In Which Cousins Improvise Musically and Conversationally
Setting: Music Parlor - House Chantris
Dramatis Personae: Fiamme and Cyrus
Cyrus sits at one of the pianos. He's playing a bombastic tune which was quite popular a few years ago but he's shifted the thing into a minor key. He seems to be having a great time.
Fiamme comes up fairly quietly behind Cyrus, but not so quietly he might not hear. "Boo."
Cyrus jumps enough to make him hit a wrong chord. Without turning around, he begins to play the final movement of 'Ballad of the Moonriders' but he lowers the volume after a few measures and says, "You're back late."
"Impromptu family gathering at Feldane," Fiamme says, quietly. "I like what you did with that. Addison played the piano there. He's rather good."
Still playing, Cyrus says, "I didn't know he was musically inclined. I'm afraid I share Father's habit of thinking we've cornered the market on such things."
Fiamme tugs over a stool, and sits beside Cyrus. One of her hands hovers over the keyboard for an instant, then returns to her lap. "Not the only family to think that way, I fear. And I've never matched your knack with a keyboard."
Cyrus stops his current tune and says, "Do you remember your basics?" He slides towards the lower end of the keys.
Fiamme nods her head, with a slight smile. "The family habit of believing if it can't be done with absolute virtuosity, then it's a disgrace." She adds, "Did you see Dulcy tonight?"
Cyrus says, "I did." Then, "If I were that much of a perfectionist I'd never have made it through the navy." He begins a slow bass line, perfect for counterpoint.
Fiamme adds the counterpoint delicately, fingers flickering across the ivories. Competent, without a miskey. "I'm not sure we translate it to other avenues. The Duchess, when she is being Dread, for instance, seems to find the Chantrises fearfully lax."
Cyrus adds a bit of complexity to the tune with his left hand. He abides by the rules of this exercise by not allowing himself to stray higher than a certain key. He says, "We would appear that way, yes. But we wouldn't have built what we have by lacking industry." He seems surprised at his own words but continues, "The Feldanes have their own image problems. Many of them seem to be affecting my sister quite seriously."
Fiamme follows Cyrus' lead, barely a beat before she responds to the change. "I got the impression there had been a serious ... what did they call it? Misunderstanding." She sighs. "I am not sure they are being quite kind about it."
Cyrus maintains the current musical level as he says, "It'll smooth over, I think. If the parents would just stay out of the way I think the betrothed would find their ways to the altar just fine." He includes a flourish which incorporates the tune of a bawdy shanty and then returns to the original line.
Fiamme breaks into a quiet laugh at the shanty, then repeats it, interweaving it as if an echo with Cyrus' theme. "When, in the history of Amber, have noble parents /ever/ been known to keep their noses out of their heirs' doings?" She shakes her head. "I believe it was something to do with the vases."
Cyrus nods as he brings the lower tones up with a trilling crecendo. He says, "Yes, the vases. I don't know why they insist on--" He stops talking for a moment but contiues playing, "No, I do know what they're up to, I think. They're trying to acclimate her but they don't understand how sensitive she is." The volume of the bass line lowers as if in response to his words.
Fiamme's expression becomes concentrated for a moment, but she continues to pick out a rather simple counterpoint. Well executed, but uninspired.
Fiamme says, "I rather think the Duchess wants it both ways. Gently reared, and ladylike, with all the attendant sensitivity that brings. But she also expects steel beneath the velvet or silk."
Cyrus says, "Nice technique. Yours, not the Duchess's." He improvises a riff based on Fiamme's counterpoint and picks a hook out of it to inform a new but similar bass line. He then says, "She'll need that. And I'll have to aquire some polish if Lorenzo doesn't show up before Father dies." He misses a beat, then, and double times with his left hand to make up the difference.
Grinning at the compliment, Fiamme follows Cyrus' lead again. "Perhaps I am a born follower. It is only when the leader ducks away that my musical flaws show." She pauses. "A description I hope will not prove accurate in my professional life. But, you know, Lorenzo's absence is increasing his chances of keeping you out of the firing line of Chantris succession."
Cyrus continues repeating the new bass line, building tension in the piece. He finally resolves the progression with a shift to a brighter key. He says, "That is only true until a body is found. Walking or still. It is possible that I spend too much time thinking about these things."
