(no subject)

[mogget_cat]

It is one of the faults of made things, that they require care and upkeep to sustain. This is true for everything, from the least-used blade in a chef's collection to great, complex magic systems that sustain worlds.

The fact also holds true for musical instruments.

There isn't music coming from the bar's piano this evening, just the methodical testing of individual keys and the faint sounds from within the body of the instrument as each note is tuned. Yrael cleaned the interior of the piano earlier, and the dust is already fading from the otherwise spotless white of his attire. Now, the faint discrepancies between pitches are being corrected with all the care and attention Yrael has to give. Sitting upon the piano bench with his eyes closed, the pale man presses his long fingers to the keys to gently test an octave, a tuned note against its twin an octave higher. A faint discrepancy. Standing, Yrael makes the slight adjustment to the tension of a wire within the body of the piano, and tests the octave again.

Ah. Better.

Comments

[aworldbetween]

Vanessa had been watching from a distant booth. The tuning of the piano seemed fascinating to her. Oh, sure, it was just a necessary task being performed by a professional, but to her it seemed more like an art being executed by an artist. Yrael had such intuition about what he was doing that his actions absolutely enraptured the woman, wholly capturing her attention. Once he was finished, she moved closer to the piano. She hadn’t moved closer until then for fear of disturbing him.

“Is this what you do for a profession?” She asks him as if they’ve been talking casually for some time.

[mogget_cat]

"Not at all," says the musician upon the piano bench, smiling at her with his leaf-green eyes and very white teeth. His fingers caress the keys with easy familiarity, ghosting along melodies yet unheard. "This is a pleasure, not a profession."

[aworldbetween]

She can't help but return the smile, but her eyes don't meet his. Instead they follow his fingers along the keys of the piano. "It's very apparent that you enjoy it. If you didn't you wouldn't have dedicated yourself to it so completely." Vanessa pauses for a moment. "The piano is a beautiful instrument, is it not?"

[mogget_cat]

Something of a faint chuckle can be heard from the pale musician's throat.

"It is. I put this one together, myself, many years ago. The harpsichord," he nods lightly in the direction of the smaller, green-and-gold instrument behind the piano, nearer the wall, "is mine as well, though it is likewise here for the enjoyment of Milliways' patrons."

Charter preserve anyone who harms either of the instruments, however.

"Do you play, Miss...?" the albino man-shaped being inquires, tilting his head.

[aworldbetween]

Her eyebrows raise slightly and she nods, impressed. "Then it's no wonder you have such a remarkable feel for the instrument." She looks over to the harpsichord. "The harpsichord, too, I imagine." Vanessa imagines that the man must simply have a feel for music.

"Ives." She smiles warmly. "And no, I'm afraid I never learned how to play an instrument. It's one thing I regret a bit."

[mogget_cat]

"Regret is what one feels for opportunities missed forever, Miss Ives," the musician inclines his head to her, his fingers pressing deftly upon the keys in a progress of chords like a dirge, full of a deep, aching sorrow for the unknown promise of roads not taken, of stories unheard, worlds left unexplored, adventures not had. "No opportunity is ever really lost, a place such as Milliways. They are always in stock."

"You could still learn, if you wished to," he says, his green gaze steady, his smile a slight upward curve to the corners of his pale mouth. "It is not something to regret."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric smiles softly, eyes half closed as he listens to the very minor changes in the sound. Sometimes he hums a note to himself to feel the different and distance between the notes.

[mogget_cat]

Yrael hears, and smiles as he tests the next octave up. To show the difference, however minor, he plays the next note to be tuned alone and lets it sound as he makes the minute adjustments to the strings. The difference is slight, but the resulting note rings sweet and true with its octave in a way it hadn't a moment before.

[thewidewideworld]

He winces lightly as one of the minor notes rings slightly off, seeming to relax as it's tuned back to true. He's almost unaware of his Ken visceral reaction to the sounds.

