[There's a pregnant moment of pause where Peony considers whether it's rude to comment upon thoughts about her but that were directed to her. And then, like any girl of good raising, she decides to smooth over it to avoid ire between them.
At least for now.]
It's challenging to perform only in my mind-- and I suppose yours too. I fear it might not give the best indication of my true skill.
I suppose I could recall a set of strings I wrote to honour Lady Titania.
[And the next abstract jumble of thoughts come as a melody, played with the tapping of shoe on a wooden floor, the strings of a lyre being artfully played and a young woman humming in accompaniment as she figures out the variations of tune. Then warps into the finished ensemble, played in an expanse of locked room and stone walls over and over again. From first conception to finished piece.]
no subject
At least for now.]
It's challenging to perform only in my mind-- and I suppose yours too. I fear it might not give the best indication of my true skill.
I suppose I could recall a set of strings I wrote to honour Lady Titania.
[And the next abstract jumble of thoughts come as a melody, played with the tapping of shoe on a wooden floor, the strings of a lyre being artfully played and a young woman humming in accompaniment as she figures out the variations of tune. Then warps into the finished ensemble, played in an expanse of locked room and stone walls over and over again. From first conception to finished piece.]