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A heavy pallor hung over the fair town of Trisani, the huddled masses aiming their upturned smiles skyward to frown at the looming blanket of gray. It didn't take a Windreader to know what those rolling, boiling blots of ashy clouds meant; any minute now those bloated pillows would upend their watery contents on the fairgrounds below. Travelers from all ends of the country gazed up with gloomy despair, bitter curses chewed through grumbling frowns or mumbled into crumpled hats. A festival in early Spring, just when the skies were at their ripest? Who would plot such madness? Sullen eyes looked on in bewilderment at the townsfolk and the students who went about their business as if nothing were wrong, setting up the rows of booths, pinning up the banners and erecting the maypole in the center of the fairground. They hid something in their masked smiles, and some travelers found a misplaced sense of confidence in their telltale glances to the tower of the massive estate the town was built adjoined to. Was River's End Academy's Fiest Year Festival still going to happen, despite the inevitable downpour?

Away and above, from behind the asylum of his glass and marble sanctuary, youthful lips broke into a grin. Smiling eyes of the crispest sapphire tones searched the roiling clouds, that mirthful smirk widening all the more so. Perfect. That smile closed around the cane reed of an oboe and began to blow.

A serene melody began all at once across the field, its source unseen but its enchanting nature undeniable. Seeming to come from everywhere at once, that lilting, warbling tune seemed to carry upon its ephemeral presence the hope and brightness that decorated each student and townsperson's face, swirling inspiration in voluminous crescents as it swept across the gathered masses. A high, keening note drove that song upwards, carving its way through the humid air of pre-rain to pierce the clouds... and, with a shrill crescendo, cleave them in twain. A sliver of golden light appeared at the base of the clouds, grey pillows rolling backwards with each passing second to reveal the sun and all its warmth to the crowd below. Gasps clashed against cries of joy, the visitors shock a distinct contrast with the applause from the locals.

Away in his tower that lone maestro played on, the grand piano at his side suddenly coming to life all on its own. Invisible ropes of wind, masterfully crafted from the melody and guided from the oboe's reeds, played the ivories like a phantom, pelting out the jovial accompaniment to the lone woodwind.

Out on the field, the swollen clouds began to disperse and dissipate, each drop of rain chased away by the pummeling piano hammers upon the strings. Piano and oboe blended and weaved in a form that seemed to make nature herself bow, the retreating clouds thinning to almost nothing before disappearing over the distant mountaintops. The sky was cleared, the sun beat down upon land it only minutes ago was denied, and all fears and misgivings were replaced with awe and rejoicing. As if on cue, students done up in the schools heraldry raised their trumpets in salute, blasting out the triumphant fanfare that began the festivities. In unison the booths opened, and the clamor of students hawking services or townsfolk selling their wares began.

The Festival had begun.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While out on the green the world erupted into boisterous merry-making, elsewhere on campus there was work to be done. The grand auditorium's vaulted dome ceiling and architectural design made it completely soundproof from the world outside, and thus the perfect venue to begin the audition process. Within these cloistered walls of noble crimsons set against the burnt-oak stage, potential candidates for enrollment would be tested and judged for the unmeasurable spark, Arete, that would prove once and for all whether a person could become a musical magician. Fate, it would seem, was a fickle mistress, for all too often the finest of musicians lacked even a drop of Arete whilst a clumsy blacksmith's apprentice, with no inclination towards a lyrical life, would overflow with potential.

Demitrius Meris, Conductor of the House of Strings, should have been thinking of this. Instead, the clean-cut teacher was wistfully staring out the window at the freshly emptied sky. Ever one for theatrics, aren't you, old friend? Even with all of his abilities as Conductor, most powerful amongst the teachers in the arts of water, Meris would struggle to manifest the power necessary to perform such a ritual. Yet somehow the Maestro, in all of his secluded mystery, had managed to master the very clouds themselves with what he could only imagine was a carefree naivete. But it was just that reason, Demitrius mused, that Caltrin was Headmaster of River's End and not I... what my students and I struggled to master, Caltrin idly toyed with.

"Conductor Meris... i-it is time, sir." Awkward in his youth, young Donell was still stumbling in his search to find the confidence required of the academy's Senior students.

Demitrius slid the bridge of his darkwood spectacles upward along his nose, smoothing his pondering features into the serene, calm demeanor expected of the Conductor of Water. His face was serious, with the sharp angles of his glasses and cheekbones belying the youth of his darkly handsome face. Posture and a glint of intellect in his clover eyes hinted to his noble upbringing, and the near-perfect cut of his beige and navy suit told of expensive tailoring. Still, there was a kindness to the corners of his mouth that earned him quite a reputation with the students as a fair teacher... and with the ladies of Trisani as a heartbreaker. "Very well, Donell. Let us see whose lives we can change this year, hmm? Announce the first candidate."

Turning to take his seat at the long mahogany table before the stage, Demitrius idly wondered if any of the other Conductors would find time in their schedules to join him in his task. His thoughts were cut short, however, as the door opened and a stammering Donell began to read off the first student's name. Well then... let the curtains rise and the overture begin.

__________________

Like Moses did part the Red Sea, so did Caltrin part the pillow sea. A herald unto the events of one well put together festival.

As the mass of students and townsfolk alike began to shift amongst themselves, observing booths and stages of musical congregations, alone and still stood a woman continually staring upwards, transfixed. It was not the clouds, however, that had her eyes caught in a net of adoration. Despite the distance her eyes could see clearly the colossal structure of River’s End Academy, looming over the town but not darkening it – brightening it even, with the joy and pleasure so evident upon the many faces surrounding her. Even her face, already so light and joyous, was aglow with pleasure.

For in that establishment was Caltrin.

A bump against her shoulder broke the thoughts she had been grasping. Long, thick eyelashes beat against her irises in surprise, which in the new found sun were alight with a beautiful cerulean hue. She tossed her head back to find the source, which caused her buttocks length mane of ebony hair to swirl around her like a sheet of silk. No one with a guilty look. Only smiles and laughter abound.

“Hi Raina!” “Good afternoon Raina.” “Wonderful festival Ms.Raina.” Many voices addressed her, in various tones of adulation and admiration. The posture with which she held herself was certainly not one of a student. A leader, more than likely. An extravagant outfit adorning her countenance was further proof of this – a soft black satin gown, pulled tightly against her frame, and even her thighs; with a raised collar and ankle length ripples of ebony silk. The sleeves left her arms at the hollow of her elbows, drooping down into soft waves of white fabric. Conservative, but set apart from the many uniforms worn by the students and the ordinary clothing worn by all the others. Raina absolutely adored this gown – as she was certain her reasons were because a certain someone else liked it as well.

As Raina began to walk, however, it became blatantly obvious who she was. When her lips parted it was as if an angel had fallen from the heavens just to grace these people with her sound. Sweet, liquid tones poured out of her, wafting over the congregation like a pleasant perfume. Many people turned to watch this mistress move forward, singing no words, but emitting such an extraordinary sound it could stop a man in an instant and have him swooning for her hand in the next. Raina, the voice conductor of River’s End Academy, and the voice of Trisani.

Raina was not the only one in song, however. No, for as her voice heralded the unity of an entire festival – flutes, drums, oboes, pianos, guitars; all playing in tune with her melody – countless voices could be heard trilling upwards, higher and higher, joining the vocalist in her wordless orchestra. Not but a second later it reached its crescendo, masterfully holding its final note before the crowd exploded into a round of renewed applause. Raina nodded and shook hands, returning the smiles and laughter of her fellow musicians and townsfolk. The rest of the unseen instruments seemed to dull down and continue their former melodies, each unique in their own way.

Yet Raina continued on with confidence, smirking proudly to herself at how easily she could rally such a number.

