Nelo_545
Legacy Name: Nelo_545

Music is delicate...

A little mistake, and it is broken...

Just like the heart...

The malticorn played on with no audience, no sheet music, and with little light. The theatre was abandoned and crumbling, but it was his preferred place to practice. Here, alone on the stage, he could listen to the music and respond to it's needs. His eyes gently closed, but he had no need for them here. A slave to the sounds he produced on his violin, but he would have it no other way.

As the music grew louder, he felt it grow within him. His chest filled up with a warmth so familiar to him that it caused him to smile a little. As the music grew more powerful, his body moved with it; at first in little sways and then in complete bows and turns. The music was his partner and it encouraged him to play on.

The fingers of his left hand moved so quick and delicately; years of practicing had built up small calluses on the tips and made him immune to the strings biting into the digits. The instrument would not let just anyone play it. His right arm moved with rapid speed but his hand held the bow as if it were made of air. The bow bounced and glided across the taunt strings, producing melodic and angelic voices from the instrument.

It was the unplanned and unsynchronized tap of shoes across the theatre's wooden floor that prompted the malticorn to just barely open his eyes and view his visitor. He did not stop his playing however, continuing the piece as if the stranger was not there. But the onlooker stayed and watched, convinced that he had entered unnoticed by the pet who played. After a stanza of music was played, the stranger dared to walk even closer to the stage, slowly and as quietly as possible. The visitor made it so close to the stage that he could almost reach out and touch it, but a voice broke through the music without interrupting the song, startling the stranger.

"I suppose you like it." The malticorn looked down upon the dark figure who intruded upon him. When the stranger did not answer, he clarified. "The music."

"Oh, I do." The words came out ungracefully compared to the singing of the violin. The performer leaned his body into the music as he plucked on, not distracted to talk and play at the same time.

"Well, you came here to listen to me, despite the dump I'm playing in. I must be pretty good."

"You're excellent!" The stranger blurted out, placing his hands upon the edge of the stage, awe within his eyes. "You play with a lot of passion! Your music... it..." The lone audience had trouble finding the right words to say. "It hits me right here." And the listener placed his hand upon his chest for emphasis.

"Thank you." The malticorn replied, still playing his song. "But it is hardly me who gives you that feeling in your chest." The stranger gave an inquisitive look.

"It is just the nature of music." He pulled his bow across the strings of the violin, creating a powerful rapture to come forth out of the instrument. It jostled the hearts of both player and listener. "You see, our bodies live on frequencies and wavelengths; the very same ones that sound and music travel on." Another stanza of music played.

"We feel the music, in the very same way that we feel emotions." The musician gently flipped the fair out of his eyes as he continued his song, explaining as he played.

"Because of this, music has a powerful effect on us; it moves and encircles us, even pierces and engulfs us, when we listen to it." The malticorn's body rocked violently as he played on, the tempo rising.

"This is why music came bring us to smile, and even bring us to tears." Another stanza of music played, and the stranger felt his heart move and the familiar sting of tears behind his eyes. He was stunned by the sudden reaction he felt to a few notes. He wiped at his eyes very quickly to keep the tears from coming out.

"But only excellent musicians can let the music play to it's full potential." The stranger replied. The malticorn smiled at the compliment.

"That may be true." The pet began to conclude his song. "But I am just a vessel through which music flows." The final note was long and gentle, and the player finally put down his bow. The onlooker couldn't help but smile and give a few claps of his gratitude for listening to such beautiful music. The malticorn gave a small bow in return and stood back up.

"I am just a manipulator of emotions, though. That is all that music is about; to express a feeling from the player to the listener. When people enjoy my music, they are feeling what I want them to feel, and for as long as we share that emotion, we are connected for as long as the song plays. But the music must stop and the connection is lost. In the end, I just manipulate my audience to listen to me, and then they leave." The horned musician gave another bow, turned on his heel and began to walk away, his hooves making loud steps upon the wooden stage floor.

The lone audience member stood quiet for a moment, surprised and unsure what to do with those somber last words left to him and the sudden departure of the malticorn. He couldn't let the visit end like that, but what could he say to those last words? His heart slowly began to beat faster as the shadowed figure of the musician slowly eluded his vision.

"When can I see you again?" He shouted to the retreating figure. The footsteps stopped and a heavy silence filled the large, empty theatre. "I mean, when will you play again? I would like to hear more."

The malticorn turned around but did not approach the stranger. They could see each other from where they stood, but just barely. The onlooker noticed a bright smile upon the pet's face. "I play everyday, but come by in a week; same time. I can play a new song on the cello for you."

"And you're name?"

"Nelo."