Echos were but imitations, the vain attempt of filling in a void within a shell. Of course it was to be expected, he had asked for absolute solitude during this visit, yet the hollowness of the once jubilant home made him long for the crowds of tourists if nothing else. A vision in black, the dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar to reveal stark white skin and lacking a tie, he appeared to be a mourner, wandering the halls in an aimless manner, a small case by his side. The beautifully preserved art upon the walls held little interest to him, as did the architecture.
Large double doors led to his ultimate destination. The craftsmanship placed into the detailing always brought a warmth to him as he grasped the cool handle. Pulling the door open, he didn't hesitate in stepping inside, admiring the familiar room from his youth. The high-set mirrors and artistic renderings hung in exquisite golden frames. Though the chandelier was not lit, he could almost feel the warm glow of the flames overhead. The fin furniture sat empty, no one having rested there in so many years. Preserved beyond their time through disuse, it almost seemed like a crime. This place was supposed to be somewhere where one could rest and enjoy, not observed as some painting on the wall.
A harpsichord was placed off to the side, leaving the very centre of the room free. Placing the case on the lid of the large instrument, pale fingers ghosting over the clasps. A gentle hand grasped the maple-wood neck, becoming filled with warmth, despite the chill of the vacant room. Straightening his spine, positioning the instrument under his chin, right hand taking hold about the bow's end with mere fingertips. Carmine eyes slid shut as he took a deep breath, silence lingered briefly, giving way to the muses of spectres. The chamber transformed; faceless onlookers in the classy attire of court, smiling in anticipation. Phantom dews of fire lit the tall candles and reflected off the mirror, igniting the hall in warmth. The seat before the keyboard no longer empty, he almost started at seeing an old friend awaiting his cue. Gone were the mourning clothes of the Twenty-first century and replaced with a jacket he had long forgotten.
The tune was not what he had expected, not slow or sombre but lively, playful. The harpsichord kept in time, complimenting the strums of the old violin. The notes danced around the room, entwining and flirting about in bliss. His hand came to an abrupt end as the gentle breeze of a flute took over. It was not long before all three were leaping in tandem, the beauty of the piece driving them toward the climax and an abrupt end.
The old nation smiled, bringing down his arms, eyes closed one more only to open to an empty room. The applause of the apparitions fading into a memory. "It was nice playing with you again old man."
A/N: So because of my end-of-the-year stuff for graduation cramming down my throat, I was unable to submit this on time. Because of that, I was forced to drop out. Thank you for reading these little one shots and I hope you enjoyed them.