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 Posted: Sun Jun 12, 2011 7:48 am
 Late at night, always late at night. Orpheus had snuck into the kitchen and entertained his secret and somewhat embarrassing hobby: baking. If only he was good at something manly, like preparing red meat. But he wasn't. Like all other aspects of his life, he was good at only what he was passionate about. Which was usually music. In any case, something divine and delicious was spreading through the hallways. That something being the smell of baking cupcakes.
They were pumpkin cupcakes (what else?) and Orpheus was busy making the icing for them. It was a buttercream icing, a little extra vanilla, and some orange dye. He was making his favourite jack o lantern cupcakes, and so he also had a vial of black sprinkles and one of black bat sprinkles ready. He had removed the cupcakes out of the oven some ten minutes ago or so, so that they could cool off and solidify enough that he could put the icing on without losing half of jack's face. Onto each cupcake face he painted an apricot glaze, which would keep the icing from ruining the cupcake as he applied it. Then he put the orange icing on, applied the faces, and sprinkled some bats as an afterthought. They looked a little homely, as he was in a hurry, but he loved feeling as though he could be caught at any moment. That was really why he'd been so secretive, wasn't it? That, and protecting his manliness.
Orpheus picked up his book, which he had covered with a layer of foil and placed all his cupcakes on, and headed back into the hallway after having cleaned up the evidence of his presence. As soon as he flicked off the light, he could hear piano, though... and he found himself wandering through the hallways to find its source. It was truly beautiful.
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Posted: Wed Jun 15, 2011 2:48 pm
Requiem was not asleep. He should have been, but after a few hours of tossing and turning, dozing in brief fits and spells, and waking every few moments for various reasons (most of which had to do with his dreams - or rather, his nightmares), Requiem had given up on slumber for the night. At first he had spent his unexpected free time absently doodling in one of his notebooks. But he had never been a very good artist, and the sketches looked more like a child's scribbles than anything else, so he had quickly extinguished that idea. He had tried composing, but it was difficult and not something he could concentrate well on when the moonlight was streaking across his face and room.
Finally he had given up on being productive. His head was beginning to spin again, his chest feeling tight, and Requiem had quietly slipped from his room, padding silently down the dark, empty hallways of Makai Academy. It had only taken him moments to reach his destination, but once there he carefully shut the door to the music room behind him and stepped across the hardwood floor to the piano that sat against the far wall.
He supposed it wasn't the most intelligent idea, playing music so late at night, but the rhythms, the notes, the way the keys felt beneath his fingers...they would relax him, make him feel more at ease with himself. Requiem slipped onto the bench, lifting up the piano cover slowly so as to not create too much noise. Then he let his fingers drift across the cold ivory, relishing the sensation of them against his skin. After a moment he began to play, slowly and quietly. A softer tune, not meant for many ears, one that dwelt in sadness and bittersweet tragedy.
Perhaps one day he would create a song that would be pleasant, but for now...Requiem closed his eyes, inhaling slowly, hands moving steadily across the keys of the piano.
For now, nothing but darkness.
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Posted: Wed Jun 22, 2011 2:45 pm
Was it a spirit, that played such perfect music? Orpheus loved the sound, but he could never play anything like it. His hands just didn't understand what to do. One would go one way, and the other would simply follow it. In the end, he had chosen to focus on only string instruments. His best was his violin, but he practiced that sparringly since moving to the school. His guitar had become even friendlier towards him.
The music was so sad though. It reminded him of things he'd lost, or never had, and... he felt despondent. He mourned things lost which he, alone, didn't care much about. Like the family he hadn't had. But he shook his head, and steeled himself: the music was beautiful, but not entirely meant for him. He was happy, he had so many surrogate families that it didn't make sense to miss one that he'd never known. Couldn't prove in the negative.
