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Wilardo liked exploring the fantasy spaces. The air seemed to warp and shift around him, multiple colors and twinkling lights flooding his vision. It was peaceful, with flowing pink waterfalls, calm green forests, and endless dark skies. He should’ve been afraid. Afraid that the mansion was suspended in empty air. Afraid that he was stuck in here with dangerous strangers. Afraid that he may never return to his normal life. But Wilardo has known of magic’s existence for centuries. First hand he’d seen how it extended his life, trapping him on this singular plane. He couldn’t die and nothing truly felt real to him anymore. Flowers had been the beauty in his life and yet the cause of his pain. So to see magic used in a beautiful way, not to harm but just to enhance, Wilardo was glad.
The mansion was hardly tranquil. There was scheming, confusion, and deeply hidden secrets. And that didn’t even cover the actual monsters lurking through the halls. Claire was kind, he enjoyed her company well enough. Wilardo spent most of his time in his room, so when the girl came to sort flowers with him in comfortable silence, he felt…a little less alone. In fact, it was hard to feel alone at all in the mansion. He was always on edge, the tips of his toes balancing just on the crust of something he couldn’t understand. Sirius, who he’d just conversed with in the forest fantasy space, seemed too stuck in his own head to really provide any insight. Noel disappeared all day, only to be seen at dinner time. Wilardo wasn’t sure why. There were the four girls who he’d barely had the chance to talk to as well. They only appeared sometimes, so he had to assume they spent most of their time in Claire’s room. Then there was…
Wilardo fell through the large cocktail into a small room.
Soft twinkling notes rang through the still air. Goosebumps ran along Wilardo’s arms as the music flooded his ears.
Tranquil.
Peaceful.
Beautiful.
The piano sang a light and airy song, almost depressing as it dipped into deep wells. Melody dripped from the walls. Slow and lethargic like golden honey. Glistening in the starlight of the windows. Wilardo’s lung swelled with the music, urging his feet forward.
A single man sat on the wooden piano bench. His deft pale fingers flew up the pearly keys, weaving emotion into song. His back arched delicately, shoulders drawn low, Ashe swayed with the notes. When Wilardo approached, he could see the distance in those golden eyes. They stared right into the past, far above this room suspended in time.
“What a beautiful song,” Wilardo murmured. He almost didn’t want to break the swirling atmosphere. Ashe smiled, something soft and unguarded.
“Thank you.” The notes cascaded down the scale.
“I didn’t know you could play.”
“Ah. I’m really not that good. My sister used to beg me to play for her all the time, so I learned quick.”
Wilardo tilted his head. So this was an homage to the past.
“I don’t know about that. I think you’re brilliant.”
Ashe laughed. It was sweet and made Wil’s fingers tingle.
“You flatter me.”
Wilardo couldn’t remember flattering anyone ever. He’d just spoken honestly. He let Ashe know as much. The man just laughed again.
“What’s this song called?” Wilardo asked after a pause.
“Clair de Lune. One of my sister’s favorite pieces.”
“It’s awfully somber.”
Ashe huffed, corner of his mouth quirking up.
“I suppose. But it’s also a very sincere and beautiful piece.”
“That it is.” Wilardo had to agree.
The pair lapsed into silence for a few moments. Ashe continued to play and Wilardo was content to listen. He couldn’t remember hearing music like this. So different than anything he would’ve heard in his childhood of stolen food and cut flowers. Sure, he’d experienced much as he grew through the decades, seen the birth of bands and expansive forms of all music. Yet something so simple, so classical in tapped keys and hidden mallets. It must’ve been a while, maybe a few centuries? He’d been too focused. Too busy feverously searching for anything to finally let him rest. To let him die.
A few moments stretched into minutes, then soon into a half an hour. Ashe’s songs changed, from slow to upbeat to depressing to wistful. His taut shoulders finally relaxed and Wilardo closed his eyes. He hadn’t been able to spend time like this with Ashe yet. He respected the man, despite his shrouded secrets. They both hid scars under their layers of woven lies but times like this, when they both stood unguarded, were so peaceful Wilardo was hesitant to let it end. But they should probably get back to the mansion. Ashe must’ve been thinking the same because he paused.
The music faded into silence and Wilardo opened his eyes.
Ashe didn’t look at him but he knew he had his attention.
“…What if we just stayed here?” His words were barely louder than a whisper.
“Hmm?”
“I mean, we don’t have to go back. We could just stay here. Like this. Together.” Ashe’s long fingers curled into fists. He opened his mouth to say more, but Wilardo shook his head.
“We can’t. You know it. We both know it.” He thought back to a conversation staged just a day ago. “Neither of us are willing to give up on our search for the Witch’s Heart. It’s inevitable.
Ashe squeezed his eyes shut, lowering his head. Shadows obscured his eyes.
“I know. I know.”
Wilardo let out a long breath. They were so much more similar than the two realized. So different in style, but did their goal really differ that much? A tragic story. Two meant to be yet together at the most inopportune time. Wilardo already knew fate’s cruel tricks, and he was just so tired.
“Well, since time really doesn’t pass here…I suppose we don’t have to leave yet.” Wilardo shifted and gently took a seat on the oak bench, fingers lightly set on the glossy piano keys.
“They say everyone should learn how to play an instrument before they die, right?”
Ashe just smiled.