There were so many minds; so many thoughts. The relatively loud of idle chatter sound did not express how many thoughts there were, Nafretiri realized. They all pressed on her mind, making her vision blur and a spot in the center of her forehead ache. Calling up all the concentration she could, Nafretiri forced up her mental walls, effectively shutting out most of the mental noise. Not all, but most.

She sighed softly in relief and leant against the wall. She smoothed out the red satin of her dress, looking out at the crowd of people that accumulated in the lobby. Not for the first time, Nafretiri wondered if she should leave. She didn't belong here, that much was clear.

Still, she desprately wanted to hear the music. There was supposed to be a widely acclaimed band playing tonight, and she had gone so far as to buy a balcony seat so she didn't have to sit with quite so many mortals. Perhaps a small amount of anguish was worth a few hours of contentment.

Someone announced it was time for the show to start, and the crowd started moving into the concert hall. Some, like her self, started up the large staircase in the middle of the room. As she walked up the stairs, she had the sensation of being watched. She turned and looked out at the crowd.

Gabriel walked through the crowds not dressed nearly as nice as most people around him. He sighed heavily looking up at the ceiling of the building. "Well I finally got enough money to come and see some musicains." He walked through the crowds slowly looking as the mortals walked around him. So he didn't have a great seat, big deal. He was just thrilled to be able to come to a place like this. He had always wanted to hear people play but never had enough money to go until he had saved up enough recently.

Man though this is hard on the head. He pushed out the thoughts that drifted in. Well I geuss I'm not the only person glad to be her. Maybe the musicains here were famous or something. He hadn't heard of them anyway but then again he didn't know much about current times.

Elysium had found himself at the concert hall aswell, blissfully unawares of the many other immortals destined to show. He had decided that perhaps a bit of music would be good for his soul, if that was, he still possessed one. He had successfully gotten into a savings account he had started years ago, and at finding it was still there and untampered, it was time to spend fiendishly upon himself, to enjoy the finer luxuries and escape the fact that he was undead. He stood in the back, unfazed, and unhearing of the many mortal thoughts because he simply considered himself as one of them, even if his senses were further hightened. But perhaps that was why he stood in the back, to simply bask in the dull pounding of the bass, which was always refreshing.

Even though the show was about to start, he had a different tune stuck in his mind, which caused an agitated sigh from him, while fingertips rubbed at his shoulder in idle boredom. Now like he could hold back the lyrics-

"Is it so hard to believe the hearts are made to be broken
Can't you see that the beauty of love lies in constant times
Don't you want our hearts to be torn wide open
Won't you feel the heaven in our endless cry

Oh at least you could try
Let me just to be closer
For this one last time
Let me fall into your arms

It could be alright
Don't let us grow any colder
For this one last time
Let me close to your heart"

Black eyes pouring over the crowd, Nafretiri's gaze stopped on Gabriel at first, a soft spark of shock flooding into the usually emotionless eyes. She wondered idly how it was he could afford to enter such a place, when he had been more economy-challenged the last time they met. It was not any of her business, so she moved on.

The next was a vampire she'd never met before. This was unsurprising, as she knew very little members of her race, prefering to keep mostly to herself. Perhaps once she'd been a socialite, but certainly not now. This new vampire looked bored, and she couldn't very well blame him.

People around her started to move up the stairs around her, some sending her odd looks and she stood, still as only a corpse can be, staring at those below her. It must have been unnerving to most, seeing her in such a way, and indeed, she did catch some drifts of thoughts along those lines, but she paid them no heed. If she was no good at blending in with mortals, she was not about to waste her time trying to please them.

A wisp of a melody entered her head, and Nafretiri did nothing to block it. A slight frown, noticed only by those who were paying acute attention, could be seen on her face. She wasn't exactly staring at the new vampire of whom she did not know, for her gaze was not focused on him, and instead on the area around his vicinity.

The song was a love song, and Nafretiri gave an almost silent scoff. She wouldn't believe love existed until proven wrong. So far, that hadn't happened.

A deep breath was taken in, and the melancholic stretched, revealing the lengths of his arms, which could have closely matched that of his tall legs. Oh so many smells drowned his sences, like haunting memories long since past. Still though, he sang, refusing to admit himself with the croud as they continued to gather, his voice somber, holding a tone of sorrow-

'Ever amazed how bright are the flames we are burning in
Ever smiled of the tragedies we have locked deep inside
Aren't you obsessed by our hand was on the verge of beginning
Won't you cherish your fear of life that keeps us alive

Oh at least you could try
Let me just to be closer
For this one last time
Let me fall into your arms

It could be alright
Don't let us grow any colder
For this one last time
Let me close to your heart'

His obvious pain marked him easily as one still wishing for his mortal roots, and although it was a weakness, it made him just as fragile as those living, just as pleasing as a beating heart.

