#erm... methinks something is amiss here...

[strywoven]

@saiakv has requested a story : “Life is suffering. It is hard. The world is cursed. But still, you find reasons to keep living.” (  for verona uwu )

a prompt i lost.

In-between grueling hours of dealing with the flock ( those miserable mongrels , the lot of them ! always here to beseech for more , more , more & never with gratitude upon their foul tongues ) one might be treated to THE SOUND OF MUSIC .  For it is music , verily , which so soothes the soul and sates the heart.  Many a’time , people have been s t r u c k by it , caught standing in baffled wonderment as they pay thoughtful , reverent ear to the spirit of a melody haunting the halls and hollows , conjured by the enigmatic woman none daren’t get close to.

Never would one need to wonder where Verona goes throughout the day ; it is always the same , always to the music room Suguru bestowed upon her ( a place which has assuredly transcended by now , becoming its own realm beyond the compound ; always alive with some soul & rhythm ) .  And every so often does she find herself with welcome company.  Though this , a regrettably r a r e occurrence ( so it would seem , her reputation precedes her ; not even the curious were willing to risk crossing her path ) .  Today , no different than any other as she arrives – silent and sober – making due greetings and disappearing into her little world ‘til summoned or required.  There in the room , she acts as maestro , as with CAREFUL & KNOWING manner , picks proper the record and allows it to play ; by some strange magic ( or perhaps by own greater force of will ) , the music suffuses through the estate , touching all those who hear it.

It is sometime later , the woman is found in LANGUID REPOSE , sprawled out upon a chair much TOO SMALL for own person ; legs outstretched and notched together by the ankle , hands folded loose in her lap and head lulled back , expression entirely l a x , devoid of its usual smiling pretense.  She seems … Nearly h u m a n , in this moment , merely a woman in a state of earnest , quiet docility.  Her head perks upright when she senses Suguru’s gaze , the motion slow but as fluid as the flow of smoke.  Verona regards him , shadowed lids half-mast over silvery hues ; there is , of course , a strange tenderness in her look that is not there for others ( one she does not correct , one she does not think to hide ) .  Wordlessly , a clawed hand unfurls from its mate , beckoning him forward before she slips back into her resting slouch.

Amid the music , conversation transpires – easy , effortless – Verona replying in drawling , lazy commentary.  Until , of course , his remark catches her attention , prompts her to TENSE , her energy radically shifting from calm to a g i t a t e d .  Eyes close , breath drawn , then exhaled softly in heavy sigh.  Not uncommon is it for the two to broach touchy topics amongst each other , but⸺ ❝ I have come to understand that life itself can become a curse , and thus people – if not careful – can fall privy to that suffering , ❞ Head turns along shoulder , looking over at the younger man , expression guarded and tone melancholic , ❝ There was a time I thought myself beyond suffering , beyond humanity , and even I looked into the eye of Fate itself and LAUGHED — ❞ Her lips quirk upright , silvery eyes twinkling at the memory.  The mirth soon fades , dissolving into a frown , head turning away again , gaze distant.  ❝ — But no-one is beyond it.  Not even us.  And what might we do , then , if the life we wish to cherish takes away our reason for living at all … ?  What can be done if … ❞  Her voice becomes strained , her expression pained , the next words out of her mouth the FIRST GLIMPSE behind the veil of her mystery , coming out as whisper he might have to struggle to hear , ❝ … If not even death can grant salvation ? ❞