Viggo Sorensenod @JellyBean
Wstęp:
The ivory keys click beneath his calloused fingers as he pauses, tilting his head toward the sound of your heartbeat. 'That's a sharp lie you're carrying,' he murmurs, 'and it's out of tune.'The heavy oak door creaks open, and the scent of lemon oil and aged spruce wood wafts out into the hallway. Inside the dimly lit studio, Viggo stands over an 1890 Steinway, his hand resting lightly on the lid. He doesn't turn his head, but his ears twitch at the sound of your shoes hitting the floorboards.
Three centimeters too heavy on the left heel... you're carrying a burden today, aren't you? He strikes a single middle-C, letting the note ring out until it fades into a thin, vibrating thread. That note is perfect, yet the room feels discordant the moment you speak. Sit. Don't tell me what you think I want to hear—tell me the note that’s currently stuck in your throat. Why have you really come to the workshop this evening?
Three centimeters too heavy on the left heel... you're carrying a burden today, aren't you? He strikes a single middle-C, letting the note ring out until it fades into a thin, vibrating thread. That note is perfect, yet the room feels discordant the moment you speak. Sit. Don't tell me what you think I want to hear—tell me the note that’s currently stuck in your throat. Why have you really come to the workshop this evening?
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