[Gankutsuou] "Hands of an Artist" (PG-13)
Feb. 13th, 2011 05:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
matrixrefugeeAuthor's Note: Written for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
comment_fic's "Gankutsuou, Eugénie/Haydée, playing music". Contains mild pre-slash/fem-slash.
Usually Haydee hid her small hands deep in the wide, flowing sleeves of her exotic robes, as if protecting some treasure from prying eyes. That only made them all the more delightful to watch as she sat, her delicate fingers caressing the strings of her harp, releasing the melody that lay dormant in the strings.
Eugenie found that she had to glue her eyed to the sheet music on her piano, as they sat together, playing a duet, the girl from Eastern Space seated on a cushion beside Eugenie's bench. The notes of the piece she had selected, an ancient piece by a composer named Franck, seemed to trickle like a small brook tumbling over pebbles. She couldn't help sighing, when they came to the end and the melody faded away into the silent corners of the room.
Eugenie turned on her bench, watching Haydee adjusting the strings "You played that beautifully," she says.
"I learned that a long time ago, because my master enjoyed it: he told me that it reminded him of Earth, but I hardly have a chance to play it for him as it should be played," the pale girl admitted modestly. "We don't often have a piano player who knows it."
"Well, now you'll have someone to play it with you," Eugenie said, reaching out and gently pushing aside a fall of the pale girl's green-black hair before laying her hand on Haydee's shoulder.
Haydee looked away, dropping her gaze modestly, yet smiling, pleased, though Eugenie could tell that the girl did not know quite what to make of the feelings inspired by this touch.
comment_fic's "Gankutsuou, Eugénie/Haydée, playing music". Contains mild pre-slash/fem-slash.Usually Haydee hid her small hands deep in the wide, flowing sleeves of her exotic robes, as if protecting some treasure from prying eyes. That only made them all the more delightful to watch as she sat, her delicate fingers caressing the strings of her harp, releasing the melody that lay dormant in the strings.
Eugenie found that she had to glue her eyed to the sheet music on her piano, as they sat together, playing a duet, the girl from Eastern Space seated on a cushion beside Eugenie's bench. The notes of the piece she had selected, an ancient piece by a composer named Franck, seemed to trickle like a small brook tumbling over pebbles. She couldn't help sighing, when they came to the end and the melody faded away into the silent corners of the room.
Eugenie turned on her bench, watching Haydee adjusting the strings "You played that beautifully," she says.
"I learned that a long time ago, because my master enjoyed it: he told me that it reminded him of Earth, but I hardly have a chance to play it for him as it should be played," the pale girl admitted modestly. "We don't often have a piano player who knows it."
"Well, now you'll have someone to play it with you," Eugenie said, reaching out and gently pushing aside a fall of the pale girl's green-black hair before laying her hand on Haydee's shoulder.
Haydee looked away, dropping her gaze modestly, yet smiling, pleased, though Eugenie could tell that the girl did not know quite what to make of the feelings inspired by this touch.