I was born into music; in fact the first memory I have of my entire life is of me holding a violin. My Father, Luther Vulpiano, had given me the small wooden instrument of my recollection, it was a small chestnut colored device with a smooth mahogany surface, he was known to have an eye for talent and I suppose I was what many would call a prodigy. Within minutes of hearing a song I was able to recreate I with my trusty tool, my violin. I can vividly recall my father's face that day; he was so pleased with me, a smile as wide as a giant Nevermore's feather clocked his face. Its not to say that was the last time I ever saw him smile, but it was the first, the brightest,and most definitely the warmest. From then on practice was my life, I awoke at 5am every morning I brushed my teeth, washed my face, ironed out my clothes for the day. By 5:15 am I was to have departed for a 30 minuet long jog and arrive home at exactly 5:45. From there I would take a short shower and then eat breakfast, at the table my father would ask the same stale questions about my jogging and if I woke up properly without ever even looking away from his newspaper. At 6:10 I would begin my days lessons, my lessons that had included Math, Sciences, World History, Cello, Piano, the Humanities, and several other things. These lessons would continue from then to around 2:30 where I would begin my Violin Lessons, go to a recital, or audition.
Though the majority of my days were tedious there were a few memorable events that shone through the murk; one of such events was the duet performance I was made to do with a young Weiss Schnee. Due partly to my father's influence in the music world, surprisingly not affected by his status as a faunus, and partly to my own talent I was given the opportunity, strong armed into, performing with the heiress to the Schnee Dust Company who was quite well known and heralded in most all opera circles. In preparation for the event I was sent to live at the Schnee household for a month. I had never before been witness to a residence as large as the mansion they owned, but what truly surprised me was the lack of servants in the house, though the building was of extraordinary size easily comparable to the size of several concert halls together there seemed to only be a handful of workers. The only people that were ever really in the house were Weiss, her personal servants, and myself though they tended to stay away unless called for, which all meant that most of my time was spent in an attempt to thaw the heart, and curry the favor the ice princess in question. The time I spent there could be called a lot of things but comfortable was not one them, though Weiss was nice and we got along well she always seemed to be hiding a distinct loneliness that chilled the air, literally, it would be no stretch of the mind to say that I was at the mercy of her mood, a mood that only fouled when dinner time came around when her father, Papa Schnee decided against returning home; her depression seemed to freeze the air, explaining why there were never any servants around near diner time.
Eventually it came time for our joint recital, Weiss became the definition of "Ice Queen" in her pale white dress,webbed with the sorrow that was frozen and glittered as snowflakes on her. My outfit was much less elegant a black as chaos blazer, that covered my white as a baby's conscious dress shirt. Although Weiss and I were the same age, it was blatantly apparent that we were of two opposite dispositions, her singing carried a firm tone that was light and cold. It held a lonely air; a single flower blooming amidst a snow covered wasteland. It was in steep contrast to my own violin playing, reminiscent of the spark of energy one gets before death, a feverish electric pulse needing relief, erupting and needing escape. The two styles were astounding on their own and yet together the had a type of contradictory symmetry, an oximoronical strength. They captured the hearts of the audience with a icy grip and the blood pumping pathos releasing strokes of his arms left the audience speechless, without breathe and unable to draw more. It took only an instant for us match our rhythms. When she raised her voice attempting to reach higher notes I chased after her with my violin, and in turn entrusted my soul to the sound she created, and she bequeathed her rhythm, her heart to my hands. When her voice dipped, I slowed my strokes, matching my breathing to hers before starting again with strokes, using my ever beating heart as a guide for the tempo I sent out sparks with my bow, rapturous elation escaped my violin in the form of music. A piece of the world, held infinite only within this narrow expanse of time.
It was hard for me to imagine what my father would think after the two of us had been separated for so long, and yet my schedule needed to be completed, I had no right to deny the schedule he had set out for me. It would be an understatement to say I was surprised at what occurred as my father and I met again. The calm, collected, and stoic figure of a man hugged me, I've been told that this is a common occurrence in many other families but such shows of expression were scarce to say the least. He looked at me with an expression of joy, the ecstacy of a proud parent.
"I'm amazed Lo you play so well at your age," the man I most respected showered me with compliments for the first time since way back in my memory, and as such I hung on his words, hardly touching the food in front of me. "When I was your age I had already grown my wings and even though there was still discrimination against faunus I managed to make it selling my soul to people in the form of my music, though every performer has his gimmicks and mine was the gift of our people the black wings..." It was time to go, I knew that but I didn't want to leave him, if I did then would the proud father I had met for the first time in yeahrs disappear again. He didn't and for the next few weeks we had actual amiable conversation in the mornings accompanying breakfast though each morning the conversation ended with the same question, "Have you grown your wings yet?" Then I'd be escorted to the days classes with a nagging feeling of self doubt.
