Do You Duet?

[Evelyn Silver]

Blissful echoes reached Evie's ears as she pulled the headphones from over her ears; the dance studio was both empty and relatively sound-proofed, so it seemed the ideal place to play. Evie had sequestered herself away from the rest of the school as best she could during the past few months, hoping to better understand the circumstances that had brought her to this cold, godforsaken mountain. Rage consumed Evie in the late hours of the night, and sorrow greeted her in the morning.  She had escaped Robert and his abuses.  Now, Evie was simply coping and sifting through the wreckage left behind.

It had begun with reading: Evie scrambled through her small collection of books to find some passage which might bring some peace or clarity, yet "facile est vituperare; est difficile corriguntur" did not calm her nerves or ease her worries. The truths of ancient minds could not keep the seething anger from breaking forth, and so Evie had waited for the dance studio to clear before turning to her music. Kneeling before the mirror, Evie carefully set down her black, tattered violin case.

Two sweet, lingering clicks filled the room as Evie lifted the clasps and opened the case, the scarred mahogany of her most prized possession peering up at her in anticipation. The curves of the violin were sublime, the architecture a marvel to be admired, yet the scratches and scarring across the body revealed the tale of a promisingly constructed object taken through the depths of chaos and hardship. This violin, wood shaped into more than wood alone, was Evie's true voice - the thing she had been searching for her entire life. Writing and novels occasionally spoke on Evelyn's behalf, but when she truly expressed herself, it was through this instrument which had followed after Evie her entire life.

Gently, Evie lifted herself from the ground, bending at the waist with her hands lovingly resting upon the violin and bow below her. Evie lifted them both up at once, and notched the instrument between her chin and shoulder in a practiced motion. A pause carried the silence forward as Evie searched her center for music, the melody to express her wordless emotions... And she played.

A struck series of rage-filled tones bled through the stagnant air, and coated the room in angry defiance. Evie softly rocked back and forth even as her arm jumped in aggressive motions. Emerging from under the storm of dark anger, a rapid succession of powerful, cyclical phrases rose above to color the sound with urgency. The notes began splitting as Evie's motions became more frantic, the deep minors chords becoming a smooth swath of vivid overtones and phrases. These were the songs Evie could not play in public; without multiple musicians or a slew of technological resources, no human would be able to perform these pieces on their own. In the privacy of this place, with no need to silence her music, Evie could fly above the world and be free in her music. A sublime chorus split the spinning lines from the aggressive phrases and carved a melody of sorrow and loss across the landscape of Evie's memories. It rose above all and defined the shades of sound below through its shadow, brea-

The music stopped with a screech as Evie swung around, her eyes staring to the open doorway from where a small noise had just come. It was some small creak from a floorboard, but to Evie it was deafening. She had felt the hollow screech strike through the vibrant song and break her from the reverie of playing. Two tentative steps toward the door, arms still raised to her instrument in anticipation of an unknown invasion, Evie called out, "Hello? Who's there?"

[Charlie Wickham]

That was it for one day Charlie decided. He had hidden himself away in the band room after hours to practice a few songs in peace. It wasn't that he minded people being around when he played guitar, in fact he loved it. But these songs required his voice and he still found it difficult to sing with an audience. Though when he was alone, he had no reservations about letting his voice shine through, no matter what note he had to reach. Everyone's voice was their own and people should be proud of it... but he was still learning to allow others to hear his. Maybe he should make more of an effort to sing in front of people to gain the needed confidence.

But he felt it was too late now. Charlie's calloused fingers were aching from his playing without pause. How foolish of him. Or maybe the word was determined. Regardless, he had thrown his scratched, worn, and sticker covered acoustic guitar over his shoulder and made his way out of the band room with a slam of the locked door.

He really needed to be more conscientious with the noises he made. Especially the loud ones. But he was all about those loud sounds. That was the rock and roll life, baby.

The silent hallways were disrupted by the click of his shoes. His head and shoulders bobbed back and forth with the beat his feet made on the floor. A quiet song began to leave his lips, one that was fast and excited, about love and regret. The words soon were lost to him and so he quieted, looking up from his trance to see how much farther he had to go.

The studios were ahead. Charlie liked to leave from the doors next to them during school time since he got to see all the people dance to wicked songs. Really, he was there for the music. Since Charlie never officially learned to dance, he loved to listen and watch how these dancers allowed the music to wash over them and take control of their bodies. He had registered for a dance class for nexy term and he could hardly wait.