It was impossible not to hear the note of grief in the man's voice, at least for her. The powerful emotion - one of the most powerful, in her opinion - was carefully woven into what it was he was singing. Nafretiri couldn't say she recognized the song, but she recognized the meaning, and understood what it meant for this individual.

He was most obviously alienating himself from the humans. It wasn't odd. Most vampires did it to some extent, even those who fully embraced humankind. This individual though, it pained him. Nafretiri could see this much. When one is silent, one tends to pick up on things such as these.

The song itself touched Nafretiri, but only a little. Before the chorus, the verse had stated what she had felt before, not that the vampire herself would admit it. Indeed, even the chorus was nostalgic, reminding her of other times... times she did not wish to dwell upon.

As much as she would deny it, even to herself, Nafretiri was intrigued. While she most certainly would not call him a kindred spirit, she knew what it was like to have the thrall of humankind be ever present. She only hoped that he had more common sense than she had had when she was going through that period. If he did what she had done... Ra help this city.

But Nafretiri was beyond that, or so she hoped. She'd come to accept that for all she might look human, she was not, and could never be again. While she still kept to her old religions, she would never be able to connect with mortals the same way again. To her, there was little chance of it for all vampires. They were a completely different race, infused with a disease for which there was no cure.

The male changed his footage, where he would lean further against the beams of the Theatre house, his eyes still on the stage, waiting casually for the preformers promised to play tonight. Though, he couldn't shake the feeling that in the midst of these humans, he wasn't alone, and as he sang his dreary notes one by one, holding onto the sorrow as if it would slip away and leave him -gasp- happy! After a few long moments of standing where he was, he began to search the croud for those pair of eyes he expected to be on himself... it was a paranoia, which was affecting his nerves greatly, causing his hands to shutter. This wouldn't do at all, so he pushed those hands into his pockets to cease their symptoms.

Fear was not the word for what he felt around other immortals, because he did not fear them in the least- but it was the knowing.. the knowledge that they existed, and he was proof of that. He caught those eyes staring in his general direction, and from those melancholic hazel, a blink was given only once, before his lips formed the word- "Salutations..."

His eyes reflected such sadness, sadness that Nafretiri couldn't help but remember. She'd been that way once, longing to be mortal, sick with the world. It hadn't exactly been her best time, far from it in fact. She'd done many things during that time that she regreted with everything she had.

She wasn't surprised when he noticed her. Camouflage was a hard thing to do when standing and staring. It was even harder when you could sense one another. It was also hard to do with mirrors about, which is why she had thankfully not run into any place where she would have to go next to one. No, it was no surprise he had noticed her. If he hadn't, she may have questioned him.

"Salutations."

Inclining her head towards him to show that she had heard, she did not take her gaze from him. She made no move to show that she had been watching, and wasn't the least bit embarrassed by it. Folding her hands in front of her, she studied him more closely.

She wondered idly why he would pain himself by being around humans. Fighting the feeling? Perhaps. Maybe it was something more. Maybe he was trying to play the part of a human. Nafretiri didn't read his mind to find out. That would have been rude, and with so many people around, she couldn't afford to get him defensive. He may just slip up.

His almond shaped eyes blinked again, their hazel flicking its coloration like that of a kaleidoscope, while studying the female who so casually watched him. He felt as if he were some sort of painting, since recently, his own kind seemed to be noticing him quite a bit in the form of silent staring. It didn't bother him, nor did he care to notice for the most part.. but tonight was just one of those nights.

A meeting between immortals was always... uneasy at first, always silent he now came to realize, and there was always a tension of whethere this stranger could be trusted, or would they lash out? So, he took his time, doing no talking except with his eyes as he watched her, while she watched him. Though, his attention was also elsewhere, as he waited for the lights to dim, and the band to begin their preformance.

It was not long after that thought that indeed the band stepped out on the stage, getting a loud roar of applause- and then the lights dimmed. Like that of a feline's pupils, Elysium's reflected the light, but suddenly disappeared, as did his figure completely. He found himself through the croud easily at such speeds as to not be seen. He reached the stairs, and slowed down to a more human pace, moving up them slowly, 'fore he was mearly a few steps away from her, and like two creatures cautiously meeting, he craned his neck and gave a small smile with the corners of his lips.

