Prologue: Magnum Opus

"Ari? You home?"

I was suddenly snapped out of my reverie by the voice of my coworker,emanating from a small speaker next to me. When I'm playing piano, it's impossible to hear the doorbell, so it was a necessary installation. However...it never ceased to agitate me.

I stalked through the kitchen and dining room to get the door. My wall clock read 7:19 pm. Conrad was supposed to arrive at 6:30. I reached the entryway and opened the door. I wanted this whole thing done and over with as fast as possible.

"Ari!" Conrad's face stretched in a smile, clearly not reading my expression. "You were just playing piano, like always. I should've guessed."

"I played through nearly all of Chopin's Opus 28." I replied shortly. "You're late." He stepped inside and took his coat off, hanging it off of the bannister of the stairs instead of the coat rack next to the door.

"Those are Chopin's famous preludes, right?" he kicked his shoes off into the corner. "I like the one that starts off with this crazy flurry, and the sheet music looks gross...isn't that like the sixth one?" I started walking towards my living room, Conrad in tow.

"It's number eight, you're thinking of." I kept my tone neutral. I should have been glad he even knew nything about any piano literature. Although it was only because we had studied under the same instructor as kids through high school, I could be certain.

"Oh right. Sorry, it's been awhile." he laughed it off with such ease I found myself getting a headache. While he seated himself on my sofa, I searched for a bottle of painkillers. "Which one's your favorite out of the preludes?"

I grasped the bottle from behind my allergy medication. "Number 20. In C minor." He made a choking noise.

"Ariettey, are you serious? Your fingers can glide across the keys like it's nothing at hyper speed with so much technicality...and you pick that one?" I poured the both of us glasses of water.

"Simplicity is often just as powerful, if not more so, as more technically difficult pieces." I paused to swallow a couple pills and chase them with water. "I could say the same for my Arena, in some regards." He reached for his glass on the counter with long arms.

"Funny, I was just about to ask." he smirked and brushed his dusky purple hair out of his face. He naturally had a mellow shade of ginger hair, but for some reason he felt the urge to dye it. It probably had something to do with fitting in with other Capitolites, especially since he had became Head Interviewer. "Shall we go over the questions for tomorrow night?" I sat down across from him with a sigh.

"Alright. Fire away." I felt a kind of nervous tension I hadn't felt in awhile. Even though I had no reason to be nervous in front of Conrad. He fixed his bright blue gaze on me intently and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

"Why," he smirked, already knowing the answer but asking so I could put my thoughts together, "did you try to become Head Gamemaker?" Up until three years ago, I had been flying through my undergraduate studies in piano performance. However, in the aftermath of the execution of Edward O'Callaghan, the Games had been...pitiful. Not the tributes, of course, but the Arenas, and the creativity. There was no life, and the people of the Capitol and Districts were starting to talk. It wasn't acceptable; there would be a rebellion on President Augustus's hands sooner rather than later.

Did I like the Games? Not particularly. But if they ceased to become the show that they were, there would be larger problems that I was in no position to fix.

I distinctly remembered telling Conrad in a phone call about three years ago, "Even I could do better."

He agreed with me. But furthermore, he had said, "Then do it."

So I did.

I dropped out of my Piano Performance major at the Maria S. Gloucester Institute of the Fine Arts and transferred to Conrad's Gamemaker polytechnical school. I had always kept my grades stellar in case I made a career choice like this.

I had been surprised how spur of the moment I had made the choice, but I couldn't say it was one I regretted. At least, not yet, anyway. I was well aware of how Gamemakers had been ending up recently and I aimed to break that trend.

"I'm sick of seeing these bland, unoriginal Games of the past few years. I'm here to make my mark, and prove that anyone can do this." I responded calmly.

"I see, that's a ballsy reason." he smirked, "But I have faith you'll back up your bold assertions."

He runs through a couple more questions with me, knowing that the Interview will only last about 9 minutes at most, and I run through them with surprising ease. They're silly things, questions about me and the kind of Gamemaker I am.

"Alright, last one. Any hints about your Arena, Voleur?" I took a deep breath, trying to come up with something just cryptic enough…

"Consider it a tribute to the performing arts." I tried for a mysterious smile and Conrad gave me a thumbs up.

