Moonlight Sonata Minus Moonlight [Open]

[Anthony Martin]

Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata Movement 1.

Sitting at a baby grand, hands drifting over ivory and ebony keys, was the shy bookworm people knew to be as Anthony Martin. It was mid-afternoon and there wasn't actually any reason for Anthony to be here other than being bored out of his mind. He played like a professional, he could have a real career in music if he would pursue it, but at the moment, Tony didn't really 'pursue' anything. He kept his gaze at the keys on the piano, the sound fluttering from the instrument could put a grown man to tears. It was indeed wonderful. Both his mother and father were talented musicians, so it must have been genetic.

It was like the boy was born to be at the piano, his posture perfect, rhythm impressive, talent undeniable. Sure he was no Beethoven, but he was close. He moved like the music was part of him. The tune was slow, mellow, sad really. It was a magnificent piece, but a sad one at that. But it was really how the listener took the music that expressed it's mood. Some people listened and heard a romantic piece and others heard a song about sadness and loneliness. For Anthony playing the piano was a way to relive his stress. Masculine guys would buy a punching bag, but Tony wasn't that type of guy. He was passive, shy, a bit innocent and naive, but all around a good person. He didn't need violence to relive his tension, he just needed the ivory and ebony and he would be the most relaxed 18 year old meta-human in the world. His problems seemed to melt away at the bench, making his whole orphaned life a heck of a lot easier for him to deal with.

It wasn't uncommon though, for people to stumble in, or maybe hear the piano from the hall. Sometimes he gained an audience. Of course he didn't have stage fright, so it didn't bother him. Only when the crowd would start to be social he'd get nervous. But if someone were to stumble in or follow the sounds, they'd get to see Anthony Martin as a classical music magician, not a shy bookworm. That was a rare sight to see.

[L.C. Milliner]

*--outfit

L.C. was in a good mood, surprisingly.

She had a bounce in her step she normally didn’t have. Did she maul someone? No. Did she destroy something? Nope, not at all. There wasn’t a speck of property damage in the past five days. She must’ve stolen something then, right? Oh, ye of little faith, no. All of the stores of Pilot Ridge were safe and still in stock. She must’ve played some sort of prank on Zac then; that makes her happy, doesn’t it? No, but good idea, she’ll keep that in mind.

No, she was happy for one reason and one reason alone: laundry day.

Yes, L.C. Milliner was excited about laundry. Specifically, clean, warm, just out of the dryer laundry. She had used the school’s Laundromat facilities and now she was happy (and warm) in her clothes, which had been pulled from the dryer only minutes ago. The rest were in her locker in her laundry bag, ready to be taken home with her once Sean got off work for the day, whenever that was. She needed to get a car or something so she didn’t have to leave with him. Either that, or she needed to get back into the dorms again- but she wasn’t ready to leave Sean’s house yet. She rather liked it there, and she was pretty sure that eventually the ‘guest room’ would be called ‘L.C.’s room’ one of these days.

She felt so snug in her batman hoodie and her frayed jeans, even if the top was a size too big and the jeans were frayed all the way around the cuffs with a large hole in the knee. She didn’t care in the least about her appearance- she was warm, and clean, and she smelled nice, because she had splurged on laundry detergent and it smelled fabulous. Wandering through the halls to kill time was just fine for her. Her iPod was in her bag blaring music, and her headphones were slung around her neck, giving her a soundtrack to walk to.

She heard the music coming from the band room and stopped in mid-step to listen, even though walking and listening was a multitasking ability within her grasp. The blonde reached into her tote to flick her iPod off, choosing to listen to the classical tune coming from down the hall instead of the blaring rock. She tilted her head to the side and turned on her heel, wandering toward the direction of the music. She had a feeling she knew the source of the noise. She pulled the wooden door to the band room open and stuck her head inside, craning her neck to see the piano. Finding her assumptions to be right, she grinned, sauntering in to plop on a chair across from Tony and his piano. She sat on the back of the chair rather then in the seat, her feet opting to rest on the bench.

L.C. didn’t interrupt him, she knew better. Instead she waited for his music to finish and for him to say something, or to play something else, then converse. Sometimes he liked to play without interruption, and she could respect that; he was her friend, after all, one of the few smart ones she had.

[Anthony Martin]

Anthony would have noticed someone walk into the room if it had been any other day, but today he felt at ease, like something had put all his problems to rest. Of course that wasn't true, he was still an orphan, with no future but the one he created for himself. He was still a timid, shy guy, and all of the people who surrounded him were way more social then he was, plus they had more interesting powers than he. Anthony was still the shadow in every photo, still the last person to be seen in the yearbook, and even at 18 he was still being bullied like a child. Nothing was different unless he was at a piano, playing his heart out. That might be why he was so damn good at the piano, because unlike some performers, he put his life and soul into the music. Every time he touched a key he was playing what he felt, he was playing and nothing else in the world mattered. Piano was literally, Anthony's passion. It was his best friend, well, the best friend that never caused his any stress that is.

