Thread: Line of Sight (Survivor00 & ohstefyelectric)

This world was disgusting, or at least this end of the world seemed to be. People were being silly in their naivety but it's safe to say that they were just as naive. The distance between Pescara and Split had seemed so short all those days back, so had the short journey across the land. She had come with a set of friends, and of course other people, whom were all a part of the Orchestra dell'Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia , which resided in the buzzing city of Rome. They were there to ease the tensions of a place slowly going to hell, this female having been one of the youngest in the orchestra, she hadn't even reached nineteen when the symphony hall had a bomb collide with it. Of all the things she had never planned to do in her life, this was one of them. To say the least, she never planned on having the walls crumble around her and the ceiling cave in just like she never planned to see the people whom had helped her become flattened under the stone walls. To say the least, she never asked to be caught in the middle of this, but apparently some people liked the way bombs sounded when they went off. Apparently some people enjoyed the sound of people screaming, or the sound of death freshly squeezed into the air that was once filled with something beautiful. She would have done a solo that night. If it hadn't been for that tank fire, she would have done a solo that she had so long practiced for, and yet, it had literally crumbled around her. However, being absolutely bitter about it showed no signs of causing anything to stop, staring down at her hands that were dirty and no longer the soul keepers for the voice that the sleek gray monster provided, her eyes looking up and over to this very monster. Such a monster managed to come out saved, and such a monster had managed to find itself near its case after the blast, it had given her some sign of hope, although it had taken her one day, fourteen hours, and thirty three minutes, to first announce that she wasn't keeping time, but to second see that there were only two people from her orchestra alive. The rest were crushed among the rubble, the audience gone and now several piles of crumbling stones that had once been in the beautifully designed ceiling. The female with the big red cello case and a new found silence had stayed in the clouded building, until she heard the sound of voices. Sadly, she had expected to die and be left among the waste. Instead, her mind went blank and her ears went deaf, for she had blacked out with the visions of the bodies growing nearer. She hadn't blacked out in fear, as she had expected, but more so in pain, now noticing the large white bandages wrapping from her wrist up to her elbow, another set wrapping around her upper chest, she noticed that she still had her dress on. Hand immediately clasping over her mouth to let out a silent sob, the female had been told as a young girl by her grandmother that there was always a first and last time to cry for something, and this, now, while she was evidently in the safety of men who didn't seem to be the cause of that bomb, was the first of those two times. It wasn't the sudden urge to feel the pain that her body held, no it wasn't that at which caused her to immediately back into the wall next to her cello and continue to hold her hand over her mouth, eyes covered in clouds and raining. You may as well look for the weather in her eyes. It wasn't because she hadn't gotten to perform her solo, no, that wasn't it. All those left dead, under massive amounts of rubble that you were only hours before looking up at because there was so much beauty in it, she was crying because they had sent them here to liven spirits of those who seemed to had lost all hope. It had wound up killing nearly all of them. Finally gasping for air, her chest rose and fell in an odd manner, because well she hadn't been breathing, which caused such an act to become irregular for the time being, the female with hair dark enough in its chocolate state to be black found herself blinking numerous times, looking down at her feet with her still cloudy vision. They had given her boots to replaced her bare feet, which at one point in time for all of you who are suspect, were bare during the performance. The female sat in an odd stance and in being the solo cello of the orchestra, she was noticed more than others, though this was not why she wore no shoes or socks when performing on stage. Sitting with her legs open to provide space for the cello, her feet were arched onto the balls of her feet and often her toes, a stance learned and practiced from past years of ballet, she wanted to feel the vibrations of her monster even through the floor. Sounded like a perfectly good reason not to wear shoes to me. Though staring at the combat boots that stopped at her shins, she didn't question it, knowing the chances of stepping on something that would slice your foot off here was more likely than it was back home. Besides, she probably wouldn't get the opportunity to play again, hand back to clasping over her mouth again because her one time wasn't finished. The female blinked feverishly again, her hands sliding into the lap of her black dress, she was only half surprised that her dress was only a slight bit dirty, covered in dust, while the white one layer of taffeta poking out beneath it seemed to be spotless. Dress may as well have been perfect, but she wasn't going to perform tonight. Or tomorrow. Or the next day. Or even the day after that. Having only been awake for maybe an hour or so, her eyes at which were one of few that went through complete heterochromia, one brown eye and one light hazel eye followed the men around the room, the water of her tears having left stains down her cheeks, the Italian was in no means a part of this war. However, with the ground rumbling from a tank shooting somewhere off, it caused her to shiver none the less, because no matter how much she wasn't in it, she had no way out. Taking her hands and wrapping them around the bright red cello case, her hands grazed over the smooth exterior, almost frightened to see the inside though if this had come out well enough and they had been smart enough to take it with them, being as she had fallen unconscious right beside it, they had done what they could, correct? Correct. Gently unclasping the metal clasps, the female found herself staring down at her monster, inwardly smiling because its face didn't change, even in the heat of a performance or the heat of being bombed, its face didn't change. Immediately using a piece of the cardboard mat she had been sitting on to try her hardest in rubbing the dirt off her fingers, her hands hovered over the strings, one hand over the neck while the other hovered over the body, fingers counting out things in mid air, each one tapping to her thumb. Counting, adding, subtracting, each took only a few seconds before her hands descended on the instrument, the sound of her beautiful beast coming to life, even without her arco. This was not her solo. Amadora Bambalina Moretti would just have to deal with that. ohohsee so. she is loosely based off of Vedran Smailovi?.listu