[ His eyes flicker away to the floor, drawn back to that memory. Sunlight beside the windowsill and soft notes and laughter and earnest pleas of can't you stay just a little bit longer, always met with the same response.
Someday, maybe.
But someday never came. ]
That's a shame.
[ Casval's hand drifts back to the keys, idly playing chords with a lazy set of fingers. ]
My mother taught me. Just the basics, really; I mostly played on my own. It was something to do, I suppose.
no subject
[ His eyes flicker away to the floor, drawn back to that memory. Sunlight beside the windowsill and soft notes and laughter and earnest pleas of can't you stay just a little bit longer, always met with the same response.
Someday, maybe.
But someday never came. ]
That's a shame.
[ Casval's hand drifts back to the keys, idly playing chords with a lazy set of fingers. ]
My mother taught me. Just the basics, really; I mostly played on my own. It was something to do, I suppose.