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more-than-a-princess · 1 year ago

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"I am not writing anyone off," Sonia retorted, with a sort of crispness to her tone that Shinobu didn't deserve. At least, not a Shinobu who had full retention of her memories of who she was before The Tragedy. She then sighed, realizing she needed to phrase her point in a non-accusatory way. "It is simply that I am not permitted to help any of you if you do not accept it. For my safety and yours, there are lines I am not to cross."

Even though so much had changed, amidst all of the death and despair, Shinobu Yaguchi still had their methods of getting under Sonia's skin. Even when it was entirely unintentional, words delivered by a depressed amnesiac trapped on a tropical island, Sonia had been quick to react. A time when she should've thought it through, versus others when if she'd reacted quicker and told her precisely how she felt, that the outcome might have been different. Just as well: she hadn't wanted anything to do with her then, at the end of it all.

Unfortunately, so many of the friends she'd made who had wanted her around were now gone. Maybe it was the guilt of possessing the privilege of being taken home early, before Japan had fallen into chaos and ruin, maybe it was simply because she missed them, but Sonia had wanted their memories to live on in some way and to treasure the few friends she had left who had managed to physically survive it all. Emotionally, well...that was something different for all of them.

"From what I was told, that is not surprising," Sonia offered, her tone gentler than it had previously been. "Truth be told, I am not sure if the Future Foundation understood the full extent of the Neo World Program before it was deployed for use. Time, as I understand it, was of the essence, and further testing had to be sacrificed in order to rescue all of you." What she couldn't directly say was what else had to be sacrificed in order to render the Remnants of Despair as no longer threats to society. It had been some of the points the likes of Sonia, Mikan, and other former 77-B classmates had spoken out about when the Future Foundation had come knocking, insisting they provide assistance for their cause and the future Kyosuke Munakata and Makoto Naegi envisioned. It was one of the reasons why Sonia was quick to defend the former Ultimate Nurse. She'd gathered enough courage, a feat for her, to voice her concerns as a medical professional and had been ignored, her guilt and low self esteem manipulated in their favor in order to station her at Jabberwock Island.

She was stronger than she used to be, Sonia thought fondly of her friend, but then again they'd all needed to be. Even Sonia herself, the only one of them sequestered behind the safest borders on Earth, presumably. "But it is all right. If you and your classmates are interested, I would imagine that many of us from 77-B would tell you about our class, and the ways our classes interacted. Many of us got along well, but as it is in any group, there are those with strong opinions that clashed. But overall, yes, our classes were friends."

In no small part, she remembered, due to her own contribution. The friendships she'd cultivated with Anzu, with Tsubasa, and with Shinobu themselves had broken down walls between the two 77 classes, helping them come together for group study, festivals, and outings as a unified 77th class. Shinobu's in particular had been a constant wave of feelings: joy and awe and excitement and desire and love and pain and disappointment, all circled through the course of mere months. Try as she might, Sonia couldn't forget the sleepless nights, curled in bed or tucked into the window seat in the largest window of her dorm room, hoping that Shinobu didn't think of her as the princess, the way everyone else did. Hoping that Shinobu wasn't in love with someone else.

Sonia's eyebrows raised at the movement on the line, relieved for the distraction. "Have you caught one?" She asked, though her question was redundant: by the time Shinobu had reeled in their line, it was clear that they'd caught a mess of trash and rotting driftwood. "Oh," Her face fell at the result. "Well, you shall have better luck next time."

Hopeful words, it seemed, that didn't sink in. Shinobu had muttered a retort at Sonia's yearning, before and after The Tragedy, to alleviate her own loneliness. "I...I guess I just meant in general, even before The Tragedy began," She stammered. Admitting how isolated she felt every day as the Princess of Novoselic was never seen as a positive move: it resembled complaining and resentment about her lot in life, and inappropriate for a future leader. No one would pity her, she'd been told time and time again, especially after The Tragedy: a mostly untouched country and the young woman who would lead it one day. No, the world's population would give anything to be in her position, no matter how alone she felt: that was nothing in comparison to real suffering.

So she swallowed her loneliness, like she did the rest of her feelings most days. She was here to help, and put off certain decisions she didn't want to make. In that order of priority. "Then I will send some clothing sets to your cabin," She nodded, looking out over the waves. "And I am offering because I want to help. Call it guilt, if you like, for being shut away within Novoselic's borders and not doing as much as I could during The Tragedy. But with those restrictions now loosened, I feel compelled to do what I can to assist with the resources I have. That is what I have the clearance to tell you, anyway: some things the Future Foundation have asked I keep private, until a more appropriate time."

