Adieu

Moving Forward (Michayla)

"—I know miracles are always possible, and you only need one to get back on stage."

Michayla felt a tingle of pain shoot into her fingers at that mention of performing, it being accompanied by a resonating twinge of sadness. How long had it been since she had actually held the violin, caressed a piano? Setting the petals to float atop the quickly changing water, Michayla placed the kettle to begin boiling before absently rubbing her fingers. All she could do was give a weak, sad smile, "I'm not quite sure about that. It takes more stamina than some realize to play for the entirety of a concert performance. It's been weeks since I've even played anything, much less to that extent. I'm sure you knew that, though." Mickey turned and pressed her back to the adjacent counter, her palms still mindlessly kneading into her fingers. Now that she was presented with the idea and underlying question, she wasn't quite sure what excuse she had as to why she hadn't picked up an instrument since her dismissal. The way her fingers had glided over the keys, how she maneuvered the bow across the arco. She had devoted her life to the orchestra and had put every bit of passion into her music. Perhaps now that she knew her time was limited, what more was there to dedicate? Michayla could feel her brow crease at the thought. Had that actually been the case and she just hadn't realized it until now?

"Your fight isn't over yet, Mickey."

Tilting her head slightly to face Dezmond, the kind and knowing smile he gifted her felt contagious. She instantly felt her features soften, a smile that reflected his own lighting her face and forcing forth her dimples. "Then again, I never thought I'd be standing in my kitchen making tea for my Guardian Angel. So, I guess anything really is possible, when you think about it." Pushing herself up and away from the counter, Michayla reached into the cupboard and pulled down two teacups and saucers before sidestepping and finding the honey. Covering the honey dipper with a healthy amount of sweet, viscous liquid, Mickey lined the bottom of either cup with honey in preparation for the rose tea to finish brewing. As she went about placing the honey back and locating two teaspoons, Michayla projected a question into the open, purposefully trying to remove the weight of it but being as nonchalant as she could.

"What do we do from here, then? I'm not dead and I know who you are, now, so how do we move forward?" she paused then, curious visage turning to face him, her dark eyes searching his golden orbs expectantly.