As he was passing by, he heard the splitting notes of a violin emenate from one of the rooms. His feet stopped with a skid and he turned to it as if beong controlled. How his poor little ears had picked up the noise? Well, let's just say he was lucky violins were played on the saprano level. Feelings of pain and sorrow reached into his heart and grabbed hold. What a terribly sad song. His heart picked up pace, still aching as he took a few tentatative steps towards the door. He didn't want to distrub the musician inside. He knew how devestating being walked in on could be. It distirubed and ruined the song in motion. But he really wanted to hear the melody better.

Charlie leaned his head toward the door in hopes of accomplishing this. But then his curiosity began to spike. A light shone through the crack in the door and it enticed him to get a look inside. With his snoopiness clogging his conscience, he tried to look into the room, taking a few steps toward it. Next thing he knew, the violin stopped with an abrupt screetch and the player had called him out.

Oh shit.

Charlie was caught. Embarrassment would have rushed through him if he wasn't so impressed with the player's skill. Giving a small shrug of nonchalance, the young man opened the door further and gave a wave to the redhead on the other side by just raising his hand in the air. It was as much a greeting as it was an apology.

"Hey. I didn't mean to interupt." A pause. "Your god damn amazing, man." Without any further invitation, Charlie took more steps into the room so he was no longer just hovering in the door way. "I'm Charlie." 

Reaching around himself, he grabbed hold of his trusty guitar and slid it in front of himself, placing the fingers of his left hand over its neck and pushing them down on a few strings. He wasn't sure how the girl would react. She seemed quite vandilized that he had invaded her composition, but he could hardly help himself. Licking his lips, he played a chord in the same key she had been playing in. "What song was that? It's hella rad, dude. I could get into that. Classical? I don't got the right guitar but... what about some string collaberation? If you're into it."

[Evelyn Silver]

Evie held her breath as the door opened, bow at the ready against the strings of her violin, but she quickly lowered the instrument and sighed. She was safe; she was safe here. Fear had engulfed her life for so long - fear of starving, fear of her step-father, fear of her mother, fear of judgment, fear of muggings - that constant reminders of Bellefonte's safety were a necessity. Evie's instructors insisted the Kalispell was a inclusive town, but experience undermined their confidence. Within the walls of the Academy, sure, Evie could accept that she was safe and accepted. Here, she was surrounded by others of her... kind... More than once, she had heard the term, mutant, used in reference to those with abilities, and that word, with all of its connotations of otherness, burned inside of her. If they were so safe, then why were they still "mutants?" If they were so powerful, then why were they hiding?

Evie's fingernails had buried themselves into her skin, leaving red crescents buried in her palms. Her eyes refocused on the young man, and she attempted a warm smile which turned rather sheepish. Once again, she'd found herself lost in thought, and the messy-headed boy in front of her had paid witness to all of her awkwardness. Belatedly, Evie raised a hand, waving her bow at the boy, but she stopped at his compliment, muffled as it might have been to her straining ears. She blushed - a strange behavior for the girl. Back home, busking had provided Evie with no shortage of compliments (and money), and she'd left crowds of pedestrians showering their praises more than once. But this was different: Evie had just used her powers, and this boy - Charlie - had heard her. Every note was a word she couldn't speak; every chord was a memory too painful to fully recall. And instead of expressing revulsion or opinions about the anger and sadness behind her bow, he had told Evie that she was amazing.

Silence fell for a long moment before Evie could salvage a response from the depths of her embarrassment. "T-thanks. I'm Evie." She forced her smile wider, forging a socially appropriate greeting. Until Charlie's fingers strummed his guitar and produced a wavering chord that echoed through the room. Immediately, Evie grabbed hold of the sound waves and twisted them, correcting the slightest mis-tuning of the guitar and condensing the notes into their purest of tones. They held fast, and Evie kept them from decaying as long as she possibly could, leaving six, crystalline tones singing through the air.

"It, um, it wasn't really anything. I was just playing," Evie replied, shrugging her shoulders in response. Playing with another musician would be an indisputable positive side to Bellefonte, but then again, Evie was uncertain whether she was up to the task.

"I've never really played with anyone else... We could try, though. I mean, if you wanted."