Melancholic Encore [Moriko/Mashiro]

“

Without music, life would be a mistake.

Rumours tend to die as fast as they are created, and the legend of the Ghost of the Piano Room disappeared almost as quickly as it came about, though Mashiro suspected that a certain New Zealander in the theatre section had a hand in dispelling that situation. For the most part, Mashiro told herself she didn't mind the whole debacle, and in the end she was able to make a friend out of it, but the notion of being mistake for a ghost, even if it was an honest mistake instead of a malicious malapropriation, still stung.

And so melancholy fingers played a melancholy glissando as Mashiro traced her fingers across the keys of the grand piano of the classroom-turned-storage-room, the first friend she had made since she arrived in Fukui. Instead of gently resting them beneath the windowsill, the pianist let her backpack slip from her shoulders and fall to the floor with a defeated flutter. There was no more assignments to complete this time, so this afternoon's recital was purely for freeform composition. The setting autumn sun painted the storage room with an orange glow, illuminating the motes of floating dust kicked up by the pianist's movements.

Another glissando echoed through the room and into the hall. A strange inspiration seemed to strike the composer as she sat down and rested her pale fingers on the greying keys. One note, two notes, then three more slowly plodded out of the piano. Bit by bit, the tempo stabilized and the melody congealed to express the pianist's pained feelings that she had no words for. Mashiro's crimson eyes remained open even as tears started to streak down them.

At first, the footsteps from outside the room were drowned out by the force of the piano, but soon the plodding echoes introduced more and more dissonance until Mashiro could no longer ignore it. Teary eyes closed briefly before swiftly reopening and sharply turning her head to see who dared interrupt her. And in the doorway, Mashiro found a face she had never seen before, and she studied it attempting to divine the reason for the intervention, all with that tear-stained glare on her face.

[ Moriko Byrne | 372 | ♫MUSIC | NOTES ]

MADE BY KAIZU OF WW AND TWF

Moriko is not a musically inclined girl. Not in the least bit. She can hold a decent howl and vary the pitches and tones. She's actually pretty good a mimicking various animal sounds. When it comes to singing or creating music, though, she's never been much for either. Even humming is something that she's never really picked up on. But that doesn't mean that she doesn't appreciate music. Quite the contrary, she greatly enjoys listening to it. Her preferences mostly tilt towards instrumental over lyrical songs.

Due to her inclinations, Moriko has never had much of a reason to visit the Music and Theater Building. None of her current classes happen to be about music. Even her major, traditional Japanese wood-carving, has very little to do with the subject. So, despite having been at Fukui Academy for a few months now, this is the first time that Moriko has ever stepped foot in the building.

She's not here for any specific purpose. Outside of her desire to explore, that is. She'd overheard some of the other students talking about how taking a music course is required at this school. And Moriko has zero experience in that department. To prepare for the inevitable, the short girl decided to go explore the building.

This is exactly what she's doing, when suddenly the strains of a piano floats into her ears. Following the sound, Moriko finds a door slightly ajar. Curious, she pushes the door open more and peers into the room. There, sitting before a piano and playing it, is a very pale person. Her fingers find the keys of the instrument without hesitation, her movements fluid and sure. She sounds so... sad... Moriko thinks.

Even as the thought crosses her mind, the pale girl starts crying. Feeling distinctly uncomfortable, she's about to back away when suddenly the other girl whips her head around and stares at her. She's been noticed! Freezing in place, Moriko stares back, her teal eyes wide.

“

Without music, life would be a mistake.

An uncomfortable silence reigned as Mashiro examined the teal-eyed girl with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. It was a face that Mashiro did not remember, telling her that either the girl was one she did had never met before, or that her prided facial memory was starting to crumble from disuse. For the sake of sanity, the musician decided it was the former.

It was only after shivering a little that Mashiro noticed that she was crying. Using the long sleeve of her uniform, the pianist dried her tears and turned to face the interloper. Mashiro hopped off the stool with a soft tapping sound and bowed respectfully out of habit.

"Ah...good afternoon," came the usual whispery voice. "My apologies for the rude interruption and introduction. How can I help you this evening? Do you need something from this room?" Mashiro gestured to the items that were scattered around room, stained orange by the setting sun. Even though Mashiro, and sometimes her classmate Kotone, were the only ones who used the piano, many of their classmates still used the room to store textbooks, stands, instruments, and few other odds and ends.

