[[Written for lumos-of-pi with the prompt "Teach me how to play?" for Luke and Flora.
Spoilers: For entire series, to be honest.
Set: Before Luke leaves at the end of LF.]]
Musical Mantle
There was a tap at Luke's bedroom door.
"Come in!"
Flora poked her head inside to find Luke was halfway through packing his suitcase. She swallowed past the ache in her throat and said, "I was just wondering what you wanted for dinner." Their last meal together— she was determined to make him something special.
"W-whatever's easiest for you," Luke answered, stuffing some clothes into his case.
Flora smiled. Of course she knew she had room for improvement when it came to cooking. But Luke and the professor had never discouraged her.
For a moment, she hovered in the doorway, watching him tuck away mementoes of their time together. The picture book and the toy car from (fake) Future London. The camera, the stuffed cow and the hamster exercise set (for his mouse, Toppy) from their journey on the Molentary Express. He was even taking the robotic dog from St. Mystere, after much persuasion on Flora's part.
And for some reason, he'd insisted on adopting all of the masks Don Paolo used in his disguises. A part of Flora was relieved because the masks had always unnerved her. (How could Don Paolo so seamlessly make a copy of another person's face?)
There were, however, two masks she didn't recognize— one of an elderly man and one of a blonde woman. She pointed at them. "Are those from Don Paolo too?"
Luke picked the masks up. "No, they're from Descole."
"That's the professor's old enemy, right?"
"Kind of…" Luke passed her one of the many photo frames from his luggage. Flora's eyes widened at the photo. Luke and the professor were standing next to a blonde girl and a man in a black suit. "Th-that's him?"
"Back then, we knew him as Desmond Sycamore." Luke bit his lip. "The professor doesn't talk about him very much."
"And the girl?" Flora prompted.
Luke's thumb brushed over the blonde-haired figure. "Aurora…" He didn't need to explain. Flora understood from his tone of voice, from his need to protect her, and from the way he would sometimes give her these searching, nostalgic looks.
Flora quickly changed the subject. "Where's Emmy? Wasn't she with you at the time?"
"She was the one who took the photo. You'd never catch Emmy without her camera."
No wonder she became a photographer for the World Times. She was so talented and outgoing…
As Luke tucked the photo frame back in his case, Flora's gaze fell on his violin. The last time she'd caught him practicing was after the case with Big Ben.
"Remember, you promised you'd teach me how to play?" Flora whispered.
"Right now?" Luke caved in under her wistful expression. "I guess I can show you the basics."
He placed the instrument in one of her hands and the bow in the other. "You put your chin against the rest…" He gently repositioned her stance. "Hold the violin's neck like this and draw the bow across the strings."
She did as he instructed. The violin shrieked in protest. "S-sorry!"
"It's okay," Luke soothed. "I hated practicing when I first started. It took me a whole year to get the right sound."
"Can you play something now?" she requested.
"I'll try…" He took the violin from her and spent a minute tuning it up. After a few preliminary strokes, he produced a song that the professor liked to listen on his office gramophone. Luke's skills were a tad rusty, but to a novice like Flora, he sounded incredible.
"Was that… Song of the Sea?" Flora guessed.
Luke grinned and gave a small bow. "I've known it for three years, so I've had lots of practice."
Flora admitted quietly, "I can't imagine I'll ever be as good as you…" Or Emmy. Or Aurora. Or the professor.
Luke returned the violin to her. "You don't need to be. Now let's try again!"