Hester
I've told you time and time again
"Wh-why would..." Hester's voice is hard, almost angry, before she draws back, tempers herself. "If you're humiliated, why would you want to get better?" It doesn't make any sense to her. "I love the fiddle. I want to get better at it because I love it, and because it's fun. Not because I'm afraid to do badly at it." The idea of doing something out of fear is so strange, but at the same time, it explains more than she wants to understand about the other woman, about the Launceleyn's as a whole.
But at the same time, this was a chance to do things differently. It feels as if there is suddenly a great weight on Hester's shoulders, a load she can choose to bear, or one she can shrug off, leave behind. "I learned the fiddle for my father, at first. He's played since before I can remember." A distant smile crosses Hester's face, these memories happy. "And when I first played, I played for him. I wanted to make him happy, but it never felt right. I thought I was doing something wrong. And I told him, crying, that I thought I was doing something wrong. Do you know what he told me?" She cocks her head, giving the other a chance to offer.
"The whole piece is the neck, but directly under the strings is the fingerboard." Hester isn't sure which piece specifically is being asked about, and overcompensates, as usual. "It's where the notes are formed." Hester brings her instrument up, then arranges her fingers in the shape of a note on the neck, not drawing the bow across it yet. "See?"
But at the same time, this was a chance to do things differently. It feels as if there is suddenly a great weight on Hester's shoulders, a load she can choose to bear, or one she can shrug off, leave behind. "I learned the fiddle for my father, at first. He's played since before I can remember." A distant smile crosses Hester's face, these memories happy. "And when I first played, I played for him. I wanted to make him happy, but it never felt right. I thought I was doing something wrong. And I told him, crying, that I thought I was doing something wrong. Do you know what he told me?" She cocks her head, giving the other a chance to offer.
"The whole piece is the neck, but directly under the strings is the fingerboard." Hester isn't sure which piece specifically is being asked about, and overcompensates, as usual. "It's where the notes are formed." Hester brings her instrument up, then arranges her fingers in the shape of a note on the neck, not drawing the bow across it yet. "See?"
You sing the words, but don't know what it means