"I think its about time we play a tune together," father said without a care," you've gotten pretty good if your performance with the Schnee princess is anything to go by," a gentle smirk passed his lips. "Well anyways you'll do it right," he knew I wouldn't deny a request from him, I couldn't, not when I was finally being acknowledged by my father like I could never even imagine. With his connections he set it up so that our performance would be at the largest concert hall in Vale in the middle of the Vytal Festival, he would be on stage first with a solo performance followed by me and my own solo playing, after a short break we were to have our duet.
I was given a month's time preparation, the same of time I had to prepare before my performance with Weiss. I was confident, I knew that I had the skills to back up his confidence in me, then a devil of a thought overcame me, He would accept me if I had my wings, He would Acknowledge me if I had my wings, He would place his trust in me if I had my wings, I want wings., for His respect, for Me.
The thoughts consumed me, and soon I began staying up until all hours of the night attempting to manifest wings, researching Faunus and their evolution,trying to force my wings to appear(I didn't expect much but I still tried, meditating, and whatever else I thought I could think of not stopping for a break until 3 in the morning. My schedule didn't change, I was still to begin my day at 5 every day, having breakfast with my father at 6 and being made to leave at 6:10 with the same, now piercing, "Have you grown your wings yet?"
In the blink of an eye a month had already passed and the night of our concert had arrived. I had not been able to draw out the wings I had so yeahrned, and even the night before deprived myself of sleep for. Nonetheless; the show began. I watched my father's performance, it had been quite a while since I'd witnessed his work first hand so I savored the opportunity. As he walked to the stage he innately gathered the attention of the entire audience without a signal or word he simply stepped across the stage. As a Faunus he knew it was bad to stand out too much, and yet his simple black blazer was imprinted with many golden feathers showed off his daring personality. In a smooth, well rehearsed, singular motion my father commanded the audiences' attention, using only short strokes he held sway over their eyes. I braced myself for the best part of the performance. With no effort, the black as a nightmare wings on his back were spread with an impressive flap; he sent out a mighty gust of wind, his song uninterrupted now grew more vicious, blades of wind became the tools of his violin and attached themselves to the audience giving them lighter hearts. The gust now willed itself into a calm breeze as it carried fragments of my father's soul, his black feathers, ebony glimmers of darkness were scattered around the hall, dancing on the gentle breezes that escaped with his wings. Thin lines of gold seemed to connect each of the feathers together and trace back to his violin.
It was my turn, using my usual partner I stepped up to the stage, though I was fatigued from my studies and, I regret to call it, training for growing my wings, I was able to play well enough without them, the performance stole away all of my mental fortitude, I walked slowly but steadily off the stage, making sure to keep up my smile as I moved at a set pace towards the break room assigned to me. Left foot, right foot, smile, "That's right don't let anyone worry," a voice compelled me to continue my facade of smiling. I collapsed into the chair left for me in the room.
He knocked on the door, Though I was awake I could barely hear what he said leaving me with one option to smile and nod . I was given a 10 minuet break to rest and I made sure not to waste the opportunity, my eyes seemed to open just as soon as they were closed.
The performance started, the rest I managed to scrounge was enough for me to play well, or at least I thought so, my father winked at me, it was simple enough for me, worn and ragged as I am, to figure out the meaning behind it, he was going to use his wings and he expected me to do the same. All I could manage was a weak smile, if he understood why he showed no signs of it. He sent out his wings creating another large shot of wind. I held on to the cheap hope that I could somehow grow wings at this pivotal moment. It didn't work. The energy I wasted trying to force my wings to emerge screwed with my concentration, sapping me of the much needed ability to focus, all of this stacked on top of the fatigue that I've been forcing down since the concert began causing me to break down swiftly and effectively, my arms became difficult to control making my strokes erratic and leaving a haze over my eyes. I passed out on stage. I awoke in the break room alone, filled with shame. I couldn't accomplish a single thing while being watched by my father. I bet he hates me. I didn't have the guts to stay here and see my father so I decided to sneak out, with the dregs of energy I had left I ran away.
I woke up in a place I didn't recognize, that Isn't quite right, I woke up in a place that I just barely recognized, a place that I just barely remember like looking back at an old memory. On the dresser next to me was a tray with food on it, a roll of bread and dumpling soup. I hardly moved for hours maybe even days, just resting, staring at the ceiling, and resting. Every time I slept the food at my bedside would be replaced. I would often hear voices from the other side of the door but usually the place was quiet.
