[WoD] Air on the G String (complete)

[Sansa]

"Emilie!" Sansa hollered over her shoulder at her flatmate's closed door. "Where is - "

"Mon cher, j'ai accroché vers le haut ce morceau d'ordures!" Emilie tore open her door and peered out from under her tousled blonde locks at her friend. "It is in your wardrobe. Mon dieu! You tossed it on the sofa when you came home an hour ago. I'm not here to pick up after you, vous fille malpropre!" She clucked her tongue, shook her head disapprovingly, and disappeared inside her room once more. Sansa could hear the bloke she was with chuckling, and Emilie's high pitched laughter soon joined his.

She allowed herself a theatrical sigh, then retrieved her woolen coat from her wardrobe. She hadn't meant to leave it out, but in her excitement she must have forgotten. Didn't mean that Emilie had the right to tell her off. In French, no less, with a guy within earshot. It was just as well Sansa hadn't seen who it was, she would be mortified every time she saw him if she knew he'd heard Emilie's little tirade.

Sansa slung a scarf around her neck and pulled her long brown hair into a messy ponytail. Making a face in the mirror, she quickly pulled out the rubber band and smoothed her hair into a much sleeker ponytail. He was going to see her, and even though she was in a hurry she wanted to look as good as she could manage. Bollocks! She caught a glance at the clock next to her bed and quickly cast about for her violin case and coat.

She wanted to make a good impression, and being late rarely made one look good. Rodermark wanted to hear her play the violin tonight, and she was scatterbrained at the idea he actually wanted to see her again. Sansa ran out the door of the flat, forgetting to lock it behind her.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

In truth, there was no rush. The black cab that had been sitting outside of Sansa's flat had been waiting for some time now, yet the driver had spared her the embarrassment of his honking the horn at her lateness. As she blustered into the car, his broad smile reflected in the rear-view mirror. “Sloane Square, love?” Without waiting for the breathless Sansa to reply, he began to drive.

Sloane Street, Knightsbridge. Home to some of the worlds most famous fashion boutiques, it's name had become synonymous with the young upper class, who pay thousands of pounds per square foot to lease its properties. A short walk from the likes of Maria Grachvoge and Mont Blanc, Cadogan Place is among its most sought after residential areas – and so it would come as no surprise, then, that it was here that Gabriel Rodermark had chosen to live.

The cab pulled to a stop outside a typical red-brick Chelsea building. The sound of night-time conversation and the delicious smell of Thai food drifted down the street from La Perla, while young women – treating the pavement like a catwalk - paraded elegantly by the doorman of Cadogan Place. The driver smiled in the mirror once again. “Here we are. Enjoy your evenin'...”

[Sansa]

"Thanks..." Sansa dug in her pocket for the fare but the driver waved her off.

"No, love, just 'ave a good time." He tipped his hat to her in the mirror and Sansa flushed and scrambled out of the cab. Violin case clutched in one hand, she found herself on the sidewalk. There was a bit of slush on the ground from the last snowfall, and she carefully picked her way around a puddle towards the doorman.

In her drab coat and sensible shoes Sansa stood out like a thrush in a flock of canaries. She was wearing dark tights against the cool winter air, a knee length red skirt and a white blouse. Tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear she approached the doors.

"I'm here t' see Gabriel Rodermark. He's expectin' me?"

[Gabriel Rodermark]

The doorman nodded. “Go right on in... Mr. Rodermark's apartment is on the top floor.”

As Sansa stepped inside, there was a ping. The elevator had just arrived the ground floor, and out of it emerged a young couple who smiled almost apologetically at Sansa as they passed her by. Inside the lift there were only eight buttons, all numbered. Logically Gabriel had to be on floor eight. Soft strings played over the speakers as the lift travelled upwards, while Sansa was all but forced to confront the image of herself in the mirrors that surrounded her. When the elevator stopped, it opened out into a short corridor. At one end, there was an expensive looking door with the number eight nailed to it. At the other, there was a fire exit.

[Sansa]

More nervous than before, Sansa's heart practically hammered from inside her chest. Her comfort zone far behind her, she stepped out of the lift and into the hall. "Number eight," she muttered, licking her suddenly dry lips and forcing herself forward and towards the door.

There was nothing about it that seemed forboding, but the point of no return loomed close. She considered beating a hasty retreat, but soon realized that it would be impossible to do without making a bigger fool of herself. Gabriel would have been notified by the doorman of her arrival.