[ Moriko Byrne | 194 | ♫MUSIC | NOTES ]

MADE BY KAIZU OF WW AND TWF

Moriko shifts uneasily at the other girl's scrutiny. It feels intense, those red eyes sweeping up and down her slender frame in a distinctly searching manner. She's still dressed in the school's uniform, though her shirt and pants are a bit wrinkled at this point. As is per usual for her by this time in the day. A strong desire to bolt fills her, her usual response to being the center of such direct attention. But the sad sound of the piano still haunts her mind, causing hesitation.

Tear tracks gleam in the dying sun's light, lines of shimmering red-orange wending their way down those alabaster cheeks. The other girl suddenly shivers. She raises her arm, her bright eyes obscured by the limb as she wipes away the proof of her previous crying. Before Moriko can feel a sense of relief from the other's stare, the pianist returns her attention to her. Only this time, she's turned directly towards the shorter girl.

When the other girl hops off of the stool, Moriko can't help the slight flinch she gives. The movement is abrupt and unexpected, after all. All this time, the brown haired girl keeps her eyes focused on the white haired girl. She's not budged from her spot, frozen as she is by her own indecision. Should she stay, or should she go? But now the decision is taken out of her hands. The other student has spoken, and it's a question directed specifically towards her. And it'd be terribly rude of her to not answer.

Blinking at the inquiry, Moriko bites her lower lip nervously. Both of her hands are pressed into the wood of the door frame, her grip tightening slightly in her apprehension. Her tongue feels like lead in her mouth, too heavy and too dry. Talking to strangers is hard! Swallowing, she shakes her head in reply, her teals locked onto the other girl. She doesn't return the bow, feeling much too worried to do so. Instead, she takes a steadying breath, trying to calm herself down. It's only one girl. There's no one else. You can do this.

She's so jumpy because she's definitely just interrupted a private occasion. She's seen something that she's certain she was not meant to. And people usually don't take kindly to these kinds of things. Past experiences are telling her to expect irritation and/or anger at her presence. Just thinking about it sets her on alert mode.

Averting her gaze, she ducks her head slightly. Peering out of the corners of her eyes, in an appeasing manner, she gives out a soft, "Sorry..."

All this, despite the fact that the other girl hadn't made any overtly aggressive moves. And she'd been polite enough when she'd asked her question. But it's better to be safe than sorry.

“

Without music, life would be a mistake.

A worried, tired, frown was Mashiro's default expression, and it remained as she watched the girl in the doorway grip the wooden frame so feircely that Mashiro wouldn't have been surprised if it suddenly broke. The pianist interpreted the shake of the head to mean that the green-eyed girl wasn't an unlucky gofer, which wasn't much of a bother either. It wasn't the first time Mashiro had encountered someone poking their head into the room out of curiousity, and in fact she had lost count because it seemed to be such a common occurance. But most of the time, whoever was snooping around was far more intrepid and would have introduced themselves about a five minutes ago.

"Ah? Why are you apologizing? You haven't done anything wrong." Mashiro asked, an expression of confusion mixing into her face. People had apologized before for their sudden intrusion, but never like this and it left Mashiro at a loss for what to do. If she was back in the shop in Hachiouji, she could try things like offer something sweet or tag her brother in for help. Slowly, she walked to the door, trying to see if she could figure out anything.

"Ah...are you okay? Are you sick? Do you need help with something?" More questions kept coming as Mashiro approached with careful steps, so soft that they seemed almost silence. It wasn't until she was about two or meters from the door did she notice how rather short the visitor was and it was another meter before it registered in the pianist's mind that she was possibly intimidating the other girl. Mashiro did her best her smile at a distance, hoping it would calm things down.

[ Moriko Byrne | 289 | ♫MUSIC | NOTES ]

MADE BY KAIZU OF WW AND TWF

Surprise flits across Moriko's face at the pale one's words, even as confusion enters her mind. Turning to face the other girl completely, she looks directly into those red eyes. Her own teals are wide with her surprise, the lowering sunlight streaming in from he windows gleaming in their bright depths.

Licking her lips nervously, Moriko speaks quietly, her bewilderment clear in her words, "But you... You were having a private moment." She lets go of the door frame and gestures vaguely towards the piano and then towards the pianist. "Which I got in the way of." Shifting guiltily in place, the shorter girl drops her gaze to the floor, only to quickly look back up. "That's why... sorry,"  she adds, her expression one of worry. She doesn't like the idea of interrupting someone during a moment when they think they're alone. Especially when they're clearly upset about something.

