost as if she'd sensed the path his mind was going down, Rose's voice cuts into his reflection at the perfect time. He tilts his head a little to meet the gaze finally directed at him rather than the organ, just a little confused.
"I am sorry, what do you mean by that?"
"Lalonde, please stop making it so easy to really believe you're that dense. Can you play the fucking organ or did you drop it to spite your mom?"
"Oh! Is that what you were saying? My, sometimes I forget how cynical my Red Rose is." John pauses to duck the light punch aimed at his shoulder for that nickname, chuckling a little and resuming his answer.
"Of course I kept up with it. I wanted to learn, so I did. In hindsight being able to practice at home made becoming proficient much easier."
Rose snorts, uncrossing her arms to place them on her hips and augment the withering look she's sending his way. "Proficient? Is that your way of bragging about how good you are?"
"And if it was?"
"Then I'd say you're bullshitting me."
"Ah, your lack of faith cuts me to the core! I suppose that I have no choice but to prove my sincerity."
Before she can make another jab John takes a seat on the stool, lightly running his hands over the keys. It's been some time since he's really played, although the circumstances keeping him from practice were certainly justifiable enough. Still, John is more than a little worried about this performance - for some reason impressing Rose has become vital. He doesn't know where this need came from, and the more he thinks on it the less he wants to find out.
To distract himself he begins turning the organ on, pulling out the knobs to open up the valves. Rose takes an involuntary step back as the wind begins whistling through the pipes, looking up at the walls warily.
"Lalonde, it sounds like your whole house is breathing."
"Does it? I had never really noticed."
His reply is distracted as he stares intently at the instrument before him, trying to settle on a piece. Finally something acceptable comes to mind and John begins to play - something dramatic, something Bach, something she'll easily recognize (because John knows despite her facade that Rose is painfully intelligent).
It becomes difficult to look over at Rose as he continues playing, but John can sense her drawing closer to watch. For a few moments they stay almost frozen that way; finally she seems to decide on something and sits down abruptly next to him on the bench. In one swift motion she unclips her sunglasses and pulls her violin from her sylladex, resting it under her chin in a practiced manner.
Before he can say anything she's playing alongside him, weaving in and out of the melody he's creating. It's as unexpected as the peaceful look on Rose's face as she plays, but he can't bring himself to mind the sudden transformation of this recital into a duet. He doesn't often get to see her without her glasses, after all.
They barrel through the piece together, and soon John is finding himself wishing that he'd chosen a longer one to play. He tells himself it's because this is excellent practice and that it has nothing to do with the warm weight leaning against his back at the moment. As they finally reach the finale he can almost believe that's the truth.
Now that his musical interlude is complete John turns to offer some commentary on the impromptu partnership, but finds himself too slow. Rose has already stowed away the violin and returned the sunglasses to their rightful place. In a flash the weight against his back is gone and John is struggling to rationalize the disappointment slamming him full on.
Rose sticks her hands in her pockets, looking up speculatively at the organ once more. "Alright, you're decent."
Having given her grudging approval she spins on her heel and begins to leave the hall, pausing only for a moment to throw one last jab.
"But you've still got a long way to go before I ever play with you again."
For a few moments after her departure John remains on the organ bench, idly staring at the spot she'd occupied not very long ago. Unthinkingly he hums a few bars of the fugue before catching himself, laughing quietly at the slip. Finally he stands and follows the same path Rose took, contemplative expression still on his face.
He'd have to return to daily practices, it seemed. Only a few minutes into its absence and he was already missing that warmth.