Orpheus wound his ways through the halls, cupcakes in hand, until he found the door: the music room, of course. He leaned his head against the door of the music room, his free palm pressed against it, and listened. Whatever was playing behind this door, whoever it was, their music was heartbreaking. So when he finally put his hand on the doorknob and turned it to let himself in as quietly as he could, he didn't do it with his usual enthusiasm. He was reserved, polite, and... he was curious, of course. He wanted to see who it was who played such things late at night.
Pale hair, eyes like honey, was that truly what he looked like? The witchling at the piano fit the music he played. Orpheus watched quietly, but he couldn't help himself. He found one of the violins, and after gently placing it next to his ear and running his fingers along the strings to see if it was tuned, he placed his bow to the violin. Normally, any addition would ruin such music, but-- Orpheus could not only hear it, he could feel it. He felt what the piano was saying, and in turn he used the violin to respond. It was his way of introducing himself. When words weren't enough.
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Posted: Fri Jul 01, 2011 10:59 pm
Requiem had been too caught up in his music to take notice of the fact that he was being watched. It was not an unusual thing; he often lost himself within the notes, the sounds, the way the rhythm seemed to reverberate up and down his spine, travel through his veins, dance into his fingers and his legs and feet. It soothed his mind, the music; soothed his heart and his soul, calmed his troubled breathing, gentled the creeping black fingers that twisted around his insides. Sometimes Requiem wondered what it was like, to be a human. Would he still feel the same now, if he were not what he was? He knew that humans did not have to feel the same sort of bleak, mind-numbing hunger he felt much too often, but what were the other differences? Did they feel as alone as he did? Someone separated from the entirety of the rest of the students because of what he was inside?
The music came to a slow, echoing stop, the last few notes drifting around the room like the last leaves of a tree falling off of gnarled branches, and for a few moments Requiem just sat there, his gaze on the piano keys. He did not speak, merely let his gaze rest on the sharp black and white contrast, his fingers very slowly slipping from the cool ivory.
Requiem closed his eyes. Inhaled deeply. Then he opened them again, swiveling sideways on the bench. It was only then that he realized that he was not alone, and Requiem's head tiled upwards, his expression one of caution and wariness. It was past midnight, which meant that the rest of the students were in bed - or at least, they were supposed to be. Requiem was often an exception to that, and it seemed as if tonight he was not the only one.
"...who are you?" he asked quietly. "What are you doing here..?"
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Posted: Wed Jul 13, 2011 8:18 am
Orpheus was in the process of replacing the violin where it belonged and preparing to sneak out when the strange witchling finally addressed him. He ran a hand through his hair, disturbing its already messy peaks, and thought of how to answer. "By 'who are you,' I guess you want my name, huh?" Orpheus pushed his hands in his pockets and took a couple steps forward, slowly. He felt a little like it would be easy to startle this stranger. "Orpheus Dovleac," he said. "What about you?"
There was still a foreign and heavy feeling settling over Orpheus. He felt as if the door had been a membrane to another world, one which was much darker than his own late-night baking forrays would warrant, and he had no warning. The space which he now occupied felt like it was explicitly belonging to the stranger. As such, he shifted back and forth kind of uncomfortably. He had picked his cupcakes up when he was about to escape, and now cradled them against his chest with one arm, inhaling whenever he could, as they were still fresh and warm.
"I was..uh..." Baking, was his natural reply. But he stopped himself from saying it aloud. "I don't need a lot of sleep." It wasn't that he was tormented by anything, or plagued by nightmares. He just liked to be up at night, when all the lights glowed so softly. Not like the daytime. And at night, everything became his own personal playground. Ever slid down a waxed banister at midnight? He had, and many other things. But he'd never thought to play music in this room. After all, he had his own stringed insruments. They represented nearly every coin of income he had ever made.
Slowly, he took another step towards the witchling, so that the cupcakes were in better light. Bright orange, with jack-o-lantern faces. "Would you like one?" he asked. "Who are you, by the way?" Orpheus didn't ask why he was there; it wasn't any of his business.