"Have you tried to contact him?" Fiamme asks, with a frown. "You're really worried about that then?"
Fiamme marches her fingers up and down, a martial tune now that doesn't entirely fit with the bass line.
Cyrus nods and plays his side to match. He smiles at the musical challenge and says, "I've sent him some whispers but they're not reliable at great distance. We don't have the cards the Royals do or I'd try that. It's not so much worry as it's concern." He smirks, "Fueled by a healthy dose of enlightened self interest."
Fiamme increases the speed of the tune. "I think you'd make a fine heir."
Cyrus keeps up and says, "That's what I'm afraid of."
"Making a good heir?" Fiamme asks, with a sideways grin, "Or the horrible prospect of having to make heirs with some wellbred damsel?"
Cyrus refrains the shanty which sounds completely out of place at this tempo. He chuckles, "The second part isn't such a terrible prospect. In my more unguarded moments, of which this is apparently one, I will admit that there are some aspects of being House Lord I would enjoy. But I'd be so *tied down*. You know how I get when I'm stuck in one place for too long."
Fiamme modulates her part to match the shanty more completely. She says, with an almost wistful sound, "Yes. I have created my own ties, but I know exactly how you feel. People talk, now and then, of following the road to its source. And I know that I couldn't in conscience go."
Cyrus sighs loudly enough to be heard over the music. He says, "There's a voice in my head telling me it's time to grow up. I hate that voice. I usually keep it silenced by drowning it in rum. I suppose if I put my mind to it I could arrange things so that they weren't completely despicable."
"Things?" Fiamme asks. She plays more softly. Piano, then pianissimo. "Do things seem so very bad to you as they are?"
Cyrus nods and brings his own volume down. "The heir to Chantis inherits madness," he says quietly. "I don't mean insanity but look around. Father has been running this place in his own way for so long that I despair of ever figuring out how to continue." He shrugs which causes a brief spike upward to forte, "Maybe that's why Lorenzo's not around. He doesn't want to deal with it."
Fiamme lets her fingers slow, and the tune slow with it, until finally it ends altogether. No final chord but a slipping away into silence. "He's certainly not in imminent danger of hopping off the twig," she points out, at last. "In fact, you're far more likely to put yourself in harm's way than your father."
Cyrus plays on for a few more measures, completing the musical conversation. "Granted. I guess I've just been thinking about this stuff a lot more, lately. Not sure why." He then says, "So, what have you been up to, lately? Besides sneaking up on me, that is."
Fiamme laces her fingers together, then flexes them, knuckles making an audible crack. "Dealing with funerals, and injured. Working on the welfare of the refugees. Consulting with Connor. Being turned away from the Royal apartments." She smiles. "Running a recruiting drive to fill the empty places on the Order's roll. The usual."
Cyrus smiles, "You're doing good work, Fiamme. If I hadn't joined the navy I'd probably have ended up in the rank next to yours. Any takers on the recruitment yet? I'd think there'd be rather a lot of people looking for lodging."
"Culver has some ideas for that," Fiamme says. "Not entirely regular, but we shall see. A two birds with one stone arrangement, where I create a secondary rank, of say, Soldiers of Clarity that are not true knights."
Cyrus's eyes widen, "That could be very helpful all around. I'm going to have to recruit a bit, myself, soon. I'll need to go farther afield, though." He furrows his brow, "Then again, maybe not. I should pay a visit to the refugee camp."
Fiamme says, "And I have a man to see within a day or two. Some side-branch of Bayle, who seems to have been caught up with the refugees and living amongst them rather than drawing on the family's funds. Must be a curious story of some kind."
Cyrus says, "Indeed! This war rearranged lots of things. I count myself among the fortunate."
Fiamme says, "What are the characteristics you'll look for amongst your sailors? Aside from sea legs?"
Cyrus chuckles, "That's about it. We've got two full ships to staff and we're building more. Anyone who's willing to work is welcome and we'll sort out the slackers as we go."
"I'll bear that in mind," Fiamme says, "When I'm interviewing Knights to be. Could be there'll be those for whom no amount of instruction will shape them into a tool I can use, where a ship will be just the place."
Cyrus says, "A few months at sea will either shape them up or break them. Which reminds me, Dulcy wants to learn the sailing side of the business."
Fiamme says, "That will certainly toughen her up." She chuckles. "Just don't teach her whatever it was Taleyn sang at the Breakfast!"