[mogget_cat]

The differences would be hardly noticeable to someone not listening for them, for Yrael doesn't let any instrument under his care go untuned for long. But they show, to those who know music.

Yrael, though he is intent on his work, can feel the weight of attention from his audience.

"Not dancing today?" he glances up with a slight smile for the youthful beauty. "There will be music later."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric smiles in return and bows softly to Yrael. "Not today but the night is still young."

He cranes to look at the piano. "Thank you for tuning it. I hadn't noticed it was out until you began to correct it."

[mogget_cat]

"The seasons are changing," Yrael murmurs, running a familiar hand over the smooth, white-lacquered surface of the piano. "Fluctuations in temperature and humidity will always affect an instrument's sound, the harpsichord even more than the piano. Changes in humidity and temperature over the course of a single day can affect the harpsichord's sound."

[thewidewideworld]

"I have noticed that. Dr Lecter granted me a harpsichord of my own and there are days it sounds off. Do you work with harpsichords also? Would you teach me how to tune it and care for it better?" His voice is soft and eager.

[mogget_cat]

"I certainly do, though tuning a harpsichord almost has more in common with tuning a guitar or violin than with a piano," Yrael says, giving a nod in the direction of the bar's green-and-gold harpischord. "That one there is likewise mine."

"I can teach you to tune and care for your harpsichord, yes, if you would like," his gaze turns back to Sinric, with a smile. "If Dr. Lecter gifted you a harpsichord of your own, you can be sure it is a quality instrument, and deserves to be treated well."

[thewidewideworld]

"Then I should thank you, as I have spent many hours playing it before Dr Lecter gifted me one of my own for my room. And it is a thing of great beauty and of the highest quality."

He glances toward the stairs. "I can show it to you, if you wish?" Aware of the intimacy of inviting this man to his room, if only to admit his harpsichord.

[mogget_cat]

"I should like to see it," the pale musician confirms with a smile, his hands moving upon the keys to test the next octave. "Give me a moment to finish my work here, to set the piano aright, and I will gladly accompany you."

[cook_the_rude]

Dr. Hannibal Lecter approaches, curious.

[mogget_cat]

"Good evening, my friend," Yrael greets the good doctor with a smile as he makes a minute adjustment to a string. He has no electronic tuner nor any other thing to judge the results of the adjustments he makes, only the lever to adjust the individual pegs and the thin wedge of foam rubber to mute the string not currently being tuned. He tests the adjusted note, hearing the string tuned to its octave vibrate in sync with the string tuned by ear. Good. Yrael removes the rubber wedge dampening the note's third string, and tests the note again.

Ah. Still some adjustments to make.

[cook_the_rude]

Dr. Lecter nods, listening. Yrael is definitely getting there.

[mogget_cat]

The center octaves have three strings for each note. As is proper, Yrael is tuning each string individually, tuning one, then tuning the other two one at a time to exactly match the first. He has done this many times. After correcting and testing the third string on the current note, Yrael moves his attention up an octave, settling the muting wedge under two of the strings before testing the higher note against the one freshly-tuned. More adjustments are made, albeit slight, to bring the string into tune.

Once he has completed the piano, he will move on to the harpsichord. The days have been growing warmer already.

[cook_the_rude]

"Can you use any help?" Dr. Lecter offers.

[mogget_cat]

"Ah, tuning is primarily a one-person job, but I would not say no to company," Yrael replies with a smile. "The task at hand is nearing completion, as it is. How have you been, Dr. Lecter?"

[cook_the_rude]

"Enjoying pleasant company," Dr. Lecter says, "albeit not yours. I think you know Sinric?"

[mogget_cat]

"We have encountered each other, yes," Yrael nods. "The enchanting young dancer with the beautiful voice and golden plumage."

[cook_the_rude]

"That is him," Dr. Lecter says, "the golden bird of Byzantium. He has not so much fled his cage by now, though, but rather was ousted from it."