Her smugness remained as she strode on towards the Academy. Breaching campus led her across numerous extraordinary structures – one of which was her destination, the grand auditorium. The steady thrum of her heels crunching along the gravel pathway emitted pride and confidence, more so implied by the smile curling up the corners of her youthful lips. Raina approached the side door of the domed architecture, careful not to be seen by the long line of deathly silent applicants, a mask of fear and nervousness plastered on each and every face. So much was expected of them – some knew exactly what they were getting themselves into, while others…well, they were in for a surprise.

A muffled creak revealed the inside of the tremendous establishment to the vocal conductor, which in itself was just as astonishing as the rest of the Academy. Her eyes knew it very well. Raina snuck through the aisles at a stride, hurrying down towards the long table occupied solely by the tall, brisk figure she recognized simply by the back of his head. The woman discreetly took her seat next to Demitrius Meris, folding her hands into a neat pile upon her lap and glancing quickly over to her colleague. Handsome, surly. Raina, however, knew no attraction to him. They were dissimilar in that they viewed the world quite differently from time to time – although when they agreed there was no doubting them. Despite their many differences, she couldn’t see a better man for the position as Conductor of Strings.

“Right on time.” Raina whispered quickly through the side of her mouth, eyes and smile pointed at Donell as his mouth released the name of their first student.

“May I p-present…G-Gale Faust.”

-------------------------

His footsteps alone were like an orchestra. They were heavy, leaden with anxiety. Anticipation. Even as he breached the stage, passing the curtains to see the two serious looking teachers seated a few feet ahead – he could swear one of them looked bored already – it felt like he was standing in front of a sea of people. Somehow he kept his sweat glands in check as he centered himself, holding the neck of his instrument in his hands like it would save his life. Gale, as he had been called, gave a stiff bow, unable to conjure any other form of introduction. Fortunately, this was an instrument audition. No talking necessary. If he had been required to talk he was afraid right now all he’d get out was a nervous squeak.

He was a younger looking man – late teens, early twenties. Despite his obvious stage fright, Gale could be categorized as a sociable and easy on the eyes kind of character. A matted, unkempt bed head of dark chocolate hair that almost looked like feathers from afar, sat atop his head, in desperate need of a comb. At least, however, he had dressed for the occasion. Neatly pressed slacks hung loosely from his waist, appropriately black, with a properly pressed white dress shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. And those eyes – a vibrant violet that glowed even in the dim light of the domed auditorium.

Without any further hesitation he took his instrument – strapped over his shoulder for support – and placed it gently in his hands. An oaken base – shaped similarly to an ordinary acoustic – and rough handmade strings attached to the base of the neck up to the tightening rods on top. Gale closed his eyes, which he mentally hit himself for, and fell into the depths of his own mind. The man drowned out everything – even the deafening silence. All he could feel was the cold wood underneath his fingers and the smooth texture of the pick.

And then he began to strum. As Gale plucked each string he was gentle, emitting a quiet melody that drifted over the empty seats of his non-existent audience. It was not a perfect tune – for he was only just beginning his trek in the musician’s trade – but the emotion upon his face was evident as he pulled each note from the guitar strings. Against his own anxiety he found his eyes open, half-way at best, staring off into the empty auditorium, lost in the sound of his own playing. This went on for only a few minutes – and when he wisely pulled his fingers away from the instrument he gave one last bow and smile – more confident this time – and briefly took his exit from the stage.

__________________

As Raleigh entered into the vast entry chamber, dragging his worn old grand piano, he couldn't help but take a step back. The massive room was filled with all manner of people holding all sorts of instruments. Some Raleigh could not even identify. He sighed and slung the rope of his tow cart back over his shoulder.

Raleigh really didn't look like the musically inclined type, with rough leather-like hands and a body common for one who performs heavy lifting. He drug the piano over to an open spot and then took a seat at the base, crossing his legs and leaning against the instrument. He perked his head up at the sound of what he thought sounded like a guitar, though with all the intrument tuning, he really could not tell. It seemed it came from a room behind some curtains. He tapped a rythm out on his knees while waiting for the tryout to come.

The girl beside him had quiped something about peoples lack of interest in the music of others. Raleigh would have called her out on that one, as he quite appreciated the music, but obviously his voice did not function. This was a source of endless annoyance to him because it is not that easy to introduce oneself while in a crowd without appearing rude. He took a deap breadth before beginning to search for a stool or bench of some sort. It was rather difficult to play whilst standing, and judging by the man who walked out from the the sideroom, he would be playing fairly soon.

Sure enough, the timid greeter called his name up next. Raleigh grabbed a recently vacated stool and placed it on his cart as he wheeled the grand piano into the room. It was dimly lit, providing a rather somber air which seemed to float about the two judges. Raleigh turned the piano so his side was to the judges and did a quick slide down the keys to make sure nothing had been knocked loose. A few seconds of dull silence lingered before Raleigh launched into a slow and sad song. He closed his eyes as his fingers skittered along the cracked ivory keys, and he allowed his emotion to poor forth through those ten nimple appendages. The room temperture had fallen slightly, to a level where one could almost see their breath, with a straining of the eyes.

A minute or so in, the tune began to slowly rise and become faster and lighter, the candlelight flickering about as room tempature was slowly restored. Raleigh's eyes had remained shut throughout the entire piece, and his focus had caused him to notice the change in heat, not at all. He bowed his head to the judges before re-stacking the stool and wheeling the piano back out into the open space which had remained unnoccupied in his few minutes of playing. He let out a deep breath as he sat back down, quite glad that the hardest part was now over.

Ayaka had looked somewhat out of place. She was sitting on the floor with her back against the wall, holding a small pink bear that wore a crimson red bow. It was the toy she'd had since she was little, Kumagoro. Not too skilled at making friends right away, she'd often bring it to stressful situations and "talk" to it. She was rather childish in that aspect, but Ayaka didn't see it as being childish, rather hanging onto her innocence. She replaced the stuffed toy into the small leather pack she had on her back like a rucksack.

Her golden locks, held up in small pigtails by azure plastic spheres that had small elastics that connected two together to make them fashionable little hair ties, shifted slightly as she stood up and started to weave her way in and out of the other applicants, unsure of what she was getting herself into, she passed through the entry chamber with a small almost forced smile on her face and into the wings of the grand auditorium. A single drop of sweat ran its way down the side of her face as she could almost feel the silence of the room seeping into her. She knew there would only be two or three people sitting in the front row, judging her. What if she didn't have what it took to be admitted to the academy?

Stepping into the center of the stage, the fluorescent lights seemed to be focusing directly on her. In this light everything was visible, not one thing about her could be hidden. She wore a red tank top that was lined with a light black trim and had a small black bow in the middle of the chest on it. Her denim pants were almost form-fitting and had no cuts or faded areas. They were a deep shade of navy and cut off right at her leather shoes that went up to her ankles. She wore several, almost skin tight, black and white bracelets on each wrist. To most people she would seem underdressed for such an ocassion, but to her, her outfit was perfect. Having your father pass away quite the young age and only having a mother who's a tailor and can barely make ends meet and a brother who's living miles and miles away as the apprentice to an instrument creating artisan, she couldn't afford very nice things like the other people who were there. She only hoped that she wouldn't be judged on appearance, but rather her skill.

Taking a deep breath, Ayaka grounded and centered herself, preparing. She was going to do what she loved, what she had done every day of her life, why should it be different now?

They're only strangers... She thought to herself, hinting at her own thoughts with sarcasm.

Opening her eyes, a glowing shadw of cobalt was revealed, she could feel the energy flowing through her. Then, she opened her mouth. The tune she sang was light, fun, optimistic, but also had a deeper sense of passion.