Moriko falls silent, her expression still apologetic and troubled. She still feels like she's done something wrong, despite the other's words to the contrary. Quietly, she watches as the other girl steps away from the piano and begins to head towards her. Not sensing any hostility, she still remains wary. But she's not nearly as tense as she'd been previously. Just... on guard. One can never know, after all. And this oddly pale girl is still a stranger to her.

But even as the other girl walks, Moriko finds herself feeling admiration. She steps so lightly... she muses, her gaze flicking briefly to the other's feet before once again focusing on her face. Then she blinks as suddenly the other girl is surrounded by the red-orange glow of the sinking sun.

Backlit by the illumination, the other's whole body seems consumed by it. The red-orange light bleeds around the other girl's form, turning her whole body slightly hazy in Moriko's sight. Her eyes give brief, brilliant flashes of crimson as her movement exposes them to the occasional shaft of sunlight, only to darken once again in the shadow of her own body. The strands of her white hair are stained the color of flickering flames. They float in the still air, their movement caused by the pianist's forward motion. Steps slow, deliberate and oh so quiet, it almost seems as of the other girl is gliding towards her.

Moriko can't help the soft intake of air at the other's approach. She finds herself unable to look away. Her head tilts back slightly as the other girl draws closer, so that she can keep her gaze on the other's face. The questions about her well being go unanswered. Normally, Moriko would never ignore questions directed her way, but this time, she's completely caught off guard. Tales her father had told her when she was younger rises to the forefront of her mind. Tales of the Fair Folk and the powers they hold. Without thinking, she asks a question of her own, her voice soft and breathy.

"<Are ye a Faerie, pale lady?>"

She accidentally slips into English, her Irish accent thicker than usual due to her wonder. Despite the suddenness of her question, her tone is soft and respectful, even as it's filled with her awe.

“

Without music, life would be a mistake.

That was right. Every person who stumbled across Mashiro waited for her to finish her song before announcing their presence. Except this time, it was Mashiro approaching the visitor instead of the other way around, and worse, increasingly at a loss for what to say or do. But before Mashiro could try once more to assure the smaller girl, the pianist was hit by a sudden burst of English.

Faerie.

That was a new one, and it left Mashiro with mixed feelings. There were so many names and labels brought up in the past. Ghost. Spirit. Monster. Cursed Yokai. All of it to poke fun at how different Mashiro looked. "Faerie" was new, and it was hard to parse why exactly that word. What exactly was a "Faerie"? Disney films seemed to turn them into mercurious little people with magic powers and undecypherable morals.

"<...I am no Faerie. I am a normal human, just like you.>" Mashiro replied with a slight frown, barely able to push away how rather hurt she was feeling. If this girl was using English, Mashiro reasoned that perhaps it was for the best to speak in English as well, on the off chance that the green-eyed girl was more comfortable with it. <"I just...have pale skin, while hair, and red eyes. That is all.>"

With a sigh, Mashiro started to walk backwards towards the piano, eventually sitting down on the stool. If the girl thought her be some otherworldly creature, then so be it. The pianist had little motivation to argue otherwise and turned to face the piano. Slender fingers pressed the ivory keys stained orange by the setting sun as another slow and somber melody filled the room.

<"To be honest, I have just been doing some free-form improvisation. You are free to take a seat and listen, if you desire.">

There was a hint of tiredness in Mashiro's voice as she shifted her focus back to the piano.

[ Moriko Byrne | 330 | ♫MUSIC | NOTES ]

MADE BY KAIZU OF WW AND TWF

Moriko gives a slow blink of surprise at the other girl's words. A small frown tilts her lips down, her brow furrowing slightly in thought. Recalling the tales of what could happen if one offends one of the Fair Folk, she licks her lips nervously. Still, she's curious, and she can't shake the desire to know more. To be certain. Hesitantly, she speaks.

"<Are ye sure ye aren't of the Aes Sidhe?>", she asks, her tone skeptical. She steps farther into the room, so that she may be seen more clearly. Gesturing towards the window and then to the other girl, she continues. "<It's tha twilight hour and ye were playing music.>" The Fair Folk are known for their particular enjoyment of music. Most tales of them have music mentioned in one way or another. "<And playing it well,>" she adds, a slight nod giving emphasis to what she's saying.
 
"<But most of all, the Aes Sidhe are said to often possess beauty that is otherworldly.>" She continues, her expression earnest and open, her teals gleaming brightly in the red-orange glow. "<Which ye do.>" Her words are spoken as if she's simply stating a fact. But with a bit more awe entwined into them. She's long since resigned herself to the understanding that the stories her father told her were just that; stories. Now, though, she may be seeing one of the Fair Folk in person! How could she not be excited?

