fru s t r ation (eva/open)

[littlebit]

Dean slipped into the room, he had come to do what he did when the stress of life got to him, that being working with music. He looked around, smiling slightly at the assortment of instruments at his disposal- as well as parchment, quills, and ink for writing down any songs that he might come up with. This was probably the best he had felt in a few days, Dean had been stuck in a permanent foul mood since his last meeting with his sister- when he had decided to give up on her entirely.

After looking at the room a moment, Dean finally decided to sit behind the cello and play a few notes. He had had a fragment of an idea for a new piece in his mind, but he needed to physically hear it before he wrote it down. Within moments Dean was at work testing out different sounds, becoming so engrossed in what he was doing that he failed to hear the door opening...

[hungergames]

Evangeline was casually walking past, her silent steps drawing no attention to herself. It was getting late, but she didn't care. She was wearing a pair of cotton shorts, and a pair of rugged converse. Her shirt was a pale pink, and it was a bit too big for her. Evangeline wasn't starving herself, persay, but since her mother's death her appetite hadn't been quite the same. Evangeline had every intention of going into the Room of Requirement and locking herself away from the world, but then she heard music. She pushed open the door, wordlessly wishing for privacy when she saw that it was none other than Dean. She waited for a break in the jumble of notes to say, "You play beautifully. If only just experimenting," adding the last bit as an afterthought.

[littlebit]

Dean looked up when he heard someone speak, only to find that it was Evangeline. He managed a bit of a smile, he had already relaxed coinsiderably- as if his frustrations had poured from his fingers as he played. "Thanks," said Dean. He didn't usually play in front of other people, keeping his virtuoso nature mostly a secret. He was the younger brother of Bradly Ressel, all anyone ever expected from him was Quidditch. "Can you tell me which one sounds better?" asked Dean. He played a series of mid-range notes, paused a moment, and then played the same sequence only lower than the first was.

[hungergames]

Evangeline smiled. Dean looked... worn. But Evangeline didn't feel like inquiring. If it was important, he'd bring it up. Carefully, she listened to the notes. Her mind worked to analyze them, then she smiled. It took a while, but a piano finally materialized. It was small, but functional. Evangeline sat down at it, her back to Dean, then played both scales. Finally, her skill at the piano came to good use. "I think it'd be much more lovely accompanied with a piano. They contrast each other beautifully. The cello should play the lower notes, they flow more easily, the piano playing the higher scale. Then, they could go on, blending, flowing, changing scales and directions," she started, then felt color rise to her cheeks. "Or, not," she added quickly.

[littlebit]

"Hmm," said Dean with a nod, showing that he understood. He was still playing around with it in his head, recalling the sounds and how they mixed together. So far, from the very little he had figured out, the piece seemed like it was going to be rather melancholy- but Dean had never really considered the cello to be a particularly happy-sounding instrument. Its sound was lovely, but there always seemed to be a hint of sadness to it. Dean kept quiet, he was thinking, his mind hadn't been in the present for quite a long time- the music helped to bring him back.

[hungergames]

Evangeline smiled, but the blush stayed. She played the notes a few more times, coming up with several variations of it on the same scale. She didn't bother looking over at Dean when her hands took over and she began to play. It was something she'd heard a long time ago, and she stopped here and there to make edits and changes, or to start over in places, trying to find new notes to play. Evangeline was lost in her music, and she felt as she had before this godawful depression had set in. She felt free.

[littlebit]

After a moment, Dean stopped playing the cello, and instead watched Evangeline play, smiling lightly. For once she didn't look sad, but relaxed as if all the tensions in the world had just ceased to exist. Dean remained quiet, listening to her playing around with the music, not wanting to spoil the moment with his words. Dean had not seen Evangeline so happy in a very long time, he wished he could see her in this kind of mood more often.

[hungergames]

Evangeline eventually stopped. Her hands hovered gently over the keys as she went over the previously played melodies in her head. However, the musically-induced happiness fell soon, and she felt a blush rise to her cheeks. She wasn't one to play in front of others, Dean especially. She looked over her shoulder and smiled sheepishly, swallowing the knot in her throat as she realized Dean had been and was still watching her. Still, if anyone were to have heard her, she was happy it was Dean. Then again, she hated playing in front of loved ones. They offered meaningless praise. Still, she wanted Dean to have liked that, to have enjoyed the music as much as she did.

[littlebit]

Dean offered Evangeline a smile when she looked back at him, blush on her cheeks. He enjoyed listening to music, so long as it was executed well, and Evangeline seemed to know her way around a piano. It had been pleasureable, even if it was just tinkering around. But Dean felt infinitely better in seeing Evangeline not looking depressed, she was too young to be so sad all the time.

[hungergames]

Evangeline cleared her throat abruptly, and stood. Nervously playing with the tips of her curly hair, she laughed quietly. "Anyway," she replied, turning to face Dean. He was looking at her strangely now. Endearingly, maybe? Or maybe he was just thinking how pitiful she was, with the depression and all. Evangeline adverted her gaze slightly. "What?" she asked curiously, peering up at Dean. He was handsome. She wondered if he knew that or not. Her thoughts caught up with her, and Evangeline turned even more shades of red.

[littlebit]

"Oh, um, nothing," said Dean, turning his gaze away from Evangeline in spite of how tempting it was to look at her. He did suppose that he might have been making her feel uncomfortable- he himself didn't like to have people watch him while he played music. As if reading his mind, the room moved the desk with the quills and parchment to where he sat. Dean quickly scrawled down the notes he had figured out so far, and then slipped the parchment into his jeans pocket.

((OOC: Shouldn't Evangeline be fourteen? James just turned fifteen and they're a year apart...))