InsaneJournal

Sascha and Dione
Who: Sascha and Dione
When: Wednesday, November 21, 2007- Late Morning
Where: The Wine Bar
What: Sometimes music is the best therapy

Sascha could feel the strings vibrating beneath his calloused fingertips as he strummed at his guitar. He wasn't familiar with musical notation or any of the more technical aspects of playing; if asked to read a sheet of music or take melodic dictation, he'd likely end up staring blankly into space or doodling randomly on the page. No, he was mainly self-taught, so everything he knew, he'd learned through trial and error. He was surprisingly skilled if you took that fact into account, and he'd picked up on an astonishing number of musical pieces simply playing by ear.

It was unusual for Sascha to be in the Wine Bar at this time of day- actually, it was rare for him to ever be in the Wine Bar given the fact that he didn't really drink alcohol anymore- but his library shift wasn't slated to begin until later in the afternoon, so he had time to spare. He'd gotten it on good authority that Dione liked to spend her time playing here most days, and he'd been in a bit of a mood for the last few weeks. There was always something about this time of year, right around Thanksgiving, when the melancholy really started to sink in; it was bad enough having to manage the cycles of grief that washed over him every September around the anniversary of his family's death, but holidays were always difficult. He wasn't even really in mourning anymore, but there was still that vague, lingering ache that just refused to go away.

Sascha usually found his solace in writing, or reading, or- sometimes- in music. He'd been hoping to convince Dione to play something for him, or maybe with him, because he'd heard she had some real skill on the piano, and he'd strapped his little wooden six-string on his back when he'd set off for town that morning just in case. Most of the working stiffs were still busy puttering away at their respective jobs at this hour, and it was too early in the day for the usual bar crowd to convene, so the place was basically empty. Great acoustics that way, really.

And Dione still hadn't shown up. Sweeney had already made herself comfortable on the floor beside the piano bench where Sascha was waiting, and as he continued to pluck aimlessly, it occurred to him that she might not come at all. The thought was a little disheartening, and in order to distract himself, he began to turn over a familiar tune in his mind. The notes in his head somehow translated to his fingers, and soon he was playing a nearly flawless rendition. Sascha had never been one to sing in public- he lacked confidence in his voice, although he was actually pretty decent- but there was literally no one there and...well, what did he have to lose?

He started at the beginning again, and as he played out the notes, he began to lightly sing along. The song resonated with him enough that by the last verse he was strumming almost desperately, eyes shut tight as he belted out the words.