Tony had his eyes closed for a second as he finished his song, the music died softly, sweetly. It hung in the air, the beauty drifted through the air 'till there was no sound left in the room. Anthony then looked up, his dark brown eyes fell upon L.C. and a smile pulled at the corners of his lips. He glanced out one of the windows in the room and looked at the sky, a clear winter afternoon. It was magnificent, and both students seemed to be pleased in their own rights. Anthony looked back over at the girl, the girl he had known for several years (not as long as Zac, but Zac's family was Tony's and vise versa). Tony knew her as Lyra, of course nobody else was physically safe if they called her that but him. Really, any person with a real heart wouldn't hurt Tony, he was practically a saint, a cute & naive saint for that matter. But Being able to call L.C. Lyra was a real honor, so it seemed, and Tony was happy to have a friend like her anyways.

" Any... uh... requests?" he said, trying to make a joke. Of course it never came out quite right. " I can play just about anything...Except jazz..." the boy paused and looked up in thought. " Never been able to grasp jazz piano... not my style..." Anthony then chuckled. He looked back down to the keys of the piano and let out a loud sigh before he started to drum his fingers on the keys. The noise could have been annoying for some, but not for Tony. He looked back up at Lyra and smiled softly. " You seem really... happy..." he commented before glancing from the piano to L.C. " Please don't tell me I have to make an excuse for why some poor sucker is lying dead on the floor bleeding... again?" Hahaha, Tony is such a funny guy. He motioned to the bench at the piano he was siting on, silently asking is she cared to sit or if she was going to sit on the back of the chair for the whole time they were here.

[L.C. Milliner]

As L.C. listened to Tony’s music, she closed her eyes and bobbed her head a bit, listening to it as best as she could. She wasn’t a musical expert, so even if Tony made any mistakes (which was unlikely, because it was Tony) she didn’t notice anything wrong. She wasn’t familiar with the piece, either, but that was because she wasn’t into the classical music scene. She was more of a punk, metal, and earsplitting noise sort of girl, with a few secret country songs thrown in because there are always a few songs of every genre that spoke to a person. This piece wasn’t really speaking to her, but she still enjoyed listening to it, mostly because Tony was playing. She’d listen to play all day if she could. She chalked it up to her inability to play any instrument; she had other things to do as a child, like hang from hoops and rig carnival games.

When the music stopped, L.C. opened her eyes and smiled at Tony, raising a hand in a silent wave of acknowledgment. She was expecting him to play something else, but instead he opted to talk to her instead. She felt honored, about as honored as she did when she realized she was allowed to call him ‘Flinn’ without repercussion, sort of like how he could call her ‘Lyra’ and not get sent to the ER. “No requests from me yet. I’ll think of something.” She would with a few minutes of thought, but at the moment nothing was forthcoming. She smirked as he complained about jazz piano and shrugged, looking out the window for a moment before looking back to him. “I don’t know anything about piano, so I think you’re good with what you’ve got.” She teased, listening to him plunk on the keys for a moment, not minding the noise because, under Tony’s fingers, it still sounded like music. L.C. was biased like that.

She snorted at his insinuation that she was only happy when she had someone to beat up. “No, no. It’s laundry day and my clothes are warm. Gotta enjoy the little things, Flinn.” She hopped off her chair, causing it to fall to the floor. She winced, turned, and picked it up, righting it with care before backing away, moving to sit next to Tony. “But if you can think of an excuse right now, that’d be great. I can run off and beat up one of the guys that’s bothering you.” She elbowed him gently, trying to show that she was only teasing him. Looking to the piano, she raised a hand and played slowly, her strokes sounding more like a train wreck in progress than anything remotely musical. She looked to Tony and shrugged lightheartedly, giving up on her awful piano skills as she sat back on the bench.

“Play something.” She muttered, gesturing to the piano. “Anything.” She’d rather listen to him play something well then listen to her lack of skill linger like a stale smell in the air. And if he even dared to try and teach her, she’d resist with full force. She was too old to learn an instrument, in her opinion. It was something you had to start when you were little.

