Harp's Song

Part IV

The day of Harp's solo dawned bright and clear on his side of Heaven. Harp hardly noticed since he was too preoccupied with being terrified. Conductor wasn't exactly the most forgiving of angels. And it still remained to be seen whether he could channel what he felt around Axel in front of someone far more scrutinizing. For Harp, it was far easier to play for an audience that couldn't hear him.

First he had to wait though, as he'd arrived early.

The female angel who'd been called out with Harp was present as well, powder blue wings shaking with apparent nerves.

"I'm going to get expelled," she squeaked, clasping her hands together nervously.

Me too, Harp thought but didn't voice it. There was no point in stating the obvious, or in making his fellow musician feel any worse.

"I've been practicing so hard," she continued, apparently needing to talk more than she needed to hear a response. "I don't sleep, rarely eat. All I've been doing is practicing, and I'm still doing it wrong. I don't understand 'feel'. Do you? Do you know what she wants from us?" Not at all mindful of the short bob of dark hair that was falling into her eyes, Fourteenth Viola's voice began to rise in desperation.

Harp was sympathetic. It was a harsh blow when you were created for the sole purpose of producing beautiful music and were told you were failing to do just that.

"Have you tried to imagine something that makes you extraordinarily happy or sad while you're playing," he asked.

The confused look on Viola's face gave him his answer. Harp leaned closer to her, oblivious to the color rising into her cheeks at his proximity.

"It doesn't have to be just those emotions. It can be anything that makes you feel something strongly," Harp said, pressing a hand to his chest to emphasize. "And it can be anything: a thought or memory, or even something tangible like an object or another person."

"A person," Viola echoed, cheeks still flushed as she looked at Harp. She dropped her gaze a moment later.

Sitting up straighter on the bench they were sharing, Harp nodded. "Just think about it when you play. It really helps."

The tiny viola player looked at him with an expression Harp didn't understand. "And it can be anyone," she asked.

A stately angel entered the open room in which they were waiting before Harp could respond, a small scroll in his hand seemingly taking up so much of his attention that he didn't look at either musician when he spoke. "Thirteenth Harp may enter now."

Eyes still on Viola, Harp caught her gaze and nodded. "Anyone," he confirmed. Without further hesitation, he stood and followed the taller angel out of the room, down a hall, and into Conductor's private studio.

Harp hadn't expected there to be more than one person present during this evaluation. Instead, there were three: Conductor, as prim and imposing as ever, and two male angels. The silvery white haired one Harp recognized as the head of El's personal choir. His hair was a stark contrast to wings that were such an ambiguously dark shade Harp couldn't honestly tell if they were brown or pure raven black. Either way, they were stunning. The third angel was tall, blond and imposing, though not someone Harp recognized.

Apart from those rushed preliminary observations, Harp didn't have time to form any other opinions. The moment the angel who had led him into the studio departed, Conductor was on her feet and approaching him, wings rigid, expression tight.

"We have visitors from El's residence," she said, speaking quietly as she nudged Harp forward toward a chair. Her tone was filled with tension and an unspoken but clearly implied warning: do not mess this up; do not embarrass me.