Between Children of the Shadows (Luke)

Guest

In the ballroom of the Browne's manor, Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata resonated sharply, the tune more angry than melancholy as Lyra played the piano. Her maestro had left a couple of hours ago, and the sunlight streaming through the windows was a flaming dark orange, but Lyra kept playing, paying no mind to the shadows cast by the light on the grand piano.

How cathartic it was, to just let the music take her, to feel as if she were in another universe entirely. She closed her eyes as she played, letting her muscle memory take over as her fingers landed on keys she had pressed a million times. This was much better than crying, much better than staying in her bedroom and playing Professor Balan's words over and over again in her head.

Troll. Failure. Disappointment. All these words described her, and she knew that she might not have ranked up if it weren't for Headmaster Jameson.

With even more force than before, she entered the presto agitato, the final movement of the piece. She imagined the sound of piano as bullets shooting Professor Balan's words, and perhaps Professor Balan himself. Though she had remained polite and composed throughout the whole thing, all she had wanted was to scream at Balan for not believing in her, for calling her a disappointment, for telling her that she ought to be held back if she were to continue messing up in his class.

She imagined his name on a tombstone and smiled.

The room darkened, and Lyra hummed along as she played. Her ballet classes may have been taken away from her, but she still had Beethoven and her impeccable posture and playing skills.

Guest

Luke's plan had worked perfectly. There was never any doubt that his plan would work on a school level, Professor Balan might think himself clever, but he couldn't see what happened if he were not there. The removal of Lyra's vial had worked impeccably, earning her the Troll she deserved.

He had been over the moon listening to his parents speak of their disappointment in her grade. That she would not be granted her ballet lessons over the summer, and that she should concentrate on her studies.

Luke had listened as Lyra had tried to explain herself, but none of the adults were listening.

And none of them knew what had happened to her potion that she had submitted.

It was not difficult to find Lyra that day, the music that she had been learning had filled the hallway of the manor for most of the day, he'd waited for the maestro to leave, and then waited. The music continued for time - classical music was calming, though Luke doubted his sister would be anything but calm, ballet meant too much to her. It had been his bonus for the long haul.

Slipping through the door of the music room, Luke moved silently across the hall, to the side of the piano. Lyra's eyes were closed, but he didn't need them to be open. Pushing the lowest key down, Luke held the note, for a mere second, and let it go. His sister (loathe as he might be to admit it) had a talent for music, and she would hear the note that did not fit, of that much he was sure.

When the music died down, Luke slipped the vial that held his sister's writing on it between two fingers, his hand against his chest, and a smirk as cold as ice on his lips. He need not say a word to his sister, she would know. Why he was here. Where her potion now resided. That is was him that had ruined her summer.

He did not have to tell her, for she had eyes to do that for her.

Guest

The room was even darker when she opened her eyes.

Nearing the final part of a piece, a note that was much too high for Moonlight Sonata's final movement played and woke her from her trance. A figure to her side was blocking the window and the little amount of light coming through it. His shadow swallowed her in the darkness, making her frown up at him.

It was the smirk, and the subtle movement of his hand, that made her look down to see what he was holding. Her blue eyes widened as soon as she saw the vial, and though she did her best to stay composed, her brother would not have missed the slight quivering of her lips, and how she had stiffened in her seat as she tried to contain the threat of a shiver running through her body.

Her hands, frozen above the piano keys, felt cold all over. She clenched her fists, though there was no use doing so—she was a dancer, not a fighter.

And Luke knew that. Luke knew of the injuries she had sustained all throughout her life, of how she had to convince their parents to let her continue ballet. He knew of it all.

Looking at him, standing tall by the piano and smirking down at her, Lyra wondered if maybe the injuries weren't caused by her clumsiness after all.

She was a crumbling statue. A stone angel in a graveyard where even her tears cannot fall. The tears wouldn't come for Lyra, anyway. She had gotten so used to stopping them, to not letting herself be so weak and undignified, that they couldn't be a friend to her now. Not when she needed them the most. She had tried her best to please him. All those days she spent trying to get him to play with her, to be impressed by her skills—they were all for nothing.

They were all for this vial, the vial that caused her to receive a Troll and an earful from her parents. The vial that took ballet away from her.

She could only say one word, could only say it softly. As if the word, too, would slap her like the presence of the vial.

'Why?'

Guest

The reaction was perfect, predictable and oh so very much like Lyra. Luke's smirk only grew as he watched the subtle tremor of her lip, and the stiffening of her posture. It was all so subtle, but Luke had captured all of it, because he knew his sister better than she probably knew herself. Which buttons to press, and how to get through to her when he needed to.

With the information played, Luke pocketed the vial once more, making sure not to lose the vial to his sister in case she tried to prove she had done it. Try to get him in trouble with their parents, only for him to act the innocent and ask them why on earth he would do such a thing.

Their parents would not have an answer to that question, but Luke was not willing to chance losing the power he held over Lyra with one false step.

The question, much like Lyra, was predictable, and slowly the smirk on Luke's face receded from view. Not because he still wasn't smug with what he'd done, but because he needed Lyra to know this was no laughing matter.

It was like watching the shadows creep across the floor as Luke's smirk left his features, instead of more happy features, darker features formed. Half his face fell in to shadow from where he stood blocking the light, and the other only just visible from the light across his shoulder.

"Because you are not the golden child, Lyra." Luke replied to her question, as if this was seemingly obvious to all. "I needed our parents to see you're not worth their attention, their money, that you shouldn't be allowed your privileges." Luke explained, moving closer to his younger sister, becoming more ominous with each second that passed. "I'm the oldest. I should be their favourite." Luke hissed, taking hold of her wrist tightly, his anger evident from the grip.

But before it could make visible evidence of his anger, Luke pulled away, as if scolded by touching her, even if nothing had happened.

"But they did little to make you suffer for your lack of trying." Luke added, turning away, pondering the point as he took a step away. "Why do they not see their mistake?" He asked aloud, though it was hypothetical. Not for Lyra to answer. For him to puzzle out.

» A Wander Down Knockturn Alley (Luke)
» Shadows Lurking [Corey]
» Unlikely Hero (Luke)
» Outnumbered But Not Quite Alone (Luke)
» Brokenness (Luke) [TW - self harm]