02-22-2018, 10:59 PM
She paused for a moment to regard him, but when she saw he had no intention of interrupting her, she started up again. If anything, her playing, while the same notes as before, seemed to be more....alive. There was a playfulness to it, a sense of experimentation and exhuberation.
From a mathematical standpoint, he had always appreciated music, its beauty as related to harmonic symmetry and resonance, its complexity. And intellectually he knew the sociological function music played, the enhanced binding of communities into units. But there was more here, as if it reached into him and touched something primal. The normal effect of music was quantifiable and understood. And yet...this was something else.
If other players displayed such skill- and he had no doubt many had to, if not surpass her, as her file said nothing about her being a world class pianist- it would be worth listening to. Because for the first time, music meant something to him.
There was a vague familiarity of the points and counterpoints, of the competing and complementing melodies, the way they wove about each other, blended and bound together, the concert of sounds appearing to flow out from the open lid of the piano like a a grand tapestry from a loom. He could almost see it.
Her face wore such look of quiet peace and repose as she played that he almost didn't notice that it was nearing its end.
And then, with the last strains still haunting the air, she hurried to write in a pad.
He frowned, thoughtfully. Was this her research? The pad, he understood. But playing like that had to require complete concentration. If she were using the Force and producing such a complicated piece of music, she should be drenched in sweat from the need for control. The Force would scour away the mind of anyone who appeared as relaxed and unwary as she did. It demanded complete domination at all times.
And then she greeted him. He wasn't exactly sure what to think about what he'd just heard and so immediately switched to distant friendliness as his default persona. They had not ever met. To pretend familiarity would only broadcast the opposite, that not only were they strangers, but that this whole meeting was a sham for personal gain.
"Ms. Northbrook, I apologize for disturbing your playing. I was informed you had requested a room in the Consulate and wished to know if you found it satisfactory. Obviously unnecessary,"
he said with a nod to the ornate piano, the implication that the music had proven the room acceptable. Even to his untrained eye, it was undeniable as a work of art.
He frowned curiously at her, letting his eyes dip to her pad, before going on. "I understand you wish to do research in the Consulate."
He left unsaid what kind of research. In the Consulate of Channeling there was only one primary kind of research. And it was not music theory.
He allowed his puzzlement to show. "Tell me, if you don't mind. Were you channeling right now? Does the music help?"
Edited by Marcus DuBois, Feb 23 2018, 10:30 AM.
From a mathematical standpoint, he had always appreciated music, its beauty as related to harmonic symmetry and resonance, its complexity. And intellectually he knew the sociological function music played, the enhanced binding of communities into units. But there was more here, as if it reached into him and touched something primal. The normal effect of music was quantifiable and understood. And yet...this was something else.
If other players displayed such skill- and he had no doubt many had to, if not surpass her, as her file said nothing about her being a world class pianist- it would be worth listening to. Because for the first time, music meant something to him.
There was a vague familiarity of the points and counterpoints, of the competing and complementing melodies, the way they wove about each other, blended and bound together, the concert of sounds appearing to flow out from the open lid of the piano like a a grand tapestry from a loom. He could almost see it.
Her face wore such look of quiet peace and repose as she played that he almost didn't notice that it was nearing its end.
And then, with the last strains still haunting the air, she hurried to write in a pad.
He frowned, thoughtfully. Was this her research? The pad, he understood. But playing like that had to require complete concentration. If she were using the Force and producing such a complicated piece of music, she should be drenched in sweat from the need for control. The Force would scour away the mind of anyone who appeared as relaxed and unwary as she did. It demanded complete domination at all times.
And then she greeted him. He wasn't exactly sure what to think about what he'd just heard and so immediately switched to distant friendliness as his default persona. They had not ever met. To pretend familiarity would only broadcast the opposite, that not only were they strangers, but that this whole meeting was a sham for personal gain.
"Ms. Northbrook, I apologize for disturbing your playing. I was informed you had requested a room in the Consulate and wished to know if you found it satisfactory. Obviously unnecessary,"
he said with a nod to the ornate piano, the implication that the music had proven the room acceptable. Even to his untrained eye, it was undeniable as a work of art.
He frowned curiously at her, letting his eyes dip to her pad, before going on. "I understand you wish to do research in the Consulate."
He left unsaid what kind of research. In the Consulate of Channeling there was only one primary kind of research. And it was not music theory.
He allowed his puzzlement to show. "Tell me, if you don't mind. Were you channeling right now? Does the music help?"
Edited by Marcus DuBois, Feb 23 2018, 10:30 AM.