[Anthony Martin]

Lyra should be honored to be able to call Tony by his middle name. Flinn was also the late Mr. Martin's name. A.K.A it was Tony's dead Dad's name, it was a sore subject so hearing somebody call him 'Flinn' brought up a lot of unwanted feelings. Only Lyra could get away with it, if somebody else had called him Flinn he would have murdered them. And that was seriously saying something since nobody would believe that Tony could kill anything. Anthony smiled when Lyra said she didn't have any requests, she usually didn't. Lyra wasn't a classical music person, sure she could listen and bob her head like a good person but she never really felt it in her heart. Not like Anthony did. But that was okay, it made everyone unique and such. Etc. Etc. "Thanks... But I always need work... I somehow need to find a way to feel jazz." he said and chuckled when Lyra admitted that it laundry day. No wonder she was happy, I think everyone was happy in nice fresh-out-of-the-dryer clothes.

" No need to beat anyone up today, everyone has been leaving me alone today... oddly. Maybe it's because I've been in here since the morning." he said and laughed, " But I'll start working n excuses for tomorrow..." he finished. Anthony watched as she started abusing the piano. She seriously needed to be nicer on the thing. She didn't need to hit the keys so hard, but it was ok, she wasn't taught properly. Tony had tried to get her to sit down and learn but she gave up easily and refused to play ever again. It was true that Tony has been playing piano at a very young age, but just because you were older didn't mean you couldn't learn and new thing. Well... Piano did take a discipline that Lyra really didn't have.

Anthony smiled and nodded, " Yes M'am..." he joked and pulled his gloves down a bit more and returned to playing, his hands gliding over the keys like an artist. It was truly magnificent what Tony could do with a piano and some good 'ol feelings.

[L.C. Milliner]

L.C. pondered how a person could ‘feel’ jazz, and she couldn’t come up with anything outstanding. “Well, maybe it’s the same as how you feel the rest of your music. Only... different. If that makes sense. Nah, it doesn’t, does it? Forget I said anything.” What did she know about ‘feeling’ music? She couldn’t play a piano if her life depended on it, let alone any other instrument. The best she got was tapping out a steady rhythm on a drum set when she concentrated. She didn’t know a thing about Tony’s music, so any idea from her was probably one of the worst suggestions he could be given. She might as well duct tape her mouth shut.

“You know, that might just be it. We’ll have to lock you up in a room more often, Flinn. We’ll seal you all up with a piano and let you grow your hair out until some girl wants to try her luck climbing it.” L.C. chuckled with Tony, ruffling his already lengthening hair as she looked to the band room door. Maybe they wanted to leave him alone while he played. That was a good reason too. If anyone interrupted Tony’s music while she was around, they’d likely find themselves in multiple pieces inside a pine box six feet under. She knew she had looked to the door more than once to find people in the window, debating whether to set off her wrath or to leave the two alone. One look from her and a well placed spike would make them believe the latter option was better for their health.

She couldn’t help but look at the gloves on Tony’s hands and sigh. How was he going to get better with his power if he kept hiding it? She was the same way when she was fourteen, refusing to let her spikes grow out. She got bullied too, and then one day she let loose, and the rest was history. She wasn’t sure which was worse; getting tormented or being feared. She felt like a leper inside Hammel, both tormented and feared. True, her power wasn’t catching, but the injuries certainly seemed contagious, at the rate they spread. If people could only learn that bullying a dragon was never a good idea.

She quieted her thoughts and listened to Tony’s music again, closing her eyes and doing the thing where she pictured things in her head so his playing had some sort of good effect. She sometimes had an idea when he played and she could turn it into a wire sculpture or something like that. As she closed her eyes, the only picture in her head was darkness. Then, one by one, lights came on, revealing the carnival set up in front of her, the orange and yellow lights spinning in the darkness of the countryside as people weaved between the rides, attracted to the glowing like moths to a flame. They flocked to the rides and games, throwing money around like it was nothing. Little Lyra stared at the lights and smiled, holding on to someone’s hand as she strained to get closer to the big tent. She wanted to she her Mother perform again.

Looking up, she saw weary old Magda. She was the one holding her hand, and she wouldn’t let her go. She didn’t like it. Lyra pulled and yelled at Magda. Then she felt her hand being let go and suddenly Lyra was left all alone in the swirling lights... She didn’t like this piece. She blacked the picture out in her mind and forced her mind to go blank, but the lights kept starting up again, and she finally had to open her eyes because no other memory was willing to take its place. She watched Tony’s hands as he played instead. She was silent as the dead until he finished.

“Play ‘Once Upon a December’.” She muttered, only seconds after he stopped. Normally she would have given him a few moments, in case he wanted to do another piece, but she wanted to hear it. It was the lullaby Magda sang to her as a child, because they had gone to the movie ‘Anastasia’ together when she was little and she had gone around humming it for months. It always put her to sleep. Sometimes her Mother would yell for Magda to come sing to her because Lyra would purposely stay up to hear it. For some reason, she wanted to hear it again, just once. “You know that one, right?”