"Stirred by impulses that there's nothing I can do, That has begun for me now, feelings searvhing for you
Just like predictable books and movies are boring
When life is a little bit off it might be more fun!
This warm feeling is C'est la vie
As long as I am me, C'est la vie I want to keep on being in love with you
Running through the place where this moment lives
Right in front of me..."

Allowing the last few words to flow gracefully from her tongue, she closed her mouth and changed her glance from the back of the auditorium, to the eyes of the judging adults in front of her, making eye contact for a moment, then bowing with a satisfied smile on her face at them. She quickly took her exit, not running, but walking with a broad stride. She left the stage and breathed a heavy sigh of relief, glad that she hadn't given up at the last second.

I just wish they'd said my name right... Ayaka Komatsu! Is that so hard?

__________________

Weeks ago...


"Can't you pull that damned thing any faster?" snapped Inaere.

It had been a trek of five miles -- five miles -- and he insisted on pulling his harp himself the whole way. Danny, the little tyke, the one who barely made it past her knees, had the bright idea to lug that Gods know how-many-pounds heavy piece of music-in-metal all the way up and down a series of treacherous hills stretching across five damned miles. And she, she was expected to just accept it as part of life, just to keep on walking and waiting for the kid, that's all.

Gods be damned if I don't strangle him, she growled inwardly.

"Would you at least let me pull that damned thing for you for the next few miles?" she asked, exasperated, coming up in front of him and stopping him dead in his tracks.

Danny shook his head.

"Hellfire and Skorn, let me drag it!"

Danny shook his head again.

"You're gettin' me angry."

Danny shrugged.

Inaere threw her arms into the air, turning about face. "Alright! I give up! Drag that boulder yourself! I won't catch you if you start rolling off the edge of this hill."

Danny smiled, shaking his head again, this time to himself. The ten year old walked forward, behind his adopted sister, and tugged on the woman's arm lightly. She looked down at the boy, glaring.

"What?"

Dan wrapped his arms around her leg disarmingly, soundless and still.

"... Burn in Hell," muttered the angry woman. Then, she sighed, ruffling the boy's hair a bit. "Alright, you little bastard, let go of me. You can pull your damned harp along, it and that infernal cart that comes with it -- But we will stop after the next mile, or, by Skorn, I'm rippin' your arm off and beatin' you with it."

Danny just smiled, nodded, and turned away. He knew it wasn't true. Perhaps she was a believer of Skorn -- some violent deity of unknown origin, he believed -- but she would never hurt him. In all five years of their companionship, of their being siblings, Inaere had never once tried to hurt him -- No, she had, once. She'd slapped him. And she'd never quite forgiven herself for it, either.

Still, he knew it was better to just do as she wanted this time, lest she tie him to a tree to make him sleep, or the gods knew what else. Besides, he didn't like making her angry. He just wanted to reach Heinfief in time for spring. It was always beautiful in Spring...

... Not that Inaere really cared about that. But she knew he wanted to be there, and so, she was taking him.

They continued their trek. Night would fall soon, one of the reasons Inaere wanted to stop so soon, and the sky showed it in the most symbolic of ways: A sunset, bright red in the sky, like that of a fading star. Danny sighed.

He missed seeing that sky against the open seas. He missed seeing the waters glow crimson and looking down at them, watching the ripples shimmer beneath the last, fading beams of the sun... He missed the reds and yellows of the desert, the sand between his fingers, and the way it seemed to glow in moonlight.

Then again, Inaere said he was too much of a damned poet. She didn't listen to his descriptions much.

Finally, the mile was finished. The pair stopped for the night, and Inaere instantly set about making a camp: Wood was gathered and a fire was made; flames crackled and made their serenade. A tent was made beneath a tree; it fought the winds that whipped about so free. A rabbit was caught and put on a stick; its life was a candle, crushed to the wick.

Danny's eyes slowly closed and he drifted to sleep. His dreams became all the more powerful, all the more real, and all he could see was them -- everything surreal given life, everything tangible given spirit. He slept.

Someone else, however, sat by the fire, working diligently on skinning the rabbit, carving the meat, salting it to be eaten later... Sitting on a log, Inaere did all of her chores and watched the sleeping child. After a while, the forest seemed to be silent but for the fire and his quiet breathing. Now, she was alone -- alone and free to speak.

"Another two miles and we're at Jelisburg," she said to herself, resting her back against the grass. "Twenty-eight miles and we'll be in Kregierven. A road diverges, and we can go either to that pisshole, Trisani, or we go to where we're supposed to: Heinfief. Skorn keep us from headed the wrong damned way." The woman let out a sigh, reaching into her backpack (conveniently on the ground beside her). After several moments, she fished out a small flask of...

... something.

She took a sniff. She wretched a bit, eyeing the foul smelling brew, then took a swig. She tossed it away, gagging and lurching up to a sitting position, clutching at her throat.

"I asked for WINE, not horse piss!" she snapped to the night. Her reply came: An owl's hoot. She glared at the direction of the sound, pointing warningly, and the hooting stopped.

"... damned swindling bastard of a barkeep." Inaere shoved her hair back behind her head as it went over her eyes, sighing. Then, she removed her coinpurse from her belt and started counting. Twenty-eight coppers. Hardly enough to buy the necessary supplies for the next journey, even if those supplies didn't include alcohol.

Damn.

Well, no matter. Inaere shoved it back into its place. "There's work to be had," she muttered. Yes, lots of work, she thought, and probably a caravan headed to Heinfief. Do a job, take a ride with a caravan. Easy money, easy travels, and possibly a bonus if I save some fat merchant's ass -- and his ass's ass. Not that there were so many bandits and thugs in these parts this time of year. Not yet... though there would be, come late spring.

Well, all the more reason to reach Heinfief early, that was. We'll be there soon. Inaere stayed up another hour, just to make sure that her little brother was safe, absolutely safe...

Then, she drifted off to sleep.



The pair were sitting in a bar in Jelisburg -- or, rather, Danny was sitting and Inaere was busy avoiding flirts and finding a contract. The former was proving easy and the latter quite difficult, unsurprisingly. Dan, however, was quite bored, and so amused himself by staring at his harp, which Inaere had graciously allowed him to put on the table. Besides -- if anyone wanted a song played, Danny would play. He loved to play. Music was a part of his soul.

"That's a beautiful instrument you have there, boy," came a cracking, raspy voice. Danny turned. Standing there was an elderly man, so old his back was bent and he walked on a cane. The old man tried to smile, but his mouth kept doing weird things, closing suddenly and twisting oddly. However, Danny just nodded.

"Yes, sir."

"Uh-huh! Yes, it -- it is." The old man leaned on his cane before looking both ways. "You, ah -- you'a travelin' with that girl? With the sword?"

"Yes, sir."

"A'thought so." Nodding, the wrinkle-ridden man managed to smile this time, though his eyes shut from the effort. He paused, tugging at one of the few white hairs remaining on his head only to accidentally pull it off.

"... I--... Oh... That leaves ninety-seven... Oh, no." He stopped speaking a moment, then turned his head. "B-but, that's right! You're traveling -- with a friend -- and you're a, a... what's the word...?" The ancient pointed at the harp, his frail finger shaking as he did so.

Danny stared, confused.

"A... a harpist! Tha's the word -- right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Oh, good, good." The old man bobbed his head in another nod. "Well, there's, ah, there's this place -- River's... River's Run, River's Bend-- End!" The ancient snapped his fingers, or tried to, and nodding, smiling a toothless smile. "River's End. Heard of it?"

"No, sir."

"W-ell... It's a place for musicians, yep. Big ol' place, an... Academy! In Trisani. And you learn, you learn how to make music magic."

Danny's ears perked a bit. "Magic?"

"That's it, m'boy. Magic. They can make musicians into magicians! Magicians!"

"'ey, Pops!" yelled the bartender quite suddenly from across the room. "What'd I tell you about loitering?!"