Falling silent, she watches as the pale one backs away from her, back towards the piano. She never turns her back to the shorter girl, which Moriko finds rather odd. Did she offend her, somehow? She hopes not! Worry worms it's way into her thoughts, but she doesn't let it deter her.

The pale girl sits down at the piano, and bids Moriko to stay and listen to her play. Shifting in place, she does feel the desire to listen. What she'd heard earlier was only a snippet, after all. It had sounded lovely, if a bit sad. So, it would be nice to hear more of what the other girl can do.

Moriko nods an affirmative to her staying. The sorrowful music starts up again as she quickly moves over to a stool set off to the right of the piano, away from the blinding window. Sitting down, she tries to be as quiet as possible, so as not to interrupt the sound. Which for her, is rather quiet indeed.

She watches the other girl, her expression unintentionally intense as she concentrates on the movement of the fingers striking the piano keys.

“

Without music, life would be a mistake.

Mashiro could only sigh softly. Even though her frustration was slowly reaching it's peak with all the talk of the Fae folk, the pianist kept that slightly frowned face that she normally wore, feeling that words had lost their use for the time being. It was so difficult to tell whether or not this girl was just being genuinely awestruck or just being mean-spirited, especially with that comment on beauty.

If the girl had said anything else after Mashiro focused her mind on the piano, Mashiro wouldn't have been able to hear it. Melancholy melodies turned into languid verses, slowing down and ending with crawling dirge, all packed with the mixed frustrations that the pianist had been bottling up before suddenly stopping. Between fatigue and upset emotions, there wasn't much more that Mashiro felt like doing music-wise.

An awkward silence reigned for another moment before Mashiro quietly spoke up. "<Ah...my apologies, I think I shall pause with the music making for the moment. I need to take care of a number of small tasks.>" Her voice was almost distant, and her English, which was already on the formal end by default, seemed to be even more rigid.

With a sigh, the musician hopped off the stool and started to pick up the bag that she left sadly lying in a scattered state. With the light outside fading fast, Mashiro opted to kill two birds with one stone by dragging her back towards the wall and flipping the light switch near by, shifting the colour of the room from a soft orange to a mellow yellow. Several sheets of paper and a few pencils were withdrawn from Mashiro's backpack, and the pianist lower the lid over the keys to make an impromptu desk for herself.

"<Ah...I suppose you have to forgive me for asking, but are you part of the Music Department?>" Mashiro asked, setting the paper onto the cover. Though her hand seemed to write notes onto a hastily-composed score, crimson eyes still looked over to the other girl. "<I ask because I have not seen your face before. And if I do recall correctly, I do not even have your name at the moment.>"

[ Moriko Byrne | 374 | ♫MUSIC | NOTES ]

MADE BY KAIZU OF WW AND TWF

Once again, Moriko finds herself filled with awe. How can someone create such wonderful sounds? And she makes it look so effortless! She remains still and quiet as she she intently observes the other's fingers flying over the keys. And not just the fingers, but her body as a whole as she sways and moves to her own music.

She can sense the emotion being laid bare in the music, pouring out of the pianist, into the machine, and permeating the air. Several times, the speed and sound would change, fluctuating at the whim of those nimble fingers. If only she could pick up on what the emotions were trying to convey! Sadly, Moriko is able hear the intensity of the music, but she's unable to discern which emotions were being used. Other than the sad ones, which she is able to identify on occasion. Why is she so sad? she wonders, her gaze drifting to the other's frowning face.

Then the music stops abruptly. Suddenly, Moriko realizes that the sun has sunken below the horizon and darkness is gathering all around them. Eyes gleaming wide in the low light, she watches patiently for the other girl to do... something. She's not sure what, but the silence is hush with expectation. As if the cut off music is still wishing to be played, and is merely waiting for the pianist to pick up where she left off.

But it seems like the pale one's intent is no longer to play. She speaks, once again in English. Rising from her seat, she makes her way over to a prone bag and picks it up. Moriko swivels on the stool, following the other girl's shadow in the gloom. All of a sudden, the room light clicks on, startling the short girl into a small jump of surprise. Blinking rapidly at the unexpected light, she squints through her stinging eyes to watch as the other girl sits down at the piano again and withdraws a few pencils and paper.

Curious on what the other could be doing, Moriko leans forward on her stool, trying to get a peak. But then a question is directed her way, along with a direct and pointed look. Leaning back on her stool, she shakes her head.