Sansa gathered her scant courage and knocked lightly on the door. Her body was wound tightly, held an unwilling captive to the 'fight or flight' impulses that coursed through her nervous system. Nervous system. Ha. She knocked again, a little louder.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

Gabriel was prompt in receiving his guest and greeted Sansa warmly.

“Let me take your coat,” he smiled and motioned ahead of himself, into the apartment proper.

The interior of the suite was minimalistic, yet here and there items with character stood out: an old desk here, an unusual figurine there, and of course his walls were adorned with a number of prints and paintings. With the blinds drawn, the lounge was dark and yet warm, the subdued lights casting shadows against the pale walls. Two soft leather sofas were the centre piece of the room, curled around a low wooden table.

“Come, sit. Tell me... how have you been since we last spoke?”

Again, Rodermark smiled, as he neatly hung Sansa's snow-covered jacket up to dry.

[Sansa]

Her anxiety disappeared as he smiled, and Sansa exhaled softly. "I've been well - spent some time up in Liverpool with some mates from back home." She unwound her scarf from around her neck and handed it to her host who tucked it away with her coat.

She looked about the place as she made her way to the couch he'd indicated, sitting finally on the edge of the seat, her violin case across her knees. "And how have you been?" Sansa smiled up at Gabriel as he came over to sit as well.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

Sitting only a shuffle away from Sansa, I began to study her, carefully. I wondered if her bruises had healed, if she was at all concerned as to where they had come from – and, more worryingly, if she had remembered anything untoward about the night of the attack. I suppose that if that were the case, she would have politely declined my invitation to meet again. It was little over a week since the incident at the Barbican. To say that things were running smoothly would have been a lie. Fortunately, I had long ago become a master of such deceptions.

“Bogged down in paperwork, I'm afraid. Back to work as usual,” I rolled my eyes and shook my head, casually brushing away the question as quickly as it had been asked. We were all smiles, the way that friends are when they first meet after time apart – so pleased to see one another, little laughs here and there.

“Where are my manners... can I get you something to drink? Something to warm you up?”

[Sansa]

"Ah, sure. Some tea would do me good." She grinned as he excused himself to procure some tea, and settled back on the sofa. The soft leather was as rich as anything she'd felt.

Sansa ran her fingers over the leather beside her, and then sat up more properly. Unfastening the clasps on the side of her violin case she took out the bow and resin, preparing for her little recital that would come soon enough.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

Fortunately for Sansa, I was a considerate Kindred and routinely purchased foodstuffs, in the event that a mortal should stop by. I have to confess, also, that I still retained some appreciation for the finer cuisines – certain smells, in particular, were fantastic and triggered many memories from years gone by to flourish in my mind. A spoon clinking against the side of a porcelain mug, even the smell of the hot tea was enough to lure me down memory lane.

Returning to the lounge, I found Sansa already readying her violin. I set the tea down in front of her and leant forward a little, eyes narrowing as I looked over the instrument. “I hope the Browns didn't mind my stealing you away for the evening...”

[Sansa]

She looked up from examining the strings as he re-entered the room. "Oh, no. I usually have evenings off. Mr. Brown is determined to 'get to know' his own children, so I have to scoot off so they can have quality time." Sansa flushed lightly, "If you hadn't called I'd just be sitting at home with a book."

She carefully replaced the violin in its case, setting it to the side of her on the couch and reaching for the tea. "Oh, its lovely, thank you." She sipped again, allowing the warmth to permeate to her core.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

“I see... and what else do you do in your leisure time?” I asked, finding my eyes somewhat distracted by the instrument sat between us. Carefully, I tilted the case towards me and glanced up at her. I knew that some musicians could be protective of their instruments, so didn't want to steal the violin away without permission. “Would be alright if I took a closer look?”

[Sansa]

"Oh yes." She sat her cup down and took the violin out of its case. "It isn't a <a href=http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stradivarius>Strad</a>, or anything like that." Sansa grinned, "Just don't spill anything on it."

She handed it to Gabriel, who took it almost reverently. "As far as my 'leisure time' is concerned, I mostly read. I do some drawing, but I'm more enthusiastic than talented. I like to watch football, and I go out clubbing with Emilie about once a month." She shrugged, watching Gabriel as he turned the violin over in his hands.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

“A musician and an artist, I'm impressed.”