"That was surprisingly painless, Ari. Good job. They'll be crazy for you tomorrow." he relaxed into my sofa. Surprisingly, I found myself in a good mood. The questions had been painless, and Conrad hadn't said anything terribly offensive. My headache was even gone. "I just hope I won't goof it up, y'know?"

"Tch, Conrad, if anyone's going to goof it up, I certainly will." I scoffed. "You've been doing this for how long now?"

"Three years." he smiled but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "You know, they've been pushing me to dye my hair some crazy color, and I'm really not feeling it…."

"Dark purple isn't crazy enough for them? Well, blue is a good color for you," I teased. His face scrunched up in indignation. "Highlights wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. Or you could just dye your ponytail/bun thing."

"Ari, how could you? I thought you would understand my plight!" he groaned but his eyes were light.

"I mean, they're making me get green highlights dyed into my hair for whatever reason. I thought my dirty blonde mane was fine the way it was, but, alas…" I sighed. "So you should suffer with me."

"Alright, I get it, we're both going to suffer." he put his hands up in defeat. I felt a weight on my chest. Just the thought of being in the spotlight was practically suffocating. "You...gonna be okay Ari?"

"Yeah." I wanted to give a reassuring smile, but it fell flat. Instead I started gushing. "I just...I hate doing things in public. It's fine with you and all, but on a stage, with all the lights, and the crowd, it just-" A nauseating wave of anxiety crashed on my mind.

"Ari." he cut me off gently. "You'll be fine. Don't worry." I took a deep breath and looked him in the eye for some kind of reassurance. Somehow he was always around to keep me steady when I was feeling emotionally off-balanced. Even if we didn't have the time to speak nearly as much as we used to, it was almost as if we had spent no time at all apart.

"Alright." I trembled a little, feeling sick all of a sudden.

"Why don't you wind down a little with some piano?" His confident Interviewer smile almost made me want to punch him in the face, but I knew he was just trying to ease my nerves. "What have you been working on lately?"

"Well-I-I just finished working on this...Polonaise-Fantasie, Opus 61 by Chopin…" I mumbled. I hadn't played it for anyone yet. I worked this piece for the past four months in between all my coursework for school, and I had only just become happy with it.

"'I'll be right here. Just let yourself go, it's not like you haven't played for me before."

I was instantly transported back to 9th grade.

I had just started studying with a my new teacher, Nikita Kissinger, and they insisted I perform a piece at their winter recital. I was nervous, armed with nothing but Schumann's Scenes from Childhood, Opus 15. It was a set of beautiful little sketches of a child's imagination, suitable for the situation, but when I rounded the corner into the recital hall for the dress rehearsal, I was stricken.

"...Mussorsky's Preludes? You can't be serious," I whispered to myself.

On stage at the piano was a striking young boy cheerfully playing the first prelude with its infectious playfulness and cheer. He made the piano sing. The piece he was playing was not lyrical in any way, but his control over the sound the instrument produced was incredible.

I was awestruck. I could only hope that I would rival him sooner or later. He looked a year or two older than me.

"Well, Ariettey? Why don't you go up and kick Conrad off the piano, he's been hogging it for a half hour." Mr. Kissinger smirked down at me, his short hair dark streaked with white today. He kind of looked like a skunk.

He shoved me down the aisle and I snapped out of my shock. As soon as my heels clacked off the stage steps, the boy stopped playing. He turned and swung off the bench with the greatest ease, standing before me with his hand out in one fluid motion.

"Hey, I'm Conrad. You're the newbie they keep talking about. Voleur right?" he had a winning smile that I simultaneously felt welcomed and irritated beyond belief by.

"Y-yes." My voice was much smaller than I meant for it to be, but I tried to make up for it with a strong handshake. "But...my first name is…."

"Arietty, yeah, yeah, I know." his eyes sparkled from the stage lights. "Tell you what: I won't call you Voleur without your okay again...if you show me what you've got. The piano's all yours."

I sat down at the piano, tempted to play Scenes from Childhood, but realized that I had long forgotten how to play the piece from memory.

Instead I started the sweeping rubato glide up the piano that the Polonaise-Fantasie began with. I had reached the transitionary nocturne when I glanced back at Conrad.

"Who's a cute cat? You're a cute cat!" he whispered to the calico ball of fluff traitorously butting its head against his hands.

"Conrad." I stopped playing. " I don't have a cat." He froze. "...the neighbor does. I put a cat door on, if you noticed. She likes to visit." He showed palpable relief, but he wasn't off the hook yet.