Dramatis Personae: Fiamme and Cyrus
Cyrus sits at one of the pianos. He's playing a bombastic tune which was quite popular a few years ago but he's shifted the thing into a minor key. He seems to be having a great time.
Fiamme comes up fairly quietly behind Cyrus, but not so quietly he might not hear. "Boo."
Cyrus jumps enough to make him hit a wrong chord. Without turning around, he begins to play the final movement of 'Ballad of the Moonriders' but he lowers the volume after a few measures and says, "You're back late."
"Impromptu family gathering at Feldane," Fiamme says, quietly. "I like what you did with that. Addison played the piano there. He's rather good."
Still playing, Cyrus says, "I didn't know he was musically inclined. I'm afraid I share Father's habit of thinking we've cornered the market on such things."
Fiamme tugs over a stool, and sits beside Cyrus. One of her hands hovers over the keyboard for an instant, then returns to her lap. "Not the only family to think that way, I fear. And I've never matched your knack with a keyboard."
Cyrus stops his current tune and says, "Do you remember your basics?" He slides towards the lower end of the keys.
Fiamme nods her head, with a slight smile. "The family habit of believing if it can't be done with absolute virtuosity, then it's a disgrace." She adds, "Did you see Dulcy tonight?"
Cyrus says, "I did." Then, "If I were that much of a perfectionist I'd never have made it through the navy." He begins a slow bass line, perfect for counterpoint.
Fiamme adds the counterpoint delicately, fingers flickering across the ivories. Competent, without a miskey. "I'm not sure we translate it to other avenues. The Duchess, when she is being Dread, for instance, seems to find the Chantrises fearfully lax."
Cyrus adds a bit of complexity to the tune with his left hand. He abides by the rules of this exercise by not allowing himself to stray higher than a certain key. He says, "We would appear that way, yes. But we wouldn't have built what we have by lacking industry." He seems surprised at his own words but continues, "The Feldanes have their own image problems. Many of them seem to be affecting my sister quite seriously."
Fiamme follows Cyrus' lead, barely a beat before she responds to the change. "I got the impression there had been a serious ... what did they call it? Misunderstanding." She sighs. "I am not sure they are being quite kind about it."
Cyrus maintains the current musical level as he says, "It'll smooth over, I think. If the parents would just stay out of the way I think the betrothed would find their ways to the altar just fine." He includes a flourish which incorporates the tune of a bawdy shanty and then returns to the original line.
Fiamme breaks into a quiet laugh at the shanty, then repeats it, interweaving it as if an echo with Cyrus' theme. "When, in the history of Amber, have noble parents /ever/ been known to keep their noses out of their heirs' doings?" She shakes her head. "I believe it was something to do with the vases."
Cyrus nods as he brings the lower tones up with a trilling crecendo. He says, "Yes, the vases. I don't know why they insist on--" He stops talking for a moment but contiues playing, "No, I do know what they're up to, I think. They're trying to acclimate her but they don't understand how sensitive she is." The volume of the bass line lowers as if in response to his words.
Fiamme's expression becomes concentrated for a moment, but she continues to pick out a rather simple counterpoint. Well executed, but uninspired.
Fiamme says, "I rather think the Duchess wants it both ways. Gently reared, and ladylike, with all the attendant sensitivity that brings. But she also expects steel beneath the velvet or silk."
Cyrus says, "Nice technique. Yours, not the Duchess's." He improvises a riff based on Fiamme's counterpoint and picks a hook out of it to inform a new but similar bass line. He then says, "She'll need that. And I'll have to aquire some polish if Lorenzo doesn't show up before Father dies." He misses a beat, then, and double times with his left hand to make up the difference.
Grinning at the compliment, Fiamme follows Cyrus' lead again. "Perhaps I am a born follower. It is only when the leader ducks away that my musical flaws show." She pauses. "A description I hope will not prove accurate in my professional life. But, you know, Lorenzo's absence is increasing his chances of keeping you out of the firing line of Chantris succession."
Cyrus continues repeating the new bass line, building tension in the piece. He finally resolves the progression with a shift to a brighter key. He says, "That is only true until a body is found. Walking or still. It is possible that I spend too much time thinking about these things."
"Have you tried to contact him?" Fiamme asks, with a frown. "You're really worried about that then?"