When Shinobu's memory didn't have more holes than swiss cheese, perhaps. "You are not bad people, you just-"

"Sonia."

Even when he wasn't giving orders and leading meetings, Byakuya Togami's voice had a certain authoritative tone to it. Like he'd never grown up listening to one warmer and tender and didn't know how to utilize it for himself. Sonia's eyes widened as she half-turned to face him. His tall stature loomed over Sonia and Shinobu both, though he seemed to be making his best attempt at a smile. It didn't reach his eyes, it never did.

"Ah, T-Byakuya," Sonia greeted him, matching his smile. He'd suggested that they call each other by given names, unless it was in a strictly professional situation. In front of Shinobu, it was likely that Togami didn't feel compelled to address her as coldly and formally as he did everyone else. "Good afternoon. You do not often visit the beach?"

"Only when I have respite from my work," He replied, adjusting his glasses. He hadn't changed clothes for the occasion, still wearing his Future Foundation suit, though he held his shoes and socks in one hand and rolled up the cuffs of his trousers. Good quality attire was expensive to come by, and even though he could afford it he was still often beheld to the long wait times of transport ships. "Yaguchi." He nodded to her, "I understand you are catching the former Remnants' meal for tonight? I wish you well."

Sonia stared, wondering who the hell was standing over them. Even if he wasn't particularly compassionate, this support from Togami was strange. Uncharacteristic of him, as he furrowed his brows beneath the bright afternoon sunlight. They both had that in common, at least: they both did poorly in the sun for long periods of time.

"However, Sonia, I meant to find you in order to remind you not to bother yourself with Tsumiki Mikan's work," He returned his attention to her, his attempt at a cheery expression a terrible accompaniment to his words. "She is the professional here and does not need to be burdened further by you. You should keep to what you are allowed to do here, what you should be focusing on here."

"But I can help!" Sonia interjected, scrambling to her feet, her sandals forgotten in the sand. It was her turn for her eyes to narrow but not at the sun, at him instead. "It is just things like first aid, or changing bandages or bedding or bringing food from the kitchens as needed. I spent so much of The Tragedy helping Novosonian hospitals and convalescent homes, overfilled with refugees and volunteer Novosonian soldiers who crossed into our neighboring countries to take part in the fight. I am not performing complicated medical procedures, and Tsumiki had stripped beds and dirty linens that she did not have time to do herself. She is only one person, Byakuya, she could use any assistance we can give her and I have two hands and time on them. It should be no trouble."

"Just keep out of it, Sonia," He replied with an exasperated sigh, before looking to Shinobu and remembering they weren't alone. "You have more important things to consider, more important decisions that you must finalize. Just let Tsumiki Mikan nurse the former Remnants, it is her specialty and she should be equipped to handle it: her delicate nerves should strengthen under the responsibility, she certainly needs it."

"I'm not criticizing any individual person," Shinobu mumbled, having detected something in Sonia's reaction that seemed dissatisfied with what they had said. "I'm not criticizing anything, truthfully. I was only asking that you not write Shikiba and Miss Kamiya off entirely." Their conditions were beyond easy help, and while the medical team themselves may have been committed to proper care, Shinobu found it hard to imagine Future Foundation's administrators signing off on expensive treatments or medications in short supply for the murderers.

In Shibika's case, the flowers that grew around his internal organs would require a long, arduous, extremely delicate surgery to remove, while the spores emitted by the flowers were a deadly toxin to anyone other than himself. Any surgery team would need to work around the clock, in full protective gear, aware that even a single mistake could kill Shikiba or themselves. Even beyond that, the rest that would follow would keep him bedridden for weeks - far longer than they could spare his expertise. As such, it was the unfortunate reality that he'd need to simply endure - going about his work of helping provide for his classmates while every abrupt movement or intake of breath sent small waves of pain throughout his body.

