Post by SHSL dead pianist on May 25, 2015 8:53:06 GMT -5
When: post kura's execution by about three days
Who: Fermata and whoever
(I don't even expect anyone to reply tbh like let's be fair and leave this crybaby alone she's trash and we should all ignore her)
(Silently disagrees with self but oops)
Honestly, there was nothing more pathetic than what she did every time she was hurt. Everyone else managed. Everyone else spoke with someone else, or at least found some other way to cry.
But no.
She was stupid, and could think of only one place to go.
The piano. She felt sick to the stomach about how she could still have a passion when so many others were losing theirs. It wasn't really fair, was it?
She didn't remember getting there. All she remembered was Kura.
Her face when she had been picked up by the... thing. How Fermata had desperately reached upwards to try and grab her, a last attempt.
But she had been too short. Maybe, if she were different, this wouldn't have happened.
How the execution had played, and suddenly there was blood, and it was Kura's blood, and it didn't matter anymore because she could feel her throat closing up and her tears running and suddenly everything was terrifying and she was screaming and running out of the room.
She couldnt remember if someone tried to talk to her.
She doubted anyone had. How could they? They themselves were broken. Far more broken than Fermata.
All Fermata had was a phobia of blood, a fear of isolation and the dark, and the death of those she had finally grown close to after so many years being no one.
She shouldn't be selfish. Not really. The others had it far worse. They had fallen into despair.
Another reason Fermata felt sick- even with all her crying and wailing and inexplicable pain where her heart was that made her want to collapse, she still had hope. She always had hope.
It was wrong. What was the point of being hopeful if she couldnt help the others?
She couldn't stop Kura.
She had tried. She loved the girl, and hadn't quite gotten used to the feeling and suddenly it was wrenched away from her and she could only watch.
Kura had PROMISED. Kura had PROMISED to be there, and stay, and not fall into despair again.
Aisu had promised not to break, but it seems that she had forgotten.
Koto and Angel had promised to live.
Micah had promised to play music with her when they got out.
Promise, promise, promise. Too many promises.
And through all those thoughts, she played.
It sickened her. When didn't she play? She played when sad. She played when happy. She played when busy. She played when bored.
Even with how sick it made her, she couldn't stop.
She played "Tenderly" by Catherine Rollin.
An easy piece.
"The little trifle" by Francois Couperin.
Easy.
Easy, easy, easy. When was this ever difficult?
Never. Never was this difficult. Never could it cause her stress, never could it be complicated.
Never would she stop playing, because it was the only thing that couldnt leave and wouldnt be difficult.
Never.
Who: Fermata and whoever
(I don't even expect anyone to reply tbh like let's be fair and leave this crybaby alone she's trash and we should all ignore her)
(Silently disagrees with self but oops)
Honestly, there was nothing more pathetic than what she did every time she was hurt. Everyone else managed. Everyone else spoke with someone else, or at least found some other way to cry.
But no.
She was stupid, and could think of only one place to go.
The piano. She felt sick to the stomach about how she could still have a passion when so many others were losing theirs. It wasn't really fair, was it?
She didn't remember getting there. All she remembered was Kura.
Her face when she had been picked up by the... thing. How Fermata had desperately reached upwards to try and grab her, a last attempt.
But she had been too short. Maybe, if she were different, this wouldn't have happened.
How the execution had played, and suddenly there was blood, and it was Kura's blood, and it didn't matter anymore because she could feel her throat closing up and her tears running and suddenly everything was terrifying and she was screaming and running out of the room.
She couldnt remember if someone tried to talk to her.
She doubted anyone had. How could they? They themselves were broken. Far more broken than Fermata.
All Fermata had was a phobia of blood, a fear of isolation and the dark, and the death of those she had finally grown close to after so many years being no one.
She shouldn't be selfish. Not really. The others had it far worse. They had fallen into despair.
Another reason Fermata felt sick- even with all her crying and wailing and inexplicable pain where her heart was that made her want to collapse, she still had hope. She always had hope.
It was wrong. What was the point of being hopeful if she couldnt help the others?
She couldn't stop Kura.
She had tried. She loved the girl, and hadn't quite gotten used to the feeling and suddenly it was wrenched away from her and she could only watch.
Kura had PROMISED. Kura had PROMISED to be there, and stay, and not fall into despair again.
Aisu had promised not to break, but it seems that she had forgotten.
Koto and Angel had promised to live.
Micah had promised to play music with her when they got out.
Promise, promise, promise. Too many promises.
And through all those thoughts, she played.
It sickened her. When didn't she play? She played when sad. She played when happy. She played when busy. She played when bored.
Even with how sick it made her, she couldn't stop.
She played "Tenderly" by Catherine Rollin.
An easy piece.
"The little trifle" by Francois Couperin.
Easy.
Easy, easy, easy. When was this ever difficult?
Never. Never was this difficult. Never could it cause her stress, never could it be complicated.
Never would she stop playing, because it was the only thing that couldnt leave and wouldnt be difficult.
Never.
