Arthur closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead in annoyance, wondering why she still chose to stay. “I…I don’t know.” Arthur groaned again, unsure of how to talk to someone who stayed so calm. He was still angry but he found her eased voice helped calm him down a bit. “I know that. I simply wanted to insult you.” He found the remark a little silly but he felt from laughing. “To what? Me screaming? I wonder about you Natalya.”
She tilted her head to the other side. “Then insult me, your opinion of me does not matter to me.” Her calm demeanor, how she barely reacted, both were shows of how twisted her mental faculties were but also to how used to it she was. She barely reacted to things like anger, even if, unlike Berwald, she was not all that bad at detecting them. “I wanted to listen to your guitar.”
Arthur was pissed at the reaction. He hated that she wasn’t moved by her words, that she didn’t so much as frown at addressing her so badly. He wanted to be confronted again. To be yelled at so he could yell back. He knew he’d regret it later but that was later not now. Placing down his guitar he walked up to her, fiercely glaring at her. “So you’re just going to stay quiet. Great, great. Fucking great. I wanted a wall to scream at!” He started, voice escalating before he drew a shaky breath and stepped away from her, gaining some composure. “Sorry. I’m-I’m not in the best of minds. You really should go.”
She didn’t understand why he wanted her to talk, she was used to yells not being addressed, to keeping quiet being the best choice. “Why do you want me to talk?” she asked, confused, her voice still calm. “I am not a wall, I move far more than they do.” She still stayed in place. “I want to listen.”
It wasn’t even half an hour until his guitar was unable to sustain the brutal strumming and popped a string.Cursing out loud, Arthur was close to taking off the guitar and slamming it on the ground, though he knew he’d really destroy the only thing that was close to quenching his anger if he did that. With a frustrated growl Arthur squatted down and took out a new string, continuing to curse as the front part of his fingers brushed the fabric of the case. The skin beneath his nails was cut from when he missed hitting the string with his nail but he didn’t care much for tending to it.
Looking around for a place to sit so he could fix his guitar, his eyes landed on the woman. “What the bloody fuck are you doing here?” Arthur hissed, still fueled with irritation that intensified when he realized she’d seen him during one of his anger fits. “Wasn’t the music a sign for you to walk away?”
All the time she’d been there, she hadn’t said a word, the only signs she was ever alive was the light up and down of her stomach and the occasional blinking. Not much changed when he noticed her, his outburst didn’t cause her to flinch or to move back. She just quietly stared, his only acknowledgement a light tilt of her head, barely perceptible.
Silence at his childhood home always meant something was wrong; it meant something has or will happen. There were so many different types of silences with so many different types of meaning, and this is one of the ones he hated the most. Of course, it wasn’t completely silent; he could hear someone messing around in the kitchen and another person walking through the hallway but it was all tuned out. All that he could hear was the quietness of his room. He longed for that most days but this one was resounding unlike all the other peaceful silences.
Again he let his mouth speak with malice. Again he wanted to cause someone pain to get rid of his. And again it all backfired on him and added to his frustration. He just needed to see a pained expression to be satisfied that he still had enough power to hurt someone else when he felt so weak, but why did it always have to be someone he cared about who he hurt? Why did he feel like he needed to push people away when he needed those people the most?
Arthur had already made quite a mess of their—or his?—room. He needed to hear noise and the only thing that would suffice was hearing an object harshly hit another. He’d lock the doors to keep anyone from coming in out of curiosity. He knew that if someone else were to come he’d only snap at them, and he’d keep doing that until he resolves his vexation.
Grabbing his guitar case, he walked out of his room and the mansion, striding deep into the forest until he was a good ways away from the house to be out of ear shot. He needed noise to drown out his thoughts and memories. Luckily, his guitar was always handy for those exact reasons. Taking his instrument out, Arthur strummed it harshly causing the guitar to make a rasping, shrieking noise. Closing his eyes he focused solely on the unpleasant noise, pleased that he had finally gotten rid of the silence.
Natalya could hear the loud strumming, the massacring of the poor guitar chords in the distance. It called to her. No matter if the noise couldn’t be called music by most definitions, there was something soothing about the noise a guitar made. Almost eerieely, she walked towards it.
As she saw Arthur in his bad mood, she just stared and listened, her face completely blank. She was almost lost in the cacophony he made, in the chaos of his guitar. She didn’t react, she didn’t get particularly close, she just watched and let the noise entrance her.
…Right. I’ll be asking you about that later.
I’ll do that. See you then! Good luck with Ludwig. Try not to scar Gilbert. [starts walking off]
I don’t need luck
He loves, and he’ll be mine. And I wont scar Gilbert if he stays out of the way. [staying completely still, staring at him intently]
Hm, I guess it’s more complicated than I had thought. I’ve never been one for believing in past lives, but that makes more sense than what I’ve got in mind. If there is no heaven or hell and there are souls, there’d be too many for this world to carry. But in the manner you think, life is sustainable.
Great, and thank you, how about we meet up another time when I have my supplies at hand.
Because its how things are, and how they’ve always been. They’ve told me.
That sounds agreeable. Please come find me when you are ready. If you leave me a note in the kitchen, I am sure to see it.
+~_+Germany appreciation blog+_~+
Ah~! Ludwig~! You look so handsome when you are concentrating! Maybe we could read together? Or maybe… no… mine… Books won’t distract you from me… Maybe… in the library… Nnnghhh~! Lets fuck <3
But if you believe in past lives, does that mean no ghosts exist? Assuming by that you mean that this will be a past life once we die. Reincarnation and all.
I know how to create fire out of thin air, I know how to do light tricks, I can create potions, hell, I have a book of spells! I’ll show you! I haven’t practiced all too much lately but it’s like riding a bike. You never truly forget how to make it work.
I believe in what I see. I believe we have spirits and there are spirits. I believe in magic, but I’m still wondering if I believe in a god. I haven’t figured it all out yet.
No. Ghosts exist. I see them. Spirits exist, and they don’t always want to pass on. Some are attached to this world, some have not gotten rest. Others wait around for their loved ones to die before they are reincarnated. Others, the belief in them, like Saints, makes them linger.
[nods, nods] I am in your hands
You have good beliefs.
[takes a couple of steps back]
[snaps his fingers and points at her] Exactly. That’s why you’re reliable. No reason to lie, makes it more likely you wouldn’t. Past lives, you believe in those? Yes, I do want to learn to do that. And in turn, I’ll teach you magic. What would you like to learn?
[tilts head, her expression blank] I believe in past lives, even if some Churches don’t. Most Orthodox don’t, but our Parrish priest accepts it. What can you do with magic? I want to learn all of it.
What do you believe?