Small short

Late evening had fell upon the Thornberry Mansion like a veil, opalescent moonlight had begun to drift slowly into the ballroom on the second floor. It’s luminescent light reflecting gently off the multitude of crystals adorning the main chandelier, the light seemingly fracturing at the connection. It was if the room had been filled with stars, as if the night sky outside had been stolen and painted within the room instead. Yet, the figure beside the piano was oblivious to the beauty that lay in front of him.

His eyes were blissfully closed as his hands floated across the ivory keys with a practiced ease. The figure’s long copper hair, tied deftly up into a ponytail would sway slightly as he played, seemingly moved by the voice of the instrument itself. The antenna upon his head occasionally twitching, feeling the melody in its entirety. A smug yet serene smile appearing on his face as they told him no note was off key. As it should be.

Caspian was often up at midnight doing just this, playing. His passion for piano was often something he kept under lock and key. It was ... sacred to him. The one thing that could never be tainted by his work, a small temporal joy that he wished to selfishly keep to himself.