"<Oh, ah, no. I'm not very good with music. At least, the making part of it.>" Looking a bit embarrassed, she glaces away briefly, before returning her eyes back to the pale girl's own. "<So no, I'm not in the music department.>" It takes her a moment to let the second half of the other's words sink in. Dismay flashes across her face as a slight blush rises to her cheeks.

"<I'm sorry! I should have introduced myself when we first met.>" A grimace pulls her lips down in a look disapproval. "<That was very rude of me.>"

Taking a soft breath, she nods and looks unflinchingly into those crimson eyes.

"<I am Moriko. Moriko Byrne. It's nice to meet you.>"

“

Without music, life would be a mistake.

With quick and messy strokes, Mashiro continued to jot down the all the melodies that she was playing in the past few minutes. There were no lines to guide her hand, just muscle memory telling her the exact elevations needed. And though her eyes were on her paper, she was still listening intently to the intruding brunette.

Japanese given name...British family name? Perhaps that would explain the English, including the accent. Mashiro would have been more fascinated if she was a little less upset, but slowly and surely, her emotions were calming down. What was rather surprising was that Moriko wasn't in the music department, though as Mashiro thought through it, the building was shared by the Threatre Department, and Moriko could easily be a theatre technician, as she didn't look very much like the acting sort.

"<Nice to meet you, Miss Byrne.>" Mashiro said softly, continuing in English. It seemed like Moriko was more comfortable talking in English, and for the most part, Mashiro really didn't seem to have any preferences at the moment. Carefully, she put her pencil down to hop off the stool and bow, introducing herself. "<My name is Mashiro Satou. Apologies for the poor first impression. And do please excuse me, I'll be doing a bit of scoring, sort of...is for an assignment, I suppose.>" She sat back onto the stool and started to write again, but every now and then she glanced to Moriko.

"<So, what brings Miss Byrne here today? Another wanderer? Or perhaps investigating the rumour of a ghost on the third floor?>" Mashiro chuckled softly as she looked to Moriko. Ever since she had met Hara, the rumours of a ghost lingering on the third floor had all but disappeared, so this time the pianist had asked only in jest.

[ Moriko Byrne | 305 | ♫MUSIC | NOTES ]

MADE BY KAIZU OF WW AND TWF

Moriko watches as the other girl rises from her stool at her greeting, and returns it with a name and greeting of her own. The bow is a nice touch, though it brings a twinge of guilt to the shorter girl. She is in Japan, and bowing as a form of greeting is common here. She should have known this, being half-Japanese and having been raised by both her Japanese mother and grandmother. Fortunately, her lack of proper Japanese manners doesn't seem to bother her companion.

"<Mashiro Satou...>" she murmurs softly, rolling the sound of the other's name slightly on her tongue. It has a pleasant ring to it. She nods to herself, mentally repeating the name to herself a few times. It wouldn't do to forget, after all.

Tilting her head slightly in confusion, she's about to ask what Mashiro means by the "poor first impression" statement, but she doesn't get a chance to when the other girl continues speaking. Moriko decides to wait a moment, for she has a bad habit of interrupting people. Usually not on purpose. It's just that she has trouble with knowing when a person is done talking or not.  Having had enough people get irritated with her in the past, she's decided that it's easier to have a delay in her response, then to respond too soon. So she listens carefully to Mashiro's words, trying to figure out when she can reply.

A question asked directly of her is always a good indicator.

Nodding her head, she gives a sheepish grin. "<I was exploring. I heard at least one music class is required to graduate. Since I've never been in this building before, I decided to scope it out before I take a class.>" She rocks slightly from side to side on her stool as she speaks. But this halts at the mention of the ghost rumors. Eyes widening she leans forward on the stool, her hands pressed firmly to the stool top and resting between her legs. She's right on the edge of being properly balanced.

"<There's a ghost in this building?>" she asks, her voice filled with excitement, her expression one of intense curiosity.

She's still yet to give up her desire to believe in all the stories her parent told her over the years. Even if, logically, the don't make much sense.

“

Without music, life would be a mistake.

Right. Though it was only basic music theory, it was still a requirement for all students. Likewise with Mashiro, she took had to go through some visual arts classes, just to get a base. It was part of an overall push to keep the arts fresh by try encouraging multidisciplinary works. For the most part, Mashiro had no opinion and fared reasonably well in those classes nontheless.

