Farah Dowling WRITOBER 2O22

If we ever stop talking send me a song [INTO MY ARMS #2]

You followed "miss d'Armilly" upstairs.

She opened the door for you, inviting you into one of the suites. You wondered for the thousandth time who this woman was. Surely she had to be someone important, if the Queen of Solaria herself had seen fit to assign her such a majestic room in the royal palace. Not that you cared about her social position - but you'd have loved to know her real name.

You closed the door and turned to watch her oddly magnificent silhouette, with that strange branch arm, in the dim lights of the room.

She was watching you in return, silent.

Why did she bring you here? She seemed in a weird mood. Was she tired of the party? Did she want to talk in a less noisy environment? Or... you were not sure this wasn't just your hopeful thinking, but perhaps she meant to get to know you... intimately?

The silence was becoming heavy, though.

You blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "This is a beautiful suite."

"I'm sure you see plenty" she replied.

Wasn't that a odd thing to say? Maybe she thought you were some rich, spoiled brat.

"Not as many as I'd like" you joked, and her gaze seemed to darken. You really couldn't figure out this woman. There was no pleasing her.

"Do you want something to drink?" she asked. "Linfean champagne, perhaps?"

Was that a sardonic smile on her face?

"No, thank you" you replied with a polite smile. "I've had enough to drink downstairs."

"Enough" she repeated, looking even more displeased. "I see. And do you always drink?"

You gave up. You really, really did not understand her. Someone else might have been discouraged. But you liked challenges, and your combative part was urging you to find a way to win her over.

"Always? No, not always. It's just a pleasure, not a vice."

"And you're a specialist on pleasure, I would presume."

Was she saying that because she saw how happy that dress she had bought for you made you?

"I just try to appreciate the little things in life."

"That is a nice way to describe it all. The little things in life" she said with a sad laugh.

"Well, yes" you retorted, completely bewildered by her maudlin mood. But then again she had told you she was in bad mood, had she not? It was up to you to improve it. "Don't you have things you enjoy doing?"

Farah thought about the light in her students' eyes when she was teaching a particularly interesting class, about the smell of fresh bread and, for a moment, about the satisfaction she had gotten so many years ago from training with Rosalind, Saul, Ben, Rose and Andreas.

She opened her mouth to answer... and then, as her eyes met yours - your doe eyes that looked so pure and honest but hid the gods knew which sins - she thought that she could open her legs for you, but not her heart, or she'd really risk to burn herself. How cliched would that be? A powerful woman, mid-life crisis, falling in love with an escort. No. She would never.

You instinctively understood that she was not going to answer, so you said: "Would you like to hear what I enjoy?"

She hesitated, then nodded.

"I play. The piano. I enjoy the feeling of the fresh keys under my fingers and of the pedals under my feet. I love the moment right before I start playing, when my head goes empty and it feels like the deep breath before a plunge. And I... sing. I'm into First World music, so sometimes I sing pieces from there - a bit of opera, but also some songwriters."