Hello! I'm new to the "Soul Eater" community. This is my first story, so be harsh. I'm doing this to improve my writing, so criticizm is greatly appreciated. There won't be pairings, unless I decide later, but don't hope. This story mainly revolves around Soul, and a little his family. If you didn't read the summary, this is AU. Read with discrimination. And lastly, I own nothing.
The music played softly, its echo resonating through the empty mansion. Andante…Andante…listen to its thoughts. Do you hear it? Can you suffer its pulse through your veins? I can play them, your melancholy words. I know them, I feel unchanged.
He let his hand stroke its ivory keys, letting his fingers linger on a few, soon, making a complete halt on a single note. Do you know where insanity lies? He could hear the small demon of a conscience pester him. He imagined the small imp on his shoulder laughing hysterically at his discomfort. The demon made a gesture to his crown. It is all up here…
"That's true, isn't it?" The child reasoned with himself, staring, keeping his gaze to the blank song sheet. His boyish face drew away from its apathy slowly. The smile that had formed at the corner of his lips grew larger and larger, until the only slight tug on his lip reached a wide, maniacal standpoint. One...2...3...4...the piano begins to play. Our hearts turn from a lighthearted smile to a dismal, lonesome, soul as your song progresses. You create it when you play, this desolate atmosphere. Your audience will be chilled, so unforgiving. The song ended with the single aching note; his hands still placed in home row on the piano.
The small child rested his fingers upright on the piano keys, waiting for his reddened knuckles to receive another blow of abuse from his instructor. A ruler smacked across the bones for the umpteenth time that day, just as expected. The large, studio like room, kept an eerily dark appearance as the overly thin and wrinkled man conducted his daily lessons. Papers and notebooks were scattered across the numerous desks, filled with notes of nonsense, completely acquainted with one another. Soul waited for the upcoming criticism.
"You played the notes perfectly, no mistakes in that matter. However, at the fourth measure you seemed to speed up the tempo slightly, which affected the song afterwards entirely. Please pay attention to the accent marks located at measures nine, thirteen, and thirty-two, it felt weak, and you need more vigor in those areas. Also, your posture is terrible, what do they teach you at your house? Really, you need make you back straight." He gestured by pulling the child's shoulders back, much to his discomfort, and displayed the proper way to sit. "Alright, now do it again. Pay attention to your notes."
Soul followed the old man's instructions to the last syllable, squinting his eyes to perceive the notes on the page, in the black tinted room. The piece filled the wall's ears softly drumming against the wood, that was except when the measures nine, thirteen, and thirty-two…danced across the page; then the keys would be pounded against it's wooden frame, just as the old, deaf man had requested.
When the song had finished you could see the instructor groan inwardly. Looking at Soul, then letting his eyes wander around the overly packed room. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "You still have a lot to learn, Soul, don't think you can get off that easy. In what way do you suppose that you can even compete with your brother if you can't at least do this much? Oh well, it's not in my field to have an opinion, please work on this piece and have it perfectly ready by our next practice tomorrow, understand? You are dismissed." With a wave of the plump man's hand Soul sighed in relief.
He pushed himself off of the wooden bench and gathered the pieces of music into his Italian attaché. Every piano session lately had really been taking a toll on him. To be blunt, this kind of occurrence is…unusual. When accustomed to a two-hour practice each evening, most would believe that his body would have no trouble with the strain by this point.
However, every evening for the past few weeks, his hands would ache and eyes droop at the hardship of keeping them open, staring at song sheets of, who knows what. It felt like nonsense, after he had played them for so long. Depression edged at his body, the anticipation of his return to home stirred.
The doors of the small brick home opened. The sun's bright light invaded the poor boy's eyes. His head began to pound against his skull, eyebrow twitching at the displeasure. He walked down the green-grassed yard to the long black limousine waiting patiently for his return.
Mr. Maliad, the driver of the expensive vehicle, quickly made his way out of the car, and escorted the young child to the black leather seats.
As they drove along the newly paved road, the air was silent. Neither said a word, neither made a comment. The blue sky still shone, as well as the playful clouds passing by.
The oversized manor quickly came into view as the car drove down the countryside. Flowers flooded through the fields, birds chirped in harmonious sound and animals fought for their territory. The vehicle made a sharp turn and drove up into the cemented route. It thread through the large, brick walls, which surrounded the mansion. At the point when you yourself will pass through these guarding walls, your heart will immediately sink. The birds song felt distant, the beauty of the flowers were withered, no animal would dare mark its path on this estate. The brick walls were gray and black colored, the house to match. Immediately giving the manor an outcast, strict, look. Two paths of the driveway encircled the plot of a large garden, which consisted of nothing but grass. In the middle of the garden plot a small fountain spurted water at a constant rate. It had possessed a peculiar figure of one-quarter note its center. Most would find this occurrence odd, but everything in a musician family was odd. It was the work of the arts, and a dramatic artist is always in any musically gifted family.