Moriko's question came as a surprise. It was understandable that as someone who was neither part of the Theatre or Music departments they wouldn't know of the rumours, but the sudden enthusiasm was rather surprising. Did this girl earnestly believe in ghosts? The composer was at a loss for how to respond. Eventually, Mashiro decided to not keep the illusion too long.

"Ah, well, what did all the stories say? In the afternoons, when the sun is near the horizon, a pale girl appears to play the piano, seemly detached and oblivious to the world, or the fact that she's dead." Mashiro said with a sigh, looking towards Moriko with a wry frown. "Ah, or, it could just be a normal girl engrossed in her daily practice. If you've come looking for a ghost, well, there is one, but the stories in the end were just really dumb ephithets for myself here."

Mashiro sighed and shook her head before looking over to her keyboard, then to the piano. Respectfully, the pianist lightly tapped the lid of the piano, saying "Ah, well, the electronic keyboard I have is very useful for composing and practicing. It has the full 88 keys. But...there is a feeling that you can't get otherwise from playing on a true piano. Ah...sorry for the rambling, I just wanted to explain why I always ended up playing this piano when I have other options."

With a blink and a vigourous shake of the head, Mashiro moved back to the previous topic.

"Ah...right. Sadly, I'm not sure I can help you find the information you need. On that note, what department are you from?"

[ Moriko Byrne | 351 | ♫MUSIC | NOTES ]

MADE BY KAIZU OF WW AND TWF

"Oh..."

The disappointed sound escapes Moriko, soft as a sigh. She listens to Mashiro's explanation about the "ghost," leaning back onto the stool and her shoulders slumping slightly. She should have known better. Ghosts don't really exist, after all. She knows this. But that doesn't mean one can't hold out just a little bit of hope for the supernatural to actually exist. Right?

Her disappointment shifts to embarrassment, though, when she realizes that the ghost rumor had been about the girl before her. Looking away from the other girl, she shifts uncomfortably atop her stool. She had mistaken Mashiro for one of the Fae. It wouldn't be any great leap of the imagination for someone to jump to the ghost conclusion instead.

She'd not meant to insult the other girl, but now that she thinks about it, she can see how it could be upsetting. Especially if something similar had happened in the past. "<Sorry for thinking you were one of the Fae,>" she says, her voice soft and worried. At the sound of tapping, she raises her head and looks up at Mashiro. The worry shows clearly on her face. But she doesn't say anything else, letting Mashiro continue without interrupting her.

She nods in understanding at the explanation on why the other girl likes to use the actual piano to practice on. She, herself, likes working with specific types of wood for her carving, despite there being a great many different types she can choose from. It just feels better and right to work with those specific wood types.

Lost in thought as she is, Moriko almost misses the question asked of her. Blinking, she brings her focus back to Mashiro's face. Shrugging, she gives a small smile and a quiet reply. "It's okay. I was just getting a feel for the building first. I like to know the layout of the buildings I have classes in." Small fading slightly, her expression turns pensive. "I'm here to learn Traditional Japanese wood carving. I know a little bit already, but I'm not that good yet."

Nervously, she runs the fingers of her left hand over the edge of the worn, wooden stool. Moriko's gaze slides over to the dark window. You can't really see much out of it anymore. Not with the bright light of the room glazing the glass with a yellow haze.

Shaking her head, Moriko sighs. Returning her attention back to the other girl, she asks, "What are you here for?" Eyes flicking briefly to the piano, she adds, "Is it music focused?"

“

Without music, life would be a mistake.

From the corner of Mashiro's eye, she could see Moriko's disappointment. So it seemed like Moriko truely did believe in ghosts, even just a little. Thankfully, the underlying message that Mashiro wanted to transmit seemed to get across as Moriko apologized for the earlier supernatural appellation, and the pianist smiled softly in reply. Though her eyes still stayed focused on writing her score, Mashiro's ears remained focused as Moriko continued to tell her store.

The concept of scoping out a building was unsurprising, though Mashiro herself only went as far as looking around for the classrooms where her classes were supposed to be. Despite being in the same building as the Theatre Department, Mashiro barely knew much of that half of the buidling beyond the various stages that Mashiro had performed on. In that way, Moriko might know more of the building than she did. The only other person who probably did the same was her cousin Yumeko, but that was due to her cirumstances more than anything else.

As for Moriko's choice of art, the composer couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in amused surprise. Traditional Japanese Wood Carving. Because it was very niche it was wholly unexpected, but in the end, Mashiro understand that someone had to keep the art alive.

