WHEN : evening - december , 1920 WHERE : the garnizon WHO : vladimir volkov ( @pakhans )
SHE DOES NOT PLAY - not like she used to . the piano sits in the corner of the garnizon , once its beating heart , now ill-tuned and untouched . the quiet of the evening , she finds , is too quiet . the ghosts of her grief - of her past - begin to GNASH & GNAW when the silence sits too heavily . she feels the weight of anxiety settle on her shoulders - a shroud she has worn for far too long . a flicker of the light from the window of her office & she swears she sees mischa standing over the instrument , finger hovering over a key ( tone deaf , he always had been . he provided the means , but it was yulya who made the music . )
in the wake of all that has been lost - sonatas sound like funeral dirges. drinking songs evoke memories of the men who used to sing them , lying in their graves . but the GNASHING & GNAWING is far too loud , accompanied by the heavy thud of the regulars . it is all TOO LOUD . and so , yulianna removes herself from her office , and she sits at the bench . lithe fingers suddenly feel ancient as they graze the yellowed keys , but soon enough muscle memory kicks in , and she plays .
trance - like , she’s not sure what it is that she plays . something memorized from her youth , no doubt . the notes warble ( perhaps she will send for a tuner ) , reverberate , and she continues . somewhere between catharsis & agony , she plays . the bell at the door fills the silence where a rest usually lies in the piece she cannot name , but knows so well . yulianna turns her head to see the pakhan himself , looming large in the doorway .
he does not fail to INTIMIDATE , but she is not afraid . rather , surprised , as a meeting is not on her meticulously planned schedule . fingers abandon the keys , and she swivels on the bench before standing , brushing imaginary dust from her skirt . she knows vladimir well enough to know what to expect . her husband had been among his ranks - a kinship ( however modest ) exists betwixt them now . she RESPECTS him . she moves to the bar , muscle memory once again pulling rank as she reaches for a glass . she tilts her head upward , eyes meeting his inquisitively .
❛ the usual , then ? ❜ she is already preparing , but thinks to add , with a half smile , ❛ or are we adding variety to our lives ? ❜
