[hider=The Last Day (edited)]The image was vivid in Aaron’s mind, an image of moonlight streaming through tall windows onto white marble floors, of mahogany furnishings gleaming black in the near-darkness. An otherwise empty room populated only by two figures in the middle, grasping instruments. 

Three soft, rhythmic taps of a foot against the floor, a quick breath in, and suddenly the room came alive. The first sections of Mozart’s Lacrimosa, deep notes harmonizing with higher ones, the occasional sweet dissonance redeemed once more by harmony. The sound reverberated through the room perfectly, washing over everything, like an elegant duet of dancers sweeping across the floor. Every vibration played its part in the chorus and the two voices had the body of twenty as they sang through the space. Had the windows been living, they would have turned to listen.

But suddenly, there was a sour note, and the tenor line stopped playing. 

Aaron dropped his head in frustration, a long sigh morphing into a growl. Reaching out around his cello to the pencil on his stand, he drew several dark, angry circles around that damn D flat on his music. 

Lucan opened his eyes and lowered his violin from his neck, tilting his head as he slowly placed his instrument beside him on his chair. With a calm hand he removed a handkerchief from his front pocket and wiped some invisible dust from his coat. 

“What happened this time Aaron? I’ve heard you play that passage time and time again, something happen today?” It was phrased like a question, but the vampire made it sound more like a statement of fact.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron muttered, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand and straightening up once more, “I’m sorry, I’m just a little distracted I guess.”

His hands went to his sleeves, rolled up to just below his elbows, absently tucking away any stray corner of fabric as his eyes settled somewhere in the distance past his stand. Within a second or two, though, he picked his bow back up and re-settled the cello between his legs, looking hopefully - pleadingly - to Lucan. “Again?”

Lucan’s eyes flashed as he silently placed his handkerchief on Aaron’s stand. “Indeed, relax and we shall continue. I expect that you will tell me what it is that troubles you?” Once again, the statement was phrased as a question, but Aaron could hear the uncertainty in it, probably one of the only people able to pick it out of the vampire’s practiced facade of emotions.

Aaron tilted his cello back onto its stand, put his bow aside and put his face in his hands, exhaling slowly as he tried to rub his distractions out of his head. It didn’t work, and his leg started bouncing instead. Suddenly uncomfortable, he fidgeted around his chair, leaning forward and back until he found his voice again. 

“I-” he began, only for the words to die in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut, opened them and tried again, failed again. There was a long pause before he finally found his words. “They’re sending me to the Academy, Lucan.”

The room fell into deathly silence as Aaron went still; even a soft whisper would have been like screaming. For several long moments it continued until Lucan stepped forward and placed a single hand on Aaron’s shoulder, perhaps collecting himself as he apparently had been taken by surprise. A squeeze, almost comfortingly, was given, and Luc stepped closer. 

“I see. I assume that you’re less than excited for that prospect.” His voice was softer than normal, another tell that he was concerned and wanting to help. Sure, maybe acceptance to a school as prestigious as the Academy would be good news to most, but Lucan knew just as well as Aaron did what it meant for the likes of him. 

Aaron inhaled sharply, leaning his chin on his hand, bending to rest his elbow on his knee. “My mother told me this morning, she was so happy,” he chuckled humorlessly around the lump in his throat, the sound strained with barely contained emotion. “‘Isn’t it wonderful,’ she told me, ‘isn’t it wonderful they’d choose me to represent the family at the Academy.’” He couldn’t stay still, all the pent-up anxiety from the day coming out as he fiddled mercilessly with his ring. He cleared his throat and blinked furiously at the stinging in his eyes, still shocked from it all. His next words were more of a strained whisper, to no one in particular as he glared daggers at the floor. “Isn’t it [i]great.[/i]”

With purposeful steps, Lucan stepped around the chair and retrieved a third, placing it right in front of Aaron and sitting slowly. The same hand replaced itself on Aaron’s right shoulder and Luc moved his head a bit to catch his eyes. “Look at me.” He said, before breathing out needlessly. “Calm yourself Aaron, and look at me.” Luc had clearly picked up on Aaron’s situation and was trying to help him regain control; these were tactics he’d had to use a few times in the past. The handkerchief from earlier found its way into Aaron’s hand but Luc refused to move his eyes. “Deep breaths.”

Aaron nodded and followed Lucan’s orders - something he could default to, that required no thought. It took a little time, but eventually his heart rate did slow and his throat did loosen. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, eyes flashing ashamedly to his hands, wringing Luc’s poor handkerchief like it owed him something, “It’s all very overwhelming, that’s all.”

There was silence for a moment before Aaron added, “I guess I just thought something different was planned for me.”

Luc offered little reaction as Aaron said his piece, simply nodding twice, once as Aaron spoke and again at the end. “We have both been given one job upon entering this world, and a wrench was thrown in yours. But it isn’t the end, if anything this is another test for you to overcome to become the best mage possible.” His voice was quiet, soft and had none of the usual gentle hesitation. “Now straighten up, you’ve been given an opportunity, perhaps not the one we expected but an opportunity nonetheless.”

There was a hesitation, then Luc placed his other hand on Aaron’s opposite shoulder and just stared at him. Aaron could see the gears turning behind his violet eyes as Lucan looked on, until finally after a minute he nodded once more.

Aaron nodded along as Luc spoke, quickly at first and then more assuredly nearer the end. “You’re right,” he affirmed, and of course he was. His lot in life was to be at the Noilas’ beck and call, and sulking was not only unproductive, but ungrateful. After a moment of purposeful breathing, he picked his bow back up, readjusted his cello and straightened his back, looking once more to Lucan. He wasn’t entirely recovered, but he was better than he’d started. “One more time?” he asked, eager to move on. 

Lucan removed his hands from Aaron’s shoulders and considered him once again, nodding and smiling softly. He stood and replaced the third chair and then walked purposefully back to his violin which he picked up and then prepared his bow. “On you Aaron, and remember. Regardless of what happens, you can count me on your side.” He inclined his head and prepared to once again launch himself into the world of music. 

Aaron offered a ghost of a smile in response and took his playing posture. Three taps of a foot later, and a quick breath in, and the room came back to life. [/hider]