"...Uh-oh." Without a word, the old man hobbled out of the room at a very rapid pace, using his cane as leverage.

Inaere returned not too long afterward, grinning from ear to ear. "Danny, we have a job! We'll be guardin' some archaelogist as he walks through the woods! Then, it's a straight trip to Heinfief."

She lost her smile very quickly, however. Danny wasn't responding -- or, well, he wasn't responding like he usually did. Then, he opened his mouth, and said very solemnly, "We're not going to Heinfief."

"... We WHAT?"


Present Date...



"I can't believe you dragged me into this pit of fiddle-fingerers and lyre-lovers."

Inaere was getting several looks, and none of them were very kind. Danny released a sigh, rubbing his forehead. Here we go again, he thought. Ever since they'd been in the audition room -- no, ever since they'd been in Trisani -- she'd been complaining. She did not want to be here under any circumstances, and she was going to really beat him with his own arm, so help her Skorn. If she had to listen to one more idiot try to sing tenor and shatter a few windows, she was going to kill everyone in the room, oh, yes she was.

It got a bit boring after the first five minutes of ranting.

In an attempt to assuage the young woman, the child looked up at her and tugged her arm, as usual. When she looked down, he just gave her his sad smile, hands in his crude pockets, letting out a short sigh.

"... Fine." Inaere went quiet.

"D-Dan?" came the voice, a bit confused at the lack of a last name. None-the-less, Danny knew who it was for. He walked calmly for the center stage, dragging his harp on his cart behind him.

It was an ingenious design, his cart. Using a lever, he could lift the harp up to a standing position easily, and there was a small seat designed for a grown man to sit in -- though he was able to use it well enough himself, so long as he dragged the harp closer. The harp itself was also meant for a grown man, but Danny had been gifted with long fingers and he used them to their greatest ability -- as he would show.

Slowly, he closed his eyes, thinking back to... the ocean. He thought back to the ocean -- to the rising tide...

One. His finger plucked a single string and a light, breezy tone rose into the air. There was a second's pause.

Two. Another single chord plucked, and a slightly deeper tone.

Three. The first, the second, and then four more were plucked, each pluck coming faster than the last, and then a pause, and the first two were struck again. And then, the tune truly began.

The sound flowed like a river from the harp, light and calm and cool, yet somewhat sad in a way. Danny drew from his memories as he played, eyes closed, humming with the song -- though nobody could hear that. He remembered vividly the broad, straining backs of the men on the ship, of the rushing wave as it smashed against the great vessel; he remembered the yells, the storm, the crackling lightning... It had been a terrible -- but memorable -- night, and he let that memory steer him in this song.

Slowly, after a few minutes, his hands began to slow. They slowed to a snail's pace and, finally, his finger wrapped around the last string -- the first string -- tightly, as if embracing it for a final moment. And he plucked.

The harp was set down. Wordlessly, the ten year old stepped off his seat and pulled the harp off the stage. When he reached his sister again, the woman had only one thing to say:

"If they don't pay you for THAT peformance, I'll be pissed."

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FACT:

The sounds of the festival had been in Iyria’s ears since she had entered Trisani, the sweet sounds of the orchestral instruments blending seamlessly with the ranged voices of not only those singing, but also seemingly with the general populace, made her heart dance with joy as she lent her own voice into the ethereal song, a wordless melody simply meant to express her joy at arriving, and her hopes of getting the chance to learn to perfect and control the so-called magic behind her melodic octaves.

Her song reached its climax as she reached the gates of River’s End, the festival in full swing as she immersed herself into the crowds, the students of the school running the stalls they had set up, selling and promoting all sorts of things, from the ordinary to the unknown. Blue eyes scanned the crowds as the girl tried to find where the auditions were being held, but, being unable to find it, asked a girl in a school uniform, who happily helped her find the auditorium where the auditions were to be held. Thanking the girl, she walked inside, her feet sure of their path, but her throat dry and unsure.

After she filled out an application sheet, she wandered down the aisles, already filled with people waiting their turn to get up and audition, and those who had already given their performance and waited with bated breath for the announcement of those accepted. Eventually, Iyria found an empty seat next to a young girl tightly griping an oboe, and watched as name after name was called up to perform.

As she watched the performances, her nervousness died down a little, but her mind was still racing, the thoughts of what she would do if she wasn’t accepted the most prominent. However, she was snapped out of her trance by hearing her name being called.

“I..ria… Sonny?”

Iyria got up and onto the stage, and looked over at the person who had said her name.

“It- it’s pronounced Iyria Sonne.” She smiled sheepishly, and, after taking a deep breath, began to sing.

The song was one that, while coming from her prominent homeland of Valkrit, was one of the more uncommon ones. It was a somewhat sad song, which told the tale of a mother, who, during a great war from before the time records were written down, had to see not only her husband, but her two sons be sent off to battle against a great evil. For years, she prayed for their safe return from battle, but, one by one, her kin was killed, until only she remained. Driven insane from the sorrow, she throws herself off a cliff into the stormy ocean below, so she can be reunited with her family in the afterlife.

Iyria had chosen the song because, although a sorrowful one, it also required one to have great control of their pitch, tone, and range, as parts of the song could switch from a low alto to a screeching soprano, and back down again, in rapid succession. So she sang, and sang with force, her voice telling the story in its tones, allowing even those who could not understand Valkrien – the language of her home - to feel the emotions behind her words.

Finally, the song reached its climax, a roaring soprano dropping suddenly into the realm of a low alto… and it was finished.

Bowing, Iyria managed to get out a soft “Thank you” before returning to her seat, soft, silent tears glimmering faintly in her eyes as she watched the others and waited for the results.

__________________

Never doubt me, for you may find it to be the last mistake you ever make.

Pools of sapphire scoured and skimmed across the open sea of faces from atop their lonely marble tower, searching for that one pair in the hundreds that was their match. Cupid's fickle finger pointed and drew his gaze inexorably to her eyes and breath caught in his chest, for all the world like a schoolboy catching sight of his idol. Even across the distance her eyes were impossibly blue, ceruleans piercing and cradling him all at once in their adoring embrace. Caltrin's lithe fingers instinctively left the reeds of the oboe to paw longingly at the glass, but the silken ebony strands his digits longed for were met only with the cool window. All around her, his very dreams were coming true, that which he'd wished years upon years for bursting into life amidst the booths and banners... but all he could see was Raina, beauty incarnate wrapped in satin and silks.

That keening song that had wiped clean the sky for their festival left hanging in the air, awaiting its final notes. Catching the breath his muse had stolen from him, Caltrin blew those few last tones through the cane reed, subtle and magicless other than the sonic magnification that delivered it out across the field. So it should have been, anyway, had inspiration and mischief not taken him at that last moment. With reddened cheeks, the Maestro sculpted those final notes of wind into a tangible force and sent them towards Raina. A subtle caress to tickle along the back of her neck, the same idle prank she chastised him for everytime he did it... the same idle nothing that made her face turn the most perfect shade of pink like only he could.

Somewhere between the distance and the bated blush in his own breath, however, the weaved music grew misshapen and that whisper of a tickle became an outright jostle that sent Raina to look about questioningly. A single pitchy note left the oboe before his hand came up to smother his face, equal parts embarrassed at the blunder and humored by the comedy of it. Smooth as ever, you wordless fool. The moment had passed all the same, and as his muse turned towards the Festival, so did he back towards his office. What dim lighting there was seemed to focus on the mountain of parchments scattered across his desk, each one another treatise, proposal, or lesson plan that needed to be approved and looked over. With a sigh and a soundless chuckle, Caltrin Ester peeled back his sleeves and got to work.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~

Gasps of surprise and barely masked fear rolled over the throngs of visitors and fair goers, the masses parting to give the source of their surprise twice the berth his massive frame already demanded. Towering at the center of their attention, Mathew Shackleford seemed not to notice nor care about the treatment, giving his rapt focus to the ice cream cone that looked impossibly small in his giant hands. Massive in every sense, Mathew had the look of a gorilla that had been shaved, been put through two full enrollments at the world's finest colleges and then put into the finely cut petticoats that denoted a Conductor of River's End. An air of wisdom seemed to swim in those large pools of mahogany for any brave enough to meet them, which were few and far between amongst the visitors to Trisani.