Mashiro's moment of musing came to an end as Moriko took her turn to ask questions. Thankfully, Mashiro was able to finish writing the various scraps of melodies she was playing, albeit in a very rough form. "Ah, here, look." Pivoting smartly in her stool, Mashiro turned around to show Moriko the score that she was working on. "Ah...usually when I do improv, I try to write things down afterwards, though...admittedly it's not always a perfect copy." With a sigh, she looked over her shoulder over to the piano before looking back to Moriko, curiosity getting the better of her.

"Ah...if you don't mind me asking about it, but...I'm rather curious why you picked a very...esoteric art?"

[ Moriko Byrne | 344 | ♫MUSIC | NOTES ]

MADE BY KAIZU OF WW AND TWF

Surprised by the sudden movement when Mashiro turns around on her stool, Moriko still leans forward to see what the other girl is showing her. All she sees are scribbles of symbols on what looks like oddly lined paper. She doesn't have much experience with music in general. Her parents and grandmother would sings songs or hum around the house. And of course, they would play music as they worked on their respective specialties. But other than that, she knows next to nothing about how music is made and recorded.

So, she stares at the page, not sure exactly what it represents. But as Mashiro continues her explanation, she begins to understand. So that's a language for music?, she wonders, her curiosity piqued. It doesn't look like much to her. More like abstract line art. About to ask what the symbols mean, Moriko opens her mouth, but snaps it closed almost immediately when Mashiro asks her a question.

In fact, it's a question she should have expected, attending a school like Fukui. But so far, most folks only seemed to care about what she did, not the why of it. This is the first time she's been asked that particular question. A small frown takes hold of her, and she drops her gaze down to her hands. They lightly grip the edge of the stool, resting in between her legs as she balances on it.

"Ah..." she breaths out. A sigh of indecision. She's not quite sure how to answer the question without bringing the pain with it. Best to be honest, she supposes. The pain can't be avoided, after all. Maybe not go into too many details.

Taking in a soft breath, she avoids making eye contact with Mashiro by simply continuing to stare down at her hands. Hands scarred from a her woodworking. And from living alone in the woods. Keeping her voice low, and expression neutral, she answers the question.

"My mom used to go to this school. She studied the art here and mastered the basics before getting really good. I want to do the same."

An image of her mother rises in her mind's eye. Of her sitting at her workbench, brows bunched in concentration, as she toils away at one of her pieces. Her lips are quirked in a soft smile, despite having been working on the carving all morning, and she hums an absent tune. Her long, black hair is tied back in a loose pony tail. Some of the strands have broken loose, though, and drift, ignored, in front of her face. She works by the natural light coming in through the windows, a beam landing directly on her, making her seem to glow. Such a serene scene. And not an uncommon one to come across in their household.

Ah, there it is.
The pain.
And the guilt.

“

Without music, life would be a mistake.

Mashiro had turned around on the stool to face Moriko, listening intently for an answer but looking at her with her usual expression, that being a worried frown. And it seemed that Moriko too had to frown, making the pianist tilt her head slightly in confusion. From the way Moriko breathed out...was it something she was forced into? For the most part, Mashiro was able to keep herself from frowning further, but she started to twirl the even and long locks of white hair that ran down the right side of her face as she listened.

Apparently, legacy had something to do with it. Moriko's mother was a student, and now Moriko seemed to be following her footsteps. Yet in the back of Mashiro's mind, images of her father, her biological father, started to crop up, and the plans for the perfect daughter he had made. The composer was becoming less and less sure that Moriko's choice of art, and it was a very narrow one, was her choice to make.

"Ah, <Miss Byrne>...you don't have to tell me if it makes you feel uncomfortable." Mashiro said as she noticed Moriko spacing out. "Ah...<Miss Byrne>...?"

Concern, Mashiro hopped off her stool and approached Moriko, her hand reaching out but stopping short of Moriko's shoulder.

[ Moriko Byrne | 222 | ♫MUSIC | NOTES ]

MADE BY KAIZU OF WW AND TWF

Lost in memory as she is, Moriko isn't paying close attention to Mashiro. Which is most unusual for the admittedly skittish girl. Large groups of people always puts her on edge, but so do strangers. Granted, being alone with an unknown person is much less nerve wracking than being with a group of them. Or in a group in general.

But, due to her inattention, Moriko doesn't notice Mashiro get up off her stool. Eyes unfocused, her unobservant gaze remains directed down at her hands. She doesn't really see them. She's lost. Her mind's eye tracing the outline of her mother's silhouette, the fuzz of dust blurring the lines between dark and light. Sorrow and longing well up inside of her. So intense, that it's more a pain than any easily identifiable emotion.

