First POTO fic, hope you enjoy!
Obviously, I don't own anything! :(
Looking around, it was empty. Or so I thought it was. The water had started to become stagnant and the layer of dust left imprints betraying my entrance. It was day outside, I knew that for sure, yet here, it seemed like it would always be night- the darkness slithered around every corner, shrouding the place in mystery. However, this wasn't a problem, my eyes are good with coping with light, or lack of it.
My requirements for a house were not much- just warmth and food- and as I spied a dead fish at the edge of the lake, I felt satisfied that my specifications were answered.
I had come across the place quite by chance; I knew the Opera House as a warm, bright place before it burnt down, and I used to come quite often. I was well known there then. However, I am curious by nature, I decided to return and see what was left of the place, seeing as I had nowhere else to go.
I delved deeper and deeper backstage, until I found a passageway behind a mirror, which eventually led me to a spacious, airy underground chamber. It wasn't the most comforting of places, but warmer than outside was, and drier- I couldn't do much if it rained outside, but I could simply avoid the lake here.
After a time of wandering around pointlessly, I couldn't help noticing a noise coming from somewhere I couldn't tell. As curious as I was about knowing who on earth could be here, I didn't want to risk being found and thrown out, so hid myself behind some sort of wooden structure.
He didn't notice me when he appeared though. I am fairly small, so it was easy enough to hide in the darkness, yet the white half of his face shone through the darkness like a torch. He came towards me, and at first I thought he'd seen me, but it turned out he was familiar with this lair, as he wandered over and touched the unidentifiable object I was hidden behind. A creaking noise, and then, a more beautiful sound.
He was obviously a talented piano player; even my musically limited ears could tell you that. When the melody drew to an end, I was nearly asleep, the calming effect of the tune being most amazing. I risked taking a peek from my hiding place. He looked at home, a content, placid look spread across the one half of his face that was visible, yet, even when he started to play again, I couldn't help noticing a flicker of sorrow, beyond sadness I had ever seen, but it went as quickly as it came, and I couldn't be sur if I was just dreaming it.
Still, things do look different in the eyes of a cat.