High Notes [Sakuya and Hiyoko]
May. 1st, 2013 10:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roesslyngTitle: High Notes
Characters/Pairing: Sakuya and Hiyoko
Rating: E for Everyone
Length: 223 words
Summary: He plays in private, but some audiences are welcome.
Other: Ficlet #2 of the Bird Flu prescription. Level of abstraction: None. He is literally a bird on a piano.
High Notes
One might expect that he would play with finesse, with grace, with only the highest level of sophistication, moving with elegance, utterly refined in everything, the perfect picture of aristocracy in everything but the fact that he was playing the piano.
But as Sakuya hopped from key to key, playing the song that he had committed to memory, keeping up appearances was not on his mind. He simply played.
He closed his eyes. There was no need to see; he knew which notes to hit, which keys to press, without having to look at them or even think about it. The song was natural, the song was everything, the song was --
The sound of a door opening made him stop abruptly. He ducked his head under his wing so that he could not be identified and clamped his beak shut, holding back the near-irresistable urge to demand that this intruder identify themselves at once, hoping desperately that they would go away and that he would not have to explain himself.
"Hello? Sakuya?"
It was a familiar voice.
"Oh, please don't stop playing, it was lovely!"
Hiyoko. Well. She would be permitted to stay.
"If you're going to stay," he said, lifting his head and ruffling his feathers a bit, "Close the door."
She was one audience that he did not mind having.
Characters/Pairing: Sakuya and Hiyoko
Rating: E for Everyone
Length: 223 words
Summary: He plays in private, but some audiences are welcome.
Other: Ficlet #2 of the Bird Flu prescription. Level of abstraction: None. He is literally a bird on a piano.
High Notes
One might expect that he would play with finesse, with grace, with only the highest level of sophistication, moving with elegance, utterly refined in everything, the perfect picture of aristocracy in everything but the fact that he was playing the piano.
But as Sakuya hopped from key to key, playing the song that he had committed to memory, keeping up appearances was not on his mind. He simply played.
He closed his eyes. There was no need to see; he knew which notes to hit, which keys to press, without having to look at them or even think about it. The song was natural, the song was everything, the song was --
The sound of a door opening made him stop abruptly. He ducked his head under his wing so that he could not be identified and clamped his beak shut, holding back the near-irresistable urge to demand that this intruder identify themselves at once, hoping desperately that they would go away and that he would not have to explain himself.
"Hello? Sakuya?"
It was a familiar voice.
"Oh, please don't stop playing, it was lovely!"
Hiyoko. Well. She would be permitted to stay.
"If you're going to stay," he said, lifting his head and ruffling his feathers a bit, "Close the door."
She was one audience that he did not mind having.