Nafretiri watched him, watching her and couldn't help wonder what he was thinking. It was so tempting to take a little peek into his mind, just to know exactly what it was, but she wouldn't. Although the need itched at the back of her mind, she would control the urge. It was something that until recently, she hadn't realized she did. One does tend to get used to just using their gifts after a while, and Nafretiri was no exception. Telepathy had become part of her everyday life.

The lights dimmed, she noticed as she continued to watch him. Faintly hearing the sounds of applause, she joined as well, clapping her hands in a light, steady rhythm, her gaze ever on him. Her normally black looking eyes seemed to glow a dark, chocolate brown in the darkness of the hall.

He disappeared suddenly, and Nafretiri honed her telepathy in to him just in time to see him appear at the bottom of the stairs. She watched with a cool, detatched interest as he began to make his way towards her. He stopped two feet away from her, smiling a bit at her.

Looking at him sideways, a few pieces of dark hair fell over her face, partially obstructing the view of her eyes. She raised an eyebrow, clearly amused as the soft music of the band started to play around her.

It was beautiful. She closed her eyes only for a moment, tuning out the other vampire for a moment in order to concentrate solely on that which she had come to hear. The band had not received their outstanding reviews without reason. Letting out a sigh, she opened her eyes and focused on the other vampire again.

"Good evening," said Nafretiri, her voice low, but not quite a whisper. She gestured to the two seats that remained on the balcony. Moving forward, and still keeping her gaze on her companion lest he try anything, she sat down contently in her chair, sitting in the middle so that her feet could touch the floor. A rather undignified truth, but a truth nonetheless.

As he reached her, he noticed right away that she suddenly fell into her own silence when the band played. A small nod was given, and he took the moment to do the same, listening to what he payed for to see. "Evening.." He gave a small nod, and turned his eyes toward the croud while following after. Ahh, a seat... at least he could rest his legs, even if it wasn't nessisary.

His voice was that of a sad angel, aswell as the way he portrayed himself, a sad monotone, "Thank you...... For the seat." He purred quietly, his hands coming from his pockets to grip the arm rests, keeping them from shaking to badly. "Do you know the name of this band?" He questioned, not to keen on trying to make conversation, but he needed the company, even if he didn't admit it.

The poor vampire, trying to deny his disease, his blood lust, and yet he had to feed himself each night, which always kept him shameful. He would never be able to leave this madness, this melancholy behind, could he? If one does not have hope, nothing is possible is it..

Nafretiri waved off the thank you. "I had an extra seat. There's no use in it going to waste." Her voice was soft, but firm; a no-nonsense type of voice that had a caring tone to it, underneath the rest. She made it a point never to be too kind to strangers. It was a hard learned lesson, but a valuable one in her mind.

"I believe they are called the Demaitre Symphony Orchestra." A terrible name for a band if someone were to ask her. What was the use of having a name for a band if it was nothing more than a title? A name should be something to signify what the person or persons is trying to relate. The title of the band simply didn't do it for her.

With a glance to the side, she saw that he was trying to stop the shaking of his hands. While she wondered what the cause was, she didn't ask, and she didn't go looking for answers elsewhere either. It was a little strange, for it wasn't often that you found a vampire that fidgeted on behalf of nervousness, unless they were very young. Fidgeting was a human quality, not a vampiric one.

She could hold off asking, she knew she could. It probably wasn't anything serious, she told herself. Maybe he was frightened. Unlikely, but he wouldn't be the first to be frightened of her. Often, she found this hard to believe given her small... stature, but it happened. Or, perhaps he simply hadn't fed in a while. It was all possible. Still, she couldn't help but feel a little worried.

Though she was still indifferent, and didn't care about anything except the protection of her race. Honestly.

"Well thank you anyway." He was determined, obviously. A sigh left his lips, and he crossed his ankles, hands still firmly gripping the arm rests while he watched, "Orchestra.." He repeated, a sudden rare and sincere smile curled on his lips, but it was fleeting, as his features once more distorted with his unhappiness. It was true, he was much more good looking when he smiled, but he didn't seem to do that very often, if at all anymore.

An intake of breath through his nostrils exited from his lips, an obvious relaxing type of tactic, which indeed seem to calm his shaking just slightly. It was not because he was nervous that he shook, as he always shook, be it noticeably apparent, or barely visible- perhaps that was why his father always teased him- 'Never be a doctor, Elli... The last thing a patient wants to hear is "oops"..' Oh the thought saddened him further, another tearful smile forming, and along with the music.. it was true, he was on the verge of tears.