As for Miss Kamiya... whatever there was to be done about her would take time - perhaps more than they had. As the archer understood it, she had been raised in a curious village with curious traditions, leading her to be revered as a great weather spirit in mortal form, a god made flesh. For all her life, her head had been filled with a particular form of truth, that held her up as uniquely important to the people of her village as a blessing of fortune, a moral leader, and a object of worship all the same. To wake from her simulation's dream to realize the truth of what she'd done, to see the horrid things she'd asked of her people, only to turn around and slaughter them once they'd outlived their usefulness, would shatter anyone's sense of self. That Miss Kamiya had considered herself a sort of divine being, ostensibly above mortal failings, surely only made the situation more difficult to cope with.

Among the names that Sonia listed, none seemed familiar to Shinobu. Even the talk of the 'Kuzuryu Family,' as though it were something they should know, lacked any meaning. Still, it seemed that it was important to Sonia to speak of her friends, both the living and the dead, and for that reason, Shinobu kept silent. Given that she and her own friends were the cause of the deaths of Sonia's, it seemed the least she could do. It was only when it seemed she'd finished that they spoke. "I don't remember any Class 77-B," she admitted, half-shrugging before thinking better of it. There was no reason to perform actions that could be seen as taking things lightly.

"Not personally, at least. Although, given that I know I belonged to Class 77-A, it follows, logically, that there would be another class. Otherwise, we'd simply be the 77th Class." A detached way of looking at it. Her gaze fell down, to her hands. The mark on her ring finger would be a permanent reminder of what had happened, and at whose bidding she had done such wretched things. That is, if the beating of the heart in her chest wasn't reminder enough. "I'm sure our classes must have done activities together - festivals, joint classes, that sort of thing. I regret that I don't remember any of it, so I can't say much of value."

Suddenly, the fishing line in the sand began to jerk, causing her to reach for it. It was an easy pull, with the reasoning made clear when the catch was revealed: a mess of trash, with plastic bags, soda rings, and seaweed wrapped around some rotted driftwood. "Oh," she mumbled, tossing it on the sand far enough back where the tide wouldn't easily carry it out, before wiping some of the slime off on the nearby ground. Even that was something to blame herself for - her and her friends. How much damage had they all done even to the planet itself? In some twisted way, that was what Shinobu Yaguchi lamented the most - however many gentle streams or secluded forest paths were gone, and the ecosystems with them. Even the ocean itself, vast and deep, carried the scars of their actions.

At least it wasn't a broken piece of a Monokuma robot, she thought - a not-uncommon occurrence.

"Mm..." Despair had never quite reached Novoselic fully, owing in equal measures to its military strength, quick response, and the general lack of effort put forth by the remnants due to Shinobu's own claim. Still, there had been converts - some were sent as tourists to neighboring countries before the borders were closed, while others waited in secret inside Novoselic, waiting to be given direct instructions. Shinobu could only guess at their fates. Surely they'd all been killed by now, as well, which brought with it a certain kind of guilt. Even if they had all been swayed into something so twisted, many of those who had pledged their lives to despair had once been normal people. Yet, with few exceptions, they had been killed without a second thought, while the organization's ringleaders and masterminds were spared.

Ridiculous, on the matter of scale. Kill one person, and be gunned down, but kill one thousand people and be sequestered away for rehabilitation and reintroduction into society. At least Shinobu would likely not receive such fortune, which seemed fair. "I was an international terrorist, Nevermind-san" she muttered, "it wasn't exactly a social trip." Her tone was bitter as she worked on setting the fishing line again, content enough to ignore it once it had been cast, simply perched upright in the sand. Still, their penchant for introspection kept them silent for a moment after, and then quietly contrite. "That was an unfair tone of me to take. I regret it. It's hardly your fault that I've done what I've done."

For a moment, as Shinobu turned to look at Sonia, she thought she might actually be able to look her in the eyes, only for her gaze to dip at the last moment and settle upon the princess's hands instead. "If you're offering, I'd be foolish to refuse." Indeed, some fresh, clean clothing, without rips and tears, or stains that wouldn't come out, would be nice. Yet... "I don't understand why you're offering, though, Nevermind-san." Though she wasn't Future Foundation, she was working alongside them, so the idea that she shared some of their goals was a reasonable one. That didn't explain why she seemed to particularly set upon trying to improve their conditions, down to hoping that Shinobu's acceptance of a gift might entice her classmates to follow suit.

