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((I actually checked both for availability before I posted. You have no idea how tempted I was to take them. XD))

Naomi had answered already? She must be at her computer at this very moment. He quickly read her reply, then read it again as though he could not believe it. It seemed such a strange answer to him. She preferred the mocking, dubious comfort of strangers? In Alyekzander's experience, no outsider could possibly actually care about the daily life of someone they were not close to. They watched only to look down their noses and jeer while painting a mask of compassion that fooled no one. He did not expect the internet, where one could be openly snide and still maintain the text of a concerned friend, to be any different. But he certainly could not detail these feelings to Naomi. He hardly thought she would be pleased by it and then he would have to start all over with some new identity.

Did he intend to continue communicating this way, then? Of all the nonsensical, ridiculous hobbies! He really should get back to work. Alyekzander frowned slightly at the simple, yet puzzling reply from Naomi. One more message, just one, he instructed himself. Otherwise he would never be able to concentrate. His fingers poised above the keys as he thought. What could he say of his reaction without alienating the girl? Perhaps he should start with a bit of commiseration. After all, he understood all too well about her sudden life changes. Five new sisters, sharing the home that no longer seemed so vast and peaceful, and a woman who used to wipe the mud from his face sitting at his mother's place at supper. But where Naomi turned to the internet, Alyekzander could not imagine baring his family's... newly acquired dysfunction to a world of sniggering jackals behind glowing monitors.

I can definitely understand what you mean. It must be really difficult having your world turned upside down like that. My own family is having a few rough changes as well, but I have never been so comfortable about sharing my problems with people I don't know.

That was good; make it about himself rather than attacking what he saw as her naivete. And it was true. Though, the more he thought of it, he did not speak to people he knew, either. He had too little in common with his brothers and, other than a general animosity toward the sisters shared by most of them, there had been no real communication about the change. His father... no. he would not have his father see him as a sniveling child stamping his feet when told to share his 'toys'. For just a moment Alyekzander sighed and missed his mother. Then he frowned and shoved that thought into the darkest pit of his soul where it belonged. He had been given all the time he would have to be sentimental. His father was already remarried; surely he did not expect his sons to still be clinging to the memory of a dead woman.

Or sharing my problems at all, really. I guess I just never know who I can trust not to be just laughing at me on the inside. Or severely disappointed in me for my weaknesses.

Oh God, what was he saying? That was entirely too close to the truth and Alyekzander reached immediately for the backspace key. But in the end he left the text as it was. He gritted his teeth and looked scornfully at the words he had typed. How could such a short message make him sound so... frail? Was that all he was made of? It made Alyekzander angry with himself, and yet he could think of no other words. Ah, damn it to hell, this was all Naomi's fault. He sent the message.

Well, that answer made a certain amount of sense, Alyekzander reasoned as he read over Naomi's latest response. He had already seen Madeline break down into tears and could no more understand that than he had initially understood the purpose of v-logging. It had never occurred to him to decide upon which was the lesser of two evils; he chose to do neither.

Alyekzander idly perused some of the comments to Naomi's videos. He was not really reading them, none of these people interested him, but he was curious about how many unique individuals commented on a regular basis. Most of these people she knew as friends? Alyekzander knew a fair number of people, but he did not consider very many of them friends. The few he did tend to keep close were usually the children of his father's business associates. Needless to say, he could not really trust them either.

Wait, did she think he intended to vlog? Not a chance. Not even if Hell froze over and tomorrow's bacon came with little wings. Besides, even if he wanted to, how exactly would he pull that off? Standing behind the camera with it pointed at a wall? Really, it would simply not work.

Curiosity sated, for now at least, Alyekzander finally closes his browser and gets back to work. He still ponders over Naomi's outlook, however. Or was it himself he was pondering? The more he thought about Naomi's responses, the more he struggled to figure out exactly what his alternative was. If he had no alternative, if he was just bottling every negative thought, then should he be worried there would be consequences? He could not afford there to be consequences.

Then another thought saved him from such maudlin introspection. What did she mean she has caused her family enough trouble since day one of her life? That hardly seemed possible. As far as he could tell, the closest Naomi came to trouble was wasting her breath arguing with Domanik. And well, besides Alyekzander, who did not occasionally waste precious moments on such a fruitless endeavor? So, what did she mean? He was tempted to ask, but refrained. He still had work to do.

