Sixteenth PSI

[a_gentle_boy]

[For most of the summer, torturous sounds have been coming from the music room of the school during the late afternoons.  After deciding the recorder was a bust, Lucas had moved on to the violin, the trumpet, and the flute, passing through each one and deciding in short order that he had better stop for the good of humanity.  It was only about about three weeks ago that he had decided to try his hand at the piano sitting dusty and forgotten in the corner.

He had seen something like it before, with the DCMC.  Duster had taught him a little about instruments while they'd been traveling -- He'd even been allowed to pluck a little at Duster's bass.  And, of course, there'd been that whole business with feeling the beat of the enemy's life force.  This didn't mean that he knew anything about playing instruments.  The futility of the summer had proved that.  Yet . . . when he'd begun to plonk away at the keys . . . something just clicked.  Sure, the torturous sounds continued.  But after a little while . . . they at least began to resolve themselves into something vaguely resembling a song.

It was a song he wouldn't forget soon.  The song that had played in that room . . . The song that meant . . .   And with his last meeting with Vince still fresh in his mind, Lucas somehow thought he knew what the song was trying to say.]

Do you hear me call to you?  Can you even hear my heart's cry?
Still I call out to the wind . . . Even as it flows on by, for
I believe our dreams can still come true.  I'll always keep my faith and trust in you

Even if I'm a fool, I'll always feel the same about you.  I believe in friends and laughter and the wonders love can do; I believe in second chances and that's why I still believe in you.

 . . . . . . i . . . believe in second chances . . . . . . .

[Later that night, he returns to the park and sings his song quietly with a good sense of pitch.  He is wearing his school clothes from last year.  They are too small for him.
Time moves on.]

((Feel free to comment while Lucas is practicing on the piano as well. He will sound pretty awful unless he's playing this song.))

Comments

[wolf-faerie.livejournal.com]

[Frequents the park often, so she'll hear him singing. Of coure,she won't wait until he's done, because what are manners.]

I like your singing!

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

A-Ah! Do you really? Thanks . . .

[wolf-faerie.livejournal.com]

That's a lovely song. Where did you learn it?

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

. . . I kind of made the words up. The melody is something I heard back at home.

[wolf-faerie.livejournal.com]

Back home?

Do they sing a lot there?

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

My mom liked to sing a lot . . . She taught me and my brother a little, but we didn't do it a lot, either.

[wolf-faerie.livejournal.com]

Your mother? My mother taught me to sing too.

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

Do you like to sing? Would you sing a song for me to hear? I'm not really all that good . . .

[wolf-faerie.livejournal.com]

Yes! I like to sing.

[She pauses for a moment, and then starts to sing a song in Gaelic.]

You must go where I cannot,
Pangur Ban, Pangur Ban
Nil sa seo scha ceo...

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

[Lucas listens quietly, enjoying the beauty of her voice.]

What did it mean?

[wolf-faerie.livejournal.com]

It means life is like a mist, and we're only alive for a short while.

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

Oh.

. . . That's true. Unless you're immortal or live a really long time. There seems to be a lot of people like that here. But even so, that isn't really a bad thing.

[wolf-faerie.livejournal.com]

Even if you're immortal, things don't stay the same.

I've lived for a long time, but I will die someday.

[a-gentle-boy.livejournal.com]

You just have to make the most with the time you have.

[wolf-faerie.livejournal.com]

That's true.