Those dead classmates of hers, the ones she missed and held in high esteem, were gone because of the actions of the former Class 77-A. Even if Novoselic itself was better off than its neighbors, surely that alone should have counted against them. "It's kind of you to treat us like people, instead of like beasts or monsters." They didn't privilege either interpretation. They were all of it, anyway. "That's a luxury seldom afforded us, and I'm sure everyone greatly appreciates it, but it does not change the fact that we are bad people. Some of us especially so." Herself, that was. Perhaps Matsuda. Perhaps Hinata as well, if his capacity for good only equaled his capacity for evil, rather than surpassing it. "So why all this effort from someone who has somewhere else to be, and many other things to do?"

#quickdeaths #Despair Mirror!AU: post neo world program verse #(The rich boy cometh)#(Unfortunately he already has a job so telling him to get a job will be ineffective)#(He thinks Sonia is wasting time making beds and bringing food to formerly comatose remnants)#(He believes she is Too Important and Grand for that)

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milolunde · 10 months ago

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Triplets Born

Like most things, I started rewatching Sonic Underground for fun and nostalgia and ended up making a version of it for myself in my head. However, UNLIKE most things, I felt I needed to draw it immediately instead of keeping it in my head.

Welcome to the stage Sonic Subternion

There was a time when Robotroplis was beautiful, full of life and peace, a time when it was known as Mobotroplis. Mobians were free to take part in the glory the queendom had to offer. They were free to take charge of their future, build a home, explore the world. But, just after my children were born the evil Doctor Robotnik used his technology to turn our world into a place of terror. Capturing the great realm of Mobotroplis, Doctor Robotnik and his machines turned our paradise into a prison of concrete and metal.

As the source of Robotnik’s wealth, the aristocrats were left to play their tea parties and lavish masquerades, dooming my people to mechanical graves of servitude. Refusing to bend to Robotnik’s terror, he stripped me of my right as Queen, placing a bounty on my head… and the heads of my infant babies. Imprisoned in my own home, unable to aid my beloved queendom, I was left with a choice: Submit and forfeit Mobotroplis, or forfeit the life of my family. When all hope was lost, the Oracle of Delphius revealed to me a prophecy…

You must give up your children, separate, hide them from the evil that seeks their demise. Someday, you will reunite and overthrow Robotnik as the Lost Council of Four. But you must not act too soon. Cement your place in this destiny, for revealing yourself too soon will plunge your world into catastrophe.

To give up my babies, to leave my queendom to the hands of Robotnik, then stand idle for years while the prophecy became realized. The Oracle laid before me a destiny where my worst fears were set in stone. Without a choice, I took my babies, smuggled myself and them out of the prison that was meant to be our palace home, and left them on the doorsteps to their true destinies… then fled.

Sonia “Sophia” Windermere

On the steps of House Windermere, Queen Aleena hesitated. The Windermere family had been sponsoring Robotnik since he first began the siege of Mobotropolis. Was leaving her darling daughter in the palm that fed Robotnik truly what destiny demanded? Looking at the lush garden within the tall fence, Aleena stepped through the dead grass to the gate entrance and left her daughter, her beautiful Sophia, cradled in her crib, and ran, imagining herself running with her children through the lush court grass to the grand fountain at the center.

Sonic “Oliver” Oakcrest-Hedgehog

Stepping carefully through the poison oak and already-dead pine saplings, Queen Aleena carried her baby boy through the woods strapped to her chest, arms curled around him in protection from the low branches. Upon hearing the rush of a waterfall, she took a breath and looked down at her baby. Wryly, she smiled at Oliver, who stared up at the sunset sky through the dead tree branches in awe. Untying the woven cradle from her back, she placed the sky-blue hoglet in the blankets, swaddled him tight, and gave him a final kiss before knocking on the cabin door and running back into the trees, arms shielding her face from the pine and twigs in her way. As she ran, she listened as the waterfall hushed and wondered what it would have been like to teach Oliver to swim.

