[It's not just Amadeus's tentative approach that has the previous Kapellmeister lowering his ears. His voice, his sheer presence inflicts a deep ache within him that Salieri would be all too pleased to tear away from. But it's simply... ]
Wolfgang. [His breath comes out in a rush, as though he were winded simply by speaking his name.] It isn't something I can explain so easily.
Were I to tell you nowโ [How badly would you be shaken? As much as I?
[ at that huff, amadeus lets out one of his own, his crossed arms beginning to indicate something a little more impatient and put out. is salieri really set to dismiss the topic just like that? "stay in," he says – just because?
amadeus turns on his heel, hair swaying behind him as he waves a hand and makes for the kitchen again. ] Sorry, Salieri. I can't do that. [ staying quiet and obeying never was something he was very good at. ] The coffee is ready when you want it. [ is the last thing he say before he leaves the room. ]
He expected a small spark of Amadeus's defiance. More than anything he expected that, as well as the Maestro's equally stubborn insistence in discussing this tight-lipped matter. He was prepared for it.
What he doesn't expect- surprisingly- is Amadeus leaving the room.
A chill that has very little to do with the cold outside settles in his chest. Salieri shuts the closet door, follows with thinly-veiled anxiety.] Wolfgang, wait.
[ —he's about halfway trotted down the steps when salieri relents.
it wasn't necessarily his intention to force the man to talk – but he definitely wasn't about to wait around for the chimera's mood to pass, or comply with his orders without discussion.
amadeus doesn't move from his spot – hand on the rail as he raises his voice in the direction of the bedroom. ] Yes? What am I waiting for, now?
[From his few steps above Amadeus he briefly takes in the sight of the composer frozen still time in his path. He hesitates, thinks of reaching for him, as though any second now Amadeus would fall through the steps and be swallowed up.
His fingers briefly clench. With measured steps he closes the distance, passing Amadeus- only to look over his shoulder at the Maestro.] The music room, Amadeus.
Please. [Another please. Salieri continues his way down and into the lower level.]
[ another defiant huff expels from his nose. he sorely dislikes games like these, the coy hints and lack of words on an obvious issue. ]
Will you finally stop dodging around and tell me what the matter is? [ yet regardless, amadeus will head downstairs to the designated place. ]
I can play a tune for your nerves, if you'd like. [ there doesn't need to be any special reason why salieri chose that room โ music is the way they communicate, express and vent. amadeus understands how highly salieri values his music on all occasions on top of it, but for once, the maestro was hoping they could skip such formalities on what appears to be such an immediate issue. ] But I don't want to play any games. If you don't plan to speak to me, Kapellmeister, I'll leave you alone.
[As Salieri makes his way towards the music room he isn't quite sure if he should feel grateful or exasperated by the Maestro's steadfast prying.
He too dislikes these roundabout games, this dodging about... it certainly isn't like him, and yet. Yet. He sighs yet again and feels a clench in his chest when their piano finally comes into view.
It brings about a reaction he hadn't expected but should have known would come. Reaching for it he brushes his fingers across the first few row of keys.] ...
[His wings gently fold inward, as much as they're able.] Amadeus... to think you have no recollection at all of the significance of this day.
Or perhapsโ that is not so surprising at all. [His last words are almost a bitter whisper.]
... no. impossible, he's good with dates! ones that really matter, anyway.
suddenly he feels terribly put on the spot, guilty for some crime unknown to him. ] Wait, what?
The date? [ what is it, then? the 5th? the beginning of december?
... well, he has one idea, and the longer he entertains it in his mind, the more salieri's behavior comes to make sense.
and
yet: ]
... You know, it's been an awful long time since I've referenced the liturgical year, Salieri. If I've forgotten a feast day – or the like, you'll have to forgive me. —Ah. [ wait!! ] I've forgotten to commission the Advent calendar. Is that it?
