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He found himself chasing something. Didn’t know what. Didn’t know where it was coming from. Didn’t know where it was leading him. Probably not the smartest thing for him to do, was it? Could be White Moon magic luring him into a trap, and he could see himself getting a scolding for being a little willfully negligent. Provided he didn’t die or get abducted or whatever would come from a ‘trap.’ Didn’t feel dangerous, though. …What trap would?
But Weissite had to seek it, had to seek that alluring sound. A melody he couldn’t place, but felt like he knew. He racked his brain for where he might have heard those chords. Something his wife had introduced him to, once upon a time? Too foreign and bizarre for something his kid had known…
But neither of those sounded right. It wasn’t something off the radio, not something from tv, he couldn’t think of a movie that might have such a language in it… Haunting and slow but somehow gentle. If he could reach it, maybe he would get those answers. Having it would bring him comfort. He wanted that. Desperately. If it was even a tiny piece of his past, he would hoard it jealously and be happy to have remembered it. He just had to catch it.
Weissite was moving through the city back alleys, paying almost no mind to his surroundings besides just that song. If anyone came upon him, he wouldn’t be alerted to them until it was too late.
But it just did not seem to matter how much he ran, how much he chased, how far he traveled. He couldn’t remember where he knew that music from, and it just didn’t get any closer, still no indication of what produced it. Its evasiveness was already making Weissite anxious, like it was intentionally teasing him. He wasn’t meant to catch and find it. But then why even be out in the air for him at all? Why did it speak to him so if he wasn’t meant to reach it? Seemed unfair. Intentionally damaging and hurtful for no purpose.
The music would disappear on him, and there was nothing he could do about it, despite his desperate search. He didn’t even know what good he expected to find out of reaching it, besides just that he would have it, and maybe there was some meager possibility of an explanation for the familiarity. But that wasn’t going to happen, was it? After a crescendo that made his heart pulse in some kind of anticipation and anxiety, the vocals started to fade. The music was leaving him.
As things did.
Weissite wasn’t unfamiliar with loss, but that didn’t mean it didn’t sting. His heart had wanted it to be something that he could hold onto and that would bring him peace. It didn’t even make sense for him to want or expect that from something he couldn’t even fully identify, but that possibility had been there in his mind: that that song, if he could identify it, was something special to him… And now it was gone, and Weissite had no way of getting closer to it again, no way if knowing what it was supposed to mean.