Manic “Maurice” Roach

Fearfully creeping through the ruin of her queendom, the new city of Robotropolis, Queen Aleena held on tight to the handle of her basket. Draped in a cloth, she hoped to disguise the cradle as an ordinary basket for carrying groceries. However, the ornate design of the cradle could not be completely covered, and the shape undoubtedly gave away that it was anything but an ordinary basket. Hoping the shadows and late hour, fifteen minutes before curfew, would keep her hidden, she tread towards her destination. It was a humble home, its front door blocked off and relocated to the narrow passage between the home and its neighbor. She loomed in the alley, hesitating for a moment as the green light flickered above her. Her realm did not have shadows before, but there she stood, skulking through her own queendom. Blinking, she set the cradle down and uncovered it, heart swimming when she laid eyes on Maurice. She brushed his quills, kissed him twice, then soothed her hand across his body, watching as he drifted to sleep with his medallion in his mouth. Finally standing, she covered the basket, rang the bell, and fled to hide for the night before curfew officially arrived. She ran with her eyes forward, knowing if she looked back she would gather her son into her arms in an instant. Tears stung her eyes and she wondered if fulfilling a cruel destiny felt much like being watched: Fingers numb and quills on end as it peered through the back of her throat.

=================

That's it as far as origins go... Sonic does still end up with Chuck a few years after living with the Oakcrest family, and Manic is still super kidnapped after Aleena leaves, but I thought that would lend better to another post. That is, if I have the motivation to make another post lol. I really enjoyed making this one. It's refreshing to get my ideas out somehow rather than just letting them stir in my head until I forget about it. WELL please let me know, of you read this far, if you liked it! I plan to do more with this "rewrite" or "AU" or whatever it is. Not sure what form it will take, but I already have how they all meet typed out somewhere and I look forward to sharing it!

#sonic the hedgehog #sth #my art #sonic #manic the hedgehog #sonia the hedgehog #sonic underground #Sonic Underground rewritten #sonic subternion

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garadinervi · 2 days ago

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Radical Software: Women, Art & Computing 1960-1991, Mudam Luxembourg – Musée d'Art Moderne Grand-Duc Jean / Kunsthalle Wien / Verlag der Buchhandlung Walther und Franz König, 2024

Artists: Rebecca Allen, Elena Asins, Colette Stuebe Bangert & Charles Jeffries Bangert, Gretchen Bender, Gudrun Bielz & Ruth Schnell, Dara Birnbaum, Inge Borchardt, Barbara Buckner, Doris Chase, Analívia Cordeiro, Betty Danon, Hanne Darboven, Bia Davou, Agnes Denes, VALIE EXPORT, Anna Bella Geiger, Isa Genzken, Dominique Gonzalez-Foerster, Lily Greenham, Samia Halaby, Barbara Hammer, Lynn Hershman Leeson, Grace C. Hertlein, Channa Horwitz, Irma Hünerfauth, Charlotte Johannesson, Alison Knowles, Beryl Korot, Katalin Ladik, Ruth Leavitt, Liliane Lijn, Vera Molnár, Monique Nahas & Hervé Huitric, Katherine Nash, Sonya Rapoport, Deborah Remington, Sylvia Roubaud, Miriam Schapiro, Lillian Schwartz, Sonia Sheridan, Nina Sobell, Barbara T. Smith, Tamiko Thiel, Rosemarie Trockel, Joan Truckenbrod, Anne-Mie Van Kerckhoven, Ulla Wiggen

Contributors: Laura Amann, Sarah Beaumont, Michelle Cotton, Rhea Dall, Ramona Heinlein, Hannah Marynissen, Astrid Peterle, Carlotta Pierleoni, Andrea Popelka, Clémentine Proby, Tina Rivers Ryan, Margit Rosen, Jade Saber, Bettina Steinbrügge

Graphic Design: A Practice For Everyday Life

Exhibitions: Mudam Luxembourg – Musée d'Art Moderne Grand-Duc Jean, September 20, 2024 – February 2, 2025; Kunsthalle Wien, Wien, February 28 – May 25, 2025

Curators: Michelle Cotton, assisted by Sarah Beaumont

#graphic design #art #computer art #computer drawing #computer technology #exhibition #catalogue #catalog #cover #michelle cotton #sarah beaumont #a practice for everyday life #mudam luxembourg #musée d'art moderne grand duc jean #kunsthalle wien #verlag der buchhandlung walther und franz könig #2020s

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belovedbluv · 3 months ago

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Diana Ross in Yves Saint Laurent/ Rive Gauche in the late 60s and 1970s

1- 2- Image Awards 1972 by

Kim Maydole Lync

3-8 - Studio 54 1979, New Years by

Sonia Moskowitz

9-10 Grand Central, 1968 by Jack

Robinson

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special-encounters · 2 years ago

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Novoselic festival

In the wonderous court of her royal highness Sonia Marie Nevermind, a festival most grand is taking place, the newly minted Queen is celebrating her first year on the throne, after her parents died in the revolution, and she nearly lost her head, it was awhile before she could regain her nation and become Sonia I. She looks around at the guests of honor. The food looked quite good, they had traditional dancers, peasants and nobles (what was left of them), all mingled together. Her fair blue eyes spot you, her esteemed guest in the crowd as she beckons you forth to join her.