[... And once again, Amadeus boasts his almost frightening ability to put all matters dreary and dark out of mind. Or rather in this case... out of memory completely.
No, it would not be so easy. God would not make it so painless!
Salieri can't quite help himself then. He lets out a weak breath, less of a chuckle and more like a blow to the chest. How surreal it seems now for them to even be having this conversation...!
He allows the barest of smiles to tilt his lips before he sobers once again.] No, Wolfgang. No.
On this day, many hours ago... [His fingers ghost across the key board. His face becomes tight and miserable.] You fell ill. You were ill.
Do you remember? [Do you remember, when I took your hand?]
[ ... ah. and so his faint speculation is confirmed aloud.
amadeus allows salieri to take the helm, then. to slow their tempo, to tentatively settle the mood into something steep and dreary ... even if he has long since concluded that phase of his post-life process. truthfully, this is salieri's moment more than it is his own.
"do you remember?" hah. ]
You mean when I died. [ even after all this build up, salieri is still unwilling to say it? from this angle, it's difficult to remain gentle when he's already spent mornings very much like this one — cold, frozen occasions in an observatory in the arctic — wondering about his untimely demise.
amidst a small army of servants, his story is nothing special. tame, even, in the way of shakespeare-approved tragedies. ... should he feel grateful that salieri still mourns?
... ]
I can't say I remember much of any of the days prior — running a fatal fever, you see — ... but I've read accounts from my family [ what few were left of it, anyway ] that sound very close to the truth. [ a beat. ] Well, except in one thing. [ his wife, his sister-in-law, his friends, all had recounted details that were at least adjacently correct ... but there is one perspective they could never know. one thing they would never learn about his last days.
fortunately, the memories and visions of amdusias that had engulfed his mind and obscured all else can fill those blanks, piece together the whole morbid picture. ]
I suppose I was long dead by this time? [ spoken like a query; like he were guessing at a simple math problem with a shrug of his shoulders. ]
[The question itself is yet another quiet blow to the chest, but what makes him buckle even more so is the way Amadeus gracefully guesses without even a hint of a hitch in his breath. Yes, his candid reply only further solidified the weight still lodged in his chest.] By this time they had already taken you away.
[Unceremoniously lifted his lifeless body from the bedโ as if though he were nothing but a rotted slab of meatโ] Nngh.
[Salieri's tempers himself once again, rests his hands upon the piano and hangs his head.] I was there until... I could no longer see the cart, Amadeus. It was as if... God had trulyโ
[Ripped you away from me.] ...
[The only movement left is the flattening of those thick round ears. He utters, finally:]...Do you understand now?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Wolfgang. [His breath comes out in a rush, as though he were winded simply by speaking his name.] It isn't something I can explain so easily.
Were I to tell you nowโ [How badly would you be shaken? As much as I?
Salieri frowns.] Stay in for today. Per favore.
no subject
amadeus turns on his heel, hair swaying behind him as he waves a hand and makes for the kitchen again. ] Sorry, Salieri. I can't do that. [ staying quiet and obeying never was something he was very good at. ] The coffee is ready when you want it. [ is the last thing he say before he leaves the room. ]
no subject
He expected a small spark of Amadeus's defiance. More than anything he expected that, as well as the Maestro's equally stubborn insistence in discussing this tight-lipped matter. He was prepared for it.
What he doesn't expect- surprisingly- is Amadeus leaving the room.
A chill that has very little to do with the cold outside settles in his chest. Salieri shuts the closet door, follows with thinly-veiled anxiety.] Wolfgang, wait.
no subject
it wasn't necessarily his intention to force the man to talk – but he definitely wasn't about to wait around for the chimera's mood to pass, or comply with his orders without discussion.
amadeus doesn't move from his spot – hand on the rail as he raises his voice in the direction of the bedroom. ] Yes? What am I waiting for, now?
no subject
His fingers briefly clench. With measured steps he closes the distance, passing Amadeus- only to look over his shoulder at the Maestro.] The music room, Amadeus.