[Anthony Martin]

Anthony looked over at Lyra when she said that maybe he just needed to feel jazz the same way he did the rest of the music. He sighed softly, maybe he would never be able to master jazz piano. He wasn't going to cry a river over something so small and insignificant as that. He had better things to do. He played the piano with a grace nobody thought Tony could have. He let the music take over, and once he was finished he let it ring through the air once more before he smiled. It was like Tony's own little version of therapy. Music therapy that is.

I'm not going to be the next Rapunzel. And I doubt any girl would want a guy who still gets bullied at 18... Trust me... girls want guys who can be all manly and such. I'd be better off if I switched teams... That time Tony actually laughed, like really laughed. He found when people commented on his hair he found it hilarious. He liked his hair the way it was, he was kinda addicted to making his hair perfect. Maybe he was a big OCD over it, but it wasn't that big of a deal anyway. So what, he had girly hair? There were worse habits to have then caring about your hair too much.

Anthony let the silence take over and then Lyra spoke. He looked over with a look that screamed curiosity. He smiled softly, " Yeah I know it, the movie, it's a classic. I watched it when I was a kid sometimes. " Tony looked back to the piano and sighed softly. It had been a long time since he watched the movie but that song was something you don't really forget. He started to play, he didn't fumble but it took him a bit to remember exactly how it went. Of course when he got the hang of it, the song sounded perfect. Just like every song Tony played. He always de-stressed when he played and he was happy that Lyra could listen to something she actually liked. he knew she wasn't big into classical music, but maybe he could slowly change her into liking the piano even more. But he knew to never try and teach her, that would be a huge mistake. He would just have to settle with her listening to him.


OOC: sorry it's so short, I'm sick and I just woke up ^^ Love the black hair by the way, makes L.C. look very pretty!

[L.C. Milliner]

Listening to Anthony as he slammed his appearance, and lack of feminine interest in him, L.C. couldn’t help but frown and elbow him again. This time, she did it a bit harder. Something in that sentence had irked her. “You’d be surprised.” That was all she had to say about it, and suddenly she became very interested in cleaning her fingernails of invisible dirt. So engrossed, in fact, that an observer with a sharp mind would come to the conclusion that her simple three word (or four if you counted contractions as two words) sentence had more to it than meets the eye.

…Not that anyone wants to take it up with an iron maiden. So shut up.

L.C. ignored the curious look that Tony was giving her, and simply waited for him to play. When he did, she closed her eyes and listened to it, smiling slightly. She loved this song, it was slow and perfect. It was like her complete opposite, in musical form. She was everything this song wasn’t- loud, fast, full of imperfections. She hummed the words as he played the melody, but unlike other girls she didn’t bother singing- she wasn’t proud of her voice, and she thought she was tone deaf when she really wasn’t.

Halfway through the song, she stopped smiling and opened her eyes again, watching Tony play the piano. She was still for a moment as she remembered where she was and the circumstances leading up to her being there. As much as she loved this song, it didn’t belong here, in these walls. It belonged in an old Roma’s decrepit trailer on a fairground, somewhere warm and lacking snow. Somewhere more naïve. L.C. couldn’t help it; she slammed her hand on the piano keys, disrupting the flow with a sudden violent cacophony of noise that shattered the peace of the room like a nuclear bomb. Her face was contorted as she held herself back from crying and destroying the piano simultaneously. There was a single tear that escaped, but not for long, she swiped with aggressive force at her face with her sweatshirt sleeve. There was a pregnant pause as the noise died, and L.C. gulped, pulling her hand from the piano. She wasn’t sure if she had broken the keys or not. She had hit the instrument pretty hard.

“I’m sorry. Never mind. I don’t…” Her sentence drifted off. “I don’t want to hear it anymore. Play something else.”

[Ophelia Beauregarde]

Ophelia had been walking down the corridor when she had heard music. "Is that from Anastasia?" She whispered to herself before quickly walking along the corridor looking for the source of the music. She paused outside a door and jumped to look through the window. "Curse my height." She said frowning before standing on her tip toes to try and see what was going on. She saw two people, a boy and a girl. The boy was playing the piano but the girl held her attention. She looked odd. Ophelia winced as the girl hit the piano. I guess that's why she looked odd she thought to herself. She quickly stopped standing on her tiptoes in case she was spotted, she didn't want to seem rude.

She backed away from the door but waited to see if the boy would start playing the piano again. It had been ages since she had heard someone play so beautifully and she was eager to hear more. "I wonder if that girl is alright." She murmured to herself, tapping her cane on the ground nervously.