Oh? Hello there! It has been awhile since i have seen you!

(@mikado-sannoji, @mystery-orphans-club, @mortuis-studiis, @dark-overlord-of-ice)

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raccontidialiantis · 3 months ago

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Sabato sera d'agosto in paese

“Amare od aver amato, basta: non chiedete nulla, dopo. Non è possibile trovare altre perle nelle oscure pieghe della vita: amare è essere completi” (Victor Hugo)

“Spesso ci sono più cose naufragate in fondo a un’anima che in fondo al mare” (Victor Hugo)

“Vivere è simile all’arte del disegnare, solo che si fa senza la gomma” (Victor Hugo)

“Il peggior modo di sentire la mancanza di qualcuno è esserci seduto accanto e sapere che non l'avrai mai.” (Gabriel Garcia Marquez)

“Non siamo mai così indifesi verso la sofferenza come nel momento in cui amiamo.” (Sigmund Freud)

Era passata da poco la mezzanotte. Fra un po’ avrebbero finito la serata, nel pub della cittadina in cui anche Mario, rappresentante di commercio, era nato e dove tornavano ogni estate per le vacanze. Quello era decisamente il loro posto dell’anima. Lui suonava la chitarra, nel loro gruppo. Si ritenevano a buon diritto una “jazz band”, ma poi in pratica suonavano di tutto: oltre agli standard di jazz, eseguivano impeccabilmente brani rock dei gloriosi anni sessanta-settanta e canzoni italiane sempreverdi.

Che poi alla fine erano queste ultime, quelle che facevano battere il piedino a tutti. Erano bravissimi: anche gli altri componenti della band erano tutti professionisti fuori sede da decenni. Un professore, un ingegnere, un poliziotto e un dermatologo. Uomini maturi che si riunivano puntualmente in paese nell'agosto di ogni estate. Tutto l’anno ognuno nella propria città si impegnava e proponeva spunti agli altri via web.

Si scambiavano idee e brani, mantenendo così viva la loro grande passione per la musica. Accadde che quel sabato, verso la fine, durante una pausa, gli altri quattro membri della band erano già scesi dal palco: chi per andare a fare pipì, chi a bere una birra. Ma Mario invece era rimasto ancora un attimo seduto, con lo strumento in grembo. Perché gli sembrava di aver improvvisamente scorto, all’ultimo tavolo in fondo e nell’angolo buio del locale, il viso di Sonia.

All’epoca, primi anni settanta, avevano entrambi diciott’anni. Lui aveva avuto in regalo in estate dai genitori una bellissima e fiammante motocicletta Gilera 124 con cui la portava in giro e grazie alla quale potevano appartarsi lontani dalla città. Di lei era innamoratissimo e anche Sonia sembrava ricambiarlo. Amavano entrambi il rock inglese: Yes, Genesis, King Crimson, Gong, Gentle Giant…

Tra gli italiani, erano entrambi fan di Lucio Battisti; come tutti in quel periodo. E sulla moto ovviamente spesso cantavano a squarciagola “Il tempo di morire” (motociclettaa… dieci accappìììì…) e poi altre canzoni dell’epoca, quelle che oggi chiameremmo a buon diritto “evergreen.” Stettero insieme solo un altro inverno e la successiva estate, giusto il tempo di passare l’esame di stato. Lui era convinto che l’avrebbe sposata. Le aveva giurato amore eterno.

Faceva nella sua testa mille progetti. Lei invece a settembre a bruciapelo gli distrusse il cuore. Dal juke box del baretto in cui si videro l’ultima volta prima di lasciarsi si sentiva “L’Aquila” di Lucio Battisti. Questo le diede il coraggio e lo spunto per farlo: gli disse perciò che lei si sentiva come un’aquila. Che era nata libera e perciò troppo costretta in quel paesello; voleva andarsene e avere molto di più, dalla vita. Infatti dopo qualche giorno si trasferì a Roma per frequentare l’università.

