Disclaimer: I don't own Strike Witches.
Soft, melodious notes drifted through the common room door. One at a time, then an enchanting cascade, then slowing again. A single note was depressed, over and over, rising along the scale, as if searching for the perfect fit.
The heavenly sound had stopped Eila in mid-step. She had awoken alone that afternoon, something that hadn't happened in a long, long while. Wondering what had happened, she quickly dressed and began searching the base for her emerald-eyed angel. Bath, dining hall, hanger, sauna - Sanya was nowhere to be found.
Eila was growing frantic; she knew Sanya didn't have a pass today, so she couldn't have left the base. Then she heard the notes.
There's only one person who can play like that, she thought happily to herself.
Quietly she slipped into the room. There, at the grand piano, sat Sanya, alone, hunched over the keys. On the music rack were several sheets of notation paper and knife-sharpened pencil. She hummed to herself, scribbled on the notation paper, pressed the keys, and erased and wrote on the paper some more. She would play single keys, searching for just the right one, then play whole passages, occasionally stopping to experiment with different notes. Scribble, erase; scribble, erase.
From a side divan Eila watched as the silver haired witch labored over her composition, enchanted by her every movement.
Finally Sanya sat back from the instrument and yawned, stretching languidly, cat-like. As she raised her arms high over her head and popped her stiff vertebrae, Sanya caught a glimpse of the long haired witch from the corner of her eye.
"Oh! Eila!" she exclaimed in embarrassed surprise. "What are you doing here?"
"I came looking for you," replied the pale-haired witch. "That was beautiful!" she exclaimed.
"This? It's nothing. The melody just came to me, and I had to write it down. I didn't want to wake you..." the diminutive witch trailed off.
"What is it called?" the pale-blonde asked, enthralled.
Sanya blushed. "I call it 'Precious Snowflake.'"
"Will you play it for me?"
"Oh, Eila, I don't know..."
"Pleeeeease?"
Pink glow coloring her cheeks, Sanya flexed her fingers and started playing her melody. It started slowly, softly, sadly, as one flake, then another began falling from the sky. The tempo increased slowly, but fervently as the snowfall turned into a blizzard, lashing the countryside. Then, in the midst of the storm, the blizzard relented, and music turned to follow one, lonely snowflake as it tumbled playfully to earth, and ended as the last few flakes fell jovially from the sky.
Amethyst eyes wide, Eila whispered in reverent awe: "That's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard!"
"That's lovely!" exclaimed Hartmann after Sanya finished singing her composition, crystal voice fading into the night. "Why did you name it 'Precious Snowflake?'" The two short-haired witches sat on the beach, looking at the thin crescent moon over the English Channel.
"February 21st is Eila's Birthday," replied Sanya, shyly.
"Was it a birthday present?! Did she ruin the surprise?" asked the Karlslander, dismayed.
"No, nothing like that," answered her Orussian friend. "I wrote it to express how she makes me feel."
"Are you going to tell her that?" asked the Karlslander, smiling brightly.
Sanya covered her face. "Oh! No! I couldn't possibly...!" she exclaimed, mortified.
"I think it would be a beautiful way to show her what she means to you," counseled Erica, shooting her silver-haired friend a look that said she thought it was a big mistake to keep it a secret.
Sanya made a neutral sound Erica couldn't read.
The two friends sat in silence, staring at the moon, listening to the waves caress the shore until the first rays of the sun colored the east and chased them to bed.