Thread: The Musician's Overture [GGentleman x Soft Strokes]

Cecilia had felt the trembling of the girl in her arms, as her own constricting arms pushed all power away from Vivian. If she wanted, she could've carried her away with that grip. Thrown her to the ground. But none of this, was her intent. It was a rush of mixed emotions, coming through as a play of power. Her anger, wanting to hurt Vivian back. Her heart, wanting her closer than ever. Nothing was ever simple. There where always too sides to a coin. Two surfaces to a piece of paper. Right now, there where two sides to Cecilia. Battling it out, fighting for the last word in this given situation. Fighting for dominance of her mind. Neither side was winning, at this point. Both emotions showing in what she did, and how she looked. Cecilia didn't even looked down to the handkerchief as it approached her face, only closing her eyes as her face tilted, wavering slightly from the touch. But she didn't pull away, letting the gentle hand clean her cheek. While it did, her head tilted against the touch, her lips curling the tiniest, pained smile. It only persisted for a short while, however, as thoughts of how long she'd missed this touch, and now that she felt it.. She wanted to feel it, but also wanted to slap it away. Rip the cloth away, and start screaming. Screaming in frustration and anger. Letting it all out, in a crescendo of curses and jabs. But she remained where she sat, her teeth gritting slightly again as she whimpered. Her eyes opened again as Vivian's hand wavered, her heart already longing for it to touch her face again. She had to catch her breath slightly, hearing her nickname on the lips of the inventor. It had been Vivian, who first used that nickname. It'd stuck, and stayed with her through her life. She liked it. The sound of it coming from Vivian's lips once again, almost made her forget how many times she'd missed out of that feeling. Her anger, however, quickly reminded her of that. Cecilia was silent, as she let Vivian spell her plight. Her plea. Cecilia sniffled lightly, as she looked down to her glass, her head shaking a few times, still having not moved any other part of her body. Her teeth pulled in her upper lip, biting at it, as she reached a hand up to itch the sting away from her right eye. I.. Don't believe you.. It wasn't a mistake. At least you didn't feel so back then. You where always passionate in your music. Aspirering. Always.. Had a goal. A purpose. I didn't. She started, turning her gaze back to Vivian's, her expression colder now. This town was never a place for you, and your goals. Your dreams. You had to leave. And.. And it was -your- choice, not to tell me. Not to leave me a note. To not involve me, in those dreams. Instead.. Just.. Nothing. She expressed her true plight. The lack of knowing. Was she alright? Did she remember her? Did she regret? She had nothing, but the silver cat's paw on her collar left of Vivian. That, and a bleeding heart, of course. Regrets are easy. But.. You came back. Granted, only after I came by your concert, by pure, dumb luck.. Yet, you came. And I want to hear you out. She added, before looking down to her glass, her head tilting slightly. She reached out a hand, picking up the glass, bringing it to her lips, gulping down it's contents in one large lash. Her face grimaced, and she coughed slightly a single time. Fine. She proclaimed, clanking the glass down onto the table, probably a little harder than safely, the glass barely keeping itself together. She reached down in front of herself, picking her guitar up hastily, raising to her feet with it. She started heading straight towards the exit, pulling her guitar up under her arm. A patron of the Tavern carefully approached from the side, his wallet in his hand, proclaiming he wanted to buy her a drink. Cecilia held out her hand, avoiding the man with a shiver down her spin. Leave it with the Barkeep, Jenny. She'll send it down the line. Or don't. I don't really care, right now. Really.. Really not in the mood.. Cecilia proclaimed coldly, causing the patron to frown, more then a little offended. A pang of guilt immediately ran through Cecilia, causing her to look over her shoulder to the patron, without setting down her pace. Her eyes where still red, and her sorrow all to apparent in her expression. But.. Thank you. Glad you enjoyed the.. Act. She thanked him, genuinely, up until the point she called it an act. She knew it hadn't purely been that, but she didn't want him to know. Cecilia walked out onto the streets, her eyes fixated on the ground in front of her feet, as she turned towards the apartment complexes. A gentle layer of snow now covered the streets, snowflakes still falling from the sky as they walked. The snow stained Cecilia's dress, making gentle contrasts to the bloody red for a few seconds, before dying out, just getting it wet instead. She only paused slightly, stopping to look half way over her shoulder for Vivian, in case she decided to pay for the drink she'd gotten. But the second Vivian got into the streets as well, saw Cecilia and followed, the blonde girl continued her brisk pace. Cecilia didn't stop her stomp, unless Vivian actively grabbed her, and held her back. Instead, just heading straight for the complexes, which weren't more then five or ten minutes away., which Vivian would know from the information she got the past night. Reaching the complex, she lead Vivian to the second floor, and the furthest down one of the hallways. There, she got out her keys, unlocking the door, stepping inside. She didn't invite Vivian inside, but left the door open, letting her approach in her own time. Compared to Cecilia's apartment, the Motel room Vivian staid in, almost seemed luxurious. Besides the electronic keyboard in one corner, as well as the note and guitar stand next to it, the place had the bare minimum, for a person to exist. In the middle of the small living room, was a couch, barely long enough for Cecilia to lay in, and a small coffee table in front of it. On the table, was a cheap boxed red wine, with a normal drinking glass next to it, with red stains at the bottom, clearly the sorry leftovers from the other night's return. Opposite of the couch was a small Television, with an old Dvd player on the stand bellow it. Up against the living room was an open kitchen, doing nothing to show what exactly Cecilia had to eat. Everything was clean, with the exception on the box on her table. Almost clinically clean. Even the lonely bookshelf on the far wall, was completely avoid of dust. There was also a door, which lead into the bathroom, which was closed when they entered.