A single perfect droplet fell, the crimson thing staining his cheek, but he did not a thing to wipe it away.. his hand had moved to his ankle, which was resting atop his opposite thigh as he sat. He rubbed the area softly. To a stranger, be it anyone, he would have seemed queer, especially since they did not realize what resided beneath that thin layer of cloth that made up his slacks....those sentimental tattoos he had so carefully placed upon his body.

Catching sight of his smile, she felt the urge to smile herself, but didn't. He looked much more appealing when smiling. Nafretiri didn't know him very well, but he didn't look the kind who smiled very often. Of course, the same could very well be said about her, but seeing as the only way she'd ever seen herself had been in a portrait someone had painted of her long ago, she wasn't too worried about it.

Her companion's discomfort was obvious, even before she looked at him. Even with her shields up as far as she was willing to put them, she could still hear bits and pieces of his thoughts. That only happened when the thoughts were particularily powerful ones. These sure felt like they were.

Having caught a snippet of another man's voice from his thoughts, Nafretiri let her mind wander, wondering who it was that said whatever he said. To the woman, it had sounded like nothing more than a muddled voice, so she wasn't ashamed of hearing it when she most obviously wasn't supposed to. There was nothing to be ashamed of if she hadn't heard anything, was there? Of course not, she told herself.

A tear rolled down his cheek, leaving a red trail behind it. It bothered Nafretiri, that tear did. She did not know why it bothered her. Perhaps it was a subconscious thing, but whatever the reason, she felt like wiping it away, erasing it from existance. Tears were something she'd had enough of.

Raising her hand to put a comforting hand on him, she stopped halfway and put her hand back down. She didn't know him, she saw no reason why he would need her help, and therefore shouldn't be touching him. For all she knew, he might snap and attack her. Although almost positive he wasn't the type, there was still that chance, and she did not wish to reveal her nature to the people in the concert hall. She'd done clean up duty on people's minds recently. It was not something she wished to repeat so soon after.

He was still for a long time, that was until he saw her move toward him. He craned his head to look at her, his face full of emotion, though he made no attempt to pull away, even as she continued to advance. But, what seemed to strike him further, was that she pulled away.. He was used to that, but each time still felt like a blow to his cheek.

Still he did nothing about that tear that had marked his alive looking flesh. His shaking had almost stopped completely, to the point where one wouldn't notice unless he would have pointed it out. Why? Because complete and utter sorrow didn't go well with nerves, but better with depression.

It was hard not to be aware that he was watching her. As hard as she tried to focus on the band that was preforming in front of her, her attention kept drifting back to the feel of his eyes on her. The fact that he was looking at her didn't bother her, but the fact that he looked so completely grief-stricken did. Perhaps she should have comforted him? Ah well, too late to go back now.

That tear was still there, and that annoyed her almost as much as her attention going back to him. Opening her handbag, she ruffled around, trying to be as silent as possible. Opening a small zipper, she pulled out a black handkerchief. Her handkerchiefs were always black, mainly because their primary use was to wipe away blood after a meal. This one, however, was clean.

She offered it to him, in all it's satin and lace glory. "You have a tear on your face," she remarked, pointing to her own cheek to show the spot. "Though it is dark, I doubt that if any human were to look your way, they would be most shocked. It is not often a human cries red tears."

"I know I do.." was his answer to her offer of the hankerchief, and he took it reluctantly to rub it away, like he was rubbing away so much more then just that little thing. He gave it back to her without a word, without a look, and without a single feeling. Why should he? To ashamed? To grieved? Or all of the above... Even the music was beginning to sway him, and his eyes closed slowly.

Perhaps I should leave... Go away.... And hope I never see her again... He thought, though it was easy for him to keep his thoughts to himself, or at least those he wanted to be hidden. But... why did he let that thought drift her way? It was the only sign that he was still aware of his surroundings, and not in his own little depressed world which was so easy to slip into.

Taking her handkerchief back without a word, she pretended she hadn't noticed his lack of acknowledgement. Instead she placed it in her lap, folding it over twice and smoothing out the wrinkles. There was one wet spot, where the tear had been wiped away, she supposed. Her fingers lingered on it a moment, a slightly questioning look on her face, before she put the cloth back in her handback.

She looked at the man sitting next to her. His eyes were closed, and no more stray thoughts were heading her way. On one hand, she was grateful, for it meant that should he find out, she would not be in trouble. Contrary, it left her knowing little more about him. She knew virtually nothing about the man next to her.