Mario seppe in seguito che forse non era stato estraneo alla faccenda un altro giovane che l’aveva incantata a sua insaputa quando ancora stavano insieme. Stupido, ingenuotto, farlocco: non s'era accorto di nulla! Dopo aver rammendato - ma non curato - il suo cuore, anch’egli si iscrisse all’università. Nelle sue intenzioni da sempre avrebbe voluto anche lui scegliere Roma, ma per ragioni ovvie d’orgoglio preferì darci un bel taglio e scelse Pisa. Nessun dolore.

Tu mi sembri un po’ stupita - Perché rimango qui indifferente Come se tu non avessi parlato - Quasi come se tu non avessi detto niente

Ti sei innamorata - Cosa c'è, cosa c'è che non va? Io dovrei perciò soffrire da adesso - Per ragioni ovvie d'orgoglio e di sesso

E invece niente, no, non sento niente, no - Nessun dolore -Non c'è tensione, non c'è emozione - Nessun dolore

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E adesso nel pub quella lì in fondo era lei: ne era sicuro. Scherzava e rideva assieme ai suoi amici di tavolo. Forse uno di loro era suo marito. O forse no. Era la prima volta che la rivedeva dopo moltissimi anni e gli sembrava sempre bellissima. Gli venne spontaneo: rialzò il volume dell’amplificatore e piano, da solo iniziò a suonare “L’aquila”. Dopo un’era geologica fu la prima volta.

Perché era un brano che categoricamente si rifiutava di suonare, coi suoi amici. Loro sapevano, capivano e lo rispettavano. Chi l’ha detto che dopo un po’ di tempo qualsiasi rancore sparisce: per la freddezza e l’egoismo con cui era stato liquidato, ancora dopo decenni provava soltanto un’intensa rabbia. Una pena sorda nel cuore. Eppure cominciò a suonare in modo dolcissimo.

Erano, gli arpeggi iniziali, a loro modo inesorabili e penetranti: rimandavano a una canzone che era impossibile non riconoscere. Il timbro caldo che scaturiva dalle sue dita portava l’armonia in alto. Senza ancora la melodia vocale inconfondibile: un accompagnamento armonico nudo, scarno ma bellissimo. Lei si fece seria: di sicuro ora l’aveva riconosciuto. Le era tornato in mente il brano e quell’espressione della donna fu l’ultima che vide, perché subito dopo abbassò il viso e si concentrò sui tasti, sulla diteggiatura e sulla dinamica dell’esecuzione.

Sentì appena la voce di lei che da lontano del pezzo iniziava a cantare le parole. Dapprima esitante, poi via via più decisa. Incredibile a dirsi, si fece silenzio nel locale, durante quell’esecuzione drammatica: si percepiva chiara la forte tensione emotiva tra i due. Lontani tra loro dieci metri e trent'anni. Eppure eseguivano il pezzo benissimo, incastrando la melodia della voce con l'armonia degli accordi.

Lei man mano si avvicinò: dal tavolo raggiunse dapprima il centro del pub, più vicina al palchetto. Cantava con una tale intensità che qualcuno si commosse, persino. Aveva una voce stupenda e intonata; lui l’accompagnava e sottolineava le frasi con rara perizia nel fraseggio. Finito di suonare, insieme ma ancora lontanissimi, lei arrivò vicina alla pedana.

Muta, lo fissò per tutto il tempo. Mario non alzò neppure per un momento lo sguardo. Ripose lo strumento nel suo fodero imbottito, che con un rapido movimento mise in spalla. Poi staccò la spina, prese con l'altra mano l’amplificatorino da pub che usava in quelle occasioni, si girò e senza dire una parola se ne andò.

Disse appena ai suoi amici poco distanti e imbarazzati che si sentiva poco bene, che continuassero senza di lui: tanto all’una avrebbero comunque finito e mancava pochissimo. Tornato a casa fece una doccia, si infilò nel letto in silenzio insieme alla moglie che già dormiva serena da tempo.

La guardò a lungo, ritrovò nel comodino, tra i calzini e i libri in perenne standby, un sorriso ancora pulito; le accarezzò i capelli pianissimo per non svegliarla. Si infilò sotto le coperte e finalmente si concesse due lacrime, prima di cadere nel sonno. Lei si girò e nel dormiveglia gli si strinse. Il suo cuore ebbe un lieve sobbalzo. L’amore da qualche parte in lui esisteva ancora, evidentemente.

RDA

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