[Requiem] Meeting Vittorio
Dec. 18th, 2006 04:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
basts_tailI sit in this café, and cast my mind back to a time long ago.
Its hard to remember, but these pages in my hands, from my journal in Paris… it shows me things. The mind of a child in the grip of a monster, a fate born or destined to be kindred.
1809
It’s nearly Christmas and Papa is letting me stay up with my nana. We play hide and seek and I hide at the top of the house. They will never find me here. Papa is getting me a dress for Christmas, a new one, that he had nana take me to a fitter for, a grown up dress.
His Lordship has been away, and is out tonight, so I can sneak up there and explore, while Papa is busy.
Sitting in the café, I remember climbing the stairs, and going into the music room. It was large, and dark, with French doors out onto the balcony, and a beautiful piano. I hid under the piano, in a shadow, very still.
After a time I heard the soft tread on the stairs. I remember thinking it was nana or Papa looking for me, and froze still, hoping they would not find me. A shadow stopped in the doorway, and I expected it to continue on, but it did not. The shadow tilted its head, and seemed to sniff the air slightly, and then stepped into the room, and began to move towards the piano, and my hiding place. By now I knew it was not nana, or Papa, and that the Master had come home early.
This was his room. He did not allow anyone else to come here, only rarely, and this was the first time I had defied my father and come in. My heart beat faster, as he trod quietly across the floor. He stopped, pausing in the middle of the room, lighting a fragrant stick, and turning his back for just a moment. One moment was all I needed, as I ran silently to the curtains at the open doors, and slipped behind them. I expected to hear the footsteps leave and go back downstairs, but instead they continued to the piano, the scrape of the stool, and he sat and began to play.
The music was beautiful. It was wonderful, like angels from heaven. My breath was stolen from me at its beauty, and I stood in transfixed silence, behind the drapes, my heart pounding to its rhythm.
As I remember, I look up and close my eyes, the sound of that unearthly music in my ears. I know now that he knew I was there, that he’d have heard the beat of my heart as surely as I hear the tread of those in the café. And so I am drawn into the pages again.
I was so transported that I did not notice the music had stopped, till the concealing curtain was drawn aside. He stood, smiling down at me as I stood guiltily at being caught.
“Did you like it, ma petite?” He asked, his voice like soft velvet roses.
I blushed, and said I had to go, I should not be in here, but he gently stopped me, and said I could stay, and he would play some more, if I liked.
That little child, her blood rushing to the surface of her skin, that he must have sensed, all quivering and jittery at the angel. I sit shaking my head slightly, as I recall the absolute completeness with which the Inquisitrix seduced Gwynefar under his spell. A heart forever scarred, forever damaged, by her exposure to kindred.
He took my hand in his, looking at me with curiosity, in those blue/green eyes, as he drew me over to the piano. He sat down, and lifted me onto his lap, so I rested against his chest, his arms around me, fingers on the keys, and his lips next to my ear, whispering. As he played, he whispered in my ear about the music, and what it meant. The whole world became that whisper, the music of angels, and the scent of roses.
Remembering….
I sat there, warm in his arms, and then finally Papa came in, looking worried. He paused with surprise when he saw me sitting in Vittorio’s lap. He began to apologise, concerned that he was angry, and was waved to silence. The Inquisitrix smiled, and laughed, and gave me permission to come to the music room if I wished, and continued to play for us. As it got late, Papa, who had stayed and listened and watched him with me, an unreadable expression in his eyes, told me that it was bedtime. The Master lifted me into his arms and smiled and said that my Papa was correct and I should go to sleep. Standing me on my feet, he kneeled down, bowing and kissing my hand, making me blush, and told me that his name was Vittorio. As I stammered thank you, Papa took me to bed.
That night, on the edge of sleep, the scent returned, and all around me whispered Good night Gwynefar….. as a pair of lips brushed across my face…
Ooc Note: Christmas 1809 Gwynefar would have been 10. This scene is only 1-2 years before her father’s death/embrace, and the commencement of the Inquisitrix’s seduction of Gwynefar into kindred society.
