WHO: Renata and Santiago WHAT: A happenstance, relaxing afternoon visit. WHEN: Friday, early afternoon WHERE: Renata's room RATING: N/A STATUS: Incomplete, Open
Renata's room door was open. She liked it open for the most part, when she wasn't in a quiet, introspective mood, something she partook in often. So perhaps her door wasn't open as often as one might think, even as much as she enjoyed it to be. She liked the feeling of the small bit of breeze that would sometimes make its way down the hallways of the quarters of all the Volturi Guards, caressing the skin of her face and cheeks. She missed the outdoors something fierce at times. She thought about being able to just go outside and lay in a meadow somewhere, being able to enjoy the warmth (as much as she could feel) on her skin, the air blowing across in to her hair. Her job now though, it did not allow for that often, being away from the guard, from her Masters. It wasn't plausible. Then it wasn't plausible being a vampire either to be out in public with no shield to protect oneself from the exposure the sun threatened.
It was hard, knowing somebody knew every single thought that went on in ones head. Renata admit she missed her privacy, but she knew her gift was far more important for to be so selfish. Perhaps it was silly of her to view it like that. Everybody had a right to some sort of privacy, especially in their own minds, but Renata did not have that luxury. So when she had time alone, she mostly kept the door to her room closed. It was only a semblance, for anything she did or thought about while behind the closed doors, Aro would soon see, but it kept her sane, to at least pretend she had some sort of private life. This was perhaps why Renata did not have a mate. She was far too embarrassed to think of things like sex, and intimacy when it came to another person. Anything that they shared would be known by another, by Aro. It wasn't fair to her other half should she find somebody who wanted to be with her.
For now though, she was content to sit in her room that was filled with books on various subjects, she never studied just one thing in particular like some of the others did. It was one thing she adored about the immortal life, having all the time in the world to learn about everything she's ever wanted. It kept her time filled, her yearning for another person to confide in verbally, at bay. The violin that had been given to her originally when she had taken an interest in music, was a Stradivarius, one of the few of 700 left in the world, made in 1600's, one she assumed that was unaccounted for, according to the historical information. They sold for hundreds of thousands of dollars in auctions all over the world. She had never been so careful with something in all her life, not because of it's worth, but because it made the most beautiful music in the world. She found, to be almost more alluring then a Vampire's voice itself. Music was something that moved Renata, and she found herself learning more and more about it when she could. Of course, after she'd mastered the violin, she'd moved on.
It was in her room, directly across from the open door, that her antique harp stood. She was most lucky to have been given it, as it too was one of the most expensive and old harps that could be had. Nothing was too good for the Volturi. To learn how to play the instrument had been Renata's whim and one day when she'd entered her room, it had just been there waiting for her. She had no idea if somebody had heard her talking about learning to play or if Aro had read it in her mind and had the instrument delivered to her, but she appreciated it. Even after 75 years, she was still getting used to having the finest things that one could imagine at her finger tips. She supposed if she stuck around for another century things might start to feel natural in a way. However for now, she treated the harp with reverence.
So there she sat, that afternoon playing, expertly the song that was laid out in front of her. It was not that she was an expert at playing the harp yet (she gave herself at least another five years of practicing every day, for sometimes hours at night) to call herself proficient, but she knew the song that she was playing well. Her eyes were closed and she was enjoying the sound that the old friend made under the ministrations of her fingers. She was so lost in the music she almost didn't hear the footsteps approach her room. Almost.