S l o w l y; slowly. Bitterness consumes, and the purer the heart, the dirtier the deed. Bitterness poises and lurks, hiding in the shadows of the soul that refuse to be acknowledged. It waits to plant seeds, cultivating vines that yearn to choke out hope as it blooms. Its battle tactic is silence - crouching and waiting to strike. The heart fights a constant battle to guard itself, refusing to let bitterness creep in s l o w l y, yet pushing every ounce of gentleness into the world at the same time. No such soul knows of this warfare better than Caleb Perthshire. For someone who reflects and radiates so much warmth into the universe, it’s nearly appalling that the same being can be plagued by such melancholia. If that point is raised, it’s met with a knowing grin and the smallest bob of a blond head. If pressed, the only answer received is that “there is beauty in emotions, and none in bitterness.” When melancholy strikes, Caleb lets himself dwell for a bit before pulling himself out of it. Some feelings demand to be felt, and he much prefers reveling in them to bottling them up — the longer it’s delayed, the more volatile the explosion will be. He’s displaying such behavior, and in need of a distraction, we find him in an empty classroom with a transfigured piano because of it.
Caleb noted that the piano keys were cold to the touch as he danced her fingers across them. He wasn’t quite sure why he had expected anything but the chill and gave a small shrug in response. He slowly immersed himself and felt a transition to a lonely waltz flowing through his fingertips — complex and melancholy. He was taught many useless talents growing up, but took to the piano like a duckling to water. It was another thing that held his heart and attention, something that he could pour his whole being into. He had done just that until he heard distant footfalls but kept plunking out precious melodies. Caleb was nudged back towards reality when the footsteps entered the room and eventually lifted his head to take a quick glimpse of the visitor. With pursed lips, he slid down on the piano bench to make room should the guest choose to sit, glancing back at them once more with a quirked brow.