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Posted: Sat Jul 16, 2011 10:55 am
His questions were not entirely intrusive; or at least, they had not been meant as an interrogation, merely an inquisitive curiosity, since Requiem had been alone when he had started playing. He had not heard the violin enter into the melody, but now that he thought about it, there had been a certain sense of fullness to it that made much more sense after seeing the boy set the violin aside. It was clear that he had been playing along with him, which made Requiem feel slightly awkward.
"...Requiem," he answered, after a moment. "Requiem Driscoll."
It was unusual; very unusual. Not once had Requiem been interrupted in one of his late night forays into the music room; this was his sanctuary, his place of respite and relaxation. So the fact that someone was standing here, in this space with him, was...unexpected. But Requiem was not angry, nor upset; he felt a tad ill at ease from the interruption, but at the same time there was a sort of curiosity at how someone had managed to break into this world of his that was so wholly untouched as of yet.
He glanced at the book covered in foil that the boy - Orpheus - was holding, trying to figure out just what was sitting on top of them; it was difficult to see in the soft twilight inside the room, the darkness from the night pressing against the windows. "Not a lot of sleep..?" Requiem repeated, casting a vaguely confused glance towards him. What type of person did not require a lot of sleep, after all? Perhaps...perhaps Orpheus was like him.
The thought was quickly extinguished; Requiem shook his head, the movement barely visible. His eyes flickered towards the book again, and this time Orpheus had stepped forward and Requiem could see clearly what was settled neatly on top of it.
"...cupcakes?" he said uncertainly. They were beautifully made, carefully crafted with a bright orange frosting and black faces. Requiem's stomach growled unintentionally, and he glanced up at Orpheus again. "...may I..?"
He hesitated reaching for one, however; an introduction first was only proper. "...my name is Requiem Driscoll."
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Posted: Wed Aug 17, 2011 11:21 pm
Orpheus hadn't meant to make Requiem feel uncomfortable. It was just that music made so much sense to Orpheus, and it was easier for him to talk in music than it was in words. In music, each note was a voice without falter; with words, they could slip, or be lost. Orpheus understood with some intrinsic part of himself what someone was saying when they played. Which was potentially why Requiem's music had reached some place previously shut off to the rest of the world within Orpheus. It calmed him down, nearly made him sombre. He was not one to become sombre so easily, however, and his eyes glowed dimly in the dark, their orange light casting down his cheeks. He wasn't sure why his eyes were like that; it was, as far as he could tell, a sort of "birth defect," but likely came from a magical mishap when he was younger.
It was not entirely surprising Orpheus hadn't wandered into Requiem yet. He was usually up at this hour, but he never needed to go into the music room; Orpheus' instruments were all in his room. He didn't need a piano, because he was rather miserable at it. He cradled the cupcakes closer to him briefly, blinking up at Requiem in the dark. "Requiem? A musical term," Orpheus said, pausing, thinking to himself with a smile, "it's perfect. Suits you pretty well, I think."
He could see Requiem peering at the book, though he wasn't sure what the other might be thinking. Or really if he was even looking at the book. Was he simply staring at Orpheus in a strange way? He had just barged in, after all, and interrupted Requiem's playing. Orpheus hoped he hadn't made the Witchling dislike him right off the bat. "Yeah. I just don't get tired that easy. I belong in the dead hours, when everything is possible," Orpheus speculated, his eyes cast to the side, the soft glow illuminating his cheeks and casting as much into shadow as they highlighted.
"I'd appreciate it if you took at least one," Orpheus replied. "Ideally, several; I can't eat all of these on my own," he added, grinning. Hesitantly, he approached the witchling and offered up the cupcakes. "Let's eat together, Requiem. Nobody else is awake, we can celebrate." Though Orpheus suspected that, given Requiem's musical tastes, he was not entirely in as celebratory a mood as Orpheus himself was, it wasn't in his nature to tiptoe around someone just because they seemed down. Besides, he really didn't want to eat all the cupcakes alone.
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