Its hard to remember, but these pages in my hands, from my journal in Paris… it shows me things. The mind of a child in the grip of a monster, a fate born or destined to be kindred.
1809
It’s nearly Christmas and Papa is letting me stay up with my nana. We play hide and seek and I hide at the top of the house. They will never find me here. Papa is getting me a dress for Christmas, a new one, that he had nana take me to a fitter for, a grown up dress.
His Lordship has been away, and is out tonight, so I can sneak up there and explore, while Papa is busy.
Sitting in the café, I remember climbing the stairs, and going into the music room. It was large, and dark, with French doors out onto the balcony, and a beautiful piano. I hid under the piano, in a shadow, very still.
After a time I heard the soft tread on the stairs. I remember thinking it was nana or Papa looking for me, and froze still, hoping they would not find me. A shadow stopped in the doorway, and I expected it to continue on, but it did not. The shadow tilted its head, and seemed to sniff the air slightly, and then stepped into the room, and began to move towards the piano, and my hiding place. By now I knew it was not nana, or Papa, and that the Master had come home early.
This was his room. He did not allow anyone else to come here, only rarely, and this was the first time I had defied my father and come in. My heart beat faster, as he trod quietly across the floor. He stopped, pausing in the middle of the room, lighting a fragrant stick, and turning his back for just a moment. One moment was all I needed, as I ran silently to the curtains at the open doors, and slipped behind them. I expected to hear the footsteps leave and go back downstairs, but instead they continued to the piano, the scrape of the stool, and he sat and began to play.
The music was beautiful. It was wonderful, like angels from heaven. My breath was stolen from me at its beauty, and I stood in transfixed silence, behind the drapes, my heart pounding to its rhythm.
As I remember, I look up and close my eyes, the sound of that unearthly music in my ears. I know now that he knew I was there, that he’d have heard the beat of my heart as surely as I hear the tread of those in the café. And so I am drawn into the pages again.
I was so transported that I did not notice the music had stopped, till the concealing curtain was drawn aside. He stood, smiling down at me as I stood guiltily at being caught.
“Did you like it, ma petite?” He asked, his voice like soft velvet roses.
I blushed, and said I had to go, I should not be in here, but he gently stopped me, and said I could stay, and he would play some more, if I liked.
That little child, her blood rushing to the surface of her skin, that he must have sensed, all quivering and jittery at the angel. I sit shaking my head slightly, as I recall the absolute completeness with which the Inquisitrix seduced Gwynefar under his spell. A heart forever scarred, forever damaged, by her exposure to kindred.
He took my hand in his, looking at me with curiosity, in those blue/green eyes, as he drew me over to the piano. He sat down, and lifted me onto his lap, so I rested against his chest, his arms around me, fingers on the keys, and his lips next to my ear, whispering. As he played, he whispered in my ear about the music, and what it meant. The whole world became that whisper, the music of angels, and the scent of roses.
Remembering….
I sat there, warm in his arms, and then finally Papa came in, looking worried. He paused with surprise when he saw me sitting in Vittorio’s lap. He began to apologise, concerned that he was angry, and was waved to silence. The Inquisitrix smiled, and laughed, and gave me permission to come to the music room if I wished, and continued to play for us. As it got late, Papa, who had stayed and listened and watched him with me, an unreadable expression in his eyes, told me that it was bedtime. The Master lifted me into his arms and smiled and said that my Papa was correct and I should go to sleep. Standing me on my feet, he kneeled down, bowing and kissing my hand, making me blush, and told me that his name was Vittorio. As I stammered thank you, Papa took me to bed.
That night, on the edge of sleep, the scent returned, and all around me whispered Good night Gwynefar….. as a pair of lips brushed across my face…
Ooc Note: Christmas 1809 Gwynefar would have been 10. This scene is only 1-2 years before her father’s death/embrace, and the commencement of the Inquisitrix’s seduction of Gwynefar into kindred society.
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Date: 2006-12-18 09:25 am (UTC)=^..^=