Moon's Lament

It was slowly becoming colder out as the season progressed, but that didn’t really matter to Lucilius. He had warmed himself with a bit of rum earlier and although it didn’t affect him terribly, it did numb the tips of his fingers and ward the feeling of cold. His blood thinned by the booze was doing him no good in truth since it was simply making him more susceptible to the cold.

Still, atop the roof was the only place he could practice in peace and it would be entirely unacceptable to do it where it might disturb others. So up the stairs he climbed his head swimming with the weariness of his insomnia. It was a strain for him to even cary the violin in its protective case, the it only weighed a few pounds, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. It was simply one of those nights. He looked up, pushing his glasses up his delicate face to get a better look. The door wasn’t far now. A few steps later he took a soothing breath and pushed the door open, letting the cool breeze wash over him and the moonlight dance upon him.

A moment later he stepped fully into the breeze, looking at the half-moon suspended in the wreath of stars. He stood there for a long moment, eyes closed. Something about moonlight tended to have a soothing effect on him, perhaps it had something to do with his… Abilities.

He pushed on, setting his violin case on a bench. He didn’t much care for music or playing, but it was simply unacceptable for him to let his skills wither and die with age. He must maintain a certain level of excellence. That was the way it had to be, there really wasn’t much of a choice. Long delicate fingers flicked open the latched on the case and a moment later he and all of his grace and elegance were poised perfectly, violin to his chin, eyes closed. He took a deep breath.

He played sad songs, traditional songs. But his playing was stiff and forced. He couldn’t put the feeling into the strokes the way most musicians did, though he clearly knew the notes. He did not sway like most violinists. He did not dance. He stood straight and proud. His music was mechanical and devoid of life. The notes shamed the spectacular view he stood in front of and the man in the moon shook its head in disappointment. Such promise, so devoid of life.

He jumped at the sound of a door falling open and the flutter of paper butterflies departing. Her looked over his shoulder with cold, somewhat aggressive eyes. There he saw a lovely woman in a unfortunate situation. How irritating. I suppose it cant be helped, he thought, detached from even his own thoughts. His glare dissipated and instead blue eyes fell upon her with boredom. He lowered her violin and bow, standing still for a very long moment, staring at her. Suddenly the angelic man carefully set down the instrument and not a moment later he was kneeling before the beauty with an outstretched hand. “Est-ce une façon pour une femme de parler?”* he cooed, smirking and offering his hand.

The way he crouched, moved and spoke did nothing but exude the grace and charm that was the mask he adapted to deal with the outside world. He smiled kindly at her, shaking his head calmly. “Of course not, you are perfectly welcome to join me Miss.” His breath smelled link mint tea, not at all like the poison he had earlier drank. “But might I ask what brings you here so late?” He was hoping too have a nice quiet night of practicing before going back to work in the early morning. He didn’t sleep much, but many others didn’t have such severe insomnia and he counted on that to get some of his chores done. It was truly a bother to have her here, but he would never say so out loud.

Intended Translation: “Is that any way for a lady to speak?”

When his hand touched her’s there was a strange sting of electricity. Unknown to the lovely lady, this was due to both the fact that physical contact brought him great discomfort and from his powers. It was almost like a zap, but felt a little less sharp and a little more warm. He smiled at her, his eyes were empty but his mouth was disarming and charming. He bowed his head gracefully to her. “All is forgotten Miss. I am Lucilius Valle. It is quite the pleasure.” He straightened himself again, still smiling at her.

He watched her closely and with measured movements slowly looked over his shoulder at the instrument. He gave her quite the smirk as she finished her thoughts, his eyes sparkling with wit and intelligence but mostly simply with amusement. He found her… Amusing thus far. He wasn’t exactly good judgment or with people, and certainly not both together, but he felt that he could tell there was some sort of deepness to this person, whatever that might mean. He raised a brow, standing very slowly and steadily. “Pardon, Madame.” He paused and pushed his glasses up his nose before folding his hands behind his back. “I apologize if my practice this evening has disturbed you.” He then proceeded to give her his absolute most husky, smoldering stare and his absolute most attractive smile. “Is there any way I can make it up to you?” His voice sounded quite innocent, though his face may or may not have been.

It was strange. In France, he had come upon refined ladies like Louise often. But there was something about finding one living outside of the upper class French society that made him feel… Strange. In a good way. Like she was a person he’d known a long time and had just recognized for the first time in many years, though Lucilius himself would never be able to identify it as such. The comfort he felt by her simple existence made him uncomfortable and some sort of battle waged in the back of his mind. For once, he couldn’t actually decide that he hated someone upon meeting them.

Normally he would have argued that calling a woman he just met anything other than her proper last time would be entirely inappropriate, but he could sense that this woman was older and had a sort of dominate personality that prevented him from doing so. Though he didn’t like it, he accepted it. “It you insist Miss Louise.” He allowed her to win this ‘battle’ that was a battle to no one but his own mind but he still was quite sure he would keep the upper hand in this encounter. It was always like that with Lucilius, he needed to feel he was in control and even if he wasn’t, he needed to feel like it was his decision that it ended up that way. So far so good.

He studied every movement of her body, casually stepping back and putting distance between the two of them as she spoke. “Perhaps you are correct.” He spoke shortly, almost rudely, though it was intended to be a simple observation. He was pleased that she had come to the conclusion on her own. It was always irritating when some daft woman would blame him for her idiocy, which for some reason was an annoyingly frequent trend and he wasn’t sure why.

He smirked and raise his eyebrows behind his glasses, looking at her with great interest. She certainly was an interesting lady, wasn’t she? He found himself for the first time in a very long time actually enjoying listening to someone talk. It was too often people used rather disgusting slang in his presence. He looked her up and down very obviously, not really thinking to hide something that was intended to size her up rather than check her out. He nodded silently before bowing.

“As you wish” He purred before turning away from her and returning to her instrument. Everything he did was intentional and all his emotions fake. It was rare to find such a graceful robot, but here he was, raising a violin to his chin and beginning to play. He played a piece he has written himself. It was both angry and sad but more than anything it was a piece that truly showcased his feelings and lack and understanding of the world. Though he was not a very good communicator, nor a very good violin player, creating things was Lucilius’ only saving grace. Though he did not write music often, it was more than anyone could ever expect from a novice.