Curiosity eventually took over me and I ventured out of the room after having rested enough for an entire army. Though I was certain I heard noises and voices the house in itself seemed eerily empty. I searched for where the residents could be, soon enough my search led me to a workshop and forge behind the main building of the house. I introduced myself leaving out why I was away from my family with a grim smile.
They gave me shelter not asking me questions, they allowed me to use any resource available in the house and the choice to leave whenever I wanted. I put everything about the performance out of my mind and took to my studies, even though I avoided the violin I continued to study away the same way I had when I was with my father. Learning about any and everything, Faunus, Grimm, Aura, and Hunters.
One day while I was searching through the books left in the house and came upon an old photo album, inside I found a picture of my father when he was younger, he had the same glimmer in his eyes, definitely the same mischievous sparkle he had when he spoke to me. The lady who owned the house saw me looking into the old albums and with a grim face said that she was the mother of the youth in the photo, she was my Grandmother. A sad look was plain on her face as she explained that there was a down falling between my father and grandfather all stemming from my father's choice in occupation. My grandfather wanted Luther to become a craftsman instead of a violinist , back then at least, Luther was no good at playing the violin but a genius at craftsmanship and so it was natural that he'd want his son to become a craftsman since he had more skill at it. It was hard for me to decide on whether or not to tell her that the man in the photos was my father. It didn't take me long to spill the beans about Luther Vulpiano being my father. The information shocked her, almost immediately after hearing that I was her grandson she left the room. At first I didn't know what to think, but as hours passed and I saw no signs of them I eventually went back to the room they provided me and began packing my things. "I guess not even my family would take me in, especially not after the history they shared with my father," I sharply exhaled my weakness and hesitation. It was time for me to go. As I proceeded to take my last step away from the property I was greeted by an old man, my grandfather, in an oil stained worker's uniform freshly coated in sweat. "I didn't know my own flesh and blood could be such a pathetic sod, so what yer pops left here 'an never came back, that ain't no reason fer ya to go running away like a chicken with a freshly lobbed off head. We ain't gonna bite ya so feel free to open up to us, its why we're family, we help each other, I said it before 'an I'll say it again, you can stay here as long as you like." Gramps did his best to stop me from leaving, I could tell he wasn't good at speaking to people so just seeing him display the effort was enough to stop me from going.
They accepted me as family. Teaching me the family craft, both weapon making, and accessory craftsmanship. They were very strict and in the time where I would normally study the fine arts or World History I was drilled in either craft, at times both. Breakfast was around the same time here as it was when I was with my father the difference was apparent. Dining time was lively and fun, everyday we'd talk of the sweat we shed and words that would become lessons. At night I learned some practical weapon use skills and then took to independent study. This pattern continued on for months. It was exactly 1 yeahr from when I ran away and trouble had decided reared its ugly head. Father decided to show up. It was easy to tell from the tension in the air. I was on my way to the shower when I noticed my grandparents standing stiff at the doorway.
Father had the same pleased grin on his face as he did during the performance, a smile filled with sincerity and a hint of contained insanity that is common to faunus, especially those who would dare step into the light of media and attain the glory that any person, human and fauns alike, would covet. "I figured I'd find you here, did you enjoy your time here, I knew that you end up here, it is where you were born after all," my father stated while ignoring the incredulous looks my grandparents shot at him. "Don't worry I won't ask you to make a difficult choice on whether to come back with me or stay with my parents, that wouldn't be fair to you." He released a light laugh that sent a chill down my spine. "Ah, before I forget I took the liberty to bring you back your old partner," he walked back to his car and found in it a violin case. He turned over the case to me and made his exit.
After that my father never showed up at the house again, it really seemed as though he came to return my violin, thinking about it always left me with a bitter smile, I was left wondering if it was meant as a symbol of forgiveness or as a plague.
Months later I was finally done with my lessons in craftsmanship and was allowed to take on jobs for myself. I was a well- received addition to our workforce, it seems that I had quite a talent for that type of work. One busy summer day I was left alone to tend to the shop as my grandparents went out on their personal trips, that day was, fortunately or unfortunately, the busiest day we'd had that entire summer. On that particular day I was exhauseted from lack of sleep, I was trying to figure out a way to minimize the Recoil from a machine gun and then I spent the rest of the night resharpening all of the weapons in the store room, so I have a hard time remembering what any other the more than 50 orders he made that day, I do remember perfectly what they all were though so I wasn't forced to listen to a lecture since I could recall every single order I finished so smoothly I could have made a song with it, there was one order that stood out though, a little project to make a pair of earrings that can suppress aura leakage, I glossed over it dazedly and finished it in my spare time between doing bigger, weapon oriented projects.
*Releases a mighty yawn* "Alright that about wraps up the story of my past... Anyone else left, yeah I guess there wouldn't be..."