Mind you, he knew less about her. Nafretiri didn't often tell her life story to people, simply hinting at things long past. Even then her hints were sketchy, at best. Not many people knew the whole history behind the woman, and even fewer witnessed it.

From her handbag, she pulled a program of the concert. She skimmed over it, not really reading it. Moving to put it back in, her bag slipped off her lap. Understandably, seeing as they were both satin. Leaning down, she held her hand open, and the bag seemed to jump into her hand. Sending suspicious looks in both directions, she placed the bag back in her lap, a firm grasp upon it with her gloved hand.

Apparently, no one had noticed, at least not that she observed. That was good. Nafretiri was thankful for the darkness of the concert hall. It helped shield whatever little mishaps any of her kind might have.

The vampire had noticed her ever minuscule movement, even if he didn't look as if he were paying any attention what so ever. His hand, which had been resting upon his ankle, slipped away and brushed back what made up the messed curls upon his head. He was such a handsome thing, even with his sharp features, and long limbs, but those things just seemed to add to his character, if anything.

The handbag fell, and he was going to help, but as he reached a hand down, it was to late. He grumbled quietly, and simply sat back in his seat, a finger coming to itch at his nose. Yes, maybe it was a good idea to leave.. He wasn't feeling so lovely anymore, even if he wasn't very lovely to begin with.

What was it with this woman? Why had she invited him to her opposite empty seat, but said nothing to him? This was a matter that he was not comfortable with. When he was invited by anyone, he expected conversation, and vice versa.. And with the music ever rising to a climax, so was his nerves. That was, until the song ended, and a few long moments were given for the band to change the sheets. A deep breath had been released at their stop, and as if they had relaxed, so did he.

"Jesus... this isn't well for the nerves at all." He murred, more to himself then anything else. Not only did he have bad nerves, but the parkinson's he had in life wasn't helping either, so every now and again, the muscles in his arms would seemingly go stick, threatening to break whatever his hands held. 'My poor baby...' He heard in his head, the voice of his mother, 'are you feeling better? How is your hand?' He could remember so vividly breaking that glass in his palms because of his disease.... faint scars still even had their mark there as he looked at the extremely light lines over his left hand.

"And pray tell, however could nerves come from such lovely sounds?" inquired Nafretiri, her voice holding no expression at all. Her eyes peered at him through the side of eyes. "I would assume that music would help calm nerves, not create them. That was always how I viewed it."

Music was the greatest magic of all. It was the one thing she had when she just wanted to forget everything, apart from her paintings. Often, she did both at once, listening to Chopin, Motzart or Lizt while painting. It was times like that she felt the happiest, and one of the reasons she had chosen to spend the money to come here this night. It was one thing to listen to a music recording, and quite another to hear it live. Nafretiri could remember when all there was was live music.

It had certainly made keeping her secret difficult, but she'd managed to overcome it, as she always did. No questions arose that she did not wish to arise, at least not from those of whom she employed. Living a long time had its ups and downs. One of the ups was the virtual fortune she had inheirited throughout various times in her life.

She certainly couldn't see why someone would find it nervewracking, listening to music, she thought, observing her partner. Yes, she herself did get quite taken away by the music, feeling the music as it was meant to be felt, but she had never become nervous because of it. Anxious perhaps, but never nervous. She couldn't understand why he would be so, unless it was her own fault. Nafretiri could see that happening. She had intimidated people before.

He growled quietly. "I have extraordinarily bad nerves... I did when I was living, and I still do. When I am upset, anything can trigger a muscle spasm... including music." He grumbled, straightening that all out so she wouldn't make any mistake about his problems. "Parkinson's disease is not something to take lightly..... Unfortunately, it still plagues me." The music started up again, and a sigh drifted from his lips.

Sure, music was infinately beautiful, that he could always agree, because he was a very big fan of all music..well almost all music. "I feel the music... or at least the story behind it. Like that of Mozart's Requiem....The urgency in his work, so urgent infact that he died writing that piece." With that, he silenced himself, and leaned back in his chair, relaxing as best he could, once more crossing his ankles.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Had you been the first I met who still carried a disease, I would be surprised," she remarked offhandedly. Casting him an apologetic look, she added, "I did not meant to offend you with my statement. I did not know because I thought it would be rude of me to go digging around in your thoughts." Nafretiri placed one hand on his arm. "Do not worry, I do not think it will be much longer."

