In the West area of the University prefecture there was a beautiful but sombre sound ringing through the hallways. It was rare for Yoshiko to captivate anyone for very long but when she played; unknown to her, people stopped in the hallways to listen for a spell before they moved onto their classes. Yoshiko was old fashioned and the music they heard was likely Older than most of the teachers here, but it was beautiful to her, the way composers used to write captivated her imagination and whisked her away to another world.
In the classroom the other students had stopped practising and the teacher had taken to once again playing the composer although she was going about it all wrong and of course Yoshiko didn't see it anyway. Whenever the girl played the violin her eyes were closed so she could be further lost in the music she played. Her jet black hair fell messily around her shoulders, tickling her pale neck. Her fingers lovingly held the wooden instrument -for she preferred it to the glass and acrylic ones people tended to play now- it's strings humming as the horse hair bow ran across them with a delicate grace. Her upper body swayed to the music, wearing a white halter neck shirt that fell close to the body and hugged at her hips, her white long sleeved woollen cardigan hung over the back of her chair, it's cuffs stretched and exaggerated and it's length easily reached her knees. Her legs were covered in a pair of loose black cotton trousers, and her feet covered with plain black slip ons without a heel.
Her chair itself was not the usual class chair, it was black and silver, with a padded seat and back. Two arm rests, one which was mounted with a joystick of sorts, a pair of handles at the back and four wheels, the rear two larger than thinner than the front two. Her useless leg was bound in steel and leather, hidden under the baggy black linen of her trousers, and both were propped up in the stirrups meant for them. Her violin case was black leather, frayed from years of use and love. She had a black shoulder bag hanging from one of the handles of her chair with her laptop inside, a sleek silver model with all of her class notes, texts and information she needed for the lessons she attended.
As her piece came to a fitting finale she left the bow upon the strings and let out a sigh of contentment, a small smile graced her pale pink lips as she opened her eyes. Ice blue in hue but deep and intelligent none the less she saw and heard a round of clapping from the class and just outside its doors. Where only moments before she seemed dignified and confident, a blush crept onto her cheeks and she appeared to grow a little nervous. With a dip of her head for a bow she picked up her violin case as the teacher began to compliment her piece and choose the next performer, putting away the instrument she hung it on the back of the chair. Then, removing the brakes she took the wheels in hand and carefully manoeuvred her way to the back of the classroom, it was far too difficult to use the electronic motor in a class room.
As if a piece of ingenious luck her PFT; sleek, silver and a tear drop shape, vibrated in the way it did when receiving a message and her laptop whistled a quiet tune to let her know she had a new e-mail. Rather than take out the lap top she chose to view it via her Pft, fingertip running across the surface and to her surprise it went off again as she held it. The second message was opened first and her brows furrowed in confusion, she wasn't sure who T.K was and why he wanted her to meet him outside the lecture hall after class was beyond her. Putting it down to a mistype she opened the second mail and saw a message from her tutor. Reading through it as one of the students began a flute piece she found herself almost mortified by the end.
She didn't recognise any of those names, and yet she was now assigned to work with all of them on some kind of project? One she really didn't have much interest in in the first place. She didn't think much of 'The World' and had only played it to alleviate the mind-numbing boredom of a house that always felt empty. Her parents usually busy with their work, she couldn't remember the last family meal they had together, and Yoshiko was sure that when they were not working they were 'relaxing' On Wrld. Still, a project was a project and she couldn't really afford to get bad marks in it. With a small sigh she replied to the message of this T.K person.
Will be there. ~Yoshiko