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Writing
Mar 13, 2008 9:17:41 GMT -5
Post by Xavier on Mar 13, 2008 9:17:41 GMT -5
*Xavier sat in one of the rehearsal rooms at a desk, responding to a letter his sister had written him. Pretty little Marie had, it appeared, been put into society, and claimed that 'you're the only one who really gets it, Xavi, and I haven't heard from you in ages'. He smiled when he had received it, and hadn't had time until now, as they were working on a scene without him, to respond.*
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Writing
Jun 19, 2008 20:40:05 GMT -5
Post by Carlos Castro on Jun 19, 2008 20:40:05 GMT -5
**NEW DAY**
Carlos hurried breathlessly into the rehearsal room, an abused sheet of blank music paper in his hand. He smoothed it out, placed it on the piano, and sat. It had been some time since he'd plunked out notes on his own, but he set to work, biting his tongue once in awhile as he sought the correct rhythm or note.
He went through several sheets of paper. It needed, he assumed, to be perfect. He sang it through time and again, to compare.
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Writing
Jun 19, 2008 21:02:58 GMT -5
Post by Erik Destler on Jun 19, 2008 21:02:58 GMT -5
The mere working of his music was a bit of a charge for him and he was able to gather himself up enough after several attempts on Carlos' part to finally push himself forward.
He didn't "speak" has he'd done before, instead he sort of planted the skill it took to finish the art into Carlos' mind. The tenor would suddenly find that the piano was as familiar an instrument as his own voice, if not moreso, and his fingers would easily fly across the keys.
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Writing
Jun 19, 2008 21:09:13 GMT -5
Post by Carlos Castro on Jun 19, 2008 21:09:13 GMT -5
The sensation overtook Carlos with a sense of delight quite detached from the strange skill he now displayed. It was as if he was watching himself produce, which he essentially was. He did not know how long he was in such a state, scribbling, playing back, singing until he was almost hoarse.
At last he held the music in his hands, his eyes--and perhaps not only his--scanning the results for any flaws. The ground was littered with prior attempts.
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Writing
Jun 19, 2008 21:15:17 GMT -5
Post by Erik Destler on Jun 19, 2008 21:15:17 GMT -5
Destler had the presence now to be a sort of weight to Carlos, namely in the ring on the man's finger, which seemed heavy and constantly hot.
Perform it, as you were intended to. The more who hear it the better!
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Writing
Jun 19, 2008 21:21:43 GMT -5
Post by Carlos Castro on Jun 19, 2008 21:21:43 GMT -5
He could hear him, now, clearly, and there was something about the ring--it was heavier, hotter. As if... Well, he couldn't really explain it. But he was gripped with purpose, now, and nodded.
"I will," he said. "I'll go now."
Music in hand, he left as quickly as he'd arrived, without tidying up.
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