Ancient Sparta dedicated everything in their children's lives to the art of combat. Even art itself only mattered insofar it related to their growth as soldiers. Orie assumed the Licht Kreis academy saw something in that.
They never gave any other reason for the mandatory music class. Just gave her a violin, gave the kid after her a flute, and eventually gave them both a test score.
In truth, the violin felt like an obligation. It could be handled as precisely as a blade, with a similar sense of duty. Orie appreciated it. She did not love it. Just another thing that must be done.
Hm.
But she understood the point of creativity. Art was meant to be tapped into. It was meant to speak from somewhere within you. And that meant looking at where your voice came from. Orie didn't like that. Not too deeply. Oh, she'd do it, she'd gather her innermost principles, know what she stood for, and keep it all to herself. Sharing them was the artist's part. Hence, the way Mika doodled with crayons made her more of an artist than Orie would ever be.
Hyde said something once about trying a different instrument. How the piano felt weird, but the guitar just felt right. Something about that left Orie pondering - is that how it felt when you found something you liked? She'd have left it at that, but he pressed the issue, wanting to know what felt good to her. She didn't even remember now, looking back, what she told him. Must have been some sheepish shrug, a white lie like 'Gee I just never thought of it', but it somehow worked. He had laughed, after all. So good-natured, Hyde. Despite that awkwardness...Was there really nothing that felt good?
Well...
Well she wasn't good at it, but sometimes, in bright daylight during this quiet school year, Orie would hear birds chirping outside the window. Then look around to see if she was alone. And she wondered what if, in those moments no one would hear her, she thought about a verse. Some verse that occasionally came back in her head. Not just for the charismatic tone it was sang in, but the meaning behind it. Someone had to put their thoughts into poetry, then into a flow, and then just...pour it out. As if their heart alone was all that encompassed the world. Song.
What a terrifying concept.
With an instrument, you could prescribe the music to that. You wield the sword, you embody the sword, yet you are not the sword. But when you sing, you are the instrument. There is no degree of separation. Those melodies, those passions, they're coming from you. Everything is you, and it has to be heartfelt if it's to be good. Imagine being so open about such tightly held things. With how art could be, unwelcome truths were but a note away. But yet, she knew she was taking it seriously. Not every melody is a symphony, not every cacophony a tragedy.
A song could be a summer breeze. A warm blanket at night. An explosive release of one's innermost feelings. Like something repressed flowing out, not in a pitiful and clunky mess, but a harmonic understanding. Even if it was heavy. Art was meant to be tapped into. It was meant to speak from somewhere within you.
Hm.
Perhaps if Orie had been honest with herself, she'd have told Hyde something like that. Perhaps when observing the doves singing on sunny days, she'd one day follow their example. One of these days when walking on her own, she'd sing that tune in her head.
...Maybe she'd do that.
Maybe some other lifetime.
Maybe when monsters with sharp ears didn't dwell in shadows.