Effulgent

-Prologue-

♢ Theon ♢

The suffocating sound of the MRI machine fills my ears, the same time as the stench of hand sanitizer and sterile cleaner assaults my nose. I've always hated these things. Always fucking hated hospitals and their claustrophobic feeling. There's no reason we can't invent better machines. Simply embarrassing for an 'advanced' society to have such archaic technology.

"Stop moving please, Mr. Briggs" Nurse Tammy yells to me, if only she had to sit in one of these things every year maybe then she'd get why it's hard for me to stop moving. Uncomfortable as fuck, loud, not to mention it holds the answer to what your future will be in its claws and yet you don't get results back till days after.

A cruel joke.

After what feels like an eternity of me telling myself don't move, stop moving, stay still. I'm able to leave and go home, to sit on my ass and ponder on my own about if something will come up or not. I could lie and say I'm used to it by now but I'm not. The anxiety almost makes my knees buckle as I walk down the stairs. I could walk around the hospital blindfolded if needed. Which would actually be quite depressing if I ever said it out loud.

Getting closer to the lobby, I hear music. Not just any music, no, someone is finally playing the piano. The old dusty piano that has sat there un-played ever since I was a child. Whoever is playing does it with such gentleness, like they're almost scared to hurt the keys. The mix of cold, crisp hospital air and the melodic sound is enough to send a shiver up my spine sending goosebumps cascading down my body. My steps falter as I finally turn the corner, a gentle figure sits at the piano, her silky raven black hair moves with her, I can see the faint traces of a smile at each moment like this is pure bliss, her body moving in sync with the song.

I can't help but look at the rest of her, a beautiful black dress accompanied with gold jewelry that only makes her even more beautiful skin stand out. The evening sun illuminates her, almost like it's her own personal spotlight.

The piece she is playing, slow and methodical. A slight sadness to it, the stark contrast between her radiating brightness and the music is enough to have anyone stop and stare. I feel the sudden need to inquire, to question her about the piece she chose and the reasoning behind it yet I'm frozen in place, finding myself needing to store this moment into my memory. Utterly captivated by the way her hands move expertly and effortlessly, a beautiful sight I'm afraid I'll never see again.

She looks absolutely ethereal, like an angel on Earth.

Her eyes close every so often, as if the notes are sinking into her skin, embedding into the folds of her mind. Tilting her head back as the pace picks up, it's obvious she's played this piece hundreds if not thousands of times before. It's quite the sight to see.

Her head turns slightly and my heart drops, she looks familiar...