All along the booths, however, a roll of cheerful greetings and well-wishes washed over him as he strolled the lanes. Mathew had the reputation of being both a kind teacher of Earth based music as well as a generous tipper, which had gained him the adulation of students and townspeople alike. Cries of "Father Earth, try this!" or "Father Earth, come tell these people I offer only the fairest of prices!" followed him wherever he went, and Mathew was sure to comply whenever he could. A wide grin split his complacent face ear to ear, serenely happy and altogether unaware of the dollop of strawberry ice cream that he'd managed to get on the tip of his nose.

Nairne Botwin, however, was not. Then again, there were very few details the Conductor of Wind ever missed, if any. Even down to the hem of her dress, regulation measured to the inch to show the least amount of skin possible while not being called a bed robe, she was all business. The angles of her face, from her sharp nose, wickedly arcing eyebrows and the obtuse bend of her perpetual pouting frown were all telltale signs of how severe a woman she was. "By the muses, Mathew, do try and show a level of decorum, hmm? We're to be the faces and voices of River's End, and here you are looking like a child who's sneaked into the Sweets Shoppe!" Petite as her frame was, she had to arch onto the tips of her toes to reach her magenta handkerchief up to Mathew's nose, and even then the massive Conductor had to stoop to allow her to. She wiped off the smudge of pink cream with a disdaining sniff, letting the giant of a man know full well what she thought of his behavior. Mathew only smiled and nodded his thanks, knowing full well that this was the extent of kindness Nairne ever showed.

"Would you look at this fool." Nairne chewed that last word out of its mouth, somehow managing to make it more of an insult than it already was. Arms crossed and eyes ablaze, she nodded in the direction of the cotton candy vendor, where a giggling gaggle of local girls and visitors alike were clapping their hands in exultation. Mathew's voice was an ashen rumble, rocks sliding down a mountainside. "Confidence. It is the food of the wise man and the liquor of the fool."

At the center of the gathering stood a roguishly handsome man, with a carefree slyness to his smile that seemed to say that he knew very well just how good looking he was. From the careless tousle of his fly-away mane of scarlet locks to the open-shirt, loosened tie of his Conductor's petticoats, Mallik 'al'Vere looked more like a gleeman or a bard than the Conductor of Fire. One wouldn't be too far off in assuming that, either, for where Caltrin had found most of the other Conductors performing in the pomp and frill of noble's courts or on concert stages, Mallik was scouted in the seediest of taverns. There, he'd used his wiles and skills to con or fluster people out of their money, leaving purses as empty as he left taverns filled. Even now, the street rat somehow managed to make the Conductor's formal attire look sloppy and disheveled, though he was no longer after people's coin purses. No, that devilish glint in his eyes was after something different altogether...

"Indeed, ladies and lookers-on, River's End Academy alone can help you turn your idle hobby of music into an extraordinary passion, and you too can one day wield a power as awesome as this! Now, for my next tr-, ah, example, I'll need a member from the crowd. You there, young lady with the blush in her eye and the silkiest of auburn hair, please, come up to join me!" Stepping forward, he took the girl's hand, easily a year or two younger than a man his age should be using such silken words on, and pulled her before the crowd. A shaky curtsy was given as thanks to the roaring applause, biting down softly into her lower lip. Mallik, meanwhile, had taken another stick of cotton candy from the vendor, paying with a wink and a smile, and was dancing his fingers along the striated sugar. Forming and sculpting the candy into an intertwining ribbon of sorts, he closed it into a loop and, with a cry and a clap, launched it into the air.

The girl stood stock still as the loop of sky-blue candy arced toward her, thrown with a sharpshooter's accuracy like a ring at her head. Just before it landed, Mallik set forth into action his trick; his fingers snapped and clicked at a rapid pace, a flurry of snaps and claps coalescing into a steady rhythmic pattern. Mere inches from her head now, the ring set ablaze, the sugars popping and crackling into a rainbow of hues in the sky to form a beautiful burning halo above her head. "Let's hear it for our angel with her halo, ladies and gentlemen!" The crowd burst into applause once more.

"That, unfortunately will be my final performance for the day, my fine audience, but you can see the likes of this and much more most every day at River's End Academy. All you need to do is line up right over there with the rest of those soon-to-be students and give it your best! And to all of the young ladies who helped me in today's impromptu show, should the audition go South and you not be selected, find me after the Festival; there might be a few strings I can pull to help persuade the- HURK!"

A shrill whistling note had sliced through the open air of the Festival, blown with force by the infuriated Nairne Botwin. Producing a slim flute from within her sleeve, she Played forth the requisite notes of Binding, and closed an iron-like vice around Mallik's smooth-talking throat. Another few notes danced through the air, clasping his hands to his side and, finally, dragging him across the distance between them. Then and only then did Nairne soften the grip around his throat. "You'll what, Master al'Vere?" From behind those storming eyes, Mathew could only shrug and grin at his fellow friend and faculty member.

"Nairne!" Mallik croaked. "Always a -hurk!- pleasure!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bored fingers drummed idly against the oak tabletop as Demitrius Meris awaited Donell's first announcement, looking on with disillusioned eyes as the flustered boy flipped through the pages of his roster. The sound of a chair scraping gained his attention, and he offered the kindest of smiles as the Conductor of Life took her seat beside him. Their eyes met, clover to cerulean, and he let his gaze linger a moment in thought. In any other scenario Demitrius would find her ravishing; a model of perfection in both talent and form, with a coy smile and a confidence to her gait uncommon in most women. Even if he weren't Caltrin's close friend and confidant, however, it was easy to tell the man was besotted with her and thus she was forever crossed off of Meris' list. The blue-haired Maestro had done far too much for him, personally and professionally, for him to ever encroach, and thus as he was his brother, she would be unto him as a sister. An annoyingly opinionated sister, perhaps, but a lady to be respected and served all the same. "Raina." he said simply, nodding his greeting.

Fingers fluttered at his side, readying quill and ink to the parchment he'd prepared for today. Charted and graphed into columns and categories, Demitrius had labeled off a scoring sheet he would use for the auditioning process. With such categories as "Professionally trained?", "Proper attire?" and "Possible nobility?", "Arete?" seemed like a distant after thought. All the same, however, Demitrius finally looked focused; the first name was about to be announced and, for all his pomp and circumstance, the Conductor of Water was a diligent worker if nothing else. "Faust? Send him in, Donell, thank you."

It was all he could do to keep from clicking his teeth when he saw the boy walk upon the stage; with a shaggy mop for hair and a nervous look about him, Demitrius was quick to make some heavy jots down on his paper. Still, the lad at least dressed the part and his guitar seemed to be serviceable, so he gestured for the boy to continue, albeit with pursed lips. Meris offered him a nod of approval as he noticed the boy set himself correctly in the right state of mind before playing; signs of a master. His grip on the instrument was perhaps a bit off and a note here or there made him wince, but the passion in his playing was undeniable. For better or worse, sometimes that was all it took to unlock one's arete. With some final notes placed upon his paper, he nodded to and thanked the boy and watched him leave. The first applicant of the day showed some potential... perhaps this won't be a wash, after all, Demi.