Suddenly, a shadow looms over her. She can feel another's warmth near her. Moriko startles backwards, almost rocking off of her stool. She manages to not tip over, but now her entire form has stiffened. Her hands clasp the edge of the stool, grip so tight they start to turn white. Head jerking up, she stares, wide eyed, right into Mashiro's own red ones. Which are so very close to her.

Unbeknownst to Moriko, her eyes had welled up with tears as the pain had risen within her. So she stares at the other girl, her usually bright teals turned to shimmering dark depths in the room's light.

Caught completely off guard, Moriko vaguely recalls the other girl saying something. Thoughts muddled, she blurts out a confused, "What?" Her voice is low and thick with her emotions.

There's no hiding them now.

“

Without music, life would be a mistake.

Now it seemed like it was Moriko's turn to be startled, though this time Mashiro simply kept still as the brown-haired girl nearly fell off her chair. Despite all the years in the shop, Mashiro wasn't very confident in her ability to read people, even with such obvious cues. She had effectively no context and was sure that she was missing a lot of details, so all that the musician could figure was that there was some sort of memory or notion that tied together Moriko's mother, the school, and the art of wood carving in some manner.

Seeing that she had the carver's attention, Mashiro withdrew her hand and took a slow step back, then another, then once more until she sat back down on the piano stool. The emotion in Moriko's face and voice was rather apparent, but the composer neither had the inclination nor the tendency to try and comfort someone via physical contact. Mashiro took a deep breath, but did so quietly, as if to hide it. This was a rather frustrating situation for Mashiro, who was starting to hold down her own emotions.

"Ah, <Miss Byrne> seemed to be a bit...lost in thought." Mashrio explained, trying to be as diplomatic as possible. "It seems seems that your art is rather something you and your family is attached to, but, I think for now my curiousity is satiated. Thank you for sharing."

Desperate for another topic, Mashiro looked out the window. Neither her nor Misha was in charge of dinner tonight, so Mashiro was on her own. With academics now revealed to be field of landmines, the composer was at a loss for another topic.

"Ah...is <Miss Byrne> from Tokyo?" Location was the first thing that came to mind. "Ah...I mean...well, a few classmates that I have asked so far have been, so I was wondering..."

[ Moriko Byrne | #WORDS | ♫MUSIC | NOTES ]

MADE BY KAIZU OF WW AND TWF

Blinking rapidly, Moriko realizes her eyes feel rather wet. Raising her right hand she vigorously rubs at them, glad that her tears didn't actually fall. She's not come this close to crying for a good while now! Being in such an unfamiliar place, and surrounded by so many other people, is causing her usual walls to crumble. Desperately, she mentally attempts to shore them back up. Locking the more emotional memories of her mother behind them, she raises her gaze up and watches as Mashiro steps back and away from her.

The other girl had gotten awfully close to her. Her hand hand been a mere breath away from touching her. But then, she'd drawn back and full on retreated.

Relief flits through Moriko, and she lets out a quiet breath. The softest of sighs. At Mashiro's mention of seeming to be lost in thought, the shorter girl's face flushes in embarrassment. To get so emotional... Who was she, to burden a stranger so?

"S-sorry..." she stutters out, her voice low and somewhat scratchy still with her unshed tears. She averts her gaze at the thank you, unsure how to respond to it. Her eyes are drawn to the dark portal that the window has become.

At least her eyes are dry now.

Her attention is once again snagged by the other girl, though, when she asks Moriko a question. She blinks in surprise, for she'd expected Mashiro to ask her to leave. Or to just get up and leave herself. But instead, she continues to converse with her.

It's reassuring, oddly enough. Maybe she hadn't freaked her out? Hope rises in Moriko. But as always, it's tempered by her reservations. Most of the other girls in her class have all come to the conclusion that she's a bit too strange for them. Too difficult to figure out. So they leave her alone. Which mostly suits the usually reclusive girl.

Still, it'd be nice to have at least a few friends.

Expression brightening a tad, and giving a quick shake of her head, Moriko replies, "No. I'm actually from America." A brief pause follows that statement, then she adds. "Colorado, specifically." Another pause, long enough to be awkward, but not long enough to invite the other girl to say anything.

"Where are you from?" she asks a bit belatedly. She's trying to reciprocate the other's interest, not fully realizing how odd her conversational pacing is.

She's never been the best at socializing.

But at least she's trying.