Taking the violin carefully in both hands, I turned the instrument over, tilting it slowly back and forth. I was beginning to think that Jude had purposefully chosen to bring the girl to my party, knowing that I would find interest in her. Kindred of my clan were renowned for embracing those with a talent or passion for the arts, and it seemed that Sansa had both. The interest in football, I thought, I could overlook. It was a caveman's game, and didn't seem to sit right with her character – or at least not the image of her that I was formulating in my mind.

“I used to think that I was a tremendous artist... I was terribly arrogant,” I smiled in spite of myself. “I still dabble now and then, but only a little.”

As I examined the violin further, a thought sprung to mind. I wasn't usually one to flaunt the connections that my long-life afforded me, but in this case I couldn't resist, just to see the reaction it garnered. “You know, I have a friend in London who owns a genuine Stradivarius. You may have heard of her... Viktoria Mullova? She owns the Jules... Falk, I think.”

[Sansa]

Sansa's mouth dropped open. "Viktoria Mullova!? You know her?"

Viktoria was a Russian violinist who had defected from Soviet Russia in the early 1980s. "That's incredible." She sank back into the couch, as if she could no longer hold herself upright. "And the Jules Falk. I've heard the Joachim - it's here at the Royal Academy of Music. But Viktoria Mullova on the Jules Falk... and you wanted to hear me play?"

She clutched at her heart in mock disbelief, "I'm less than a beginner compared to her genius. Her recording of the Brahmns Violin Sonatas..."

[Gabriel Rodermark]

“Perhaps we might take in one of her performances in the future,” I replied with a cool smile, much pleased by the look of awe offered. It was my connection to the incestuous arts community of London that had lead me to meeting Viktoria. All of the arts mingled with one another freely, and always their gatherings would be attended generously by the Toreador. That we should have become acquainted was an unexpected yet pleasant surprise.

Yet... there was something just as fascinating about hearing the young woman before me play, as their was witnessing a performance of a virtuoso. Performance was like a bearing of the soul. It exposed so many emotions and such passion. Music, perhaps more so than any other art, seemed to consume those who made it and take over them. It was dazzling to watch.

“Have you decided what you'd like to play for me?” I asked, returning the violin to its case. Though the instrument was relatively simple, I supposed it would have had sentimental value beyond its monetary price.

[Sansa]

"Yes," Sansa started, then blushed, "I'm embarrased to play for you now." She took out the violin, one of modern construction but relatively good. It was just nothing compared to a Strad.

"Air on the G string, by Johann Sebastian Bach." She tried her hardest not to be apologetic with her body language, something her teachers had scolded her about. Have faith in the music, and in yourself, Sansa. She took a deep breath, flashed a bright smile, and stood up. "I'll just stand... over here..."

She experimentally plucked a string, then put the violin to her chin. After a moment with her eyes closed, Sansa put bow to strings. It was a piece she was very familiar with, and she wasn't afraid of making a mistake, which helped a lot. After the first few bars she forgot her surroundings and just played.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

She was not exceptionally talented, by any means. Some people are simply naturally gifted with such graces, whilst others must work for them – I suspect that Sansa may fall into the latter category, though she is all the more admirable because of it, because of having invested her time, effort and care into something done for the pleasure of ones self rather than the praise of others.

The piece she had chosen to play was calming and I sunk back against the leather of the couch whilst soaking up the sound. I did not yet allow myself to become lulled into some trance by it all. Instead I watch curiously Sansa's expressions, her body language. Having lived such a long time, the reading of these involuntarily displays of emotion and attitude becomes second nature. It seemed as if she had calmed, become calmed by the music. I smiled at the thought and continue to listen, regardless.

[Sansa]

The piece was soothing, a gentle arrangement of notes. It was not the hardest piece she could play, but trying to play the most difficult of pieces for a new audience, especially one she wanted to impress (well that was out the window now), was just silly.

She ended the recital with a slight smile on her face. Sansa lowered her violin and bowed to her 'audience.' I hope it wasn't too awful. She swallowed the words, and grinned self-consciously. "Well, now you're heard me play."

[Gabriel Rodermark]

“Yes, it was wonderful, thank you.” I gave some small applause. Just enough to be appreciative, yet not enough to seem sycophantic or condescending. “Do you often play for an audience?”