That wasn't entirely true, as the rest of the day proved. Dozens of applicants were threatening to become hundreds, and soon enough he wondered if every jackinape who could clap their hands thought they could get into their prestigious Academy. Soon enough he stopped marking down notes altogether, being able to tell a few seconds into one's performance whether or not they had the gift. The percentage of applicants to acceptable students, it would seem, was very small. There were certain auditions of note, however, and he paid rapt attention to their performances.

Raleigh looked like he belonged more in the back of a Blacksmith's shop, pounding a hammer against a a blade's edge, and Demitrius marked it as such. A note was made about the boy's instrument as well; they, of course, had a few pianos of their own in the Academy, but the lad's dedication to so ragged and run-down an instrument was noteworthy. It hadn't even occurred to the Conductor that he simply couldn't afford a better one. Once fingers touched the keys, however, all other thoughts were gone from his mind; this boy could Play, without a doubt, and he didn't even seem to notice. In truth, the candles lit across the room danced and flickered in accordance to the melody, wildly uncontrolled power guiding the flames this way and that in their lack of focus. With the proper training, he could prove to be a powerful student, should he be able to manage to get Mallik to focus enough to teach a proper class.

Demitrius outright chuckled as Ayaka walked out onto the stage,only stopping himself when he caught sight of Raina's curt, disapproving glare. The child had barely done more than rolled out of bed before coming to so momentous an occasion! Still, he reminded himself they were here to teach, not judge, and he docked a few notes and gestured for her to begin. Once the timid girl in pigtails opened her eyes to reveal those stark, cobalt orbs, his attention was solely hers. The girl's ability was undeniable, and the raw, unwieldy power of Life she unknowingly let forth from those youthful lips was worthy of applause. Humbled, Demitrius offered her a slight bow in his seat before thanking her for her performance... all the while ignoring Raina's smug little smirk.

He inched to the edge of his seat as he saw the curious sight of a young child wheeling in so massive a harp. Smiling ever so slightly at the mechanism the child used to lower it to his hands, he nodded and gestured for him to begin. Only a few moments in he knew he was watching a master at work; a prodigy who perhaps could use some tutelage and training in the basics and advanced arts but would one day blossom into being a masterful Player. Though the melody seemed to bring to mind the image of water; an ocean, to be specific, it seemed the child had trouble bringing forth the arete within him. In truth, while Demitrius had marked every other spot on his checklist in a positive note (save for perhaps attire), arete was a resounding question mark. All the same, however, he nodded in approval to Raina as the boy made his exit.

Iyria Sonne was a girl of some depth and lineage, it would seem, for when she sang it seemed to be of a nation and a culture more so than just a tale. There was a level of natural, primal power in her voice that was unmatched thus far, raw energy piping from her vocals. She'd chosen a good song to showcase such talents while at the same time drawing upon emotions and the psyche, sister school to Life. So moving, in fact, was the performance that Demitrius found himself unable to breathe again until the girl had already left the stage, sparkling tears in tow. Raising his eyebrows in surprise at Raina, he made his notes and readied himself for the next performer.

__________________

Phillipe sat in the back and watched all of the auditions. As head of house, he was always present at the arrival of the newcomers. He watched the mingling and the nervous habits that were displayed. His eyes followed Raina on her descent to the table next to the Maestro. Careful scrutiny of the gaze would reveal more than words or behavior ever would, but no one paid any attention to him today. He watched as the ‘talent’ paraded itself upon the stage that he had graced so many times. He had never feared the platform. It was more of a comfort than any bed or embrace ever could be. That is, perhaps, the sole reason he was the best student at the Academy.

Ayaka was one that drew his attention at first; a cute little thing with a pink bear. It was odd and strangely wonderful at the same time. Such personality was needed to survive within the Academy. The biggest challenge is one’s self. The instructors and other students feed off of one’s own inner turmoil. How a student handles that battle is how the rest will respond. Phillipe held his inner maelstrom exactly where he wanted it and no one ever gave him any problems. Phillipe took note of her face and would speak to her later and commend her song choice.

More instruments played and this bored Phillipe. Then, another girl strode onto stage and spoke with a great nervousness within her voice. However, Iyria was quite a performer. Her voice was talent in a raw sense, but had much fine tuning that needed to be done. He made a private note to have a chat with her at some point to test the waters, so to speak. It brought a smile to his face as the lights danced for a second over the streaks left by her tears. No doubt, her heart was fully immersed in her desire to be at River’s End.

Phillipe drifted in and out of the conscious realm. Auditions drew on and on and it began to wear on his patience. He found other ways to bide his time; like studying the incoming student body, the female body in particular. Three was a lot of potential in this year’s group.

More tryouts, more talent, more horrifying performances. On several occasions, Phillipe debated singing over the noise just to ease his own ears and prevent them from bleeding. He never did, however. The instructors would never settle for that sort of dissention. This was a time for restraint. The bounding chaos would be released soon, but Phillipe would have to wait.

__________________

If you don't stop biting your lip, you'll have a second hole to eat through soon!

Lee could practically hear her mother's voice, though she was a few hundred miles from her home. With a bemused sigh, she let her bottom lip fall from between her teeth and focused her anxiety instead on braiding her thick brown hair over her shoulder. When she reached the end of her waist-length locks, she undid the braid and rebraided it again. By the time it was her turn to audition, her hair would be as wild and untamable as a forest cat, and three times as large. Of course, that didn't matter much to her, but she didn't want to appear unkempt to others.

Leony Markman's vice was her impatience, her utter inability to sit still and just wait. Her mother commented on it nonstop. "Even in the womb," she would say, "you were always kicking and moving, trying to get out months before you graced us with your physical presence." Then she'd peck her bouncing daughter on the brow and shoo her away.

Lee smiled as she remembered the feeling of her mother's lips on her hairline. It was her mother who'd sent her away, though tearfully, to "go make others hear the music." She'd always believed, and taught Lee the same, that people with no music in their lives were still, dead people. No matter how much money you had, how much milk your cows produced, how many bolts of cloth you managed to sell at the market, you didn't know happiness or wealth until you heard good music.

So Lee played, not for her own happiness, but for the happiness of others. Her mother, Ariane Markman, said the greatest happiness came first from finding the happiness in others, then finding it in yourself. As such, Lee loved to help people who couldn't help themselves. At the same time, she had little patience for whining or people who gave up before they tried. It was part of why she'd come to practice magic and River's End, though she didn't really believe it could happen before. Mother wouldn't abide quitters in her house.

Lee chuckled to herself, kicking her feet, which danged over the edge of the borrowed piano she sat on. They were her mother's toes, her mother's feet. Apparently some of the only things Lee owned from her mother, aside from her musical ability and her thick hair. Everything else--her small stature, her emerald green eyes, her bubbling laugh and quiet personality--was her father's. She'd never met the man as he'd died before her birth, but she'd have a million questions for him if she ever met him in some after life.

Just then, a voice shattered her fond memories and rampant imagination.

"L-Lee-Leony Markm-man?" said a boy's voice from her right.

Lee jumped carefully off her piano and raised a hand, already pushing the thing before her. Though small, Lee was built strong and sturdy. By her feet, she felt Schroeder's scruffy figure keeping pace beside her.

The voice sounded again, quiet and nervous. "Is...is that your d-dog?" he said. His voice was like that of a caged bird just being let free: tempted to go forth, but uncertain of the consequences and overly wary of his surroundings.

Lee smiled in the direction of the voice. "Yes, this is Schroeder. Don't worry, he won't bark. He's a good boy."

"Oh." A long pause, and for a moment, Lee thought he'd gone back the way he came. Then, with a touch more confidence this time, "C-Can I pet him?"

Leony grinned. "Of course! He loves meeting new friends." She, too, paused for a moment before saying, "He also gets lonely. Would you like to keep him company while I audition?"

