A God Given Talent

In which two people argue using their god given talent.

Small steps against the aging wood, the boards creak with use and wear, like pitter patters  

of a child so light in step. The walls that surround her are highlighted by a singular lamp, its

plastic shade cracked just a bit, to let a searing beam of light hit the large mirror in front of the

dancer, reflecting onto the dark wood. It is an old studio, one can see that just from the way the

floor and walls seem to creak with each step she makes.

She is not old, her vibrant steps seem to create sparks across the wood, setting ablaze a

routine that can only be accomplished through many years of work. The woman’s features are

thin, but her face still holds the glow of innocence, all she knows is dance, all she has been

taught is dance. Blue eyes catch the stray ray of light that comes from the dim lamp, a

melancholy blue, it is hard to tell if she is happy or not, her eyes clash with the seemingly

cheerful dance that she shows off to no one. She continues nonetheless, the small features make

her beautiful, eyelashes and the dusting of freckles that can be seen under the sleeves of her

outfit, the small smile she makes when a step has been done properly.

A sharp creak clashes with the soundless music in her head and the dancer stumbles,

catching herself on the old mirror, she refuses to look herself in the eyes and only looks behind

her, the door has been opened. Anger flares in her chest and quickly, the dancer spins to look at

the intruder.

      “I’ve come to watch.” Says the intruder, his voice like the dark wood beneath his feet, old

despite his appearance. He holds something in his hand, long fingers clutching the handle of a violin case, the edges worn from opening and closing it so many times.

    “Have you?” The dancer speaks, and slowly glances away, she had not expected him. “Well, I

was just finishing up, so maybe next time.” She continues, moving to step closer toward the

intruder, her eyes crisp and irritated.

    “Adelaide, must we fight-” He is cut off with a sharp blow from her lips.

    “Yes, we must.” Adelaide hisses and reaches behind her head to tie the long locks of hair up

into a tight bun, irritation raging on in her eyes, like a storm, unsure of which way to blow.

Although, finally looking at him, and how his face is contorted with exhaustion and internal

struggle. Her hands slowly fall to her sides and Adelaide must look away a moment, the anger

inside of her is justified, but so is his struggle.

    “William, play for me.” Adelaide finally murmurs after a long thought, her sharp eyes look to

him, as if she is challenging William, her voice may have been soft, but her eyes waged war.

    William stares at Adelaide a moment, his own eyes hold no war, Adelaide’s features may

have been light but William’s were just the opposite. His dark hair hung around his pale skin,

dark lashes making his eyes sink in, he was a tired man with tired features.

    “As you wish.” William says with a soft voice and places his case down, the light clack of the

gold painted buckles flipping open echoed around the room, and he winced, it seemed much too

quiet to disturb.

    The violin was his weapon and William wasn’t sure he wanted to use it against Adelaide, but

she would get what she asked for. He slowly pulls out the instrument, it too was worn just as the

case was, although the red wood still shone like the day he bought it.

    Placing the violin to his shoulder, William closes his eyes and sucks in a shallow breath into

his lungs, before placing the bow against the strings. “ Is Vivaldi Winter alright Ade-”

    “It’s fine, we’ve practiced that one before.” Adelaide snaps at him, before getting into

position, facing the mirror and bowing her head, still refusing to look at herself in the mirror.

“Just get on with it.” She whispers, her voice suddenly quiet. A cord seemed to be struck within

her chest, and she can’t seem to look at William either.

    William’s dark eyes look forward and he nods once, stroking the bow against the strings, he

begins playing fast paced, the song does not have a slow moment to rest within it. The buildup

has him speechless a moment, he hasn’t played this in a very long time. William lets out a breath

of nervousness, looking up at Adelaide.

    The dancer spares nothing for him, her moves are twice as fast, and each step she makes with

her pointed toes become spears, slicing and piercing into the grainy dark wood of her once

sanctuary. Adelaide has no fear within herself anymore and gives the musician a look one can

only describe as malice for the other.

    William can’t help but look away from her with those sapphire eyes, like a sword going

through his lung, and blood replacing the air, he can’t breathe.

     Adelaide continues her dance, spinning once, twice, three times, eyes never leaving

William’s. She fuels her rage with past memories of them together, a lie. That’s all he ever did

was lie to you, right to your face. Her thoughts come at her like bullets, and not only is she

waging war against him now, a civil war has erupted within Adelaide’s chest.

     It isn’t his fault, he has to leave, it’s the only way.. Another thought rushes through her mind

and Adelaide nearly stumbles, but no, she will not fail to him, she will not bow down to William.

Adelaide takes a step forward toward him, eyes boring into his dark ones.

    William’s playing reaches a new speed, and he too takes a step forward toward Adelaide, he

can feel her hot breath against his face and closes his eyes a moment, the pain of trying to forget

their past proves too much for him, and William tears away from Adelaide, his shoes tapping

against the wood.

     He can’t face her, William could never match up to her true anger, her passion. In his eyes

she was something much too surreal to even go up against.

    The song comes to a quiet stop, and he looks up at Adelaide, her eyes red with burning tears,

and William realizes he has been crying too.

    “I can’t leave you.” He murmurs, the violin now hanging from his fingers, his tired eyes look

back up to Adelaide. “I could never leave you.” William takes a slow step toward Adelaide, and

places a hand on her back, waiting for a response.  

    “But you must.” She whispers and turns to look at him, there is no war held in her eyes

anymore, only loneliness. Her cheeks are red from exertion and Adelaide’s bun has come

undone, hair falling past her shoulders. Her hands grip his coat, and she slowly pulls away,

suddenly feeling awful for challenging something that couldn’t be undone.

    “I know.” William whispers and glances toward their recent battleground, the dust settling

and the last of their voices echoing off of the high ceilings. “I’m sorry.” Moving toward his case,

he slowly packs up the fragile instrument and looks back once more.

The quiet steps of his shoes echo throughout the war grounds, quiet once more.  

Author's Note

Theeeey're at it again, I swear I have more OC's than this.