You Must First Love Yourself [[tagged]]

A grin, a smile, a stroke of the cheek, an offering of a coat, any sort of soft actions of kindness was all it took to take a woman’s heart, capture it, and do with it whatever the person wished. It was exactly the sort of thing that he had once again pre-planned, although the extent of the action on the woman was entirely up to her and how she was raised or brought about. Depending on the situation, he usually found that those who were spoiled and childish reacted to it in the most obvious and blatant manner, immediately feeling rather overconfident about themselves and graciously accepting the gesture, wooed and already uneasy on their feet. But for those with a more reserved personality, quiet, it was harder to read them – this one being the prime example. However, regardless of the personality, the outcome would be same: he would come out victorious, no matter what. No one was exempt from his, and more importantly, no one was spared once he had begun. To this, he chuckled to himself. It almost made him seem like this crazed murderer who had been caught in the act of killing someone, and would stop at nothing to kill that one lone witness. Ah, but it was too bad really, that he had no real intention of committing something as heinous as that. Even if his personality was twisted like the way it was, ending someone’s life was not an option, as he was practical and confident enough to know that there were consequences to such an action. There was no need for such frivolous wastes of his time; last he heard, jail wasn’t exactly the most fun thing.

The reaction was to be expected; she seemed rather taken aback by the action. Amadeo patted himself an imaginary congratulations on the back, before proceeding to seat himself by the piano. Everything seemed to be going smoothly, all save for one thing that had bugged him about her in last minute of contact. Although the look of her face was one of satisfaction, humility, and blushing from his actions, there was no way to escape that other hidden look, one that had found refuge in her eyes. It looked to be one of pity, curiosity. The time he’d made eye contact with her, he was sure that he’d a further softening of those beautiful orbs, as though pitying him... or something of the sort. It was a matter that disturbed him greatly; he never liked being given that look. Being looked down on did nothing for his ego, and neither did it assist him in forgetting his past. It was that look exactly that people had given him once his family had been completely murdered. That infuriating look... was all they could give him. The mask was there, but the feeling and intention was not; they did absolutely nothing for him. The look followed him all through his life, until a point that he got so sick of these humans pretending to care that in the end, he himself ended up not caring, either. Oh how that picture angered him. A soft tch escaped his lips just before a frown followed soon after, but he quickly erased that and made his way towards the piano. That angered expression was visible only for a split second, so unless she had been watching him closely, she would have never noticed it. And it would have been better if she hadn’t; it was the look the resembled evil and madness at its core.

The soft melody had started playing its hopeful melody, melancholic at first but easily building to a more joyful hymn – quite a contrast to his mood. Right now, just the soothing music was enough to calm his grated and stirred-up nerves. The humming helped a bit too, preventing him from forming any sort of negative expression on his face. As the song built to the highest point, his fingers playing smoothly at the far right end of the piano, he heard the lady’s comment. An eyebrow raised at this; beautiful? No, that word was too much of an understatement. There would be no words to describe this composition; none of the existing vocabularies of man would be nearly sufficient enough. However, he didn’t feel that outward rebuking her compliment was a good idea. Instead, he merely replied softly, a melodious voice speaking that much largely contrasted the turmoil that always haunted him. “Indeed, it is. I... composed this myself. I thought it was rather rich; a little overdone, I must say.” He turned towards her, his playing never-ceasing. One hand stopped playing its part, to pat the space on the bench beside him, as if to say “Come sit, my Lady”. Then without losing fluidity and concentration, he went back to playing.

Once it was done, Amadeo turned towards her, tilting his head. It might have been rude to ask her, but she seemed a little interested in music, almost as much as he was. “Lady Rachel, if you would permit me. Would you like me to teach you what I know? It’s, ah, quite limited, but I’ll do the best I can if you wish.

tag ; ; rach <3
words ; ; 900
muse ; ; decent
music ; ; Whatcha Say - Jason Derulo
comments ; ; Lalala~ Music!