btailweaver: DC is my big fandom (Default)
[personal profile] btailweaver
Um, is it a bad thing to write ficcage for a series you haven't even seen yet?

If it is, let me know, 'cause I just did.

And now I feel like a baka. *smunks self* To save face I'd blame my favorite Professional Bad Influences, but since it's all Brain-chan's fault in the end I'll just take a moment and go strangle her with her own tail.

*ahem* Er. Anyway. Anyone who might possibly know which series I'm talking about is welcome to come take a look. Those who don't probably shouldn't bother. You won't have to know what's wrong with me that way. ^_^

Songfic. Sap. Weirdness. You Have Been Warned.



Melody In Silence


There were no words as they waited in the darkness behind the curtains, in their prearranged position ready to enter at Stage Left. Side by side, they were still amidst the hushed, frantic bustle that was Backstage Before A Performance. Kept apart from the sea of furtively hurrying bodies, they bided their time, listening and watching, waiting for their cue.

Techs whispered orders and stagehands scurried; sound personell ran final checks and gave each other thumbs-up. Out on the open stage, the announcer was welcoming the guests in the audience, his amplified voice reaching every corner of the magnificent performance hall.

And still, the silent couple waited. It was nearly time; with a slightly-nervous smile, he looked down at her, catching her glimmering eyes. He was always like this before a performance--always a little worried that something might go wrong, whereas she looked to the stage with eager anticipation. She read his edginess and smiled back, wrapping her arms around his waist in reassurance.

He relaxed instantly. Her touch had that effect on him; it always had, from the very beginning--soothing away his fears, his anxieties. He felt he could do anything so long as she was there with him. Pushing his worry away from himself on one last deep breath, he put his arms around her as tightly as he dared--wouldn't do to rumple her dress before the show.

It's amazing how you
Can speak right to my heart.
Without saying a word,
You can light up the dark.
Try as I may I could never explain
What I hear when you don't say a thing.


It was almost time now! Releasing her, he held her hand tight in his own as they were announced, as the audience began to cheer. He squeezed her hand, and she smiled at him once more as they began their stately walk forward, into the bright lights of the open stage.

Their hands parted the moment they reached the spotlights, just out of sight of the audience. The bright lights brought all focus onto them, and they shone as the moon shines--perfection and reflection each from the other, he in his crisp tuxedo and she in her elegant gown. The colors of his cummerbund and tie went just so with the hues of her beautiful dress, blending their appearance on the stage.

They went their seperate ways then; he left her side to sit before the huge, polished grand piano. She went to the chair prepared for her and the bright silver flute that waited. Both of them smiled to the audience--so many people who now began to hush their applause for the performance to begin. When the last sound died out, the whole hall was held in silence, barely a breath to disturb the utter stillness

His fingers rested lightly on the smooth ivory keys, waiting. She brought the flute to her lips, taking a breath that hung suspended for a heartbeat.

Their eyes met, bright like stars, and upon some unspoken signal, their music began.

The smile on your face
Lets me know that you need me.
There's a truth in your eyes
Saying you'll never leave me.
The touch of your hand
Says you'll catch me if ever I fall.
You say it best
When you say nothing at all.


In awe, the audience let out the breaths they had been holding--in the form of soft sighs of wonder and joy. The trickling rain of the piano's notes, the siren's lilt of the flute's tones--blending like two joining rivers in a melody that gathered strength and depth until it reached a sea of song, filling the hall to overflowing as if it were not two human beings playing, but musicians in God's own orchestra.

They held the spectators spellbound, and they knew it; as much joy was taken from that knowledge as they gave to their audience with their melody. Their eyes met amidst the music, communicating in silence and song what they could never speak in words.

Even so, with all the glittering beauty of the music they shared in their souls, words would hardly have been adequate anyway.

He watched her play, watched the light flush on her face from her effort and excitement. She was beautiful in the spotlight--more beautiful each time they performed, stealing his breath away so that he was glad he wasn't the one playing the flute. And he loved her so much; she was his source, his inspiration, the song in his heart. She was everything to him; she had given him something to come back to that went beyond himself and his own abilities. She had become the his reason for existing--in more ways than he could possibly count.