She heard the boy laugh as Roe's tail brushed her legs and knew Roe had found a new companion. "Oh, p-please!" said the boy. "I'll be c-c-careful, too, I won't let him run outside, or b-bark, and disturb the others, or a-anything!"

Leony put on a stern face, though she could barely hide her smile. "Alright," she said. "I'm holding you to that!" She pushed the piano a few feet more, then stopped and said, "Is the door in front of me?"

~*~*~*~

Leony saw through her music, or that's what her mother had told her. She'd started playing piano only weeks after losing her sight, and somehow, though no one noticed for some time, her ability to "see" increased as her knowledge of the piano grew. Lee had found the old piano Ariane had kept about, planning on teaching her now-blind daughter the basics one day (though she had now bitterly abandoned the task, thinking it impossible). Still, when Lee came across the old oaken bench and the yellowing ivory keys, she couldn't help herself. She couldn't see the keys and she couldn't reach the pedals, but she could hear the music, and caught on quickly enough: if you went to the left, the notes got lower and deeper. She could feel these reverberate in her chest, and called them 'chest notes.' If you moved the the right, the notes got higher and trill-like. These made her ears buzz and tickle. These she called 'feather notes.' If you played two or more notes together, you got different sounds, some beautiful and light, others sad and dark, and still others striking and angry. It made no difference: one note or a thousand, Leony knew how to make them flow together seamlessly, until her mother said, "It's like the music never stopped or started with you, girl. It was just always in you, always moving and flowing, just like you, waitin' to find a way out."

The first time Leony had touched a piano, she'd just sat and played, feeling as if someone were guiding her hands. And though she couldn't feel the hands there, she could see them, giving her music, giving her an outlet for the melodic stream her mother said moved within her.

Now, fourteen years later, Lee was playing the same song she'd played then. Ariane had called it a pure expression of life. It had no distinguishable melody, or at least not a consistent one. But wasn't that life? You never knew what to expect, only experienced the deepest of sorrows and the greatest of joys when you least expected it. In between, there were trills of happiness, and echoes of sadness or anger, and somehow the whole thing meshed together in a perfect, haunting, completely new, and somehow familiar melody.

Lee played the song often enough at home, but never the same way twice. She'd never written it down, though Ariane had told her she ought to sell it. She didn't need to write it down, nor did she need to sell it.

It was everything her mother told her was good in life: giving happiness to others while finding it in herself.

~*~*~*~

Outside, Lee sat in the grass and stared out at the city, thinking back on the audition she'd just finished. She'd felt alright about it, though really, she couldn't even remember what exactly it was that she'd played. It was like that often when she played from her heart and soul, from somewhere inside her, the same place she "saw" her landscape through her music. But she'd left feeling calm and content, and no one had thrown any rotten fruit on her way out.

The city below her buzzed with life, drawing her attention inexorably from her audition to feel it's life, though she couldn't see it. It was blurry; while it had been about to rain earlier, an abrupt wind sprang up from now where and chased the rain clouds away, leaving her to depend on the humidity in the air. She could pick out large buildings and some smaller tents, but she couldn't see people so much as an amorphous, moving blot in the streets below.

"What do you think, Roe?" she said, reaching out to pet her friend. As usual, he found her hand with his wet nose, and she laughed. "I was nervous," she admitted. "But I think it went okay. Anyway, I did what Mother said, so at least she can't be angry at us, right?" Her voice held a hint of sadness and uncertainty. While she wanted badly to get into the school--she didn't believe the magic would work for her, but she'd heard great things about the music teachers here, and she was excited to learn more about her piano--she also missed her mother. She had no siblings, and she didn't know her father. But her mother was her closest friend and ally, and being here without her felt empty and strange.

Roe heard the unnatural lull in her voice and crawled into her lap. Lee couldn't help but laugh. He'd been doing much the same since he was a puppy, no bigger than her cupped hands. But Roe was full grown now, his shoulders reaching well past her knees. His brown and black fur was dense and curly, perhaps a little much in this weather, but he never complained. He licked her face as she laughed, and she hugged him.

"Yes, you're right," she said, resting her chin on his head. "And if you like, we can pick up a treat in the market on the way home if things here don't work out."

__________________

So many characters.

Sitting next to her colleague, the Conductor of Life mentally buckled down for a long afternoon. Before her were no papers or writing utensils – nothing to take note of any of the performances like Demitrius had so intelligently done. But not for one second did this agitate her – or her colleague, who didn’t give her a second glance after she sat down and simply nestle into position. One of Raina’s most armorial qualities was the ability to remember anything and everything – although for some that wouldn’t necessarily be a good thing. And on this particular day, it wouldn’t be a good thing for her, either. For she was certain, as her azure depths analyzed the stage in wait for the nervous senior to finally stutter out the name of the first performer, that the majority of the many characters she saw amongst the crowd of applicants didn’t know the difference between a soprano and an octave.

Somehow, however, Raina mustered up the professional courtesy to focus. The rounds of her slender shoulders lifted slowly as her breasts expanded, pulling in a deep, calming breath. That same breath flowed out of her mouth in one swift gust of wind, which immediately resulted in her eyes flickering up to the stage. Within the depths of her mind she was certain, that despite the look of the awkward youths, there had to be some pit of talent amongst them.

Thus the day began.

Gale Faust walked across the stage – and her eyes didn’t leave his face. For all his physical qualities, it was his eyes that had her entranced. Even closed, his youthful, attenuated face looked soft and passionate. Being a master of Life gave her one opinion others weren’t so lucky to have. Seeing that calmness fall over him – despite the several mistakes her keen ears could easily ascertain – was like watching then sunset from the shore of a great ocean and seeing not only the vibrant colors and glistening waters, but actually feeling them, living in them. That, as she was sure the Conductor of Water would so smoothly put it, was the signs of a master. To her, it was the signs of someone who like to live slowly, and enjoy every moment given to them. Brief but impressive, Gale discreetly excused himself after catching a reassuring smile from Raina. That smile said ‘You have my vote.’

Raina, although surprised by the sleek first audition, was far too realistic to have her hopes raised. She was right in not letting them get up there, either. The two professor’s of magical music both slowly sank into a state of annoyance, frustration, and absolute boredom. The Life Conductor even found herself slouching back in her seat, switching from folded arms to squashing her face into the palm of her hand as her elbow rested upon the hard oak table. The vast majority of them were talentless. The ratio of success to failure which she had hoped for was sadly, rapidly descending. Hilariously, there was even a middle-aged tap dancer who thought he could get in by throwing on some shoes and prancing about the stage like a show pony. Even though Raina was usually such a kind, generous person, the woman couldn’t stop herself from howling the man off the stage with her laughter.

Of course, despite her disappointment, there were still those few exceptions that both Demitrius and her shared such enthusiasm that they actually sat straight in their chairs and listened.

What Raina noticed about Raleigh was not his brutish nature or even his hand-me-down looking piano. It was his fingers. Her sea deep globes peered up at the gargantuan man as he pushed his instrument onto the juncture – a one man stage crew – and admired the personality in those thick digits. Even as the man placed them upon the keys of the piano – which looked laughingly out of place atop the white board – they had her curious as to how they would move without stumbling along, no matter how simple the song. Raina was proven wrong. The sad song rose off the stage like a blanket of cold, raw power thrown over the room with such an astonishing grace that the woman found herself smiling the whole time.