Marcus sat moodily behind the piano, staring at the Stradivarius case. Ever since he'd touched it yesterday, his fingers had itched to play it. No. Squaring his shoulders, and assuming the proper position, Marcus plunged himself headfirst into a loud and moody Mozart piece. He poured his anger and grief and longing into it. He played as though the notes of music could restore his mother. As though they could fill the hole her death left in his heart. And, in a small way, they did heal him. It was like a bandage for him.

Once the final notes had played out though, his pain returned, however, it was dimmed, diminished in a tiny way. He was ready to use it at any rate. He pulled some paper out of his bench. It was the song he was writing. He looked what he had so far over, before playing it. He crossed a few notes out, and added some. However, this page was so covered in crossouts and notations that he soon needed to re-copy it on another. He did so, and played the result. It was good, but it wasn't quite finished yet. He continued to play.

Domanik took the box from Madeline and set it down on the table, before reading the box. "You know how to play Go?" He asked, an eyebrow raised. It was one of Markus's games, some Japanese something or other, that Domanik had attempted to play a few times, but had as yet failed to grasp the concept of. However, if she was unfamiliar with the game too, then maybe he stood a chance of winning. "You wanna be white or black?"

Crap, she knew how to play!? Stupid Japan geeks. Domanik's blush increased ever so slightly. "I've actually only played a couple of times, with Markus. And, well, he's not so good at explaiing the rules. Actually, I just kind of sat there while he played himself." It was true. Markus's 'instructions' had been mainly to place Dom's pieces for him until Dom had gotten fed up enough to knock the board over. Markus hadn't asked him to play since, which was all for the good, as far as Dom was concerned. "Please don't tell Markus we played. I really don't want to sit through the torture of playing with him again."

Markus in the meantime, was alternating between playing loud, stormy pieces on his piano as loudly and stormily as possible, composing his own music and staring at the violin case. he knew he was being a bit of a baby. Picking up the violin would do him no harm. His brief encounter with it yesterday had proven that. Still, he was skittish about actually taking it out of its case.

Oh, for heaven's sake, was that Markus? Of course it was Markus. No one else was likely to playing at all, let alone reasonably well. But really, that depressing sound was not improving his mood at all. Alyekzander ignored the music as best he could for several songs, but Markus was not letting up. He even watched a few more of Naomi's videos before he finally decided that was enough. What could Markus possibly be depressed about? He had seemed in high spirits earlier. Annoyed, but partially welcoming the distraction, Alyekzander rises and leaves his room, opting to remain barefoot. He makes his way quickly to the music room, but stops short. Before he could more than part his lips, he realized Markus was, at that very moment, looking at the one instrument no one touched any more. markus had mentioned it the day before as well, Alyekzander vaguely remembered. Something to do with Madeline.

Alyekzander sighs, then strides over to the piano bench. He sits next to Markus, though he faces away from the instrument. "The dead are wide awake now. We wonder if you want to talk about it." He joked wryly. Well, no one had ever said he had the greatest humor.

She was quiet too, not wanting to set him off. He was pretty good and she liked the challenge. In the end he won, but she didn't mind. "Good game!" she exclaimed happily.

"Well, since you already know that taking Domanik seriously is an exercise in futility and frustration, I suppose I need not remind you. But that also means it does not really bother you that he said it at all. It bothers you that it is just close enough to true and yet you do nothing to correct it." Alyekzander placed a hand on Markus' shoulder and looked at him sternly. "Unlike Domanik, you know I would not say so to harm you. But if it does truly harm you, these mere words from someone you know has only that purpose in mind, then it really is time you do something. Either accept that you will change nothing and that it is none of anyone else's business, or open that case and play something mother would have liked in her memory."

Well, whether Markus wanted to talk about the Stradivarius or not, Alyekzander had already seen him look and the thought did not leave his mind easily. Alyekzander knew that, for himself, he had long ago decided it was no one's concern but his own how he reacted to his loss. And honestly, if any one had batted an eye at just how short and private his open mourning had been, he had not cared to notice. But Markus was not Alyekzander. "You are not a wimp. You are not even afraid. You are just stubborn like every male in this family; when you decided you could not bear to touch an instrument you love, you never revisited that decision. And that would be fine if you could at least convince yourself that is the way you want it. Do you really, Markus?"