The first day of the last year, it seemed almost bittersweet if it were not for the influx of the new students with their somewhat holier than thou attitudes. Felicity frowned whilst thinking about the ideals of talent versus skill. It seemed rather obvious from her point of view.
She had been in the fields early that day, waking at six and taking her viola to watch the sunrise. She then began her practice. Silence became a tide of emotion as the slow drawls of the tune filled the space around her. It was a melancholic tune, lacking in mirth, meeting the sunrise with an almost sad, depressive welcome.
Her tune was seeking, but all the more persistent. As the volume of her playing ebbed from low to high, she came to her climactic conclusion and stopped. As if in wakeful repose, Felicity's eyes came back to reality to greet the day with a rueful expression. She then sat on one of the field benches in a hum of tranquility, and watched as the beginnings of the school year brought with it her juniors.
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She was not sure of how long it was when she felt her mind being grated with loud, confident rock music. It may have been personal preference that made her averse to this kind of music. She disliked it with a passion. He was a new student, she discovered. His singing voice was something to be desired and Felicity became angry at herself for not possessing such a skill.
Her singing was average. Coming to this school made that obvious. The rock player's guitar was almost arrogant in its sound, its player with an edge of cockiness she couldn't stand.
She took her own stand and rose sharply from her seat and propped her viola up and began to play. Her sound was insufficient at first and she pressed harder on her bow. The sound was enough to make anyone step back to avoid impairing their hearing.
It was tolerance enough to have new showy students, but to push your luck on the first day? Felicity was disgusted.
Last edited by Cruithne; 10-08-2008 at 10:00 PM.
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