"Were you even listening?" I sighed. "I've worked really hard on this...I thought you might at least grasp what I'm doing here."

"I was listening!" he cried defensively. "I just...this cat is so friendly and nice! I'm not used to cats liking me. What's her name?"

I shrugged. "I think her owner calls her Champagne after the tribute from the first Games, but I called her Emilia when I first found her thinking she was a stray."

"Why Emilia?"

"I dunno." I shrugged again. "She just looks like an Emilia. Wouldn't you say?" Conrad took another look at those innocent, emerald eyes and sighed.

"Sure, why not?" we both snickered, but Conrad continued. "But really, Ari, you could use some rest. Get to bed early, alright?" I frowned.

"Sure….but you better be back because you are sitting through that Polonaise-Fantasie if I have to nail your arms and legs to a chair." He gave the cat a scratch on the top of her head and waltzed to the door.

"Alright, Ari. Whatever you say. Goodnight."

"Alright, Ari, that was a pretty great rendition of Scenes from Childhood. I mean, there's a few comments I could make but I'd say you hold up to your reputation."

"You said you wouldn't call me Voleur, but I assumed you meant you would call me Arietty...because that's my name?" I responded drily, unaffected by his remarks.

"Never assume, Ari. That was the biggest mistake of your whole performance."

"Goodnight, Conrad."

I shut the door on his smirking face and spun back to the kitchen. Emilia trotted past me with barely a glance and out the cat door. A traitor indeed. How dare she like Conrad more than me! I feed her more than her owner does!

I sighed and picked up my cell phone, dialing a dear friend. I had promised Robin I would call him after Conrad came by. Though it was getting late, I was certain he would still be awake.

"Hello-"

"Ariettey, you just-guess what happened?!" His excited voice bubbled from the speaker. "Claudia agreed to meet me after your Interview tomorrow night! That's huge progress! She's actually willing to speak with me!"

"That's great, Robin!" I smiled. The guy had been fawning over Claudia Rienne for what felt like forever. It made sense for her to finally notice, after nearly a year of him gushing lovesick garbage at me over the phone.

"Right, so, how did Horowitz coming by go?" Robin's attention snapped back to me. I was surprised, it usually took longer for Robin to remember things after receiving big news like that.

"Um...pretty good. I actually had a good time. We went through the questions, they went pretty well, I played piano for him-"

"Ohhh? You played piano for him? That's a rare occurrence, you hate playing for people! Something between you two you'd like to tell me about?" Robin acted like he was getting ahold of something juicy and gossip-worthy and I could not wait to burst his bubble.

"We studied under the same teacher in high school and used to be friends. That's it, really."

"There's gotta be more to the story," he scoffed.

"I'd be happy to give you the full story but it's late, and I need sleep for tomorrow. I'll call you tomorrow night, and you can tell me how things go with Claudia."

"Alright! Goodnight, hon!"

"'Night, Rob."

I hung up and shuffled off to my bed. After going over last minute Arena preparations, the Interview rundown, and being drained from simply talking to Robin, it had been a long day. But I was ready.

I had worked endless hours on the Arena, creating something diverse and classy, and surely, my Games would leave a mark. I typically was not the kind of person to assert something with that level of confidence that wasn't an indisputable fact, but my intuition never lied. This Arena was going to be incredible.

No matter what, I was going to retire after this one. I had the goal of proving myself, and granted the Arena was enough of a success, I could return to my piano studies as early as next year.

I curled up in a nest of blankets and sheets, waiting for the darkness to take hold of my consciousness.

The nervous energy I got from thinking about the Arena and days to come dissipated under exhaustion and I drifted off.

Hi everyone! Celtic here!

Hello! :D Legend here!

And welcome to my twisted mind!

Welcome to my-hey that's my thing to say! Eh, whatevs. We're both authors with overactive imaginations.

So, this is a collab we're doing together, and it's unfortunately not an SYOT.

Buuuut even though it's not an SYOT, we promise to make these guys worth your time. If you don't feel somewhat invested by the end, well… Then we suck XD Yeah that.

Oh! And both of us really like doing the whole art thing. Want to know how we envision these characters? Hop on over to Celtic's Tumblr, seaweed-hands-from-hell! I've already drawn a ton, and I'll be posting frequently (fingers crossed)!

Anyways, hope you enjoyed the prologue! Let us know what you think and how you liked the characters!