Fiamme marches her fingers up and down, a martial tune now that doesn't entirely fit with the bass line.
Cyrus nods and plays his side to match. He smiles at the musical challenge and says, "I've sent him some whispers but they're not reliable at great distance. We don't have the cards the Royals do or I'd try that. It's not so much worry as it's concern." He smirks, "Fueled by a healthy dose of enlightened self interest."
Fiamme increases the speed of the tune. "I think you'd make a fine heir."
Cyrus keeps up and says, "That's what I'm afraid of."
"Making a good heir?" Fiamme asks, with a sideways grin, "Or the horrible prospect of having to make heirs with some wellbred damsel?"
Cyrus refrains the shanty which sounds completely out of place at this tempo. He chuckles, "The second part isn't such a terrible prospect. In my more unguarded moments, of which this is apparently one, I will admit that there are some aspects of being House Lord I would enjoy. But I'd be so *tied down*. You know how I get when I'm stuck in one place for too long."
Fiamme modulates her part to match the shanty more completely. She says, with an almost wistful sound, "Yes. I have created my own ties, but I know exactly how you feel. People talk, now and then, of following the road to its source. And I know that I couldn't in conscience go."
Cyrus sighs loudly enough to be heard over the music. He says, "There's a voice in my head telling me it's time to grow up. I hate that voice. I usually keep it silenced by drowning it in rum. I suppose if I put my mind to it I could arrange things so that they weren't completely despicable."
"Things?" Fiamme asks. She plays more softly. Piano, then pianissimo. "Do things seem so very bad to you as they are?"
Cyrus nods and brings his own volume down. "The heir to Chantis inherits madness," he says quietly. "I don't mean insanity but look around. Father has been running this place in his own way for so long that I despair of ever figuring out how to continue." He shrugs which causes a brief spike upward to forte, "Maybe that's why Lorenzo's not around. He doesn't want to deal with it."
Fiamme lets her fingers slow, and the tune slow with it, until finally it ends altogether. No final chord but a slipping away into silence. "He's certainly not in imminent danger of hopping off the twig," she points out, at last. "In fact, you're far more likely to put yourself in harm's way than your father."
Cyrus plays on for a few more measures, completing the musical conversation. "Granted. I guess I've just been thinking about this stuff a lot more, lately. Not sure why." He then says, "So, what have you been up to, lately? Besides sneaking up on me, that is."
Fiamme laces her fingers together, then flexes them, knuckles making an audible crack. "Dealing with funerals, and injured. Working on the welfare of the refugees. Consulting with Connor. Being turned away from the Royal apartments." She smiles. "Running a recruiting drive to fill the empty places on the Order's roll. The usual."
Cyrus smiles, "You're doing good work, Fiamme. If I hadn't joined the navy I'd probably have ended up in the rank next to yours. Any takers on the recruitment yet? I'd think there'd be rather a lot of people looking for lodging."
"Culver has some ideas for that," Fiamme says. "Not entirely regular, but we shall see. A two birds with one stone arrangement, where I create a secondary rank, of say, Soldiers of Clarity that are not true knights."
Cyrus's eyes widen, "That could be very helpful all around. I'm going to have to recruit a bit, myself, soon. I'll need to go farther afield, though." He furrows his brow, "Then again, maybe not. I should pay a visit to the refugee camp."
Fiamme says, "And I have a man to see within a day or two. Some side-branch of Bayle, who seems to have been caught up with the refugees and living amongst them rather than drawing on the family's funds. Must be a curious story of some kind."
Cyrus says, "Indeed! This war rearranged lots of things. I count myself among the fortunate."
Fiamme says, "What are the characteristics you'll look for amongst your sailors? Aside from sea legs?"
Cyrus chuckles, "That's about it. We've got two full ships to staff and we're building more. Anyone who's willing to work is welcome and we'll sort out the slackers as we go."
"I'll bear that in mind," Fiamme says, "When I'm interviewing Knights to be. Could be there'll be those for whom no amount of instruction will shape them into a tool I can use, where a ship will be just the place."
Cyrus says, "A few months at sea will either shape them up or break them. Which reminds me, Dulcy wants to learn the sailing side of the business."
Fiamme says, "That will certainly toughen her up." She chuckles. "Just don't teach her whatever it was Taleyn sang at the Breakfast!"