Fiddle Me This

Beatrix

Beatrix nodded slowly, quietly thankful that she didn't have to practice in front of all of those people. She had walked in expecting that... and knowing her family, who wouldn't take that chance to humiliate her?

"It's... already different, than how I learn magic," she admitted quietly. "With magic... the goal is humiliation, at least, that's how I remember it." It was often shame, more than humiliation--needing to be good at magic to make someone love you; for them to be proud of you.

She shifted to take out her instrument, and she listens, intently. She's good with memorization, save for remembering her past. She mimicked how Hester held her own, fingers brushing each part of the fiddle, hoping that touching each piece as its talked about will seal the information in her mind.

And at the end, when she isn't ordered to try playing the instrument, but asked a question... she flushed. "Can... you tell me what this was called, again?" She tapped just under the strings on the neck of the instrument, clearly embarrassed to have to ask a question.

Let me break you into pieces,
shatter your heart,
and show you what living really is.