Winter song

[Mew Sadira]

[html]

http://i692.photobucket.com/albums/vv28 ... ptable.png); background-position:bottom; background-repeat:no-repeat;"> Word Count: 531 Her face smiled at him as he told her he'd be on the lookout. In one way she did not believe he would be as lucky as she had been in finding the pieces, but there were many places in this world she had never visited, and she had hope that he would find what he wanted. It felt nice to share her passion with someone; it always did. So few knew this side of her properly. Haku had surely never appreciated it, but she could not force it upon anyone. It sure was nice when someone shared her interest, though. It made a nice change. The male took her guitar and held it like she had shown him, testing every string and their individual sounds; promising, she thought. It was good to learn the sounds, and to learn to distinguish between them. They were all different, she believed, and they had their different qualities. After reading many books on human music theory, she knew there were things called scales and such, and one day a long time ago she had sat down and played through them, one by one. C major, D major, E major, all of them. And even though the intervals were described as the same in the theory book, she could hear the different voices in the different scales. She heard their tales, and saw that they were not the same. Even more different were the church modes, and those were the ones she had pulled the closest to her heart. Like her children, wildly individual and yet the same, were the scales she had befriended during the years she had spent mastering the guitar. Her eyes would never cease to shine at the tones of her instrument: not as long as she was alive. He called her 'lady' and she blushed, gone too long without male company not to feel the awkwardness. Even Lubomir, sweet-talker as he had been, had called her that. Yet, then, she had been a white anger with the soprano voice of a young child, his heorine in every way. It seemed, it had not been enough for him. Shaking the thought, she chuckled along with his chuckle, smield at his comment with a slight nod, and continued to the lesson. She pointed to two strings on the second fret, the next-to lowest one, and the one below it. "Press them with your index and middle finger. Take care not to let your fingers touch the other strings as it will ruin the tones, press the strings down firmly in the middle of those two lines, and hold the position. Then take your other thumb and let it glide softly over all the strings from top to bottom." Pausing, she waited to see what he would do. "It is an E minor chord. A set of three tones make a chord, and minor chords are often said to carry sadness in their voice." A mirror of her tragic life, some of the minor chords were her favourites, particularly the F minor. For some reason, she had always felt as if it was stronger than the other minor chords: stronger, and yet sadder.

[/html]