There were only a few more pieces to be played, but Nafretiri did not know how long each was, and how many movements were involved. While she did not know about Parkinson's disease - she did not keep up with modern science - she knew that it must be quite frustrating to be affected by so simple a thing as music.

Her back starting to twinge a small amount, Nafretiri decided it was time to move further back in her seat as well. However undignified she may look in such a position, she did not wish to sit like this any longer. Slowly and easily, she moved her way back so that her bare back was touching the material of the seat. She was painfully aware by the fact that her feet could no longer touch the ground, and found it quite irritating. She was hoping no one would notice.

She may have been the oldest person in Demaitre, but she was still short; a fact she loathed to think about.

"I'm fine.." He murmered, a sigh coming from his lips as he continued to lean back, relaxing, that was until he felt the hand. It was a touch he wasn't expecting, but didn't bother with it either. "It wont bother me any longer." He whispered, his shoulders pressed to the back of the chair he sat in. "It was just having... one of my fits." He added, glancing toward his companion.

He didn't really take note of her, though he did notice that she was 'vertically challanged'... He knew this was rude, but he did find it quite amusing, and it made him smile. Truely smile. This was a very rare thing... and when it happened, it was as if the clouds parted and light shown through, giving him such an angelic look. "I'm sorry.." He murred her way, "I shouldn't have snapped at you like that... You didn't know."

"Consider it forgotten," said Nafretiri casually. "I'm afraid I'm a bit behind the times, so I do not understand what one of your 'fits' would be like. I apologize." She didn't feel in the least bit embarrassed. Had he asked her anything about history, she would have been able to answer it. Science simply wasn't her forte.

Looking at him with the skilled eye of an artist, she realized that he was probably the most beautiful subject she'd seen in a while. Her eyes trailed over the curve of his jaw, his eyes, the curl of his hair, trying to memorize in detail what he looked like. Most of all, she tried to remember his smile. She'd seriously consider painting him when she got back home... if it wasn't too late. She didn't like painting just before dawn.

He should smile more often. Bless the world with it. He was definitely a worthy subject. Perhaps she'd paint him and then offer it to him. If she ever saw him again, that was. A wry smile formed on her face.

"Thats alright." He whispered, looking her way, "When I have one of my 'fits', my muscles tense, to the point where I could break something if I were to be holding it, and my hands constantly shake, not to mention my studder....." He expanded, releaving more to her about the disease. He found that everyone should know about the disease, because so many were affected by it now... so many. Suddenly he felt like donating some money to those foundations that helped him, but that could wait.

The music was indeed relaxing him, which he was very greatful of. The sounds soothed him. The story behind the music.. "Very beautiful.." He murmered, a content sigh leaving his lips, a smaller smile still fresh upon those very lips.

"Ah, I imagine that that could get quite troublesome." Nafretiri hid whatever it was the emotion she felt. It must be horrible. She could not imagine being put through that for all eternity. Whoever made him must have been completely diabolical. Even for her age, Nafretiri had made only a handful into her kind, and would never even consider creating one with such a disease. It must be horrible.

She wished to help him, but she did not know how. She heard his murmur about the music and couldn't disagree. It was beautiful, and she sat in silence for a moment, simply listening to the melody that floated her way. She had tried to learn how to play an instrument, but it simply hadn't worked out. A part of her still wished she could though.

"Do you play?" she asked suddenly. Until it was out of her mouth, Nafretiri hadn't even had the intention of asking anything, but it was far too late for that now. She's simply act like she'd meant it, which on reflection, she did. It was a normal question.

"No." He answered her question, rubbing at a hazel eye, "Though I love the arts so forcefully, I was never given the chance... I was more into history, then trying to learn to play. Thats why I became a genealogist...Though I'd still love to learn, now that I have so much time on my hands." He sighed, licking at his dark lips idly, while those eyes remained upon the band.

"Do you?" He questioned, suddenly turning his eyes toward the female at his side. "I'm sure an instrament would only add to such a beauty." He complimented, but there was no attraction behind it, or at least not at the moment. He... was still broken hearted, so there was no room for loving another.

"Me? No. I do not seem to have the knack for it, though I have tried." She chucked a bit. "I thank you for your compliment, but I am sure it is completely untrue. That may be because I've never seen myself, but I hardly believe that my beauty can compare to that of a finely crafted instrument."

"History? I find myself very intrigued by history as well, or as much as I can be, considering I lived through half of it." The last part came out as a mutter, a bitter edge to Nafretiri's voice. "It's amazing how mundane things in history seemed while they were happening, but what can you do?"

((Short!!))