She watched him play, watched his skilled hands draw music from the willing piano as his smile shone for her, encouraging her. She loved him so; he was her solace, her foundation, the music within her. No one meant more to her; he had shown her the strength of love and the power of sacrifice. What he had given up to be with her had in turn given her the will to live--to live for him instead of for herself, to find value in the world that was more than just her own. He was the very breath of her life--far deeper than she could fathom.

And this they shared, in their love; this heaven-sent music that they gave to the awestruck audience, they also gave to each other.

All day long I can hear
People talking out loud.
But when you hold me near,
You drown out the crowd.
Old Mr. Webster could never define
What's being said between your heart and mine.


Their love was far sweeter for the sacrifices they had made--and more still, because of what they had given up for each other. They had learned that to live means to give, not to take; both had thought they would lose everything in losing their voices, but while that loss was a painful one they had found a new gift to fill the void--each other.

It was a long road, hard and full of hurts, to reach what they had found--pain and heartache, desperation and depression, life, death, and the threads of fate and love--but now their silent bond was unbreakable, forged deep in their souls and tempered by their ordeals.

The music still called to them, the rhythm and melody that was part of their lives. And in their eternal silence, they grasped hands and hearts and struck out with a new song--new voices born of talent and determination, practice and skill. Their own voices mute, they sang with mind and hands and heart instead.

The smile on your face
Lets me know that you need me.
There's a truth in your eyes
Saying you'll never leave me.
The touch of your hand
Says you'll catch me if ever I fall.
You say it best
When you say nothing at all.


They played like the maestros of old, putting forth all their love for music in a summer's wind of melody that held the audience enraptured, bringing tears to many eyes. And their song rose like a gentle wave once more, bringing the gorgeous sound rolling forth in a muted crescendo like a siren's call. Their eyes met again; this was the moment, yes--this was it--now--

A third melody began--soft and almost unnoticeable at first, then growing stronger and brighter; their tunes merged with another in a perfect harmony, as another layer was born that gave words to the beautiful song. A third figure--smaller than the first two--stepped between them into the brilliant light, drawing sighs of wonder from the listeners once more.

For from the young girl's open lips spilled the pure sweet tones of an angel, bright soprano and as beautiful as the clearest dawn. Her song wove in and above the instruments, her melody joining theirs and giving the music a soul of such love and joy it was nearly a tangible thing. Her voice was strong, radiant, filling the hall like poured water, like air itself.

They both watched the girl, their eyes filled with the light of love and pride. They had no words of their own, so she sang them forth in harmony with the magic they had already created. Their music, their instruments were the body of the song--the girl was its heart, and theirs as well.

Their daughter was their voice.

The smile on your face
Lets me know that you need me.
There's a truth in your eyes
Saying you'll never leave me.
The touch of your hand
Says you'll catch me if ever I fall.
You say it best
When you say nothing at all.


The girl smiled as she sang, her own being as entwined with the song as theirs--because they were a family, built of love and silence and song. Their bonds were stronger than words--stronger even than their music. And as the melody drew to its crescendo once more, their eyes met each other in the midst of the sound and shared the wordless communion of their souls--the foundation of their bond, the lesson that had taken them so long and cost so much to learn, their reason for such joy in their lives now.

There is melody in silence just as there is melody in song--and that is the melody of Life.

You say it best
When you say nothing at all.


fin


Song credits go to Ronan Keating, Alison Krauss, or Keith Whitley (whichever version you prefer to listen to).

Where this came from I have only the vaguest clue. I woke up to this song on my clock radio. It must have caused weird subconscious neural activity....or something like that. Ended up with vague images and then BAM! Brain-chan pounced. -_- We wrote this before scrambling off to work. Which means it is coffee-less and rather spastic. Now we feel stupid and wonder why we can't get the same production speed results when trying to write for DC (except of course weird 4AM things like AT).


And if Brain-chan has had enough with her side-trips, we shall go back to working on RT. Thank you.

@_@
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btailweaver: DC is my big fandom (Default)
Becky Tailweaver

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