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Entry tags:
► seven → video/action。
[A dusty, murky looking room, a piano, and Will.
The piano’s being played, if the sound is anything to go by, although it’s quite evidently not being played by Will, as he’s still a few steps away from the piano. Moving forward, he places his device down on the top of the piano.
There’s a flicker of fascination — amusement, genuine — and for a moment, Will looks every bit the teenager he is. His lips quirk upwards, and he seems to have forgotten that his communicator is on, let alone recording. Fingers, slender and scarred, hover inches above the keys, and his expression shifts to something more contemplative, although the entertainment is still there. After a moment, he drops his hand, the sound from the sudden action ringing out and clashing with the melodic tune that had been playing previously. The former stops abruptly, and is followed by the sound of a slamming door.
Will laughs, and his attention returns to his device. Sitting down on the stool in front of the piano, he gaze briefly darts between the keys and the device. Letting out a breath, the smile (smirk) returns, and he lifts his chin.]
Unfortunately, I only know to how play the simplest of tunes. [Pointedly, he starts playing what sounds to be a nursery rhyme. Whether or not he does know how to play anything more, it’s not clear.] Perhaps I should ask our mystery guest for an encore.
[He falls quiet for a moment, studying his now dusty and dirty fingers for a moment before wiping them against his trousers.]
I don’t suppose anyone else has come across strange and unusual buildings and rooms that almost certainly weren’t there before? I’d dread to think that I’m imagining things and that rather than having just delighted you all with a stunning piano solo, I’m walking alone around the city, talking absolute nonsense to thin air.
The piano’s being played, if the sound is anything to go by, although it’s quite evidently not being played by Will, as he’s still a few steps away from the piano. Moving forward, he places his device down on the top of the piano.
There’s a flicker of fascination — amusement, genuine — and for a moment, Will looks every bit the teenager he is. His lips quirk upwards, and he seems to have forgotten that his communicator is on, let alone recording. Fingers, slender and scarred, hover inches above the keys, and his expression shifts to something more contemplative, although the entertainment is still there. After a moment, he drops his hand, the sound from the sudden action ringing out and clashing with the melodic tune that had been playing previously. The former stops abruptly, and is followed by the sound of a slamming door.
Will laughs, and his attention returns to his device. Sitting down on the stool in front of the piano, he gaze briefly darts between the keys and the device. Letting out a breath, the smile (smirk) returns, and he lifts his chin.]
Unfortunately, I only know to how play the simplest of tunes. [Pointedly, he starts playing what sounds to be a nursery rhyme. Whether or not he does know how to play anything more, it’s not clear.] Perhaps I should ask our mystery guest for an encore.
[He falls quiet for a moment, studying his now dusty and dirty fingers for a moment before wiping them against his trousers.]
I don’t suppose anyone else has come across strange and unusual buildings and rooms that almost certainly weren’t there before? I’d dread to think that I’m imagining things and that rather than having just delighted you all with a stunning piano solo, I’m walking alone around the city, talking absolute nonsense to thin air.
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If you fail to grasp it, then that is not my problem.
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Knowledge stems fear, does it not?
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And ignorance is bliss.
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Perhaps.
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