After just one more disappointing failure was another uplifting performance from a young girl. Raina had to reprimand her colleague on the sound she knew was laughter, silently yelling at him through her eyes and curtly returning a sympathetic smile to the young girl. Although inwardly she, too, felt a little disapproving towards the girls choice of clothing. Albeit never would she say this fact aloud – who was she to judge what others felt of themselves? It made them who they were. As her forte’ in the vocals department, it was not only her duty, but her sole love to open her ears and give the pig-tailed child her full attention. Oh, was it beautiful. Raina slowly closed her eyes, dipping her head down and focusing her ears on the pitch and tone of Ayaka’s voice, which, although rough and in need of some control, was flawless for someone of her age. When it ended her eyes remained closed – unwilling to leave the small world she’d created in her head from that sweet melody. Of course, feeling Demitrius’ eyes upon her, she found herself grinning with an inward triumph – never judge a book by it’s cover.

By now the crowd was beginning to thin. When Dan came onto the stage Raina had to suppress a yawn – time was dragging on so much even she couldn’t keep control of her attention for much longer. Yet the sound of the mechanism bringing the harp down to the boy brought her to a rapt attentiveness. The harp wasn’t something she saw very often these days – a quietly dying trade without the once passionate crowd of faithful to keep it around. This instrument, however, was one of her personal favorites. Not only was it a fair partner to the voice, but it was extremely masterful at telling its own story, with or without words, in a way no other could.

However – this child was beyond young. Barely a boy, even. Of course, life possibly could have made him a man already, but there were lessons that only time could reveal. Even as she listened to his glorious playing Raina couldn’t help but marvel at how Demitrius, or even Caltrin for that matter, could possibly allow someone so young to attend River’s End. When the sweet, somber tune ended and the boy trod off the stage with his beast of a harp in tow, Raina looked over at her partner with scrutinous eyes – although Demitirus was too busy marking notes on his papers to notice.

Next was Iyria. The small display of gathering her confidence by correcting Donell had her inwardly already liking the girl. Similar to Raina, the girl had a rare air of confidence, yet emitted it around the room less like a painful virus and more like a warming aura that fed all those around her. A mental note to how many sad songs she’d already heard today had her wishing for a merry dance later – although barely, when the bulk of her attention had been captured by the breath taking performance of Iyria. It was a good thing she was a vocalist, for being such made her well taught in all the songs of the land. This one was no stranger. It gave her the ability to see how well the girl actually mimicked the song, and how she made it her own. And what an enrapturing performance it was, for she turned to the Conductor of Strings with arched brows mirroring his own, their decision painting across their stunned faces.

The entire auditorium was getting impatient now. It was a vibe that had everyone shifting in their seats, aching to move, to get out of the uncomfortable shelves holding their rears made ruinously painful on purpose to keep their eyes open instead of closed. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Demitrius constantly pushing up his glasses, even if they hadn’t slid down the bridge of his nose in the slightest increment. Even Raina couldn’t keep the tenseness from reaching into her chest and grabbing hold, her leg bouncing up and down in agitation and her fingers pounding quietly out of sight atop her knee.

And then, finally.

Throughout the course of the day they’d seen numerous repeat performances – dozens of the same instruments, many of them so similar in performance Raina was about ready to go stark raving mad if she heard another trumpet spout out its screeching refrain. The final applicant was another repeat – a pianist. The Maestro of Life couldn’t help but sigh inaudibly as it was pulled onto the stage. But. When that girl sat down on the Academy’s expensive ebony seat and placed her slender fingers atop the keys, the message in the song was not lost on Raina. It began completely unique, and intertwined fantastically. The woman rejoiced, and smiled enthusiastically at the girl, Lee, who played out that song like she’d been meant to her entire life. If anyone knew the magic of life in all its forms, it was Raina. And this young woman knew exactly what she was after when she moved her fingers along the white row. Lee would be a powerful student, and ally, of that she had no doubt.

“T-That’s it. We’re all done.” Came Donell’s exhausted, relieved voice as he slapped his side with the now useless roster. Raina immediately leapt to her feet with a cheer, the ecstasy of actually having feeling return to her legs unable to repress itself. Beside her Demitrius gave her a strange look and a shake of his head, but smiled nonetheless as the rest of the crowd, made mostly of the assisting seniors who weren’t down at the festival, rose gladly to their feet. With the seniors dispersing, Raina stretched her arms up as high as they could go, bouncing on the balls of her feet to get the blood flowing again. As the Conductor of Water went about looking through his many notes, nodding or shaking his head at things he’d written, the Life master peered over the stage towards the door that lead to where all the sweating, still-nervous candidates awaited their just desserts.

Reluctantly Raina sat down once more, turning to face Demitrius in one last round of decision making. At once she immersed herself in her own opinion of the auditions – consulting with the Water master on those that she thought deserved the highest of regards, and those who couldn’t grasp talent if it was dangled right in front of their noses. Together the two professors argued on for minutes that seemed like hours of heated debating – one Raina was completely set on Demitrius would have none of, as well as vice versa. Luckily, there was a vast bundle of those that the two thought were so hopeless it took them all of two seconds to agree on their total lack of arête capabilities. And, of course, there were the absolute success’ that neither of them had anything other to say than ‘perfect’ to.

Then, at length, when the two could finally come to a lasting agreement, Raina stood from the chair she hoped she would never have to grace with her rear again. With a nod she took the paper which had the names of those accepted jotted down quickly and sometimes angrily.

“I’ll break it to them. You go enjoy the festival Dem – that is, if you can, with Mallik and Nairne amok down there.” Then, with a joyous chuckle and a mirthful wave, Raina wound around the Conductor of Strings and walked briskly up the side of the stage towards the ultimate destiny of River’s End Academy.

Clunk, clunk. Her heels on the hardwood.
With a creak that could use some good oil to shut it the hell up, the door swung open at Raina’s command, her satin gown trailing in a flowing wave behind her step. Many a student looked wide eyed and frightened as the Vocalist entered the courtyard, some leaping to their feet, others already pacing back in forth to a point she could see a rut in the grass below them. When she stopped dead center, however, all attention was on her. With bated breath they eyed the paper as Raina lifted it for her eyes to see, glancing around at the desperate, yearning faces all around her, who if she wasn’t careful would turn into a pack of ravenous wolves and eat her alive. Gathering up her countenance and drawing in one steady breath, the woman opened her mouth and began to list off all those who had been accepted to the prominent River’s End Academy.

Raina went on for what seemed like days – watching as faces began to downturn in hopelessness, their names far from being called. And then seeing some of them light up in flames when the familiar syllables of their names surprisingly broke across her tongue. When, at length, the end of the paper came, over fifty percent of the crowd looked still expectantly at Raina, as if she had more to give them.

“And that is all.” She said, holding her dignity high as the faces melted into tears, disappointment, anger. Before she could be rushed by pleading, begging applicants Raina gave a curt bow to all those still paying her any mind – although it would be hard to lose attentiveness from such an extravagant figure.

“Congratulations to all who have been accepted! You will find the seniors waiting in front of the auditorium to lead you to your appropriate house dorms and give you a tour of the Academy, as well as provide you with a schedule of you classes – which start this coming Monday. And may I be the first to welcome you into River’s End.”

With that, she turned, and off she went. Not in the direction of the festival, however. No, for on her mind the entire afternoon had not entirely been the acceptance of students – although she had given that her priority. It was Caltrin that plagued her thoughts – a man that seemed so far out of reach it only made her want to be around him more. Such a mystery – silent at all hours despite the rambunctious song that flowed from her own lips. It had surprised her all those years ago when such a young man had come to her doorstep and asked for her to use magic, and be a professor at an Academy for it, no less. Yet now, years later, she found herself smug and warm in a position he had taught her to hold well and confidently, even with his lack of words. Raina found herself doing anything and everything to please him – being his voice amongst River’s End, and singing him songs late at night when nothing else could lull him into slumber.

The sounds of her feet climbing up the stairs of his tower peeled out like bells, rapidly ascending towards the Maestro. It took her all of two minutes to hurry in front of his large oaken door and place a slender hand atop the brass knocker she never used.

“Cal? It’s Raina.”

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