The car finally came to a halt; the boy did not waste a second to wait for the chauffer to open his door, and instead opened it himself. Walking briskly, he made his way up the lengthy stairs, slowing down as the stairway progressed.
"Stairs are so bothersome…," he complained quietly to himself. The doors to the manor opened with a heavy push as he came into the large entranceway.
Your fist few steps will echo throughout the mansion. Each room will hear the soft tap of your shoe, each head turning to match the identity of the newcomer, before resuming their work. A diamond chandelier hung above him, mocking the presence of anyone below. It was the atmosphere, in which any high class family would want to create. A pair of twin stairwells sat parallel to each other, both making a circle shape to the next floor. A normal Victorian styled standard.
Soul removed his exclusive shoe wear and entered the home completely. The air was casually silent, like it usually was. Making a quick decision of taking the right side of the stairwell, he took to the quickest route to his own bedroom.
Walking down the abandoned hallways, pictures of numerous unrecognizable people hung on the wall. Their eyes would keep on eye on you no matter how far you strayed. It would only make one wonder why the halls were abandoned at so many times. The floor creaked slightly as he kept to his pace, eyes darting from door to door to find his own. Finally , there stood the immense Mahogany door. The matching large, knob turned as he showed himself inside. With a soft click of the handle, he skipped into his room and slumped down into his bed. Peace, at last. Silence filled the room's airspace, leaving no crack unprotected. With a black blazer discarded onto the floor, the room sat still. Vitale took the stillness with gratitude and rested the stress and worries which loomed over his cluttered mind.
The clock read six o'clock, when Vitale woke up from his nap. He wiped the dreariness away from his eyes as he sat right side up. Darkness replaced the sun at this hour of the night, which comforted him slightly. His stomach grumbled. Food sounded nice at about this time, he supposed. Running a free hand through his hair, he took a route along the complicated hallways and found his way to the dining area. A couple around the ages of thirty, along with a child who could be said to be around five years older than Soul himself were already seated at the table, looking as though they had just started to eat a second ago.
Without his presence acknowledged, Soul sat himself at the other side of his brother and began to eat the plate already set out for him, trying to pick up on the current conversation.
"Audra, have you been watching the news lately?" His father confronted his mother. The vegetables on the older man's plate were being scattered mindlessly. "Apparently, some odd rebellion, as they call it, has started. It has said to be the next Holocaust. It simply seems dreadful. Though, I know the officials shall put a stop to it as soon as possible, I'll tell you, the crazy stuff people begin these days…" the father's voice trailed away, only to be found a few seconds later. "I heard they have started to actually kill innocent people, just for the government's attention. Who really knows what they plan to do. They haven't even voiced out their opinions yet. Either they want do kill everyone and create a dictatorship, or they are simply terrorists wanting people to notice their religion. Well, who knows? This incident will probably blow right over, as most do." Audra cut in before his father could add on more to the morbid subject.
"Well, enough of this frightening talk. You are putting chills down my spine. Besides, don't we have matters that are more important to discuss? As in the party, we are hosting next month. Wes, sweetheart?" her head turned into his brother's direction. Making them both stare at her slightly.
"Yes, mother?" Wes, said, after finding his voice.
"How is Partita in D minor, coming along? Your tutor told me that you are currently working on the Sarabande?" Audra addressed to her eldest son.
"Ah! Yes, it is slightly difficult but, I think I've had a handle on things." The elder's reply came softly. He gave a nod to both parents and continued with his meal. The mother smiled lovingly at her son as the father stole himself into the conversation.
"Oh, Wes. You have been the pride of this family the day you were born. I can vividly see the memory of your mother holding you in her arms. And I said, with confidence, Audra, this boy is going to be a master at whatever instrument he chooses. Look at you now. A young, talented prodigious violinist. A genius in actuality! I can't begin to describe how proud I am of you." The father smiled genuinely at Aurelio, who nodded in fake modesty in response. Soul kept his head faced toward his plate, with no emotion creeping toward his face. The dinner conversation stayed mutually on this subject as Soul kept his thoughts to himself, picking up pieces of vegetables on his plate one by one.
In the Evans household, its family members would only find time to speak
Directly with one another during dinner hour. In this particular occasion, it symbolized how dinner conversations had been since his brain could function enough to remember scenes, events, and occasions. Other than these few times of reunion, they all stayed their distance from one another.
After another minute of the overly redundant colloquy topic, Soul excused
himself and returned to his room, ready to turn in for the night.
Please Review. I want to write better, so you can even downgrade me on the little things. Even writing style, just pack it on…Please.