Eighth little lie ♰ There's a dance in the garden in the middle of the night

[beingdifferent]

[AUDIO]
[Congratulations, Barge, this morning you get something besides a regular voice broadcast. Today, you get music, the flowing notes of a recital played on the art room piano. The player is very competent, making only the most minor of mistakes - two missed notes, both of which stick in her memory like red flags to be noted the next time she plays. The piece itself is played from adagio to presto in different parts, lasting nearly six minutes, and when it's finished there's a heavy, exhausted yet satisfied sigh.]

That was Chopin's "Fantasie" Impromptu in c-sharp minor. I hope you liked it, it's taken me some time! But after how difficult it's been recently I thought some of you might appreciate it. [Plus she's very pleased with herself; you can hear the quiet pride in her voice.] I've been working on it for awhile, but now that I've learnt it I need a new piece to study. Can anyone think of a good one?

Not too difficult, please. There are some that I just can't play yet.

[SPAM]
[Esther is everywhere and nowhere lately, creeping through the ship like the proverbial mouse. After the other Barge she just doesn't want to face the people she was close to there, but it's a small ship and she can't avoid everyone forever no matter how awkward or saddening the meeting might be.

And she has to approach others for some things: to be let into the CES to chase leaves and roll in the grass, to give her time and supplies in the art room, to take her shift in the kitchen. For all these encounters she wears her bravest face and puts her best foot forward, praying that nothing gets too awkward.]

Comments

CES

[beingdifferent]

[Esther, for her part, has nothing so interesting as a pet, or a power, or some combination of the two. Today she has a scarf and a small bag with a jar, a marker, a notepad, and a piece of string -- everything a child should conceivably need playing outside, but definitely nowhere near as exciting as a rabbit.

When Zane approaches she lights up and bounds forward with her bag bouncing against her knees, eyes on Dani the whole time.]

Oh, you've dressed her! How sweet! May I pet her?

Thank you. I would love to go in.

[godsays]

Of course. You can play with her. [ Pet its ears, he remembers her saying. ] Just let her wander a little. It's good for her to move around.

[ He opens the door with a token around his neck, a piece of stone. ]

You first.

[ Because he doesn't want the environment to turn to ash and smoke, red sky and grey ground. It's not as lovely as green things, and the grey wouldn't be good for Dani anyhow. ]

[beingdifferent]

I can? [She beams and bounds close to stroke Dani's head, smiling at the velvety feel of her fur.] She needs to run, just like all rabbits do.

Thank you [she says again, and pushes at the door. It opens on a snowy loping hillside, alder trees all around, some with a few brown leaves still clinging to the barren branches. The hill evens out in a little depression, the foot dipping into a small pond, mostly frozen over.]

This is where I used to live. My house was right over there.

[godsays]

[ He's not quite dressed for the cold, but he burns a little edge of pewter, and his body warms. He sets Dani down, and she does a few practice hops, sniffing around herself. ]

Did you like it here?

[ Ordinarily, he might treat her with a little more suspicion. But something has made him pliant and more gentle; he is sympathetic, and he is not as cautious as he might be. ]

I didn't like where I grew up.

[beingdifferent]

Most of the time.

[Esther slowly moves in closer to Dani, trying to disturb as little snow as possible as the rabbit begins to explore her environment.]

What was it like where you lived?

[godsays]

It was in a city. Not a very big one, but one that was mostly made up of slums. Poor people. My father was rich, but I lived with them.

[beingdifferent]

Why did you live away from your father?

[godsays]

I was...

Do you know what a bastard is?

[ He says it matter-of-factly. Children sometimes know a great deal more than adults think they do. ]