When broken people collide,
Stars are born.
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆
After the events of The Deathly Hallows, Harry Potter is more than ready to kick back and enjoy life without the knife of a prophecy over his head. But, of course, when h...
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• July, 1998, Camp Half-Blood •
"—and so the borders are—"
Chiron's rest of the words were tuned out by the daughter of Poseidon. Don't get her wrong, she respected the old centaur, but the meeting was bloody boring. It was a normal Head Counsellors' meeting about the security of the Camp and calculating the aftermath of the war. She felt better than she had after meeting her little sister. Her lips quirked up at the thought of the adorable infant. She knew the moment she laid her eyes on the infant that she was a reincarnation. It was obvious by the brown eyes that looked almost black and the olive skin. It was none other than her cousin, Bianca di Angelo. The look on Nico's face had been priceless. His eyes had filled up with tears, and she knew that nothing would be able to harm her little sister when a coy smile had graced his face.
She had smiled again after a long time, after the bloody war and ruthless quests. That encouraged others to smile. They knew that whatever happens, their leader would smile again; she would stand tall and proud and let the others lean on her for support and that she would let them cry on her shoulder. The meeting that was going on was one of their first steps to return to their normal routine, though gathered around the ruins of the Big House with things from various Cabins was surely unusual.
Her ADHD wasn't the thing that made her fingers twitch, but it was the grand structure in front of her with its ivory keys that shined over the sleek black that resembled a starry sky. She had to take the bench near the piano as the other seats were already filled. Her hands itched to be on the monochrome keys, to glide over it. It was slightly bigger than the one she had learnt to play, but the music it produced would be the same.
It had been a long time since she had played the piano. The first time she had seen it; she had literally banged her fingers on the keys, but her mother had told her how pretty she could make it sound just by clicking the keys in a pattern. Sally had made her play the keys slowly, to listen to each key separately, to feel the music. She had even thought eight year old Percy simple songs that her uncle had thought her before he had succumbed to cancer. The demigod took piano as her optional instrument when everything in her had screamed for percussion, but she took the piano. That was the year she had the least number of detentions. She had behaved that year, so that she could learn a song from her music teacher to play for her mother. She fell in love with the instrument when her mother's eyes had teamed up when her ten year old self had played a song flawlessly just for her.
Music fills the air without effort, like the waves filling holes in beach sand; the sound rushing in and around every person in the room. It helps you find a part of yourself. It teaches the brain how to flow, how to be so peaceful. It's a sort of an auditory massage for the mind. It helps you discover a patient version of yourself that you didn't even know existed. It lets you express yourself, whatever it is, soaring joy or overflowing sadness. The great thing about music is that it didn't save your life, it gave you strength and will power to save your own life; that's the beauty of music.