Please. [Another please. Salieri continues his way down and into the lower level.]
no subject
Will you finally stop dodging around and tell me what the matter is? [ yet regardless, amadeus will head downstairs to the designated place. ]
I can play a tune for your nerves, if you'd like. [ there doesn't need to be any special reason why salieri chose that room โ music is the way they communicate, express and vent. amadeus understands how highly salieri values his music on all occasions on top of it, but for once, the maestro was hoping they could skip such formalities on what appears to be such an immediate issue. ] But I don't want to play any games. If you don't plan to speak to me, Kapellmeister, I'll leave you alone.
no subject
He too dislikes these roundabout games, this dodging about... it certainly isn't like him, and yet. Yet. He sighs yet again and feels a clench in his chest when their piano finally comes into view.
It brings about a reaction he hadn't expected but should have known would come. Reaching for it he brushes his fingers across the first few row of keys.] ...
[His wings gently fold inward, as much as they're able.] Amadeus... to think you have no recollection at all of the significance of this day.
Or perhapsโ that is not so surprising at all. [His last words are almost a bitter whisper.]
no subject
... no. impossible, he's good with dates! ones that really matter, anyway.
suddenly he feels terribly put on the spot, guilty for some crime unknown to him. ] Wait, what?
The date? [ what is it, then? the 5th? the beginning of december?
... well, he has one idea, and the longer he entertains it in his mind, the more salieri's behavior comes to make sense.
and
yet: ]
... You know, it's been an awful long time since I've referenced the liturgical year, Salieri. If I've forgotten a feast day – or the like, you'll have to forgive me. —Ah. [ wait!! ] I've forgotten to commission the Advent calendar. Is that it?
no subject
No, it would not be so easy. God would not make it so painless!
Salieri can't quite help himself then. He lets out a weak breath, less of a chuckle and more like a blow to the chest. How surreal it seems now for them to even be having this conversation...!
He allows the barest of smiles to tilt his lips before he sobers once again.] No, Wolfgang. No.
On this day, many hours ago... [His fingers ghost across the key board. His face becomes tight and miserable.] You fell ill. You were ill.
Do you remember? [Do you remember, when I took your hand?]
no subject
amadeus allows salieri to take the helm, then. to slow their tempo, to tentatively settle the mood into something steep and dreary ... even if he has long since concluded that phase of his post-life process. truthfully, this is salieri's moment more than it is his own.
"do you remember?" hah. ]
You mean when I died. [ even after all this build up, salieri is still unwilling to say it? from this angle, it's difficult to remain gentle when he's already spent mornings very much like this one — cold, frozen occasions in an observatory in the arctic — wondering about his untimely demise.
amidst a small army of servants, his story is nothing special. tame, even, in the way of shakespeare-approved tragedies. ... should he feel grateful that salieri still mourns?
... ]
I can't say I remember much of any of the days prior — running a fatal fever, you see — ... but I've read accounts from my family [ what few were left of it, anyway ] that sound very close to the truth. [ a beat. ] Well, except in one thing. [ his wife, his sister-in-law, his friends, all had recounted details that were at least adjacently correct ... but there is one perspective they could never know. one thing they would never learn about his last days.
fortunately, the memories and visions of amdusias that had engulfed his mind and obscured all else can fill those blanks, piece together the whole morbid picture. ]
I suppose I was long dead by this time? [ spoken like a query; like he were guessing at a simple math problem with a shrug of his shoulders. ]
no subject
[Unceremoniously lifted his lifeless body from the bedโ as if though he were nothing but a rotted slab of meatโ] Nngh.
[Salieri's tempers himself once again, rests his hands upon the piano and hangs his head.] I was there until... I could no longer see the cart, Amadeus. It was as if... God had trulyโ
[Ripped you away from me.] ...
[The only movement left is the flattening of those thick round ears. He utters, finally:]...Do you understand now?